Over and over, I said, “I’ll fill everyone in at the usual spot. Go spread the word to meet us there.”
At the center of town, I climbed down and started walking some life back into my legs. I discovered that moving was worse than sitting as my wet, sticky clothes shifted and chafed. The new smells they stirred didn’t help my mood. However, I’m not ashamed to say I took pleasure in seeing that my own misery was mirrored on the faces of the councilors.
I said to Xola, “Everyone should be along soon.”
“Still acting as mayor, I see.”
I blinked. “How else would you want me to call everyone in?”
She ignored the question. “Is there a specific place you usually address everyone?”
I pointed. “By the general store. Probably best to stand on a wagon so your voice carries better over the crowd. It will take a little while for those in the fields to make it in so you have time to change your clothes and get more comfortable, if you’d like. There’s an inn down by—”
“We’ll wait,” she snapped.
Barasa frowned while pulling his shirt away from his chest. “What do you have against changing clothes?”
She scowled, unafraid to speak bluntly. “I do not wish to leave him alone until after the town is informed of the council’s decision. The last thing we need is for him to twist words without us around to correct him.”
“I wouldn’t—” I began, but she turned her back on me as if the matter were closed.
I saw anger flash across Zadok’s face. Surprisingly, it was Ira who put a hand on the boy’s shoulder to steady him. Though the exchange was private, it looked like others in town noticed something was wrong. Or at least different. I could tell many wanted to ask me a question, but they knew me well enough to understand I’d say nothing until everyone had arrived.
* * *
It looked as though everyone from the fields had finally made it into town. I started walking to the wagon.
Xola called out. “Tyrus?”
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“Making the announcement.”
She chuckled, but it lacked any hint of mirth. It was more disbelief that I would even assume that was a good idea. “No. I will handle that.”
I bit the inside of my cheek as she strode past me. Barasa and Gero walked a step behind her like two trained dogs rather than the councilors they were. The two helped Xola into the back of the wagon before climbing up beside her. A careful swig from my water skin helped calm me.
Xola raised her hands in that universal signal that meant everyone needed to shut up because something important was about to be said. The crowd hushed. She looked as though she relished the news she was about to deliver.
That made one of us.
Her voice was loud and melodic, like the kind mother everyone heard about in fairy tales who’d always have a sweet ready to hand out. “Thank you all for gathering today.”
The startling contrast to the tone she used in private with me stung all the more.
She continued, “I’m sure you are all wondering who these strange, wet, and probably smelly visitors are. Right?”
She laughed in a way about her condition that put a smile on everyone’s faces.
Ira moved up beside me and muttered, “Prax’s balls, she’s good.”
All I could do was grunt.
“My name is Xola. This is Barasa and Gero. We are members of the Council of Batna. We’re here to set right the current path that Kasala seems to be taking.” She raised her hands again, stopping any shout, question, or protest, before they came. “I ask that you please hold your comments or questions until after we’ve had a chance to explain. It will be easier for all of us that way. Yes?”
She asked that last question in such a calm and reassuring way that even I could feel myself being lured in by it. As Ira said, she was good.
“Definitely meant for politics,” I said low.
She continued, “Now let us begin.”
And begin she did.
She didn’t withhold any detail, bringing up and addressing potential questions before they could be asked. It was a truly masterful approach. Her mastery continued when I realized the point of framing the information the way she did. Rather than drag my name through the mud, which likely would have elicited a negative reaction from the town, she painted me as someone to be appreciated, but pitied. I had, after all, admitted my failures and accepted the council’s judgment. Therefore, it would be wise to only trust the council.
It was a shrewd approach, I had to admit.
“Pa,” said Zadok, “that wasn’t how you told me and Ira things happened.”
“Because it didn’t happen that way.”
“Ain’t you going to say something?” Ira asked.
“No,” I said, far easier than I thought I could.
“Why?”
“Whose benefit would it be for if I argue? Not Kasala’s.” I shook my head. “I already told you that I think the council was probably right in their decision. How they convey their decision isn’t important.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to add, Tyrus?” Xola called out, almost as if she could sense people would still try to sway me to fight the council.
Heads turned my way, waiting for me to argue as expected, hoping I’d say something to contradict her.
I gave a half-hearted shrug. “I think you’ve probably said all there is to say. I’ll do my best in carrying out the council’s decisions.” I looked around, feeling suddenly exhausted from the emotional weight of Xola’s speech. “If you’ll excuse me, the last few days have suddenly caught up to me.”
Before I turned, I caught a flash of surprise and then disappointment from Xola as if she too had expected me to argue. When I didn’t, it seemed as though she wasn’t sure what to do next.
I heard all the questions and comments that she had kept at bay roared out in the long pause. Some came my way, but I ignored them as I pushed through the throng.
I glanced over my shoulder before turning down a side street toward my house. In doing so, I caught one last glimpse of Xola, Barasa, and Gero trying to settle everyone and field the questions. They weren’t doing so well with either.
That brought a smile to my face. If she wanted to rule Kasala, so be it. It’d be nice to have everyone’s problems laid at someone else’s feet for a change.
The kids had followed me home. As Zadok went out back to grab some food for supper, Myra said, “Tell me what really happened, Pa. I know the councilors held a lot back from everyone.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Can we not talk about this right now, please?”
She looked disappointed, but said, “Sure. Why don’t I fill you in on the town’s progress over the last week instead?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Can we not talk about that either?”
“I guess we can talk in the morning since—”
“Actually, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea either.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You heard Xola. I’m no longer mayor. If you have something to report, or an opinion to offer, you should take it before the councilors.”
“You’re really just going to give in to them.”
“No. I’m following orders.”
“Even if you disagree with them? Aunt Ava said you always found a way before to—”
“Who says I disagree with them?”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re serious. I thought you were just saying that for everyone else’s benefit.” She paused. “Did you have an episode in Batna?”
She wanted another reason beside her Pa admitting fault.
“No,” I lied since it had nothing to do with my decision.
“Then why?”
The disappointme
nt on her face was like a knife through my gut. Oddly enough, that disappointment brought up a wave of anxiety and sorrow not unlike the glimpses into my soldiering past. Lasha was at the heart of that disappointment, shaking her head at me with a pronounced frown.
I took another drink from my water skin. When I pulled it away, Myra watched me closely, eyes focused on the skin itself.
I tried not to act as if I noticed, but she was too smart, too receptive. She caught my flickering change of expression. Molak-be-damned, I had trained her too well.
“Are you drinking now? Is that it? Is that why you carry that thing around with you everywhere? Is it filled with whiskey?”
I snorted a laugh, only because I could actually answer her truthfully without exposing my secret. “I’m not drinking. In fact, the last time I got drunk was before I ever made it back to Denu Creek.”
“Then I’m more lost than ever about what’s going on.”
I sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it any better. Maybe tomorrow. But I am really tired now.”
“All right.” After a pause she wrapped me in a hug.
I tried to shy away, feeling ashamed at wanting her comfort. “I’m still wet, you know.”
Myra snorted. “Like I care.” She squeezed me tighter, as if adding truth to her words. “I love you, Pa.”
“I love you too.”
Zadok came inside a moment later to begin cooking. When I begged off dinner, He forced me to take a bit of bread upstairs in case I woke hungry later. I complied and wished him good night too.
I nibbled on the bread as I peeled my wet clothes off. My drafty room raised bumps over my damp skin. Already cold, I decided to suffer a bit longer by washing away the dirt and grime from the road with a pitcher of water Myra had placed on my dresser. I shivered through the whole process and continued to do so even after drying off.
I opened my dresser in search of clean clothes, but there were none. I looked to a dirty pile on the other side of my bed and remembered I had not taken care of them before leaving. Then I caught a glimpse of my pack by the door, realizing it held my only dry clothes—the shirt and trousers Damaris had made me.
Given the way we had parted, reinforced by her lack of welcoming me home, I couldn’t bring myself to put them on. Another shiver sent me crawling into bed naked. I wrapped myself tight in blankets and drifted to sleep.
CHAPTER 42
There was no long pause between Lasha and I upon my return to Denu Creek. We ran to each other and embraced, joyed that after ten long years away, we finally had each other again. We kissed and separated just long enough for me to take in my wife’s graying hair, extra pounds, and new wrinkles. I wanted her more than I ever thought possible . . .
After Myra and Zadok went to sleep, Lasha and I lay naked in bed, limbs intertwined. I kissed her, eager to reacquaint myself with her body.
She pulled away and said, “Tell me about what you went through.”
Despite my desires, I welcomed the opportunity to open up to her as I had so many times before. But as the night wore on, we slowly separated. I thought that maybe she was just uncomfortable. I posed that question to her. But she said no. Then later, when I was certain the tenseness in her limbs was nothing of importance, I heard a faint, ever so slight, click of her tongue.
I sat up. The click had stopped me cold, leaving me unable to even finish the next word on the edge of my lips.
She raised her head from her pillow, “What’s wrong?”
“You tell me.”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“I heard the click, Lasha. Ten years gone, and you still make the noise.”
She frowned and I could tell she was angry at herself. “It’s just . . . you’re different.”
My brow furrowed. “With more than a decade apart, it was bound to happen. You’re not exactly the same person either.” I twisted and pulled her closer to me again. “But I can’t wait to learn about all those changes.”
I kissed her softly on the lips, anxious that we would finally begin reacquainting ourselves with each other’s bodies. She kissed me back, but there was no passion in it. Barely even love. It was perhaps the worst kiss in our entire history together.
It was me who pulled away then, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak about the emotions running through me.
“I’m sorry,” she said, noticing my expression. “Maybe later. It’s just . . . we’ve been talking so long. I’m tired now. Plus, the kids will probably be up early and excited to spend more time with you and—”
“It’s fine,” I lied. I couldn’t stand to see her fish for an excuse to satisfy me. She had never done that before. “Let’s just get some rest.”
She forced a smile and despite not wanting to, I returned it.
With those smiles, we told each other a lie that all was right between us.
She put her head on my chest and did her best to feign sleep. But even after a decade apart, I knew she was awake, thinking. I could have restarted our conversation, pushed her to vocalize exactly what was wrong, but I didn’t see the point.
I knew what was wrong.
It wasn’t that I had changed, but who I had changed into.
My worst fear had come to fruition, a fear I didn’t even know existed.
My wife was disappointed in me.
I woke with a start, instinctively reaching for my water skin, but I hadn’t remembered to move it to the bedside table. With my heart in my throat, I nearly fell out of bed untangling myself from the covers. Where earlier the cool night air had me shivering, I found it welcoming against my damp body as I hurried over to the water skin I had left near the basin.
I removed the cap and pushed the mouthpiece against my lips so hard it hurt. Swallowing giant gulps without thinking, I didn’t stop until all of it was gone. Then I heaved for air.
For the longest time, I wondered if there was any worse dream than reliving events from the war. Unlike experiencing those moments the first time in life, there was no hope in my nightmares. Every injury, wound, or death, had already been decided and I could do nothing to change them. Yet, I had to relive those events over and over. For someone like me, it was the worst kind of torture I had thought possible.
But that was before I dreamed of me and her together as if she had never died. The dream should not have troubled me. It was not about Lasha’s death or the painful life she had lived in my absence. It wasn’t even about the haunting images of her and Jareb sleeping together while she worked the Soiled Dove.
Sweat continued to bead and roll down my chest. In my room, with hands gripping my dresser tight as I leaned against it for support, I tried to shake away the remnants of my nightmare. But gods-be-damned, it wasn’t working.
Hurrying over to my still damp shirt, I retrieved Dar’s vial from my pocket. Moving back over to my empty water skin, I began to undo the top to mix a new batch, pausing when I realized I didn’t have the water to do so.
I would need to dress and go downstairs to get some. But in doing so, I’d probably wake the kids. And they’d only have more questions. Besides that, I felt like my grip on the present continued to slip from me.
I glanced over to the murky water I had used hours before to wash myself with. Without a moment of hesitation, I used the water to fill my skin, telling myself that the worst of its contents had sunk to the bottom.
“I’ve drunk worse than this fighting the Geneshans,” I muttered.
Of course then, I didn’t have a choice.
* * *
Banging sounds stirred my sleep.
Myra, Zadok, and Ira yelling in conjunction with the pounding woke me completely. I pried an eye open and tried to make sense of not only the noise, but also of my current view from the floor. I lay on my stomach, still naked. With great effort, I lifted my throbbing head. The skin on my cheek and u
pper chest peeled slowly from the floorboards.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, which only made my miserable state all the worse. Through squinted eyes, I caught sight of my half-empty water skin and an empty glass vial. Though fainter in volume, I heard the sounds of the townspeople working and talking outside as well.
“Molak-be-damned,” I croaked.
I kept on cursing, but did so inside my head as I pieced together the night before. I remembered my nightmare and the way I had felt. I remembered just wanting the pain and anxiety to go away.
“Gods, what was I thinking,” I muttered despite louder knocking at my door.
Slowly, I got my arms under me and pushed myself to all fours, letting the air on the front of my naked body wake me further. The movement stirred an urge to empty my bladder.
I tried to stand, but quickly decided I wasn’t quite ready for that. When I passed out, I must have fallen on my hip for the blasted thing throbbed.
“Idiot,” I hissed loudly.
“Ssh. Did you hear that?” asked Myra.
At her question, the banging on the other side of the door stopped.
“Pa!” Zadok’s frantic voice broke through my foggy thoughts. “Are you awake?”
“Xank’s dirty crack, get out of the way,” said Ira. “I’m breaking the blasted door down.”
That got my attention.
“No!” I yelled, sitting back onto my ankles, despite the pressure it put on my knees. “I’m up.”
“Gods, Ty,” said Ira with a relieved sigh. “What’s going on?”
“I just overslept.”
“Pa, you scared us,” said Myra.
“I was just more tired than I thought. I’m awake now.”
“Can you unlock the door?” asked Zadok.
“Probably not a good idea right now,” I said, heaving myself to my feet, clenching my jaw at the stiffness in my joints.
“Why not?”
“I’m naked.”
There was a pause before Ira said. “Glad I didn’t break that door down.”
I steadied myself and took a few cautious steps to the corner where the chamber pot sat. Every jolt of my slow shuffle confirmed I must have hit my hip.
Forever Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Four Page 36
