Wayward Soldiers

by Joshua P. Simon

  I stepped forward. “You all right?” I asked.

  She looked up, eyes red from where tears had begun to fall. “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough. I didn’t want to disturb you since it looked like you were working a spell.”

  “I was trying to. Not even the slightest sensation of the feeling I’d get when tapping into the power from Ao.”

  “Sorry. I had hoped your abilities would start coming back by now.”

  “Me too. Gods, Tyrus, what if I’m done. What if I can’t ever regain my abilities?”

  “Just remember, sorcery might have been a large part of your life, but it wasn’t everything that made you who you were.”

  “No. But it was my favorite part.”

  “Really? Not being my sister?”

  She chuckled. “No offense, but being your sister never allowed me to control fire, call on shadow, or—”

  “I get it,” I said, joining her in the joke. “Hard to compete with that.”

  “Yeah. But you do a pretty good job of it most of the time.”

  “Thanks.” I gestured upward to the orange sky. “I had thought this might have faded and begun to look more normal by now since we’re moving away from Hol. I know you’re struggling to perform sorcery, but do you feel anything different about the power brought on by the artifact.”

  “Some. It is weaker than what it was in Denu Creek, if that’s what you mean.”

  “So the plan to move away from it still gives us our best chance of survival. That’s good.”

  “I think so, but it still is far from a guarantee. It isn’t weaker by a large amount and we don’t have any idea if that will always be the case, especially since I feel these occasional pulses of stronger energy.”

  I frowned. “How often? I don’t need you keeping information like that to yourself.”

  “Not often. Every few days. But, you’re right. I didn’t say anything before since the change was pretty small.”

  “Even still.”

  “I get it. I’ll tell you next time.”

  “Good.” I studied the sky and shook my head.

  She patted me on the shoulder. “C’mon. There’s nothing we can do about it now for sure. Let’s get back to camp. I’m done here and could use some sleep.”

  CHAPTER 16

  We woke before dawn. Again.

  I had started waking up that early as far back as I can remember, helping my Pa on the farm. The practice continued once I went into the military. You’d think I’d have been used to getting up so early, but I wasn’t. However, one thing I hated more than rising before the sun, was being lazy. If work needed doing, I’d get up to do it.

  We ran through an hour of drills, had breakfast, and broke camp. Dekar put everyone into squads and by the end of that first day, I already saw signs of those who’d make good leaders.

  This went on for three more days. Eating. Sleeping. Drilling. Traveling.

  We lost five people during that time. Not because of death, injury, or disease. They just had enough of putting up with me and decided to chance the world on their own. I didn’t miss any of them.

  Surprisingly, Gad pulled his act together, in part, I learned, from time spent talking with Liam. Good to Dekar’s word, Liam not only stayed on with us, but became an asset. With a properly adjusted attitude, he and Ira even became friendly.

  By the end of the week, I assigned permanent leaders to each squad and allowed light sparring to begin. I lessened the chance for injury by having everyone wrap their dowels in rags and dirty clothes. It was nice to see the drilling actually pay off.

  Our time on the road was pleasant if you excluded the lack of sleep, repetitive food, hard travel, bleak landscape, slow progress due to the stamina and strength of our animals, and the annoying haze over everything.

  To be honest, I expected the end of the world to be more of a pain than what it had been thus far.

  * * *

  Abigail continued hanging around me so much that Myra and Zadok began treating her like a little sister. Being an only child, Abigail ate up the attention. Eventually, I was relegated to third on her list of favorite people not named Ma and Pa. Considering how positive her presence was on my kids, I didn’t mind.

  We stopped near a grove of oak trees that had somehow managed to hang onto life in the harsh new world. We went through some quick drills, then took our meal under the oaks in order to get away from the sun’s orange rays.

  Myra busily fixed Abigail’s hair into a complicated braid while Zadok taught her how to play jacks. The jerkiness of throwing the ball down caused Myra to get creative with keeping Abigail still to do her hair. To my daughter’s credit, she never raised her voice in frustration.

  She had looked after Zadok for so long, she had practiced that parental role for years. It saddened me to think years of her childhood were lost.

  For both of us.

  Dwelling on the “what-ifs” of the past had always been one of my faults. Lately, even I had noticed that personality trait had grown more prominent. I needed to be careful not to spend too much time living in the past. The present offered more than enough obstacles and worries to keep me occupied.

  “Why the long face?”

  I blinked away my thoughts.

  Damaris had snuck up on me while I was lost in fantasies that might have been. A rare lapse in trying to avoid her.

  “Just thinking,” I replied.

  “Care to talk about it?” she asked, taking a seat beside me.

  “Not much to talk about,” I lied. The last thing I wanted to do was to vocalize all of my what-ifs.

  “Can I guess?”

  I raised an eyebrow. She took it as an invitation to proceed. I hadn’t intended it to be one. That was the problem with a raised eyebrow, it was effective when pulled off, but if not, it led to the recipient’s own interpretation of it.

  “Let’s see.” She glanced over at the kids and back to me, making an exaggerated tap of her cheek. “Got it. You’re upset that everyone is starting to think less of you as an agent of the gods and more as the grisly, old veteran you really are.”

  “What?” I blinked. “I’m not that old.”

  “True. Not really grisly either.” She winked at me. “But you otherwise fit the stereotype.”

  “I was born for the role.” I chuckled. “It is nice that most people have let that whole agent of the gods thing go now that you mention it.”

  “You’re not even a little upset that Zadok and Myra stole your biggest worshipper?”

  I watched my kids play with Abigail. As usual, Zadok looked happy. Not so usual, Myra seemed content. “Not when you consider the tradeoff.”

  “So what is it then?” she asked, more serious in tone.

  I shrugged.

  “How did you and your wife meet?”

  I coughed. “What?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep myself.”

  “You took me off guard. There wasn’t much of a transition in conversation there.”

  She smiled. “I guess not.”

  “Why do you want to know about Lasha?”

  “It’s obvious that she meant the world to you, but you seem hesitant to speak about her. I just thought it’d be nice to know what she was like. Especially since we’re going south to her country.”

  The question was valid. I hesitated to answer in light of Ava’s warnings and Ira’s teasings back in Denu Creek. I had kept conversations with Damaris infrequent not because I didn’t enjoy her company, but because I didn’t feel comfortable possibly encouraging her feelings for me with Lasha a constant in my thoughts.

  Likewise, I didn’t want to start gushing about Lasha and possibly hurt her feelings, but . . . she brought the topic up.

  I decided to answer her question, keeping it as focused as possible.

  “We met in Skida.”

  She gave me a questioning look.

  “Are you familiar with the Southern Kingdoms?”


  She shook her head.

  “The Southern Kingdoms are really a group of city states. Dozens of them. Each state elects its own leader or representative who then speaks for their people at the kingdoms’ center, a great city called Batna. While each city-state acts as its own kingdom, the whole group itself operates like a large republic. Sort of an empire without an actual emperor.”

  She frowned.

  “I take it you don’t believe me.”

  “Oh, no, it’s not that. It’s just that people talk about the south being filled with,” she paused. “I’m not sure how to say this. . . .”

  “Barbarians?”

  She reddened. “Yes.”

  “It’s a common belief, and one that even I held in my youth. The rumors of the southern people were started in ignorance and bred by fear. There is nothing barbaric about them. In fact, from what little I’ve seen of their lands, we’re the barbarians.”

  She grunted in what was the beginning of a chuckle, but caught herself when she saw I wasn’t joking.

  I looked her in the eyes. “I’m serious. It’s not uncommon for their buildings to stretch ten, even fifteen stories high. The walls enclosing their cities are higher than any I’ve seen in Turine or the Geneshan Empire. The people speak our language better than we do. If they decided to cut off trade, it would cripple half the continent with little impact to their economy.” I paused. “And they are so nice, always looking for ways to help a person in need. Something you need to understand about the Southern Kingdoms is that their religion is not just a part of their life. Their faith is who they are. It defines them. Everything they do, including their generosity is an extension of that faith. They hope that by helping those around them, they might win converts over to their god and religion. And it works. There are quite a few northerners who have migrated and started a new life among them.”

  “Huh, I never knew that. I bet if you told others about that, it would help ease their worries about the Southern Kingdoms.”

  “I would if they cared to ask. However, you’re the only one to take an actual interest on the subject. It isn’t my responsibility to educate them. They are the ones that have issues.”

  She bit her lip in what looked like disappointment. “I see your point. Did you ever think about converting to their religion?”

  I snorted. “No. Though I respect their faith more than other religions, I generally don’t get along very well with the gods, regardless of what country they belong to.”

  “The Southern Kingdoms practically sound like a utopia. Why do so many believe them to be barbarians?”

  “It’s nice, but not a utopia. No place is perfect. Lasha told me that the politics can get ugly. And the kingdoms are not without war, though that almost always occurs from external influences. Every few decades a bordering country misinterprets the generosity and humility the Southern Kingdoms possess as weakness. Then some idiot decides to invade. The results of those invasions are why many people believe the people to be barbarians. The Southern Kingdoms are as proficient in killing as they are in giving. They are eager to show mercy, but they are also far from merciful. Given the fact they are such strong warriors and that they look remarkably different than those of us in the north, it is easier for us to call them barbarians than to face our own faults. With the Southern Kingdoms it really just boils down to what hand you want to take, the one holding the sword or the one holding the fruit.”

  “It still seems like there aren’t many drawbacks to living there.”

  “I’m sure there are. I’m just not familiar with them. I only spent a short time there myself and everything I heard about them from Lasha admittedly came from a perspective of someone missing her homeland.”

  “You still never said how you met her.”

  “Sorry. My father was interested in a new breed of wheat the people in Skida created. We traveled months to buy some in order to plant crops in Turine. All the while, my uncle tended the farm for us. It was a gamble, but Pa made his money back quickly on his return. The person we purchased the wheat from was Lasha’s father. As silly as it sounds, she and I fell in love at first sight. Even her father started calling me ‘son’ by the second morning of our stay. We were there a full week at his behest. Lasha and I were married by the end of it.”

  “That fast! It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”

  “In some ways.”

  “Why didn’t you and your wife settle there?”

  I worked my jaw. “Foolishness and stubbornness mainly. I was younger and though I didn’t vocalize my opinion, my Turine pride had me still believing we were the better people. The Southern Kingdoms’ custom was for a wife to follow her husband, regardless of where that husband took her. To her credit, Lasha never once questioned my decision. According to Myra, not even when things became increasingly difficult did she ever say coming to Turine was a mistake.” I paused, thinking about what might have been had we stayed in the Southern Kingdoms. “In hindsight, it was probably the biggest mistake of my life.”

  “That says a lot about the kind of woman she was. Many would have seized the chance to speak ill of their husband.”

  “Sometimes I wish she would have. Her resentment might lessen the guilt I feel about the whole thing. You know, her father offered me three times the land I inherited from mine. Just imagine what would have happened had I accepted his proposal. I never would have served in the army. Lasha would still be alive. I would have seen my children grow up. None of their suffering would have occurred. . . .”

  “I know it’s hard to see, but you staying in Turine wasn’t a total loss.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, your sister and friends might not have survived the war without you. They’ve all said you saved their lives numerous times. Ava said your decisions at Wadlow Hill prevented Turine from losing the war. We might all be under the harsh rule of the Geneshans if not for you.”

  I blinked in surprise. It was hard to believe that anyone thought that highly of me.

  She continued. “Also, how many people did you save in Denu Creek after the artifact erupted? How many people did you save from the raiders? How many have you saved since then by keeping us together?”

  I sighed. “I appreciate the thought, but it was my unit that recovered the artifact from the Geneshans. If we had never discovered it, Turine’s idiot High Mages might not have used the thing and no one would be on this road right now. You can’t base your life off what-ifs.”

  “No. You can’t.”

  Molak-be-damned. I gave her a look. She wore a knowing expression that said the entire conversation had been leading to me admitting something I already knew but continued to ignore.

  Had she known what I was thinking?

  I found myself getting angry. Who was she to give me advice?

  I opened my mouth, ready to fire something back, but she reached out and patted my arm with a sad smile on her lips. The fight in me faded.

  She rose and walked away, leaving me with a new set of thoughts, none of which I felt like addressing. The thought that dominated my mind the most was one I’m sure Damaris had no intention of raising. However, it was impossible to avoid given our conversation about Lasha.

  If we made it to the Southern Kingdoms, what in the name of the gods would I tell Lasha’s father about how his daughter died?

  CHAPTER 17

  Our band, united in the common cause of getting as far away from Hol as we could, began to grow. It started when we came across a family of four stuck on the side of the road. Their wagon had veered off into a small fissure, busting a wheel and breaking one of their horse’s legs.

  We helped them fix their wagon and also gave them some spare salt to cure the horse meat after putting the animal out of its misery. During the process, we exchanged stories. The eruptions had completely destroyed their home and in the absence of someone like me, who had a resistance to sorcery, their town had suffered greater losses. They and their fellow townspeople had to let t
he sorcerous effects lesson before they were strong enough to move on. With rumors of raiders also reaching them, they decided it best to pursue new opportunities. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something wasn’t right about the pulsing sky. They too traveled south, away from the bizarre lights.

  By the time we finished exchanging stories, they asked if they could travel with us. Considering the family looked to be in relatively good health and greater numbers might lessen the idea of raiders attacking, I told them yes.

  Within a few days, the nearly empty road we’d been traveling grew more crowded. We actually saw people on the road here and there. Some we ignored because they were keen on ignoring us. Others, we swapped stories with before continuing our separate ways. However, quite a few joined our motley crew. I asked everyone we came in contact with about Hamath. As I expected, no one knew anyone by his name.

  Our numbers swelled by several dozen during those days—families, older couples, and loners.

  Their stories of survival were similar to our own. Raiders and outlaws were not unique to the area around Denu Creek.

  Though the other groups patrolling Turine were not quite as large as those led by the square-helmed leader who attacked us, many still thought they could make a go at the free enterprise of raping and stealing. The new world provided more than ideal conditions for those wanting to carve a name out for themselves in that business.

  One positive I hadn’t expected as we continued our travels south was the way people treated veterans from the Geneshan War, namely me, Ira, Dekar, and Ava. There was less of the hate and uneasiness we had experienced previously. Indifference, and even respect, replaced those feelings in most instances.

  A middle-aged woman new to our group actually thanked me for my service one day on the road a few moments after thanking me for letting her join us. The shock of her gratitude left me speechless for a moment.

  I gathered myself and had to ask, “Didn’t you hear the stories about the war?”

  “Yeah, I heard them. Mostly rumors, I assumed.”

  “So you don’t think they’re true?”

  “I’m sure there were some bad apples in the army that did ugly things. But I don’t imagine that holds true for everyone. Most people I know wouldn’t make that assumption.”