Chadar muttered something in his native language under his breath and said, “These attitudes are like a sickness. It will eat Batna alive if the people are not careful.”
My first sight of the city’s well-organized interior was unforgettable. Fewer citizens than I expected walked near the gate. The mostly deserted entrance gave us a clear view of the cobbled streets crossing each other, laying the city out in perfect squares. Remarkably, no vegetation sprouted unwanted in the litter-free streets, and any trees appeared recently pruned.
The tall buildings that I had observed from a distance were far more impressive once I could take in their entire structures. The brown granite facades made the buildings appear old, yet the stone’s sharp edges made the building appear new.
Two blocks away from Batna’s entrance, I paused at the foot of one building that loomed over the others near it. What impressed me most was not so much its height, but the number of windows concentrated at the top. There, someone could study the land for miles in any direction.
Chadar stated proudly, “Our brightest philosophers reside here, many debating our place in the world and how that place coincides with the laws given to us by the holy Engai.”
I bit down the sarcasm on the tip of my tongue for calling any deity holy. This was not the time or place for such a discussion.
Ira walked by, grunting as if unimpressed. His sour demeanor brightened when his eyes drifted down from the high building and rested on a smaller three-story structure.
“Can’t be all bad here, right Ty?”
The language on the sign out front was one I couldn’t read, but there was no mistaking a tavern regardless of cultural differences in architecture.
“Depends on your definition of bad,” I said, wrinkling my nose. The smells of alcohol, bad food, old urine, and fresh vomit were the same everywhere.
The city became more crowded as we walked down Batna’s cobbled streets. Unfortunately, our reception by the people mimicked the one the guards gave us.
“What happened to make my people so angry and bitter?” Chadar asked sadly.
I had expected curiosity, but I too was surprised at the disdainful looks thrown our way. “The artifact?”
“Sorcery turned everyone into a bunch of mules?” snorted Ira. He looked back to Ava. “Didn’t think that was possible.”
“It’s not. If so I’d have found a spell to fix you years ago.”
Zadok snickered until Myra elbowed him, gesturing to the guards sending us dirty looks over their shoulders. “Stop it. Laughing and joking around isn’t going to do endear ourselves to anyone.”
“I think you’re right, Tyrus,” said Chadar, acting as though the last exchange hadn’t happened. “There should be more than twice this many people out and about.” He shook his head somberly. “I didn’t think so many would have died this far away from the eruptions.”
A grim silence fell over us as we went on. My annoyance at the lack of welcome gave way to sympathy for what they had endured. Death, it seemed, would continue to haunt me
I watched cutters hack away at an injured soldier in the infirmary. The smell of blood and the emptying of bowels entered my nostrils as healers stretched thin could not treat everyone in time. I found it hard to breath, chest tightening.
“Tyrus!” Ava said, grabbing my arm. Zadok grabbed the other to stop me from stumbling.
“What’s wrong, Pa? Are you all right?”
I blinked rapidly while biting the inside of my cheek, hoping the pain would distract me from the memories. “Just a little light-headed,” I lied. “Guess I didn’t eat enough earlier.”
“Should we stop to rest?” he asked.
I looked up. The guards had paused to look back, once more showing frustration.
“No. I’ll eat something later. I’m fine. Really.”
Zadok and Ava seemed to believe me, both releasing their grips. I wished I could believe myself.
* * *
Half an hour later, the guards stopped before a large, hexagonal building made of white marble at the center of the city. Inside, they led us to a small room so that we could make ourselves presentable before the council. We took care of nature’s call, knocked the dust from our clothes, and washed up as best as we could. I also made sure to eat a piece of dried goat and down several gulps of water.
When we were ready, the guards led us through a winding series of corridors to a black door embossed in gold paint. They spoke with additional guards standing watch outside the door. After a whispered exchange, one slipped through the door, briefly revealing the sounds of a heated discussion. I swore internally, not wanting to face an emotionally charged group of people.
The door opened again after a few moments, and we were waved inside. The fiery discussion had ended, but the lingering feeling from it turned my stomach in a way that made me wish I had opted for bread over goat. Vomiting before the council would not have been an ideal way to begin my plea to them.
Inside the chamber, a lone man in a red shirt and black trousers stood at the bottom of over a dozen descending rows positioned in concentric half circles. Behind him was another black door embossed with gold. The man was tall and thin, holding his head high in confidence without a hint of superiority. In his hand, the Speaker of the council held a small scepter, a dowel of intricately carved ivory. Chadar had told me the ivory bore the five Southern Kingdom principles on which the nation had been founded.
The Speaker was elected and tasked with keeping each meeting in order. In the rare instance a tie occurred among the council’s vote, the Speaker’s voice would break it.
The man smiled and gestured for us to join him, easing a bit of my tension.
Chadar led the way. At the bottom of the steps, he gave a small bow to the Speaker after touching his closed fist to each shoulder.
“It’s good to see you, Chadar,” said the Speaker. “I had assumed you another victim to the plague.”
“It’s good to see you as well, Speaker. It was a trying time, but both Galya and I survived.”
The Speaker smiled wider. “That pleases me to hear.”
Chadar faced the rest of the council and greeted them. The rest of us followed Chadar’s lead.
Looking to the upper rows, I noticed over a third of the council’s seats sat empty. I wondered how many of those empty seats had resulted from death brought on by the artifact.
The Speaker cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him. He spoke more formally to Chadar. “Would you please explain who these people are and why there are a thousand foreigners outside of our city?”
“Speaker, might I suggest letting this man explain? His name is Tyrus, and he leads the group. I would not do his story justice if I took on the task of explaining it myself.”
The Speaker met my eyes and repeated his question in Turine. He tried to keep his tone neutral, but failed by emphasizing the end of each word a bit too sharply. I didn’t blame him. I no doubt would have been just as aggravated in his position.
I stared at dozens of impatient men and women. My stomach lurched. I spoke to thousands of soldiers with relative ease, but this frightened me.
I glanced over to Zadok and Myra. Their encouraging smiles helped steady me.
With a deep breath, I said, “The journey really began over seventeen years ago when my father and I came to the Southern Kingdoms to trade for a better breed of wheat. My second day in these lands, in the small town of Skida, I met a beautiful young woman named Lasha . . .”
By the time I finished my story, my throat was dry and many cheeks were streaked with tears.
The Speaker’s face was hard to read, though. I worried that I had not touched the same nerve with him.
The Speaker rubbed his chin, walked over, and shook my hand. “Thank you. I know that could not have been easy for you. I’d like you and your party to step ou
t as the council discusses all we’ve heard. We’ll call you back when we’ve reached a decision.”
If I hadn’t been so mentally and emotionally drained from recounting half my life I might have asked exactly how long our wait would be. But all I could do was nod like a fool.
After the door at the bottom of the chamber closed behind us, we took seats on stone benches lining the walls.
I let out a long sigh of relief, drained from standing so long and pouring my heart out to the council. I rested my head against the cool marble wall and closed my eyes as Myra and Zadok sat on either side of me. Their warmth relaxed me further.
Speaking so freely to such a large audience was something I had never done before, nor ever thought I would need to do. It was a struggle to refocus my thoughts with so many old memories fresh. I needed sleep to help reclaim my mind.
“How long will a decision take?” Ava asked.
Chadar responded. “Impossible to say. Could be minutes. Could be days. If the latter, they’ll move us to a local inn.”
“Do you think they’ll say yes?”
After a pause for contemplation, he answered low, “I really don’t know.”
“If not, they have no heart,” Ira said. “I don’t know how anyone could say no to us after hearing that story.”
Ava said something else in reply, but I missed it. Sleep took over.
CHAPTER 3
Ava watched her brother sleep as they waited. Everyone else also tried to nap on the stone benches. She could not.
Worry ate at her. It was only after hearing her brother’s story that she truly understood just how much weight he bore and for how long he had borne it.
It’s a wonder he can even stand at all.
Some of the weight she knew resulted from claiming responsibility for the thousand lives waiting outside of Batna. Guilt ate at her as she thought about how quickly she had handed over her little bit of responsibility when they reconnected after the artifact’s destruction.
I had just wanted things as they were before. Him in command, and me supporting. But that’s not what was best for him. Only what was best for me.
I became another Ao-be-damned sheep.
I berate him for not talking and opening up, but it’s no wonder. So many people rely on him, but who can he consistently rely on? Hamath? At one time, perhaps. But now he’s dead. Dekar? Also, dead. Ira? Maybe. Me? Not by how I’ve acted lately.
She thought back to the sadness in her brother’s voice as he had spoken to the council.
I can’t believe he shared as much as he did. He obviously still held back, but it was enough for me to realize just how close he is to breaking under all the weight he insists on bearing alone.
She squeezed her fists.
Don’t worry, Big Brother. I’m here for you now. I promise.
CHAPTER 4
I woke with a start, gasping at an old memory.
All eyes turned to me, and mouths started to open with what I knew would be the same gods-be-damned question. I raised a hand to ward them off. “I’m fine. Just startled myself. Thought I heard my name.”
That wasn’t a complete lie. The memory had been of a soldier with his gut opened, begging me to stay with him until he died. I suppressed the shiver that wanted to come.
“How long have we been out here?” I asked.
Ava furrowed her brow. “Over an hour.”
I sighed, wondering whether that was good or bad.
The door swung open minutes later. A guard waved us back inside.
The Speaker stood roughly in the same spot as before, trying his best to appear harmless. I’m sure the expression was meant to put us at ease, but for me at least, it did not. Only an announcement that we could stay would relieve my worries.
He cleared his throat. “We appreciate the story you shared with us, Tyrus. It answered many questions we could only hypothesize about regarding the strange sorcery that affected our people. The council has reached a decision. However, we agreed that before sharing it, we owed you our story as well.”
I did want to know what exactly had happened in the Southern Kingdoms, but my curiosity seemed trivial when the fate of a thousand people remained undecided.
I could tell by the way the Speaker shifted his stance that his speech would not be a quick one. Gods, I hoped he would not drone on and on, especially if the council was going to deny us anyway.
The Speaker began. “The eruptions of sorcery you spoke of were something that obviously affected everyone in the world in some way or another. I’m sure you’ve noticed that our lands did not suffer as severely, but our people did. By our best estimates, more than half our population died from a sickness linked to the eruptions. And those that survived did not do so easily.”
He started pacing. “I know that you passed through many uninhabited towns in the northern portion of our lands. Those settlements were abandoned during the plague by citizens who hoped they could find a cure in Batna for the strange disease affecting everyone. However, our sorcerers were also cut off from their power as were those in Turine and elsewhere. Still, our citizens came to the city. At the least, most sought food from our stores. Unfortunately, we lost entire crops during this time, some from sorcery and some because we lacked healthy people to bring in the harvest.”
The Speaker paused. “Our military was weakened as well. That did not concern us at first since our last major conflict was centuries ago. We did not foresee the countries of Bozrath and Kartan forming an alliance to invade our lands.”
His voice had taken on an edge then, anger and frustration evident. The news was a shock to me. The Southern Kingdoms were at war? Was there any place in all the world of Chayal where I could find peace?
“We have been more than kind to our neighbors, trading openly and never unfairly taking what we desired or needed. Had we a different mindset, we could have done all that the Geneshans attempted and succeeded where they failed. Before the eruptions, none could have stood against us.”
He opened and closed his fists. “We’ve had to concede many of our northeastern holdings. But that doesn’t seem to be enough for Bozrath and Kartan. They continue to press inward. And just recently, we’ve learned that Noval joined their alliance. And with their addition comes rumors of forbidden sorcery. Necromancy.”
A small gasp came from Ava that she tried to conceal.
The Speaker lowered his eyes. “These are very dark times for the Southern Kingdoms. We hope you understand why it would be difficult to take in any new people, especially those who do not contribute to righting the hardships we currently suffer.”
He threw me a look that made my knees weak. I felt a tremor in my right hand and jammed it in my pocket, hoping to hide the wave of trepidation washing over me at what I knew was coming.
I started to say something to cut off his question before it could be spoken, but my mouth had gone so dry a coughing fit seized me.
Myra came to my side.
My fit gave the Speaker pause, but not for long. He simply spoke louder. “Given all that I’ve said, the council has decreed that we would be more than willing to provide a new place for your women, children, and elderly to stay. But in return, every able bodied male among your group will be required to defend their new country from outside aggression.”
Cold sweat seeped to the surface of my skin. I removed my hand from my pocket to wipe the sweat while trying to hide its shaking.
Then a strange calmness came over me as I found my voice. “No.”
There was no mistaking the simplicity of my refusal.
The Speaker frowned. “I don’t think you understand. This is not a request. If you and your people wish to stay on our lands, you will contribute as we see fit. We’ve granted you an officer’s position to keep you from the worst of the fighting. We are not without sympathy. However, the skil
ls you conveyed in your story earlier would be a boon to us right now.”
“Molak-be-damned,” I gritted out in anger. I had not tried to keep my voice low either. I knew the council might give us less than favorable terms before allowing us to settle on their lands, but not knowing about their war, the terms they asked hadn’t crossed my mind.
War had been indirectly and directly responsible for me losing an uncle, a wife, the childhoods of my kids, best friends, and countless other friendships and acquaintances. It had dominated my life for over a decade. The last thing I wanted was to have it in my life again, especially in the place I had so wanted to enjoy peace.
But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered how I could decline?
Just as when Balak came back for me at the abandoned outpost, I had the lives of others to consider.
And unlike then, I knew with certainty that my family and friends could retreat behind the high walls of Batna for safety, if needed. It was a greater reassurance than the crumbling defenses in the desolate Turine military outpost.
And then there was Lasha. Saying no would be like spitting in her face. Though she had left her home for me all those years ago, she never stopped loving the Southern Kingdoms. I couldn’t let her down again by refusing to fight for her country when I had ruined her life by leaving to fight for mine.
“Gods,” I whispered, realizing what my future held.
War meant more killing, and more killing would bring more nightmares.
Ira hissed nearby, “Will it ever end, Ty? Does this crap follow us because we’re just too gods-be-damned good at it to do anything else?”
A sobering thought. Of all the things to excel at in life, I had to be good at taking the lives of others.
Though my “no” had shifted to “yes” in mere moments, I could not make the same decision for the hundreds of men waiting outside of Batna.
I opened my mouth to convey not only my new answer, but also that I’d need time to speak with those outside of the city. But before I could respond, Myra poked me in the side, rapidly whispered something to Chadar, and pushed him forward.
Forever Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Four Page 2
