Forever Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Four

by Joshua P. Simon

  I filled my water skin to the brim.

  Once the lid, tarp, and boards were back in place, I left behind a silver coin that only the owner would find. It was more money than I knew was needed, but given how I obtained the drink, I didn’t mind paying more.

  It was well past midnight when I snuck inside my home. The kids both slept, though it was obvious neither had done so easily. Zadok slept on the floor downstairs, not far from the front door. I’m sure he hoped he would wake when I opened the door. But he was too tired, and I was too quiet. Upstairs, Myra’s door remained wide open as I passed by. She lay on her bed facing the doorway, but her eyes were closed.

  Finally inside my room, I heaved a deep breath and began to undress. As I did, I debated whether I really needed the drink or not.

  But after raising my shirt over my head, I caught sight of an old, jagged, scar between two ribs. A phantom jolt of pain struck me as I visualized the barbed crossbow bolt ripping through my leathers and skin. The head of the blasted thing had been covered in someone’s crap, a dirty trick used when poison wasn’t available, ensuring any wound would fester. To make matters worse, the thing had gotten lodged between two ribs. Yanking it free had not been pleasant.

  My knees buckled at that. The water skin I had hopes of not needing suddenly became my only focus.

  I uncapped the top and brought it to my mouth. The smell of the brew seemed even stronger as the burning liquid rolled around my tongue. Some of the whiskey spilled out of the corners of my mouth, dribbling down my cheek and neck. I didn’t pull the water skin away though until after several swallows and only then, because a coughing fit seized me. I fought hard to keep my coughing muted.

  With the back of my hand, I wiped a runny nose and sniffed after regaining my composure.

  “Gods-be-damned, that’s strong.”

  My stomach made a low gurgle in complaint as the whiskey sloshed inside. I wished I had some bread to offset the alcohol, but I wouldn’t risk going downstairs in search of some.

  Better to just get some rest.

  With my first step toward the bed, I paused as the room tilted. When it went sideways, I dropped to a knee.

  I had never been good at holding my liquor, but nothing had ever affected me so quickly. “What did I just drink?” I muttered, already noticing a slur to my words.

  That didn’t seem right.

  I raised the water skin and squinted at it as if trying to make sense of the situation. There was no way a few gulps of even the strongest whiskey should bring on that immediate of a response.

  The room flipped upside down next and I dropped to all fours, deciding it would be safer just to crawl into bed.

  Even that decision lasted only half a breath as the room began spinning. I forgot about trying to move again, laying my face against the hard, cold floor. A small groan escaped me.

  Here is as good as anywhere, I told myself.

  I had slept on the floor the night before, so it wasn’t like I was breaking new ground. I rolled onto my back and took a deep breath. My mouth was as dry as dead grass.

  Had I not just drank something?

  “Maybe just a tiny bit more to wet my lips,” I slurred while bringing the still uncapped skin to my lips.

  I wouldn’t drink more than that. That would be stupid.

  CHAPTER 43

  The sleep that followed was not the peaceful rest I had hoped for.

  I woke shivering with my brain fuzzy in a way I had never before experienced. My mind worked slowly, but eventually I determined some of what caused my biggest discomfort.

  Apparently, the water skin hadn’t made it to my lips before I passed out. Instead, it lay over my chest with my hand half-gripping it. Quite a bit of its contents had poured over my naked torso. The cool night air made me even colder. I attempted to at least remove the water skin from me, but gods-be-damned if my arm wouldn’t move.

  Sleep took me before I could muster another attempt.

  I woke again unable to breath, vomit filling my mouth and nostrils. My chest convulsed for air. Despite the foggy haze I remained in, I managed to turn my body enough so the former contents of my stomach were able to roll out of my mouth. I didn’t gasp for air like I had expected with a clear passage way to breathe. It was like my body didn’t have the energy for that.

  I lost consciousness again.

  I woke yet again to voices shouting in my ear. It felt like thousands of hands jostled me roughly.

  I tried to speak in order to tell whoever shook me to leave me alone because every touch sent waves of pain over me. But my mouth wouldn’t work.

  My ears weren’t working very well either. The voices never stopped, but they were so muddy I couldn’t understand anything except the panicked tones and muffled sobs. The disorienting experience reminded me of what I had felt like after a destruction globe exploded nearby during the war.

  Surprisingly, that memory didn’t cause an incident. Based on how awful I already felt physically and mentally, I wondered if my body finally had enough pity not to bother.

  Darkness came again.

  CHAPTER 44

  No soldier liked the infirmary.

  No soldier liked feeling helpless either.

  Ava was no exception as two Southern Kingdom healers worked on her injuries while she rested among the rows of other soldiers wounded inside the tent. Her injuries had worsened on the return journey. It had taken days longer than expected to reach Danso. He’d moved camp to begin luring the enemy to the planned location of the last battle.

  She had tried to speak with Danso upon arriving, but apparently her words were incoherent due to fever. He ordered her immediately to the infirmary. Her fever broke soon after the healers had started working on her.

  “Where’s Sergeant Margo?” she asked, needing to see someone familiar.

  “With Jumla Danso. He’s giving your squad’s report.”

  She started to push herself up.

  “Are you a fool?” asked one of the healers.

  “I need to be there.”

  He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. With little effort, he pushed her down. “We have orders to take you to him when we’re done. The more you move the longer that will take.”

  She wanted to snap back at the man, but he was right, and she knew it.

  * * *

  “This really isn’t necessary,” said Ava, casting narrowed eyes at the people watching her limp to Danso’s tent while leaning on Margo.

  “I heard you the first five times,” he responded.

  “Then why aren’t you listening?”

  “Jumla Danso gave me specific orders that I’m to personally help you to his tent.”

  “Oh, I see. So I get sick for a few days while you spend some time with him, and now your loyalty is with him?”

  “Stop whining. As much as you’re leaning on me, I’d be surprised if you could take more than a dozen steps on your own. Healers said they hadn’t finished all that needed doing.”

  Ava bit her lip, knowing he was right.

  She caught a small grin from Margo as he added, “He’s a pretty nice guy once you get to talking to him though.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.” she grumbled. After a short pause, she asked, “So, how’d you explain what we had to do to their dead?”

  Margo cleared his throat, lowering his voice. “I didn’t need to say much. Danso stopped short from asking about those details. After I explained how we took down their sorcerers and the fight against their soldiers, he cut me off and asked if we had completed all aspects of the mission. I said yes and that seemed enough to satisfy him. I think he preferred not to know.”

  “Just as well. I’d rather not tell him.”

  Margo grunted. “Or anyone else for that matter.”

  In order to ensure that the dead army could n
ot be used again by the enemy, the Turine survivors had found it necessary to burn the bodies until there was nothing left but bone. Only then did Ava say the prayers Danso had entrusted her with.

  And probably didn’t do a lick of good since burning the dead is considered to be just as bad as burying them without the proper rites. Well, he doesn’t need to know that.

  They said nothing more until arriving at Danso’s tent.

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” said Jumla Danso as he helped Ava to a seat at the table that contained his maps.

  She raised an eyebrow. “This for me?”

  He shrugged. “Better than standing.”

  “Anything else, Jumla?” asked Margo.

  “No, Sergeant. Get some rest and thank you.”

  “He’s a good soldier,” Danso remarked when the tent flap closed. “I see why you’ve spoken so highly of your men. Your sergeant filled me in on the mission and the odds your company faced. I’m sorry your losses were so heavy, but I have no doubt reports of what happened will have rattled the enemy more in light of the success of our other companies as well.”

  Unfortunately, those heavy losses still weighed too heavily on her to enjoy the underlying compliment.

  She regarded him, noticing that he looked uneasy, fidgeting slightly with his hands.

  Is he wanting to know the details of how we disposed of the dead?

  “You seem like something is bothering you.”

  Danso gestured to the table. “Yes. Notice anything?”

  She studied the current layout of troops. “I assume this is where you expect the enemy to form?”

  “No. This is where they are now.”

  She leaned forward. “What!”

  He massaged his temples. “I believe they’ll be in position to attack by midday tomorrow.”

  “Gods . . . The letter we found, were you able to get it translated?”

  “Yes. They plan to field a massive army of dead against us. They hoped to have fifty thousand. A scout came back a few hours ago and confirmed numbers close to their goal.”

  Ava struck her leg with an open palm. “Curse all the gods!” She would have kept swearing, but Danso wore a look of shock from her curse, making her self-conscious enough to refrain. In a calmer voice, she added, “That’s more than any regular army they’ve attacked with yet.”

  “And more than twice what I can bring to the field.”

  Gods, how could they have gathered so many so fast? She shook her head. Danso’s scouts have missed far too much. They’ve been planning for this longer than we realized. We found out about it too late.

  “Molak-be-damned,” she whispered.

  “I imagine the enemy will not wait to attack despite the sun being at our backs when they reach their destination.”

  “Probably not. Why bother when the sun will not affect their dead army? Their main army might never even need to take the field.” A thought came to her. “Did Margo mention the condition of some of the dead we came across in Imbal?”

  He frowned. “Briefly. He said that some lacked the flesh to move about well.”

  She nodded. “Do we know what condition the fifty thousand they have are in?”

  “Most are probably in a similar state to what you saw at Imbal. The Southern Kingdom suffered heavy losses after the plague, but even the most recent dead have been buried for months.”

  “Good. The less like us they look, the better.”

  He shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking. Regardless of how little they look like those we once knew, my men will still lose heart if they have to face them in battle.” He worked his jaw. “My scout said that small ones, little children, were among their army. That sight alone will cripple us. . . .”

  “Then we stick to our plan. We trap the dead, target their sorcerers, and press their regular forces.”

  “I don’t think we can,” he said, surprising her. She was not surprised that he had those emotions, only that he admitted them.

  Ava realized that part of his desire for her presence had not been just to discuss strategy, but also because he needed to speak freely.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “I’ve watched my sorcerers work. They’re much quicker with the spells you showed them, and some are creating rather large openings in small groups. However, the dead army is many times larger than we had anticipated. My sorcerers have not progressed enough to trap a group that size.”

  Ava hadn’t the opportunity to judge such progress herself, but she trusted Danso’s assessment. A thought she had toyed with before, but never vocalized came to her. “There may be another solution.”

  He straightened. “I’m listening.”

  “I’ll need to talk with your sorcerers, but the better solution might be to avoid using smaller groups and smaller holes. Instead, we work on one large spell that everyone collectively adds to.”

  “And create one large opening? My top sorcerers expressed concern that so much concentrated earth-based magic could cause some of the surrounding land to weaken as well. Too many openings or cracks in one area might be offset by another shift where my infantry will be engaging their forces.”

  “It’s a risk which to be honest is why earth-based sorcery wasn’t used often against the Geneshans. However, I’m much stronger now and after studying how the Southern Kingdom sorcerers have perfected sharing and borrowing power from each other, I think we can manage the risk as it grows in strength. Also, one large hole would be more likely to cause soil displacement elsewhere. A wide ravine to encircle the dead army would be a better solution. One, it would make it less likely that the dead would be buried or their bodies damaged further from falling in before your religious rites could be performed. Two, the ravine would make it so they can’t advance or retreat, rather than trying to figure out how to open up a massive hole beneath them.”

  “I can see that working if they advance in formation. But what if they just release them like some wild horde? That’s what they did with the hundred we faced weeks ago. I imagine it would be difficult to block an advance like that.”

  “It would, but I don’t think they will use that approach. The sorcerers in Imbal were drilling with the dead. I think the enemy wants them to act as a real army.”

  “Have you done anything like what you’re suggesting before?”

  “No.”

  “What makes you think you can do it now?”

  “Necessity.”

  He grunted. “Will isolating the dead free up their sorcerers to attack elsewhere?”

  “At least some of them, yes. One problem at a time though,” she said.

  Danso referenced the map. “Assuming your strategy works, the dead army will dominate almost the entire field of battle we had planned for. We’ll need to abandon our most ideal position to attack the enemy’s real forces, or we run the risk of them retreating once again.”

  He began shifting pieces around. “I’ll need to present my right flank as a weak point to make sure the sorcerers lure the dead army there. Positioning my left flank like so will give their commanders just enough pause that they’ll likely move their regular army up to here,” he said, making another move, “rather than holding them back as reserves. I’m hoping that if they see the ravine open, they’ll think that we blocked ourselves in and are even more vulnerable. Maybe they will try to encircle us.” Excitement crept into his voice. “Their only point of advance will be here then. If we time our own movement right, shifting here and here, we can hide our reserves sweeping in to present a solid wall and meet them head on. They’ll still have numbers, but my men are better trained and better armed.”

  She grunted, seeing his idea come to life.

  I think we can do this.

  Danso looked up. “But it will only work if you can contain the dead army. So it must be by any means necessary.”r />
  “Understood. There’s still the matter of their sorcerers though. Like you said, after stopping the dead, I imagine that some, at least, will shift their attention elsewhere.”

  “Then you and my sorcerers will shift your focus to counter them.”

  “It might not be that easy. Once the chasm is formed, we will still need to have some of our sorcerers focused on keeping the ground stable until we close the opening. If too many abandon the spell, the natural aspects of the land will cause it to shift or collapse in order to offset the unnatural way we displaced it. That would either harm the dead or give them another path to advance.”

  “Would your men follow me?”

  That surprised her. “What do you mean?”

  “They are the most experienced when it comes to handling sorcerers. I can have Kamau and Lungile command the main host.”

  “What?” She had to think for a second to make sure she had not misheard him. “You’re going to lead a mission against their sorcerers yourself? That seems like a huge risk.”

  “It is.”

  But this is all or nothing. We can’t hold back on anything.

  “It does make sense though, especially with your resistance. . .” her voice trailed off.

  “But?”

  “But I don’t think your resistance will be enough. And none of my men have any.”

  “I’ll grab more from my ranks. Those you had asked me to single out.”

  “Take three sorcerers with you as well. I can spare that many. Break everyone up into three squads. Have your sorcerers stay out of sight, only casting concealment spells until the last possible moment. Move in fast the moment you reach your targets. Better to have those with a resistance leading. Keep your sorcerers in the rear to provide cover for everyone else.”

  “It’s settled then.” He bobbed his head. “Give me your hand. I’ll help you back to the infirmary so the healers can finish working on you. I’ll speak with Kamau and Lungile.”