Resurrected Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Three

by Simon, Joshua P.

  I was even more anxious about how I’d greet Myra and Zadok. I doubted I’d have the uphill battle of gaining Myra’s trust again like I did after the Geneshan War. However, I also knew there would be a short window of us feeling each other out while filling each other in on our time apart. Those first words we’d say to one another would probably be the ones we’d remember forever as we grew old and looked back on our lives. It sounded silly, but I wanted them to be special, something they could tell their kids about.

  I estimated five months of travel, give or take a few weeks.

  Plenty enough time to make those words perfect.

  “Dinah!” Boaz shouted beside me not long after we began walking south.

  I blinked. Had he been thinking similar thoughts about what he’d say?

  Then he took off in a sprint. Ira, Reuma, and Caleb followed behind him after dropping their packs. They ran toward a small group of people heading our way that seemed to have come from the low mountains not far from Hol. Several from their group ran in our direction.

  Myra and Zadok were among them.

  Tears warmed my face. I didn’t care how or why they were there, only that I wouldn’t have to wait a moment longer to embrace them.

  I dropped my gear and sprinted with all I had to meet them.

  The rest of the world seemed to fade away. No sound, no smell, no sight was as important as my children.

  We met and wrapped our arms around each other, squeezing as if none of us wanted to let the other go. They buried their heads into my chest and shoulder.

  We cried tears of joy.

  I had a thousand questions to ask. A hundred things I wanted to say. But despite my concern from only moments ago, saying something just didn’t seem very important right then.

  “Gods-be-damned, Big Brother, but you look like hell!”

  I blinked away tears, searching for that voice.

  I smiled as I caught sight of Ava’s approach. Her leathers were torn, dirty, and adorned with spots of blood, but she was alive. “I can’t look much worse than you. When’s the last time you took a bath? I can practically smell you from here.”

  She shrugged. “I took a swim in a river not that long ago. From the looks of things that’s better than you. You know you took your sweet time getting rid of that artifact. If you’d have cut it any closer, we wouldn’t have made it.”

  I swallowed, hearing the seriousness in her tone that she tried to hide by making light. I knew that tone. I had almost lost her. Unable to articulate that understanding, I simply asked, “How’d you know about the artifact?”

  She stopped a few feet from me and opened her hand. Tendrils of sorcery formed casually, crawling up and down her arms before dissipating.

  “You’ve got your power back,” I said.

  “And then some,” she added with a hint of a grin.

  “How do you know I had a hand in that?”

  She snorted. “Who else? Am I wrong? No, I didn’t think so.” She must have seen something in the look I wore. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking for the story now. We can catch up later.”

  I wasn’t looking forward to rehashing recent events, but it was only fair to let her know all that had gone on in her absence, especially in regards to Dekar and Hamath.

  I nodded in agreement, then cleared my throat. “The last few months have been rough. I missed you.”

  To my surprise, she wiped her eyes. The woman rarely shed a tear. “I lost a lot of people. And I almost lost Myra and Zadok.”

  I grabbed her tight into a hug. “But you didn’t,” I whispered. “Thank you so much.”

  I thought she might pull away, feeling awkward. But instead, she returned the embrace, squeezing me tighter.

  “I missed you too,” she said.

  END

  Thank you for reading my story. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a rating or review at the site of purchase as well as other places such as Goodreads and Librarything. Like many other indie authors, I do not have a marketing team working for me and a positive review (even if only a couple of sentences long) can go a long way in enticing others to give my works a try.

  I hope you’ll continue reading The Chronicle of Tyrus with the final book, Forever Soldiers, due to be released Summer 2016. In the meantime, please consider checking out my other series listed below. If you’d like to know when new works will be made available, please consider signing up for my mailing list. It is used solely to announce new releases or other major announcements.

  You can sign up here.

  Thanks again for your support.

  Joshua P. Simon

  THE CHRONICLE OF TYRUS

  Forgotten Soldiers

  Wayward Soldiers

  Resurrected Soldiers

  Forever Soldiers *forthcoming*

  THE EPIC OF ANDRASTA AND RONDEL

  The Cult of Sutek, Vol. 1

  The City of Pillars, Vol. 2

  The Tower of Bashan, Vol. 3

  BLOOD AND TEARS (COMPLETED SERIES)

  Warleader: A Blood and Tears Prequel Short Story

  Rise and Fall: Book One of the Blood and Tears Trilogy

  Walk Through Fire: A Blood and Tears Prequel Novella

  Steel and Sorrow: Book Two of the Blood and Tears Trilogy

  Hero of Slaves: A Blood and Tears Novella

  Trial and Glory: Book Three of the Blood and Tears Trilogy

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Joshua P. Simon is a Christian, husband, father, CPA, fantasy author, and heavy metal junkie. He currently resides in North Texas, and hopes that one day he can leave the life of a CPA behind and devote that time to writing more of the ideas bouncing around his ADD-addled brain.

  EXCERPT OF RISE AND FALL - BOOK ONE OF THE BLOOD AND TEARS TRILOGY (COMPLETE SERIES NOW AVAILABLE)

  “…This is the one that will break their back for sure, Commander. We’ll smash them to pieces. They will be talking about tomorrow for years to come…”

  Aye, for years to come they’ll talk about tomorrow as one of the worst bloodbaths this continent has ever seen.

  Jonrell stared across the open landscape below. The cliff gave him a full view of an expansive plain, littered with rows upon rows of tents from the opposing army’s encampment, more than double the size of their own forces. Two years after taking this job and I’ve regretted every minute of it. Shorting us on pay, ignoring advice, putting us in dangerous positions…why am I here again?

  “...I won’t be able to sleep tonight in anticipation…”

  Anticipation of what? Stuffing your face while others fix your mess? I haven’t seen you do anything besides that since I’ve known you. “I think the men are a little too eager,” said Jonrell.

  Melchizan continued. “…Oh, yes. Naturally. They feel the significance of tomorrow as well…”

  Jonrell cleared his throat and cut in, “I think we should withdraw to more favorable ground.”

  “…yes, we will slaughter them, we will…” The would-be conqueror almost choked on his last words as he turned in the saddle of his mount. The short man’s demeanor suddenly turned from one of excitement to confusion, and then anger. “What do you mean withdraw? We have them right where we want them. This is what we’ve been waiting for…”

  The setting sun bled across the land, reflecting dark purples and reds off the white canvases of the enemy’s camp. Reminiscent of a bruise. A bleak reminder of what awaits us tomorrow. No Melchizan, I haven’t waited for that.

  “Commander! I’m speaking to you,” said Melchizan, his great jowls swaying.

  “I hear you. And unlike you, I actually listen to the person I’m talking to.”

  Melchizan’s face reddened. “It’s bad enough you and the rest of your tattered outfit of mercenaries fail to address me as your lord, but I will not be spok
en to like some common soldier. Is that understood?”

  “No. You are not our lord and definitely not a soldier, just an employer. The Hell Patrol will not bend a knee to you. If you want someone to kiss your rear, you’ll have to look to the rest of that motley army of yours.”

  “Have you forgotten that motley army has conquered over a dozen cities and hundreds of miles of land? An army you command?”

  Jonrell snorted a laugh. “Cities? Most of that land was filled with nothing more than small tribes and villages. Your army is not ready for this,” said Jonrell, pointing toward the encampment. “The men are going to face more than two to one odds against a better armed and better trained force.”

  “If they fail, then you have failed as a commander.”

  “No. I’ve told you we needed to spend money on better weapons, rather than your lavish indulgences. We need to push the men to work on actual skill sets rather than allow them to function as a badly organized mob. But you’re too greedy to see that, so you keep pushing for more and undermining what I’m trying to do. Then you decide to engage an opposing army on a wide open plain without cavalry to match theirs.”

  Melchizan ignored Jonrell’s remarks, his voice low and even. “I’ve waited too long for a kingdom to call my own. We will attack tomorrow and we will win. Otherwise, you and your outfit won’t see the rest of your contract.”

  Jonrell stared at Melchizan, ready to reply, when the sound of approaching hooves and a shout from behind caught his attention. He held his employer’s glare for a moment longer, then turned toward the approaching rider. He refused to continue the conversation and instead kicked his mount forward.

  “I’m glad you’ve seen it my way, Commander,” Melchizan called out.

  Jonrell heard the amusement in his employer’s voice as if the man had won some victory over him. Idiot. There will be no victory tomorrow. I hope you slice your own throat when you try to draw your sword in terror.

  The advancing rider bobbed in his saddle as he pulled beside Jonrell. The two mercenaries descended the rocky trail in silence, interrupted by Jonrell’s heavy sigh and the grinding of teeth.

  “Keep it up and you’re liable to crack another tooth.”

  Jonrell turned to the man in faded black robes. “Are you my mother now?”

  “That’s right, take it out on me,” the mage muttered.

  “That man is an absolute imbecile and he’s going to get us all killed,” said Jonrell.

  “Probably,” said Krytien. “But let me remind you who signed the contract…”

  “I know who signed the contract. If I wanted to take this abuse, I would have stayed with… what does Raker call him? Lord Roundness?” said Jonrell coming to a halt. He drew a breath and calmed himself. “Now what do you want?”

  “Well, remember that item I bought off a trader last time we were in Slum Isle? You know, to keep track of that particular situation of interest to you?” whispered Krytien.

  Jonrell straightened in his saddle. “Yes?”

  “Well, it worked. I mean, the king,” he paused, “passed away.” Krytien ran his fingers over his head, wiping the sweat from his brow and pushed back his thin white hair.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. The device wasn’t designed to tell us how, just when.”

  “You sound surprised.” said Jonrell.

  “Well, there was always some question on whether it would work or not. The workings of such magical tools are not my expertise, you know.”

  “Don’t give me that. That’s not what you told me before. If I recall, you assured me that the moment something happened, the device would brighten and you‘d be made aware of it. That was years ago.” Jonrell scowled, growing agitated. “Now, you’re saying this was all in question?”

  Krytien cleared his throat. “The uncertainty came when trying to confirm the tool’s effectiveness at the time of purchase. Only the one who created the item could figure that out. However, I do know the device worked as intended.”

  “Would you swear on it?”

  “I’d swear on my honor as a mage.”

  Jonrell snorted. “Honor? Isn’t that the same pledge you make when Raker accuses you of cheating at dice?”

  “Well, that’s different,” he smirked. “My fingers are crossed then.” The mage raised his hands and wiggled his fingers as the smile vanished. “It’s true. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  A breeze from the north blew Jonrell’s long auburn hair into his face. “You have nothing to be sorry for, I’m not.” He turned and kicked his horse into a quick trot and the mage did the same. “When we get to camp, gather the crew together and bring them back to my tent. Hell Patrol only.”

  “I brought the device with me in case you wanted to see it for yourself.” Krytien reached into his robes and pulled out a round stone similar in appearance to a pearl, only larger.

  Jonrell reached out and grabbed the device without examining it, sticking it in his pocket.

  “I’ll ride ahead then.” The short mage gave his horse a kick and galloped toward camp, bobbing in his saddle.

  * * *

  When Jonrell entered camp, the sun had dropped below the horizon. A clear sky allowed the moon and stars to cast an eerie light on their sorry excuse for a camp, illuminating the soldiers’ questionable activities. Jonrell didn’t like what he saw. Men joked, drank, and did just about everything but ready themselves for the next day. The fools have grown just as overconfident as Melchizan.

  Jonrell shook his head in disgust as he harkened back to the days when he and Cassus had first left home and joined the Hell Patrol. They were led then by a man named Ronav, a hard but fair man who had taught Jonrell what it meant to truly lead an army. Jonrell was forced into command after Ronav died and kept the group’s survivors together while rebuilding what Ronav had started.

  But now? He would bash my teeth in if he saw us working for Melchizan. What was I thinking these past couple of years? I should have cut our losses long ago.

  As he made his way through camp, Jonrell stopped to speak with a few of the men at several fires. The soldiers had the sense to appear as if they cared about his advice regarding the impending battle, but Jonrell saw the truth of things behind their eyes. Melchizan called this my army? It doesn’t matter what I say or do because he will come in behind me and undermine my authority. This has never been my army.

  A man with short black hair waited outside the command tent. “I take it you tried to talk some sense into them again?” asked Cassus.

  Jonrell gave the man a frustrated look but ignored the comment. “Is everyone here?”

  “Almost. What’s going on?”

  Jonrell clasped Cassus on the shoulder. “You’ll have to wait like everyone else. Who are we missing?”

  “Just Hag. She said not to wait for her. She…uh…well, let’s just say she and one of the Byzernians are a little busy right now.” Cassus let out a shudder after finishing the comment.

  “You’re joking. I didn’t think there was anyone here old enough or desperate enough?”

  “Apparently, she was quite convincing.”

  The remainder of Jonrell’s scowl vanished, replaced by a grin. “Well, maybe it will improve her disposition.”

  “Ha. It couldn’t hurt it,” said Cassus as he opened the tent flap. Jonrell entered first and Cassus followed after, securing the flap behind him.

  The command tent was packed. Never meant to comfortably hold more than twenty men, fifty soldiers now filled the space. Jonrell made his way through the press, heading toward the back of the noisy tent, interrupting conversations along the way. He did no more to greet those he passed than offer a nod or a quick clasp of the arm. He wasted no time with small talk. Cassus remained by the tent entrance, ensuring no one uninvited snuck in.

  At the back of the tent, Krytien waited next to
a stool. “I figured you might want to use this.”

  Jonrell took a step up and looked down at Krytien. “Are we good?”

  “Yeah. People outside the tent can still hear our voices but no longer clear enough to understand what’s being said.”

  Jonrell raised his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, that’s enough.” He paused until everyone settled. “We’re moving out tonight. We’ll leave after everyone is passed out or asleep. There’s a more pressing job ahead for us.”

  Conversations erupted amidst a press of questions. Jonrell raised his hands again for silence, “I know you have questions so let’s make this quick and I’ll answer what I can for now. The rest will have to wait.”

  A man leaning against one of the tent poles was the first to speak. He held a small dagger in one hand, cleaning his fingernails. The man didn’t look up when he spoke but his words were clear and to the point. “I know things are looking pretty bleak out there but it’s not like us to renege on a contract, Boss. Doesn’t help our rep, you know,” said Kroke.

  “Aye and some contract it is. We’ve been moving around this continent for over two years now with Melchizan and haven’t been paid half what he owes us. The way I look at it, he broke our contract a long time ago. I take the blame for letting things get this bad. But trust me, thanks to his spending habits the man is penniless. He’s counting on tomorrow’s battle to bring in the cash he sorely needs. That’s not a situation I want to be a part of. As far as our rep goes, I think staying and getting crushed along with him would do more harm than leaving now, don’t you?” He paused and then glared at everyone around the tent.

  “It’s about time you came around, Boss,” said Kroke, cold eyes flashing. “We were starting to wonder about you. Its one thing to die if you’re leading us, but another thing entirely to fight under Melchizan. I’d rather cut my own throat and be done with it.”

  Jonrell looked around the room. “Does he speak for everyone?” Heads nodded and a few grunted in agreement. “Good. What else?”

  Usually too shy to speak up in front of others, the young woman surprised Jonrell. “I know that army out there isn’t much, Commander, but there are a few we could use that’d be willing to come with us. Some might even be Hell Patrol material after a couple of real battles.” The deep color of her tight red ponytail contrasted against pale skin and blue eyes.