Forever Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Four

by Joshua P. Simon

  Finishing the last story, Myra glanced out the window as a ray of sunlight crept inside. “Another long day ahead.”

  She was making conversation, filling the silence as many of us do, but the way she said it made me sad. The weary tone came across as someone much older than her sixteen years. I hoped one day she might find something or, better yet, someone who’d give her a glimpse of the youthful joy she had missed out on.

  I acknowledged her comment about the light with a grunt. Having enjoyed the hour together, the last thing I wanted was for it to end.

  “One more story first,” said Zadok as if reading my thoughts. “A quick one.”

  I grinned. “All right.”

  He added. “But not about Grandma or Grandpa. I want to know something about Ma. She’s been on my mind a lot since we came to Kasala.”

  “Oh?”

  “The house just feels empty without her.”

  Myra whispered. “I’ve thought the same.”

  I cleared my throat. “Me too.” I paused. “Anything specific?”

  Zadok raised his head in thought. “Actually, yes. One of the letters she sent to you. You started sharing them with us a long time ago before you rejoined Balak’s army. We never read the rest of them.”

  “No, I guess we didn’t.”

  I failed to mention my reason for that. Though those letters had seen me through difficult times during the Geneshan War, they were also a reminder of the war itself. Considering my daily struggles, I hadn’t wanted to purposefully dredge up memories around Zadok or Myra. But then again, how could I deny my children the right to learn more about their mother?

  I went to an old chest leftover from the home’s previous occupants. Rummaging around my few meager belongings, I found the small bundle of letters. Despite their years, repeated readings, and all else they had gone through, they remained in their proper order, organized by when I had received them.

  After untying the string binding them, I began shuffling through them, looking for the last letter I recalled sharing. A small splatter of blood on the upper right corner of it prompted a harsh memory.

  The blood had come from an arrow I took in the side of my neck near the collar bone. It hadn’t gone deep, but I remembered it hurt like ten kinds of hell. Hamath had removed it quickly and Ava did a quick cauterization in the field so that we could complete our mission. However, before she managed to stop the bleeding, some had trickled down underneath my light armor. I hadn’t the chance to safely store the letter before going off on that mission.

  The rest of that day’s events began to unfold.

  We had taken out our first Master Sorcerer, losing three men in the process. Their lifeless faces came to mind. I’d never forget those images of . . .

  “Molak-be-damned,” I hissed in frustration and horror.

  I noticed my kids jump at my tone, but I didn’t acknowledge the reaction, too focused on what troubled me.

  For some reason, I could not remember the names of those three men. As a positive, my forgetfulness had jarred me from getting lost in those memories. On the negative, it felt like a betrayal to them.

  I had lost many men over my military career. I took comfort in internally rattling off their names. But gods-be-damned, I couldn’t remember the names of those three. Images of their staring faces returned, and I swore their previously blank eyes now held disappointment.

  How could I forget? I had promised myself I would never forget. Their efforts deserved to live on in some way.

  Something touched my arm, startling me. I jumped, hand going for the knife that thankfully wasn’t at my waist. The realization of what my sudden movement had meant was plain on Myra’s concerned face. She slowly withdrew her hand.

  “Gods, I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly.

  I lied of course, feigning a chuckle and alluding to absentmindedness on my part. “Yes. Mind just wandered a bit.”

  “We don’t have to read the letters,” offered Zadok with a noticeable swallow.

  The frown he wore wrenched at my heart.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  I shuffled the letter with blood to the back, deciding it best to skip for now. Maybe forever. The letter beneath though brought a genuine smile to my face as I recalled its contents.

  The change in my expression eased the tension in my kids. “Here’s a good one.”

  There still seemed to be a bit of disquiet from my reaction, but that faded as I read them their mother’s words.

  * * *

  “Yeah, I remember them. Tirac. Upaz. And Abner,” said Ira.

  I repeated the names aloud, then several times to myself. I wouldn’t forget them again, even if it meant reliving that day over and over.

  I had met with Ira soon after reading the letter from Lasha. I recounted my morning, including the nightmare that had woken me.

  His face twisted. “That day was ugly business as I recall. Almost as bad as Susa.”

  “Susa?” That seemed a random comparison to me. “How so?”

  “Do I really need to explain? You were there. You saw what the Geneshans did to their people. Their children.” He let out a shaky breath. “Couldn’t even eat breakfast this morning because of my dreams.”

  Susa was a small Geneshan town we had come upon later in the war when things began turning our way again after Wadlow Hill. We had planned to raid the town for supplies, expecting to face resistance from the locals. What we found instead was a town completely stripped of anything useful, decorated with the dead and dismembered bodies of those who had lived there. It confirmed rumors that the Geneshans would sacrifice their own citizens in order to appease their god, Beel. Bodies of children made many a grown man cry that day. I’m not ashamed to say I was one of them.

  Later that same night, several of ours had committed suicide. In all instances, they had told a fellow soldier earlier that they didn’t want to live another day in a world where such things happened.

  “I understand. You wanna talk about the dream?” I asked.

  “No. I’m not ready to talk about that one in any detail yet. I know what you said about us owning our memories, but that one scares me.” He looked green when he added. “Probably came up because before bed Reuma and I were talking about what it would be like to one day have kids of our own. Then I thought about what those kids had gone through . . .”

  I rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t push yourself. Another time.”

  He bobbed his head, then shifted the discussion. “You know Ty, I wouldn’t doubt some of the other veterans are dealing with the same thing as us.”

  “Probably. No way of knowing without going around and asking everyone though. Might not be the best thing to do until we get ourselves right first.”

  “Yeah, most probably wouldn’t admit they had an issue even if we asked. Too embarrassed like we were. I didn’t want to tell you, and you’re like a brother to me. Shouldn’t be that way, but . . . gods, I hate not having control over my own thoughts.”

  I nodded in silent agreement.

  Ira snorted. “Something just popped into my head from years ago. I nearly forgot about it. Didn’t make much sense to me at the time, but gods if it doesn’t make sense now.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Something an old veteran from the Byzan wars told me and Dekar when we had left Tamra for the Geneshan War all those years ago. He said, ‘All men who go to war die.’ Trying to be smart, I had answered him, ‘You better check yourself. You ain’t dead.’” He paused. “But then that old man looked me square in the eye and said, ‘I’m not? Those of us that come back have just been cheated of the full experience.’”

  My blood ran cold at the meaning.

  CHAPTER 18

  Ira and I parted as the morning sky continued to bri
ghten. He didn’t like the speed at which households were waking and took it upon himself to help them along.

  “Good morning, Mayor,” Damaris said, wearing a bright smile and teasing me with my title. She had done so every day since my formal election as we walked to the fields.

  “Miss Damaris,” I answered, pretending to tip a hat I didn’t wear. The gesture was silly, but something I had made a habit of as well. “How are you this fine and lovely morning?”

  She kept her tone light. “Oh, the usual. Bone tired and sore in places I didn’t think existed until a few days ago.”

  I chuckled. “Farming will do that to you. I forgot how much work it could be myself.”

  “Too many easy years in the army, right?”

  I snorted. “Exactly.”

  Our conversation paused there. Not awkwardly. Our silences never felt awkward.

  “You don’t look as though you slept well,” she observed.

  “Nope. I’m probably just as tired as you are.”

  “There’s a difference in being tired and not sleeping well.” She hesitated. “I saw you talking to Ira again this morning. Seems like a good habit you two have started.”

  I bobbed my head. “We hope so.”

  “If you need anyone else to talk to about anything at all, I’m here, Tyrus.”

  I smiled at the genuine concern on her face, blinking when her head tilted. I had been staring. “I know. Thank you. But, I’m fine.”

  “I’m a good listener if you change your mind.”

  “And stubborn too,” I quipped.

  She lightly slapped my arm with the back of her hand. Then without asking she slipped her arm into mine. She hadn’t done that since the night of the celebration.

  “Gotta be where you’re concerned. Figure one day you’ll come around,” she said.

  I saw her regard me a moment longer out the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t meet that gaze. I knew her comment wasn’t just about us talking. That old feeling of guilt I had for my ever-growing feelings hit me, and a part of me wanted to pull away from her touch.

  Another part of me wouldn’t allow it. Our arms just seemed to fit naturally together.

  * * *

  Udo waited for us alone at a wagon filled with rocks that needed hauling away from the previous day’s work. He examined the patch of field we planned to work.

  Even Ira would have to admit that my charity case had been a success.

  “Morning,” I said.

  Udo looked up. “Morning.”

  “Up early again?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. All the things that need to be done are running through my head. Thought I’d come out and get a head start.”

  My kind of man.

  He gestured toward the field. “Looks as though that patch is in better shape than the others we’ve worked on. We might be able to start plowing this afternoon.”

  “We’ll see how the morning progresses.” I nodded to the cart. “About horses . . .”

  “I talked to Nason yesterday. He said he and his kids would grab them from Boaz today for me.”

  “Good.”

  Looking toward town, others had begun making their way into the fields. We had a bit of time to talk before they’d reach us.

  “Family doing all right?” I asked.

  “Great. The kids are helping with some things around the home, and Nia is taking Damaris’s advice. She is organizing a sewing group.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Damaris. That was news to me.

  She shrugged. “Lots of clothes need mending, and soon we’ll have to think about producing new ones. No one had shown any interest in tailoring yet so I figured that left me.”

  I had asked her once months ago on our journey south if she had wanted to get into tailoring again. Tailoring had been her father’s trade and taking it up again would cause too many painful memories.

  “But I thought—”

  “I know what I said,” she cut in. “But everyone else is making sacrifices to do what’s best for Kasala. I shouldn’t receive special treatment. I can worry about myself later. I’m hoping Udo’s wife might take up the trade herself. She’s shown a talent for it.”

  Udo smiled. “She’d be pleased to hear you say that.”

  A thought struck me. “Is that what you’ve been doing in the evenings when you leave the fields early?”

  Damaris put her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t loafing around, if that’s what you thought.”

  I wasn’t sure what I thought. Though I tried not to show favoritism to those I was closest to, I still did to some degree. If it’d been anyone besides Damaris, I’d have pried into their whereabouts.

  “I didn’t think that. Just curious why you didn’t tell me.”

  “Because I have it under control, and you’ve got more than enough to worry about.”

  “Thank you.”

  She relaxed enough to offer a smile.

  Before I lost myself in staring at her again, I addressed Udo. “How’s the mother-in-law?”

  He stiffened. “She’s well . . . same as she usually is.”

  “Which means she’s being a pain in everyone’s rear,” said Damaris.

  I turned, surprised at her tone.

  She gave me an incredulous look. “What? It’s true. Anyone can see that. Including his wife. Am I wrong?” she asked Udo.

  “Well . . . .”

  “You don’t have to answer that,” I said. “You’re a good man to put up with her.”

  “Too bad she doesn’t see that,” replied Udo.

  “One day she will. If not, know that I appreciate your efforts.”

  “And most important, Nia is proud of you,” said Damaris.

  Udo grinned, looking embarrassed.

  Our conversation ended as others arrived. We assigned some to walking the fields with a bag slung over their shoulder, picking up smaller stones. Others we organized in teams with spades and shovels. They loosened the top soil and sought for larger rocks and old roots. As in days prior, we found several larger boulders we had to haul away with horse and rope. More and more I understood why the people of Kasala had been ranchers rather than farmers.

  * * *

  About midday, I was welcomed with desperately needed news. Ira had spotted Chadar and Galya in the distance. I had already selected a second group to send out after them if another day had gone by without word. Having them return eased a large knot in my gut. Leaving Udo and Nason in charge of the fields, we met their party at the northern edge of town near the construction of the first tower.

  Myra released Galya from a warm embrace at our arrival. Galya surprised me by pulling me into a hug as well. More surprising was how much that contact meant, as did Chadar’s comforting handshake. The older couple had grown on me more than I had grasped.

  “You haven’t been sleeping,” Chadar said while studying me.

  I snorted. “You’ve been gone far longer than I expected, and you start the conversation with concerns about me? I’m fine. What news do you bring?”

  “Some news is better to ease into.” He glanced at those who had paused in their work on the tower in order to catch our conversation. “And better discussed in private first.”

  The brightness that had come from seeing them faded at his weary tone.

  Crap. “Let’s go to my place.”

  “Your place?”

  I gestured back to town. “We’ve been busy with more than just defenses.”

  I dismissed the squad I had assigned to Chadar and Galya, ordering them to take a day of rest and to stay silent about the trip.

  We left Reuma and Myra to continue overseeing the tower construction, but not without promises that I’d fill them in later.

  Ira helped me point out the improvements we had made to Chadar and Galya as we
walked through the town.

  Galya wiped away a tear. “Seeing all that you’ve done already gives me great hope for our country’s future.”

  Once we reached my home, the four of us sat around my kitchen table with water and bread. I had intended to let them eat before asking questions, but the walk had burned through my patience.

  “So what happened?” I prompted.

  Chadar swallowed his bite. “We made it to Sinsca in good time. The roads are in respectable shape with the exception of one patch about half mile long that would be difficult for wagons to pass over.” He let out a heavy sigh. “We have a big problem with the river. The reason it is in such poor condition is because Sinsca partially damned and rerouted it.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “The eruptions caused shifts in the earth that did some of the work for them. Sinsca took advantage and turned our poor luck into their fortune. The eruptions damaged their wells. Damning the river gave them an easier source of water.”

  “Couldn’t they dig another well?”

  “They don’t have anyone with the skills.”

  “I could halt work on the second well and send Lemuel to them. We need the river.”

  Chadar shook his head. “I thought you might say that and tossed out the idea to gauge their response, but Paki, their new mayor, said no.”

  “Paki?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, Duna died following the eruptions. I hadn’t met Paki before. I found him quite disagreeable. He was adamant that Sinsca did not need our help.”

  My brow furrowed. “Were they skeptical of our intentions? Do they really not need our help? Or do they simply not want it?”

  “The latter.”

  Galya added. “Paki is very uneasy with your presence in the Southern Kingdoms. We were greeted with weapons drawn because of the foreigners with us. They thought Chadar and I were captives. It took us several minutes to convince them that we were not being coerced to speak on your behalf.”

  I had assumed that the lack of acceptance some felt in Turine would not be an issue in the Southern Kingdoms. Maybe before the eruptions, that would have held true. Likely the war in the east changed that. Just as in Batna where not everyone appeared overjoyed at our arrival, Paki likely saw us at best as refugees taking over one of his cities. At worst, enemies in waiting.