Forever Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Four

by Joshua P. Simon

  Before the guard’s order, I had intended to check into an inn and stable our horses, bathe, and get a hot meal. Then I had planned to seek an audience with the council.

  The streets were eerily empty, which was far more unsettling than the stares from our last visit. Outside of the raindrops striking, we heard no other sound except the jostling of our wagons. If I hadn’t known better, I’d wonder if the city was deserted.

  I had been away from Kasala for several days, but it felt like weeks with recent events rampaging through my mind. Would Paki be foolish enough to attack Kasala? Had he rallied a neighboring town to his side? Were the riders Ira spotted still scouting Kasala? Had Rufaro and Ayodele reached Ekarta and Lalara? If so, how did their discussions go?

  I uncapped my water skin, took a long drink, and smacked my lips, having come to enjoy the bitterness. The shifting of wet clothes gave me a shiver that ran though my whole body.

  “You all right up there, Ty?” Ira called out.

  “Yeah,” I answered. “Just cold from the rain.”

  “Prax’s balls, you can say that again. My blasted trousers are crawling into places only Reuma’s seen.”

  Zadok yelled from farther back, “That’s way more information than I needed to know.”

  Ira gave a loud guffaw that gave me reason to chuckle as I took the next left. At the end of another empty street, the hexagonal building where the council met loomed ahead.

  I steered into the adjacent stable. The people moving inside by dim lamplight were the first I had seen since the guards at Batna’s gate.

  “We’re looking for a place to stable our mounts and wagons,” I shouted inside, peeved that there wasn’t an immediate response to greet us.

  “Obviously,” said a boy a few years younger than Zadok as he stepped out and shielded his eyes from the rain.

  “Excuse me?”

  I was already agitated by the weather and the behavior of the guards. The last thing I wanted to deal with was attitude.

  He at least had the courtesy to look abashed. “No offense, sir. I only meant that why else would you be here? That’s all.”

  I gave a reluctant nod of acceptance. It wasn’t an apology really, but I wasn’t in the mood to haggle over a few trivial words.

  “Do you know how long you’ll be with us?” he asked as we climbed off our wagons and moved to the cover of the stable entrance.

  “A couple days,” I said.

  He nodded. “The rate is half a silver a day. “

  “That seems pretty high to board and feed an animal.”

  “That’s just to board. It costs two coppers for the feed.”

  Zadok exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous. Are you going to tell me that you charge extra to brush them out too?”

  The boy shrugged. “We do actually.”

  “What kind of stable is this?” asked Zadok.

  “Is there a problem?” came another voice from deeper inside.

  An older man, graying slightly at the temples, approached us. He wasn’t large, but he had a hardness about him that spoke volumes.

  The young stable hand answered. “Master, they want to stable their wagons, but they don’t think our rates are fair.”

  “They do seem high,” I said.

  Zadok cut in, “And for services that should be standard.”

  The stable master offered a shrug. “Rates change with the times. I don’t have the staff I once did. Nor the same amount of business. The plague took care of those things. However, the plague did not take care of my debt. If you don’t like the rates, you’re welcome to try elsewhere. But you’ll find the same story.”

  “All I know is—” Zadok started, but I silenced him with slight shake of the head.

  “We’re in a hurry. We’ll pay the fees. Just see that the mounts are well cared for.”

  The stable master asked. “Are you here to see the council?”

  “Yes.”

  He gestured. “Walk down that way until you reach the back wall, then go left. You’ll find a covered walkway to enter the council building.”

  “Is there a place where we can make ourselves more presentable first?”

  “No place for a bath, if that’s what you mean. We do have plenty of empty stalls though. Help yourself to one if you have a change of clothes or would like to dry off. You’re more than welcome to leave your wet clothes out to dry afterward. We have the room and I’ll see that no one bothers them.”

  “Thank you .”

  We each took a separate stall to change. After peeling off my wet clothes and laying them out, I stood naked and cold. Without a towel, the cool air dried me. Based on Ira’s curses a couple stalls over, I assumed he suffered through the same tortuous wait.

  To shake off the road weariness and also warm myself, I stretched, twisted, and rolled my limbs about. Afterward, I finally drew forth the clothes Damaris had given me. Slipping the trousers on first, I was amazed at how well she had sized me without a fitting.

  The dark blue shirt cut in the Southern Kingdom style gave me greater pause as I was certain I had caught her scent when sliding it over my head. A different sort of shiver ran through me then, stirring emotions I had no desire to explore at the moment. Quickly punching my arms through the sleeves, I took another swig from my water skin and tried to enjoy the clean, dry clothes.

  “Ready, Pa?” Zadok called out.

  “Just about,” I said, redistributing the items in my pack. I planned to leave my wet clothes behind, but I wasn’t so trusting to leave everything.

  I emerged with my water skin over my left shoulder and my pack over my right, brushing my hair into some sort of order.

  Ira gave a mocking whistle. “Look at you. That’s one fine-looking mayor.”

  Zadok and I both chuckled.

  “Did Damaris make that?” Zadok asked.

  “She did,” I said, not wishing to elaborate further. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  The side entrance of the hexagonal building was not nearly as grand as the main one, but it was just as heavily guarded. Six men asked us each a dozen questions after confiscating our weapons and rummaging through our things.

  Finally, we took a seat outside the council chamber until they were ready to see me. Despite having sat for so long on the wagon ride into the city, my body held a weariness that reminded me of long days of marching in full gear.

  Most soldiers longed for the simple nature of them, but after too many strung together, some young idiot would eventually mouth off about being bored. Veterans would end up putting the soldier in their place. It was dangerous to tempt fate.

  Sure as the sun would rise the next morning, fate would respond with something exciting. If that young soldier managed to survive it, they’d usually be among the first to speak against the next idiot to complain of boredom.

  “Molak-be-damned,” I said low, thinking about how I had been one of those idiot soldiers during my first year. I had almost forgotten that.

  “What?” asked Ira.

  “Huh?” I grunted, trying to act oblivious to my outburst.

  “You said something.”

  Flashes of an ambush leaped into my mind, one that ended a particular period of boredom. The flashes came so quick I barely pieced them together, but still they rattled me. I felt the beginnings of a tremor.

  “Still having trouble warming up,” I lied.

  Why were images of war coming to me so vividly? Had I made a weaker batch of the potion since last time? Was my body getting used to the doses? Would I need to consume more each time like some old drunk in order to reach the desired effect? Despite my best efforts to be more careful of my dosages, it seemed that I was still going through the potion faster than Dar had said I should.

  If not for my meeting with the council, I’d avoid taking a drink from my skin altogether. B
ut considering how important the conversation was, I couldn’t take the risk of being distracted by old memories. I removed the stopper from my skin and drank, taking in slightly more than usual. I promised myself that after today, I wouldn’t consume so large of an amount at once again.

  He grunted. “I hope you ain’t gettin’ sick.”

  “Yeah. The ride home will seem twice as long then.”

  The door to the council chambers finally opened. We all stood. The guard gestured, “Just Tyrus.”

  “Good luck, Pa,” said Zadok.

  I left my pack with Ira and moved forward, but the guard pointed, “The skin too.”

  “You’re worried I’m going to harm someone with water?”

  “We have rules,” he shrugged.

  “I’ll be doing a lot of talking and—”

  “There’s water inside.”

  I sighed, but said no more. Arguing over a water skin would only raise questions.

  Nothing had changed about the chambers since my last visit. The walls remained bare and many of the seats still sat unfilled.

  I took the Speaker’s hand as he came to greet me. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. Council,” I added, while offering the formal Southern Kingdom greeting to those in attendance.

  All returned my greeting. So far, so good.

  The Speaker withdrew. “We just reconvened after a break from discussing the war.”

  “Oh?”

  I forgot all about my reasons for speaking with the council. Thoughts of Ava consumed me. I hadn’t expected to receive regular updates, but I hadn’t fully understood how much being kept in the dark had bothered me until I had an opportunity to gain more knowledge about her and the war itself. My anxiousness also provided a whole new level of appreciation for the waiting Lasha and the kids had experienced while I was off fighting the Geneshans.

  “Could I ask how things are faring?” I chanced.

  “Are you having second thoughts about aiding us? We could still very much use your help.”

  I winced, gently clearing my throat, “No. I ask only as a concerned citizen and as a brother worried about his sister.”

  He bobbed his head. “Fair enough. As I communicated in my last letter, your sister and the other Turine volunteers are doing well. Based on recent reports, your sister has become quite the thorn in the side of the enemy.”

  I held back a grin of relief.

  “So you’re pleased with her contributions?” I asked, wanting to shake off my doubts about her taking my place.

  “Very much so.”

  “And the war itself? Has the tide shifted in our favor?”

  “We’re not necessarily losing ground, but we’re not winning any back either. I find our progress frustrating.”

  The Speaker’s answer troubled me. To voice his concerns so openly meant they were no secret and likely he was not alone in them. Part of me wanted to question him about this.

  A bigger part of me wanted to ask more about Ava. Was she sleeping well? How was she handling the stress? Was she doing all right without me? However, he’d have none of that information.

  I hated war. I hated it with a passion that only those who have actually fought in it could understand. Yet, I wished I was with Ava anyway to be there for her as I knew only I could.

  Or at least how I knew I once could. Given my lack of a resistance, my mental struggles, and the recent outcome of my meeting with Paki, maybe it was better that I was so far away from her.

  “Since you’re here, Tyrus, we’d like your opinion on recent decisions Jumla Danso has made. Maybe you can shed some light on his thought process since he gives us so little explanation. Perhaps an idea might arise we could use to change the tide of the war.”

  “I apologize, but I’d rather not. It’s really difficult to say what someone should or shouldn’t do so far removed from the events as they’re happening.”

  “But you offered your opinion before.”

  “Yes, but most of what I said was about general strategy. Besides, our agreement does not call for me to offer continuous advice.”

  The Speaker looked annoyed. Various council members stirred in their sets, some letting out audible sighs. They didn’t like that response one bit.

  The Speaker frowned. “What would you do for Kasala if our army fails and the enemy sweeps across our lands?”

  “I would do all that I could to protect it.”

  “Would it not make more sense to do all that you can now before that situation occurs?”

  Of course it would make far more sense to fight when there was a higher probability of victory rather than waiting until the only remaining goal was delaying death. But would I fold under the pressure of battle like I had at Sinsca?

  The coppery smell of freshly spilled blood ghosted through my nostrils. A disapproving gaze from Lasha came to mind next.

  Instinctively, I reached for my water skin. But it wasn’t there.

  The image of Lasha grew more intense, her face twisting into a deep scowl, lip turned up in disgust. Was it because she disapproved of my need to find comfort in a drink? Was it because her memory was not enough to keep me in control when she had once been my rock? Was she even more disappointed in me for not keeping it together in front of the Southern Kingdom council?

  I found the water the guard said would be available and drained a full cup in one long gulp. The lack of bitterness reminded me of what I needed. However, it was enough of a distraction to shake off the smell of blood and more importantly the feeling of betraying my wife.

  Setting my cup down, I took a slow deep breath. “The answer is still no.”

  The council began to murmur, voices thick with annoyance.

  “I apologize, it’s just that—”

  “You wanted to speak with the council about a different matter, correct? Something of grave importance?” the Speaker interrupted. He wore a look of disappointment that matched Lasha’s image.

  This was not how I had hoped my meeting with the council would go.

  “Yes. I—”

  “Very well,” he cut in again. His interruptions were petty, but an easy way to remind me that despite denying his request, he still held the power. “Begin.”

  Given everyone’s change in attitude, I decided it best to start with a few positives. I summarized our progress on repairs, the new well, completing towers, cultivating fields, and so on.

  None of it struck a chord. In fact, some looked so disinterested that they began to have small conversations among themselves.

  I pressed on, emphasizing our growing bond as a town, but the Speaker cut in once more. “Tyrus, we’re pleased that things are going well, but there must be a point to all this.”

  “I was just about to get to it.”

  “Get it to it sooner.”

  I recounted our failed efforts in reaching out to Sinsca, their response in denying us the river, the poisoning of our fields, and our confrontation with them. I left out my personal struggles and softened as much as possible how close we had come to violence. I concluded with sending out groups to Ekarta and Lalara in an effort to stave off any lies Paki might spread.

  Surprisingly, the Speaker did not interrupt me during my recounting of events. He did not immediately speak after I finished either. I had expected dozens of questions, but it was as if my words had stolen their breath. That unnerved me more. Rage would have been better than silence.

  After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, I opened my mouth again, thinking that further explanation might improve the situation.

  The Speaker snapped, “I believe you’ve said enough.”

  He began walking the room, leaning over to various members of the council in private conversation. Appalling stares came my way during each exchange.

  After several minutes, I chanced,
“Perhaps I can elaborate on an area you may have questions about and—”

  He wheeled. “Silence! I need no further elaboration.”

  His biting tone made me want to bite back. I refrained from doing something so stupid, reminding myself that I was still very much a stranger to the Southern Kingdoms and above all else was beholden to their law.

  Standing there alone, feeling very much a fool, I longed for Chadar’s and Galya’s wisdom.

  I thought of Zadok outside with Ira. I should not have let my emotions get the better of me. Rather than looking for an excuse to spend more time with my son, I should have forced one of the Southern Kingdom citizens to accompany me to Batna. Their deeper understanding of the country’s culture and political system were far more important under the circumstances than me missing my son.

  The Speaker returned to the main floor. He met my eyes, hands clasped behind his back like a schoolmaster set to reprimanding an ill-behaved child. His tone reinforced the impression.

  “Tyrus, you disappoint us greatly. Especially me.”

  “I do?”

  “Again,” he snapped, “you will remain silent until I say otherwise. If you cannot hold your tongue, I shall have a guard hold it for you. Do you understand?”

  Jaw tightening, I nodded.

  “You may speak your reply.”

  I tried my best to remove the anger from my voice, but doubted my success. “Yes, Speaker. I understand.”

  “When you first came to us, many did not want you or your people to settle our lands. There was fear that you would bring us nothing but trouble. Some felt that we should allow you to settle here, but only by completely dictating the terms ourselves. No negotiations.” He paused. “A few, like myself, managed to sway those groups to see the advantages your presence offered even if we conceded certain terms to you. Despite embarrassing us and making some of the fears many were concerned with real, we few have stood up for you again.”

  He paused, waiting. But I realized what he was trying to do. When I didn’t take the bait to speak out of turn again, he gave a slight nod of approval.

  That nod sickened me. It made me feel like a dog.