Forever Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Four

by Joshua P. Simon

  He shuddered. “Yeah. I never want to do that again.”

  I thought of the families in Denu Creek who had died from the crushing weight of debris, or, in some instances, suffocation. Images of young children among those bodies made for greater nightmares than pulling a fellow soldier out of a collapsed tunnel during the war.

  A lump caught in my throat as a small tremor took hold of my hand. I quickly thrust that hand in my pocket and began walking again.

  “Are you doing all right, Tyrus?” Nason called out behind me.

  “Fine,” I lied, shaking off the memories with an increase in my pace.

  Near the center of town, I looked in the direction of our camp and saw pillars of smoke drift over the rooftops.

  Nason stopped beside me and said, “Guess Reuma got tired of waiting and opted for a warm meal over a cold one.”

  I grunted. We were taking longer than I had hoped. But what else was new?

  Once again the clutter present in Kasala’s streets drew my attention. When the former residents of Kasala had finally decided to leave, it was obvious they had done so quickly. Speaking from far too much personal experience, I knew priorities had a way of shifting when just trying to survive.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked Nason.

  “That the people of Kasala weren’t unlike us when we left Denu Creek.”

  “Probably so,” agreed Nason. He added some levity to his tone. “They did have a much shorter distance to travel though.”

  I chuckled, thinking of how far I had walked since finding that blasted artifact at the end of the first Geneshan War. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  A shout came from behind us.

  We turned to two figures walking toward us. I recognized Boaz from the way his right shoulder dipped with every other step. After our stint in Balak’s army, we had moved beyond being simply good acquaintances. His wife Dinah had bonded with Ava during our time apart. Their kids, Abigail and Nadav, continued to shadow Zadok. Regardless of blood, they had become part of what I considered family.

  Lemuel, one of our engineers, walked beside him. He was of medium height and build, and carried no noticeable scars or nervous ticks. His sole distinguishing characteristic was a long mustache he kept well-groomed on an otherwise clean-shaven face.

  I called out, “I expected you both to be gone longer. Not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.”

  Lemuel spat to the side, a trail of brown spit struck the earth. He wiped his long mustache with an open hand, then slid his palm to smear any excess saliva on his trousers.

  In Batna, Lemuel bought all the chewing tobacco he could afford when he found a merchant selling it. Tobacco had become a scarce commodity in Turine and frankly, forgotten in the grand scheme of things. The growing stain on Lemuel’s trousers told me the man was making up for lost time.

  Needless to say, Lemuel had become a man I avoided shaking hands with. At least until he ran out of chewing tobacco again.

  Lemuel said, “The wells were easy to get to. One’s pretty ingenious. There’s a winding staircase that goes down to the water level. It will need to be cleaned and treated in the hopes that one day things might improve. But, it’s unusable now and will be for a long time. We’ll need to seal it off before someone tries to draw water from it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What exactly is wrong?”

  Boaz jumped in. “Bodies.”

  I blinked. “Human?”

  He shook his head. “Thank the gods, no. Animals. Gods, the smell is . . .”

  “He threw up twice,” said Lemuel with a snort.

  Boaz narrowed his eyes. “Laugh it up. I’m still not the one that nearly fell in.”

  Lemuel’s grin fell away.

  “I’ll add closing it up to my ever growing list of things to do. What about the other one? Please tell me it’s not contaminated too.”

  “You’re in luck. It’s not. The water is as clear and clean as you’ve ever tasted. And there’s plenty of it,” said Boaz.

  Lemuel added, “I checked and we really lucked out. It is pulling from a different water source than the first. As structurally sound as we could hope for too.”

  I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” I paused. “I don’t like us having to rely on just one resource though.”

  “Is something wrong with the river?” asked Boaz.

  I shook my head and explained what we had discovered.

  “We could start collecting rain water,” Lemuel offered.

  “Not a bad idea. In fact I’ve seen a bunch of old barrels lying about. Can you come up with a system for each home to maintain their own supply based on run off from roofs?”

  “Sure. That’s an easy fix.”

  “Good. That’s your second priority.”

  He furrowed his brow. “What’s my first priority?”

  “Closing off the other well.”

  “Is it safe to assume you have a third priority?”

  “Yep. Digging a new well to replace the one you’re closing off. Just make sure we find a spot that will tap into the uncontaminated source. I don’t want water to ever be a worry. Got a fourth priority too if you want to hear it,” I teased.

  “Gods no. You can keep that one to yourself. I wish I hadn’t asked about the third. You know how difficult it will be to construct a new well? Of course. . .” He rubbed his chin. “I should be able to tap into the same water supply as the good well, but farther out.”

  I patted his shoulder. “And you said it was going to be difficult. You’re already halfway there. Let me know when you’re ready to begin on it, and I’ll make sure you have what you need.”

  Rutendo, one of three Southern Kingdom citizens I asked to come with us into town, came running into view from a nearby side street. His sudden appearance startled me, and the fact that he came running set my stomach to flip-flopping.

  “Tyrus! We need you right away,” he shouted.

  My hand drifted over to the sword I carried at my waist. “Are we under attack?”

  “No. Nothing like that. It’s just . . . . We found something.”

  Molak-be-damned. That couldn’t be good.

  We hurried through Kasala at Rutendo’s heels. My discomfort grew by the moment.

  “Are you really not going to tell me what’s going on?”

  He glanced back with a pained face, unable to meet my eyes. “I-I’m not trying to be disrespectful. It would just really be best if you saw it yourself.”

  Boaz muttered a curse behind me, echoing my own. I hated mystery. I hated the unknown. And I absolutely loathed surprises. But I knew it would do no good to order him to speak, especially since he said there was no immediate threat.

  We rounded a corner that led us outside of the city proper. Three of the squads I had sent out to sweep the city sat on the ground with arms over their knees. They slowly stood at our approach. Everything about their expressions spoke of sadness, making my chest tighten.

  Closer, I noticed a large hole in the ground several dozen feet away from the squads.

  I glanced over to Rutendo. “A fissure? Why couldn’t you tell me that?”

  Was he worried I’d be upset because such a discovery would bring into question the stability of the ground around Kasala? Because we might have to go back to the council and ask for a different town to settle?

  Then I considered the low piles of dirt and rock on the opposite side of the hole. The hole was purposefully dug.

  “Not a fissure, sir,” said Lieutenant Dar, a holdover from my second stint under Balak’s command. “A grave.”

  I pushed past everyone. At the hole’s edge, my body went numb.

  A grave indeed. From a practical standpoint, it made sense. Why dig hundreds of small holes when one large one would do just fi
ne? We had done the same countless times during the war.

  My fists closed reflexively as I stared at the bones of the dead, the remains of women, children, and even animals haphazardly mixed and intermingled.

  “One giant pit of hell,” I whispered as the wind picked up, bringing with it a lingering taste of death to my tongue.

  My stomach twisted at the familiar flavor in my mouth as it traveled down my throat. It was all I could smell even as the wind subsided. Instinctively, I expected my body to react with a tremor of some sort. Yet, my hands never shook. If anything, I felt steady. Almost calm.

  Was I so damaged that something this horrific brought me comfort?

  But the longer I stood there, the scene did begin to unsettle me.

  I swore loudly. “Molak-be-damned.”

  “Yeah,” Nason’s voice cracked as he uttered the single word. Based on the look he wore, I knew he regretted acting on the urge to stand beside me. I clasped his shoulder and turned him away before addressing the others.

  “Have all buildings been swept?” I asked Dar.

  “Almost, sir. Remiel’s squad isn’t back yet. They should be reporting any moment.”

  “Are all the buildings clean?”

  “Mostly. We did find a couple bodies that were overlooked before the town was abandoned.”

  “First thing we do is bring those bodies here, including the clothes, blankets, or linens they might be touching. Then everyone needs to locate a shovel or spade. I know we passed at least one blacksmith two streets back. That will probably be the best place to start. If you come across other tools while retrieving the bodies, grab them.”

  Boaz cleared his throat. “Tyrus, what exactly are you wanting us to do?”

  “Pretty obvious. We have a grave to fill.”

  He and others exchanged nervous glances. “But what about the Southern Kingdom religion?”

  It was like a slap in the face. With my ever growing list of things to do, I had forgotten about the burial rituals.

  One thing that had been made very clear to us by Chadar, Galya, and the council was how reverently the dead were to be treated. It was so important to the Southern Kingdom religion that our own town charter specified how we were to dispose of any individuals who died in Kasala. It was a meticulous process, involving extensive prayer and certain rituals.

  The scene itself had not unsettled everyone nearly as much as the implication of the scene. I found Rutendo again. He stood with the two other Southern Kingdom citizens. Each looked as though they might cry or vomit.

  Rutendo said, “I can’t believe my people left so many like this. We have to send word back to Batna so that they will be judged for their grave sins.”

  The two next to him agreed, looking equally as pained as him.

  I knew from Lasha that judgment for disturbing or mistreating the dead usually meant death of the offender as well.

  I shook my head. “Your people did not do this. Grave robbers did this. Maybe raiders from Byzan or Genesha. Step closer and look into the grave. Look at how haphazardly the bodies on top are handled in comparison to those lain carefully beneath. Someone thought they’d find money or other riches buried with the dead. Lots of other cultures do things like that. Looks like they realized that was not the case here, gave up, and moved on.”

  Rutendo breathed a sigh of relief at the realization his people were innocent. “How long ago was that?”

  A soldier heard the question and answered for me. “At least a couple months ago based on the way the bodies have decomposed and how the dirt has already begun to pack down. Of course the weather could do that some too.”

  This only proves my argument to the council about needing to be prepared for anything.

  “Do you each know how to perform the necessary burial rites?” I asked the three men with us from the Southern Kingdoms.

  “Yes, of course,” said Rutendo. “Every follower of Engai knows the rites. But none of us has performed those rites on so many before. We’ll need to bring in the others from our camp.”

  “I’d rather this stay among us. Look at how it’s affected you and even those of us from Turine who hold different beliefs. There’s no reason to force those feelings onto others. We should handle this ourselves and keep it private for the better of everyone.”

  Rutendo raised his voice. “That’s impossible. The rites are—”

  Raising a hand, I said, “I understand that this is a pretty intimidating situation, so let’s figure this out together. Now, I don’t know your religious beliefs as well as you do obviously, but based on what I can recall my wife , Chadar, and Galya mentioning, you wouldn’t need to perform all the rites from the beginning, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “So let’s follow that thought process and think about what rites must be done given our situation rather than what rites would be performed from the very beginning when someone dies since that would not be the case. Makes sense?”

  The three exchanged looks and after a moment of hesitancy bobbed their heads.

  “Good.” I glanced back to the squads waiting behind me. “I don’t care how long it takes, but no one does anything without their approval. Understood?”

  Nods and ‘yes sirs’ followed.

  * * *

  We worked all afternoon under Southern Kingdom guidance before I sent a messenger to Reuma that we were fine but wouldn’t return until morning. My orders to the messenger were specific, “Don’t stick around. And don’t answer any questions. Deliver my message and leave. Blame me if anyone puts up a fuss for your silence.”

  He returned in short order, shaking his head while dismounting.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “I did what you said, sir. They weren’t happy.” He grabbed a spade and returned to work with the rest of us. The majority of the burial rites were over and the remains were well covered. We just needed to level out the earth and allow Rutendo to speak a final prayer.

  “I didn’t expect them to be. Was anyone in particular more vocal?”

  He snorted. “You can probably guess. Reuma. Your daughter, too.”

  I clicked my tongue. “Figured as much.”

  “And your woman,” he added.

  “My woman?”

  “Yeah, Damaris. She was worried about you.”

  I worked my jaw. “She’s not my woman.”

  He paused in his work, tilting his head. “Are you kidding me, sir?”

  “No,” I said stiffly, jamming the shovel back into the earth. “We aren’t together.”

  “Oh.”

  I could sense an uncomfortable tension among everyone who overheard our brief exchange and couldn’t let it linger. Our task was physically, mentally, and emotionally demanding enough. Besides, it wasn’t his fault that I struggled to define my relationship with Damaris.

  “There’s something I wanted to ask everyone,” I said, speaking loudly to the group as a whole.

  All looked my way.

  “We aren’t in an army anymore, and we’re about to settle our own town. Isn’t it time we drop the ‘commander’ and the ‘sir’?”

  Remiel, an older veteran asked. “What are we supposed to call you then?”

  I chuckled. “Just Tyrus.”

  “Nah,” said another soldier. “How about mayor?”

  I blinked. “Mayor? You need to have a vote before you appoint someone mayor.”

  The soldier shrugged. “If you really think that’s necessary. It’ll just be a formality though.”

  “There’s no one else? I think Reuma would be a great choice.”

  I didn’t mean to throw her name out there like that without asking her first, but in truth I had already begun thinking about when and how I’d pass off the stresses of leadership to someone else once I felt Kasala was on the right path. Her name kept appea
ring at the top of my short list. She was capable, and I knew she’d honor Lasha’s memory in our new life in the Southern Kingdom since the two were once friends.

  “She’s got a lot going for her, sir. Or should I say, Mayor.” The soldier smiled.

  Others smiled with him. I did not.

  He continued,“But she’s not you. You got us here and you’re the one we trust to see us through whatever comes next. Until the end.”

  Molak-be-damned. I’d have to make sure the end came soon so I could live the life with my kids that I wanted.

  * * *

  We worked through the evening and into the night. I’m not sure what time we actually finished, but we did so by the light of the stars and a large fire. That fire reminded me of the countless nights I had spent either alone or with Hamath at the funeral pyres following each battle. Something about that time always calmed me. Reburying the dead of Kasala didn’t quite have the same effect, but I did find it numbing.

  Memories of Hamath overwhelmed me. In the end, he was not the man I had thought him to be. However, when it mattered most, he had given his life so that I could live. Was there anything better one friend could do for another?

  After smoothing the last patch of earth, everyone immediately began to settle in around the fire, exhausted from their efforts. I shuffled over, feeling each ache and knowing I’d hate life in a brand new way come morning.

  I cleared my throat. “Tomorrow we’ll bring everyone into the city. We have a lot of long days in our future, but it’ll eventually get easier.” I did my best to meet everyone’s eyes. “Thank you all for doing this. Sadly, we have an opportunity to start over because of the misfortunes of others. It isn’t a pleasant thought, but it’s still a significant one. It’s important we don’t forget those who lived and died here.”

  I paused, trying to find the right words to continue. “We honored the dead in Turine by winning. We will honor those who died here by living. Remember the hard work of those who created Kasala. Respect it. Improve upon it. Make this place your home. This is for them just as much as it is for us.” I shook my head. Fatigue had begun to set in. “Sorry, I’m not sure I’m making my point very well.”