Wayward Soldiers

by Joshua P. Simon

  I pulled the woman free.

  She had red hair that reminded me of Hamath’s with eyes that could not decide whether they wanted to be green or blue. The pale-yellow dress she wore was caked in dirt and ripped so that it covered even less than originally intended. Despite her disheveled state, I found her face both kind and surprisingly beautiful.

  Like everyone else who had not come into contact with me or my kids, she was weak from the artifact’s power. Not having eaten in days didn’t help. I carried her away from the wreckage so as not to get in the way of others still at work.

  Some color returned to her skin as a result of my touch.

  I moved her to the Hemlock Inn where Dinah had created a recovery station of sorts. Abigail, as always, was at her mother’s side.

  Abigail gave me a bright smile that I returned with ease. The little girl didn’t have to do much to lift my spirits.

  Dinah helped me get the red-headed woman settled on an old blanket while Abigail went to fetch a bowl of broth. Knowing the woman was in good hands, I patted her arm and started to turn. I stopped as the woman found strength to catch my hand.

  “Wait,” she croaked.

  Dinah gave her a sip of water from a nearby skin.

  “I really need to get back to the others. Don’t worry, I’ll send over my daughter to help with any residual effects from the artifact. Just concentrate on getting some food and water into your stomach.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not it.”

  “What is it, then?”

  She blinked and a tear fell from her eye. “I just want to say thank you.”

  “Welcome.”

  “And I’m sorry for what happened to Lasha. She was a good woman.”

  The comment took me off guard. “She was.” I frowned, recovering.

  She bit her lip. “I didn’t think anyone could really be as nice as she was without some hidden agenda.” She paused. “But I realized I was wrong. She was so kind and always listened to my problems. She was like a mother or an older sister.”

  That did sound like my Lasha.

  “I’m Tyrus,” I managed.

  Her face relaxed as if I had eased her mind. “I know. She talked about you all the time.”

  It felt like someone twisted a knife in my chest. It must have shown for she started to apologize again.

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s all right.”

  She nodded. “I’m Reuma.”

  I patted her arm again and slipped my hand free. “Get some rest, Reuma. We need all the help we can get.”

  I walked away fast. I know the woman meant well, but I didn’t need any more reminders of what Lasha had become for the sake of our children.

  Up ahead, Dekar pulled another woman free. She looked to be in nearly as bad shape as Reuma.

  Reminders of what Lasha had to do seemed to be everywhere.

  * * *

  Light and darkness blended after the second eruption. Night failed to reach the same level of black that it once had due to the flashing colors in the sky toward Hol.

  Likewise, day no longer shined with the same intensity thanks to the ever-present haze in the air.

  Despite everyone’s exhaustion, the strange blend of day and night had many struggling to find restful sleep.

  The struggle only grew worse.

  We spent the better part of the morning and into midday excavating another small business, owned by a man named Akiva. He had come to Denu Creek during my time in the army.

  He, his wife, and his two children had been a lower priority since they were all well provisioned and the building was relatively stable. During the previous night, a small tremor had shaken the town. The building became unstable and more precarious by the hour. We had to be sure we weren’t further compromising the structure as we dug.

  Moans of wood creaking under strain sent stabs of worry into my gut. Still, the last thing I wanted to do was rush in and in my haste bring the entire thing down on those trapped inside.

  Akiva’s wife screamed in panic after each noise, and the children followed.

  Akiva shouted up at us, his own patience waning. “Gods, what is taking so long?”

  “We’re almost there,” I hollered down. “We can’t hurry. The beams supporting everything are weak and holding more than they are supposed to.”

  I also had the people working on the structure from the outside to think about. I didn’t want to put them at risk either.

  “If you don’t hurry, we’re going to die down here!” yelled Akiva’s wife hysterically.

  I ignored her, not out of a lack of compassion or understanding, but because she said nothing I didn’t already know. Her declaration had come up quite frequently since dawn.

  I threw aside a couple of smaller pieces of wood, revealing two large beams that blocked the entrance to the cellar. Akiva peered up at me through a narrow opening with excited eyes from the cellar floor as orange sunlight descended onto him.

  He started to come forward, walking up the first of more than a dozen steps. Several pops in the wood followed and dust fell on him.

  “Stop!” I shouted down. “Everyone!” I added, while glancing over at others still moving smaller pieces of wood away to my left.

  Akiva froze mid-stride, and the others around me did the same. The popping ended.

  “Everyone back away,” I said to those around me. I called down. “Don’t move until I tell you to. We’ve got to clear the opening completely first.”

  Akiva gave a slight nod, face lined with a fear that said he was scared to do anything more. He examined the wood hanging over him.

  I turned to Dekar. “Give me a hand with these last two beams. Grab that end.”

  He took his spot and I gave him a nod. We leaned over awkwardly to get into position. I had a feeling my back was going to be angry with me in the morning, but the beam was in such a position that a third person would have only made moving the wood more difficult.

  “Slowly,” I said.

  Straining, we lifted the beam carefully, and we got it free without any further danger.

  We eased away from the cellar entrance, and set the beam down with a grunt and sigh.

  “You want me and Nason to get the next one, Ty?” Ira asked. “You’re looking pretty beat.”

  He and the rest of the people waited patiently nearby, watching.

  I needed the rest, but I had led the efforts all morning on this location and the last thing I wanted to do was pass the final task off to someone else. Besides being protective of others, if something bad happened, I didn’t want the blame to fall on anyone else.

  I shook my head. “I got it. You all right, Dekar?”

  “I’m good.”

  We got back into position, but before lifting, I looked down at Akiva. “You’re going to see more daylight, and you’re going to be excited to come up here right away. Don’t do anything until we see how things stand first. We may have to shore things up or drop you a rope instead of using the stairs. Understand?”

  He nodded slowly as if even that slightest movement might collapse the cellar. “I got it.”

  I looked to Dekar. We lifted the second beam and shuffled several steps over.

  “We’re free!” I heard one of his kids exclaim.

  Earth around the cellar began to shift and crumble. The remains of the structure shook, snapping, and groaning.

  “Everyone back!” I shouted to those behind me.

  Dekar dropped the beam and dove toward the hole, reaching. A series of successive crashes began. I glanced up and saw several heavy rafters cascading down. I jumped after him, wrapped my arms around his waist and threw us backward. Wood tumbled. Dirt and screams blew upward.

  We hustled backward as the building fell in on itself.

  There was a final crash and the screams ended. The haze in the air was intensified by all the dust.

  Over a dozen voices shouted to Akiva and his family between coughs.

 
; Not one of the shouts received an answer.

  People backed away, staring at the wreckage that claimed the lives of four people.

  Five hours of work with nothing to show for it but more destruction and sorrow. Many wondered, including me, what we could have done differently.

  After the setback, stopping even for food and water became something that brought guilt. Everyone either worked or slept, more often the former than the later. The desire to keep pushing past our limits was strong. Ava and a few other clear headed individuals reminded everyone, including myself, that we’d do no good for the others if we were dead ourselves.

  The way the town banded together in that adversity helped ease some of the animosity I still harbored toward many of them from the way they first treated me when I came home. I think I may have even seen Myra smile once or twice as someone she had saved hugged her in thanks.

  We thankfully came across Sivan and Damaris at the end of day three. The tailor and his daughter had found refuge at the apothecary. The discovery lifted my spirits as our search of his tailor shop earlier that day had come up empty.

  The infectious feeling of unity dwindled as our successful number of rescues diminished and the number of lifeless bodies pulled from the rubble increased. On the fifth day we excavated a family of six. Their lips had turned blue—bodies stiff and cold.

  Killed by a lack of air in their cave of wood and dirt.

  Ira took it particularly hard when Nason walked out with the youngest of the family, a newborn. Zadok tried his best to console Ira, but I told my son to just give him time alone. Ira walked off to the edge of town, dropped to his knees, and lowered his head. He stayed there for some time before he was able to rejoin the rescue efforts.

  CHAPTER 4

  In the strange evening glow of the fifth day of searching for survivors, we found the last victims.

  I stood before a familiar pyre built of cloth, flesh, and bone. The grim image was one I thought I’d never see again after leaving the military.

  Unlike protocol in the army, I did not suggest we strip the bodies. There would be no armor or weapons to pass onto others. Most bodies held nothing of value, even their clothes were torn or bloodied. Besides, I knew that such a suggestion would have only caused further argument among the townspeople.

  Just convincing the survivors of the need to burn the dead had been a challenge. Most wanted to dig traditional graves. However, no one had the energy to do so. Besides, to avoid disease, it was best to burn.

  “Gods. How can you stand to be so close to this?” asked Ava, walking up. “I’m about to gag.”

  I took a breath and coughed, stepping to the side to escape the smoke blowing our way. “Honestly, I hadn’t really noticed until you said something.”

  “I wouldn’t mention that to anyone. Being that comfortable around so much death, people might start thinking the god you’re working for is Xank.”

  “Comfort is the last thing on my mind.”

  “What is on your mind? You’ve been over here for a while.”

  I sighed. “I was just thinking about how many mounds of the dead I saw in the military and why they always drew me. Hamath too. For whatever reason, the grimmer a situation, the more we talked and the more we both seemed to open up to each other.”

  “You miss him?”

  “Of course. You should have seen him Ava. He was so down about going home. Didn’t even want us to send him off. I don’t think he felt like he had anything to return to. I wish I had asked him to come back with us. I should have insisted.”

  “You and I both know his answer would’ve been no. He wouldn’t have wanted to impose on you and Lasha.”

  “That’s kind of irrelevant now.”

  “You didn’t know that then.” She cleared her throat. “You realize that being closer to Hol, he’s probably—”

  “Dead? I know. Unless there was someone resistant to sorcery nearby. Or he was lucky like Jareb and was able to recover on his own.”

  “The luck part is more likely than being near someone with a resistance. You know how rare people like you are. It’s rarer than finding someone with a talent like mine.” She paused, voice hollowing. “Or what I used to have. Regardless, the fact that three people resistant to sorcery were in one place here is part of why so many think you have a connection to the gods. It’s the closest thing to a miracle in their eyes.”

  “You’re not exactly cheering me up, you know.”

  “Who says I was trying. You know I’ve never been good at that. Remember that time I tried to cheer you up when Pa’s hunting dog ate your pet frog?”

  I chuckled. “Yeah. You caught another one and sealed it an old jar so it wouldn’t get out. But you forgot to leave room for air so by the time you gave it to me it had died too.”

  “It was the thought that counts.” She punched my arm.

  I raised an eyebrow. “That didn’t have much behind it. Still feeling weak?”

  “Yeah.” She spat. “I can’t even make an Ao-be-damned roll of the dice land on sevens.”

  I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “It’ll come.”

  “You don’t know that,” Ava said. “And don’t patronize me. I think I’d rather lose a hand than the ability to create sorcery.”

  “I’m not meaning to talk down to you. And I can only imagine what it would be like to lose something like what you’ve lost. I wasn’t just saying it would come to make you feel better. It stands to reason.” I gestured with my hand. “Sorcery caused all this mess. So, it’s still there. It just must be different. You’ll figure it out. In the meantime, try not to dwell too much on it. It will only worry you sick.”

  “Easier said than done. And it’s the same piece of advice I could also give you about Lasha. But I doubt it would make a difference.”

  My wife’s warm smile, her dark eyes, and the smooth chestnut skin of her face seemed to hover before my eyes in the air. An eye winked, then faded.

  “No, it probably wouldn’t,” I whispered.

  “Dek, kill me if I ever pull you in front of a pile of burning bodies to share some heartfelt moment,” said Ira from behind.

  Ava brushed my arm away and whipped around. She had someone to take her anger and frustration on.

  “It would be Dekar doing the sharing anyway,” she said. “We all know you’ve barely got enough heart to stay alive.”

  The brothers pushed a cart toward the fires loaded with two bodies to add to the flames.

  “You hear that Dek . . .” Ira began, going off on some long rant that Ava talked over. It was hard to make out what either said.

  Ira left Dekar to the cart, more concerned with getting back at Ava. I went over and gave Dekar a hand since he didn’t seem like he felt up to putting forth the effort to rein in his brother.

  “Sometimes, I wonder if it isn’t the two of them who are related,” I said low.

  Dekar snorted. “I’m not sure who’d be angrier at you for saying that.”

  “Which is why I didn’t say it to them.” I grabbed the other side of the cart and pushed it toward the fire. “What’s the story?” I asked nodding to the bodies. They were face down with gray hair atop their heads. A smell came off them that would have made a gravedigger gag.

  “Nason found them at one of the nearby farms. He and that group your sister sent off to search the homes outside of town are starting to return. Things aren’t quite as bad as they were in town, but from what I hear, these won’t be the last.” He paused. “They died in their beds. Likely both were asleep when the worst happened.”

  I felt a tug at my heart. Lasha and I had always talked about dying at the same time when we were old and wrinkled. We knew it was silly, but it was more comforting than thinking about one of us living without the other for decades.

  Dekar and I tossed the remains of the elderly couple unceremoniously into the fire. Their clothes began to smolder against dancing flames.

  A small part of me wanted to say some sort o
f prayer to Xank as he snatched two more souls to his underworld kingdom. I hoped the god of death would bring them together in their next life as well. Then I remembered I wasn’t some dreamy-eyed believer who put his faith in a deity that allowed pain, suffering, and death to occur in the first place.

  Dekar and I followed our siblings. Their argument had escalated to a juvenile level.

  “Time to just let it go, Ira,” said Dekar.

  “Why should I be the one to let it go?” asked Ira. “She’s the one who—”

  Dekar’s voice was low and calm. “I said let it go.”

  Ira mumbled some last curse under his breath, but did as his brother said. He knew that when Dekar had enough of something, it was in everyone’s best interest to listen.

  Dekar cocked his head in the awkward silence that followed. “You hear something?”

  I listened. The faint sound of wagon wheels squeaking as they rolled across rough, uneven earth tickled my ears. We stepped away from the fire and headed toward the sound. All hands slipped down to the hilts at our waists.

  A wagon emerged from a small patch of withered and dying pine trees. Interspersed with several oaks and maples in just as bad shape, they flanked the road leading into town. A barrel-chested man near my age was at the reins of the wagon wearing a mustache that obviously was his pride and joy. The clothes he wore were tattered, but his mustache was cleaned, twisted, and waxed. A woman, probably his wife, rode at his side in a cream-colored dress. A few smaller heads poked out from the back.

  The father seemed cautious upon his approach, one hand subtly moving to a dagger at his waist. He nudged his wife with an elbow. She gripped something hidden in the hem of her dress.

  I liked the man already. He had his wits about him. Riding up on four people standing near a pile of burning bodies should have him concerned.

  I gestured for the others to stand behind me as we moved to the edge of the road while doing our best to appear non-threatening.

  I waved the traveler down. He came to a halt some distance away, forcing us to raise our voices to speak.

  I appreciated his cautiousness, but I was also annoyed. My throat was dry, and I was tired. The last thing I wanted to do was shout.