Resurrected Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Three (39 page)

CHAPTER 43

I awoke with a dead piece of wood in my hand. The artifact looked like driftwood, its color muted to a dull brown. The lightness in its weight struck me then, and I realized for the first time it was hollow.

I sat up.

Despite my fatigue, I found the strength to twist my hands and snap the wood in half. I placed each piece of wood on the ground and slammed my boot heel into it, breaking it further with each jerk of my leg.

“One more for me,” Hamath said.

I wheeled at his voice. He looked awful. Skin pale and clammy, eyes sunken, lips cracked and bloody. I shuffled over and kneeled beside him.

“You all right?”

“Dying.”

“No. We just need to get you to a healer.”

He snorted. “Won’t make it. Half my body is broken from getting thrown against the wall. The other half is barely hanging on.”

“Did you know touching the mage would cause him to drop the artifact?”

“Nah, just lucked out.”

My voice caught when I asked, “Why’d you push me out the way? I have a stronger resistance.”

“Because you always jump into things without thinking of the consequences. I was doing what me and Ava always do by saving your sorry butt. You got kids, remember?”

Tears wanted to fall, but I begged them away. It was hard enough to see Hamath in such bad shape. I didn’t want to additionally think of my kids, or Ava either.

“Besides,” he continued. “I wanted some of that glory you always seem to get. It’d be nice if when this was all said and done people would remember me for doing something worthwhile.”

I had seen Hamath injured many times before, some awful, but never had I heard him talk like that. My breath caught in my chest.

Gods, he really wasn’t going to make it.

“I’ll remember you. Always,” I finally managed.

A small grin formed on his face. “I’m good with that.”

“I was right, you know.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You still are a good person.”

He squeezed my hand lightly. I don’t think he had the strength for more. Then his grip lessened.

He died.

* * *

I must have kneeled over Hamath’s body for hours. It definitely felt that way as I thought of the countless times we had saved each other’s lives. I thought of all the card games, the jokes, the sharing of dreams. I thought of the countless bonfires we had stood before side-by-side in silence.

At some point, I noticed the sky was no longer gray, but once again blue. I should have been amazed by that, or happy in some way. It seemed to be a sign that our business with the artifact and the end of the world was done.

But right then, I just didn’t really care.

I put a lot of things to rest kneeling beside Hamath. My feelings of anger, disappointment, and betrayal from his life as a raider. The part of his life he had kept from me no longer mattered as much as it did before.

The only thing that did matter was that I had lost my friend for good.

CHAPTER 44

Boaz found me later, still kneeling over Hamath’s body. He didn’t say anything other than to offer his apologies and help me carry Hamath’s body back to camp.

Even after constructing a litter, the task was not a simple one. We must have stopped to rest more than a dozen times. But I wouldn’t leave Hamath’s body there to rot, and I wouldn’t allow anyone else to take my spot in carrying him.

Entering camp was interesting. Most everyone celebrated. Why wouldn’t they? We had won.

It was hard for me to feel that way.

Already, stories circulated about how we defeated the Geneshan sorcerers while Balak held the lines of the main body. Rumors spread about how I had battled the High Mage after he turned traitor once gaining the artifact and destroying the Geneshans.

All stories, of course. I tried to correct the ones I heard, but men seemed to care little for the truth. They wanted to celebrate, and the truth wasn’t always as much fun to rejoice in.

Many wanted me to take part in the celebrations, but that was the last thing on my mind. I had my respects to pay before I did anything else.

* * *

Ira and I were among the first at the bonfires. Reuma stood on the opposite side of Ira, offering him support. Boaz was at my other side.

“I never thought we’d be it, Ty. The last two left. Well, excepting Ava, I hope.”

Ira spoke to me as if neither Reuma nor Boaz existed. It wasn’t an insult to them. It was just that we had known both Dekar and Hamath longer. We had shared a third of our lives together.

“Yeah, me either.”

The fire danced in front of our eyes, flames licking over the burning bodies of the Turine fallen.

“I never understood how you and Hamath could do this. Just watching the dead burn.” He paused. “But I think I finally do. It’s gut wrenching to watch every piece of what they once were disappear in fire. But at the same time, it’s peaceful. It helps you come to terms that this isn’t some dream. This is real and you can start to move on. Is that what it’s always been like for you?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s a place to wallow in my thoughts and memories. Sometimes it’s just a place to escape those thoughts.” I sighed. “It’s always a place to say good-bye though.”

“Is that something you say out loud or to yourself?”

“I don’t think it matters either way.”

“I’ll think I keep my goodbye to Dek to myself. Only he’d understand half of what I was trying to say anyway.”

I thought of Hamath. “I understand completely.”

But then I thought of Dekar and was compelled to speak. “Some things shouldn’t be kept to yourself though.”

He looked my way.

“You know, for the longest time I thought Hamath was the best friend I ever had, and maybe for a while he was. But in the end, I know I’ve had better with you and Dekar.” I swallowed at a catch in my throat. “I only wish I would have realized that sooner to tell him. I’m sorry.”

He reached up and gripped my shoulder. “He knew, Ty. Trust me, he knew. And so do I.”

After a moment, I remembered something. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of wooden pieces. I walked closer to the bonfire, shielding my eyes from the heat and the light, tossing the pieces into the flames.

I walked back to Ira.

“What was that?” asked Reuma.

“The remains of the artifact. I collected every last piece I could find before I left the wall. The last thing I wanted was for some overachieving sorcerer to find enough that he might be able to coax extra power out of them.”

“So, it’s done?” asked Boaz.

I nodded. “It’s done. We head south at first light.”

“Thank the gods,” Boaz whispered.

Ira snorted next to me, then spat.

I didn’t have to ask him the meaning for the gesture. I’m sure his thoughts mirrored mine as I watched the bodies of two friends burn.

Thank the gods for what?

Even looking at the bright side, we ended another war ourselves with no help from them.

So, curse the gods, if they existed, for putting us through this again. And curse them for keeping me away from my family once more.

Despite the funeral pyre, a hint of a smile tugged at my mouth. I would see my kids again.

* * *

With most others tucked in for the night, I made my way to the infirmary.

Admittedly, it was for selfish reasons. I intended to start traveling south tomorrow, but I was barely in any shape to walk about camp. I probably should have seen a healer when I first arrived, but other things took precedence.

I went through the tent flap, swallowing down bile and anxiety from the familiar feeling brought on by old memories. Thoughts of Hamath by my side while I healed through some of the worst of my injuries, nearly brought tears to my eyes. I pushed those down. There’d be better times to mourn.

Few were up given the hour, just those soldiers in too much pain to sleep and those healers still with enough energy to continue working on them.

Noam was one of those healers. He spotted me as I entered and came over.

“I feel awful,” I said. “My body hurts all over, and my head is buzzing like I might have a minor concussion.”

He clicked his tongue. “I’m not surprised based on the stories I’ve heard. I’m amazed you’re even alive.”

“Me too, but don’t believe all you hear.”

“Oh, I’ve been around long enough to know better. Still, every story has some truth to it.”

I refocused the conversation, not wanting to go into the specific of those truths. “Do you have the strength to work on me?”

“I do. Come this way.”

He led me to an empty cot at the back of the tent.

“Sit here,” he said. “You know, I’m surprised you came to me. I know you hate being here.”

“I’m leaving in the morning, and I need to be in some sort of condition to travel.”

He blinked. “Leaving? Balak is all right with that?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t spoken with him yet, but those were the terms of our agreement. I’d help him win his war, which I did. Then I’d be free to leave.”

He grunted.

It was a weird grunt, one that sounded like a man in thought more than one of agreement.

He was busy rolling up his sleeves and preparing himself in ways that would help him work around my resistance when he spoke again. “Last I heard, Balak finally let his hair down and was celebrating. Never thought I’d see that.”

“I guess under the right circumstances, everyone will relax eventually.”

He bobbed his head absently, then sat in front of me. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Noam reached out and grabbed my arms. I felt the warm healing coursing through my body, much faster than what I was used to, so fast, that it grew painful. I let out a yelp and he pulled away.

He and I both panted from the experience. “What was that about?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It was too . . . easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Normally, I’d have to fight to heal you which was what half of my preparations were for. However, I felt no resistance. And with the extra precautions, the healing spell worked more rapidly than I wanted it to.”

“You’re still not giving me an answer.”

He worked his mouth. “I-I think your resistance is gone.”

“Huh?”

“I think it’s gone. I don’t feel it.”

“But—” I paused, thinking. “The artifact.”

“I think when you destroyed it, you lost your resistance.”

I felt strangely naked then. Having a resistance was a unique feeling, one almost impossible to even notice unless around sorcery. But now that Noam suspected it was gone, it’s absence was the only thing I felt. I had never considered such a situation was even possible. I guess I had been distracted with my grief not to notice the change sooner.

Thoughts of my sister rolled through my mind. I had even more sympathy for Ava’s struggles in reclaiming her connection to sorcery then.

“So, now what?” I asked.

Noam shrugged. “Now, I heal you in a much less painful manner. Afterward, I have no clue.”

CHAPTER 45

I awoke early the next morning by rays of bright, warm, sunlight. Talk about a strange feeling. Something that was once the norm, now actually felt foreign.

Most of the camp was passed out from alcohol confiscated from the Geneshan camp.

Not me. Nor Ira, Reuma, Boaz, and Caleb.

We were the only ones to have survived since leaving the outpost where Balak had found me. All of us were too eager to get back to our loved ones or some semblance of familiarity to risk drinking the night before.

We were nearly done packing our things, when Balak’s voice cut through the air.

“Tyrus, what’s going on?”

I turned. He walked up with four of his personal guards, Etan among them. High Mage Gidel who had been assigned to the main body while we infiltrated Hol also walked next to Etan.

None looked particularly bright or happy. Their greenish pallor and red eyes told me that they had not practiced the same restraint with alcohol as I had.

I gave a small little back of the throat grunt, not loud enough for anyone other than those around me to hear. Call it intuition, but I didn’t have a good feeling about the next few minutes.

I cleared my throat louder and said, “We’re getting our things together, sir. Afterward, I was going to stop by your tent and give you my regards before we left.”

“Left for where? I don’t recall dismissing you or these soldiers from service.”

Despite all the good I had witnessed from Balak, I wasn’t surprised by his comment. Angered and disappointed, but not surprised.

“We had a deal. I come on and help you fight your war. Then I’m free to go. I joined. We won. Now, I’m going south.”

“The war isn’t over, Tyrus. It’s just beginning.”

I noticed Etan flinch at that remark.

“Sir?” Etan remarked. “The Geneshans are defeated.”

“For now,” said Balak. “But time has proven how pesky they can be. Who knows what will happen in a year from now. More survivors from their lands may rally against Turine. Or in the meantime, Noval or Bozrath may try to attack us as we rebuild Hol.”

“Those are different wars with different countries,” I said. “Not the ones I agreed to.” I shifted my gaze from Balak’s to Etan. “Many of us have long done our share. We just want to live the remainder of our lives with some semblance of peace.”

“What life, Tyrus? You said your sister and children are dead, remember?” Balak grinned.

I worked my jaw. “I’m not fighting for you any longer.”

Balak looked to either side of him. “You really don’t have a choice, Tyrus. We outnumber you, and we have power that you don’t,” he said, glancing at the High Mage. “I spoke to Noam this morning. Shame about your resistance.”

I closed my eyes slowly and opened them in frustration. That piece of crap had us.

Yet, Ira came up next to me and said low next to my ear. “Talking ain’t doing nothing, Ty. Count ’em out.”

“You heard him. He knows,” I hissed.

“And? We’ve been in worse spots.” I started to open my mouth, but he cut me off. “Ty, this is it. You give in now, we ain’t ever getting out of here. He’ll chain you up so you can’t escape, or if you do manage it, he’ll hound you until you’re dead. Make your stand and let the pieces fall where they may.”

I nodded.

Ira clenched his jaw. “I have five.”

Five. Starting at the left as was our rules, five was Balak. I remembered the story Ira told right after the Geneshan War. It was about how Balak had ordered one of his aids to kill a small baby that Ira had saved from a village. Ira always said he wished he had the chance to kill Balak for that.

I wouldn’t deny him that wish now.

I glanced around to those behind me to make sure we were all on the same page. Based on their expressions, we were.

I called them out. “Six, Reuma. Boaz, four. Ira, five. Caleb, three.” Confusion sat on Balak’s face as I spoke. He was not privy to my unit’s old private code. The others around him shared a similar expression. All except Etan, who flashed a look of understanding. I moved forward as I spoke my responsibilities, worried Etan would jeopardize our desire to get the jump on them. “I’ll take two and—”

Just as I was about to say ‘one’ to indicate I’d also take High Mage Gidel, Etan cut me off, spinning hard and drawing his sword. “I have one!”

Etan’s sword cleaved through robe and flesh, stopping at Gidel’s spine just as the High Mage tried to redirect a spell from us to his attacker. It was pointless as Etan’s resistance still worked just fine.

Proudly, the remainder of my unit didn’t gawk in surprise at the turn of events. They knew an advantage when they saw one and pounced on their targets. The fighting of others rang in my ears, but I saw little except for flashes out of my peripheral as I moved on my target.

My opponent, one of Balak’s guards, stepped back for room to draw his sword. I sprinted at him to take away the space he needed. I never thought of my own sword, pulling my dagger instead. The guard realized my intentions and his error. He released the grip on his sword and caught my raised arm as we met. His free hand moved to his waist in an effort to draw his own dagger. I caught his wrist with my free hand. He swept my leg out, but I took him to the ground with me. We rolled, locked in each other’s grasps. Pushing and pulling, each tried to gain the better position to pin the other.

Only two things mattered when fighting someone under those circumstances. Strength and the ability to fight dirty. I always had above average strength, but very quickly I realized that my opponent was stronger. Good thing I had no qualms about fighting dirty.

My knee came up hard into the guard’s crotch. He jerked, but unlike most men, did not instinctively release his grip. Of course he wouldn’t. He was one of Balak’s guards. The general would not have selected anyone but the best for that role. It would take more than one knee to the crotch to shake him.

So my knee came up twice more. He didn’t fully released his grip, but it weakened enough for me to twist my arm free. Unfortunately, I lost my dagger in doing so. But I didn’t need a blade to seize advantage. I slammed the thumb of my newly freed hand into my opponent’s left eye, twisting and digging.

The guard might have been able to suffer through knees to the groin without a major reaction, but a thumb in the eye was different. I used his shock to gain the top position. He let go of the dagger he had tried to draw at his waist and managed to twist free of my grip. Both his hands came up to defend against the thumb I had in his socket.

With my other hand free, I unsheathed his dagger and plunged it into his gut with a twist. He convulsed, but still tried to defend himself. I stabbed thrice more before he was still.

I rolled off and climbed to my feet covered in blood.

Gods, even with a war ended, I was still killing.

So caught up in my own struggle, I missed the rest of the battle. A quick glance around told me we had won the confrontation unequivocally though Reuma and Caleb received minor injuries.

Of our attackers, only Balak lived. It was not because he had the upper hand, but because Ira stood over him with a sword at his throat, waiting. That surprised me. I couldn’t understand what would have caused Ira to show such restraint given his hatred for the man.

“I can give you the money from the Geneshans we confiscated,” said Balak. “Or better yet, set you up as a governor with your own land. You’d be the second most powerful person in Turine behind me.” Balak glanced my way. “Talk some sense into him, Tyrus.”

It was strange seeing Balak like that. I never pegged him as someone who would grovel. But then again, you never really knew how a man would act when looking down a blade until he actually did.

“What’s going on, Ira?” I asked, ignoring Balak completely as Ira stared coldly at the general.

“Just waiting. As much hell as he put you through, I thought you might have wanted to see this yourself.”

Balak finally had enough and quit begging, yelling instead. “What? Gods-be-damned, just listen to what I have to say!”

“I’m sorry,” said Ira.

Balak’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry?”

“For not doing this years ago.”

Ira placed his boot on Balak’s chest, pinning him as he slowly carved into the general’s ribcage. A foul smell took to the air as Balak’s bowels released.

I swallowed hard at the finality, briefly catching Etan’s gaze. My eyes asked a question.

Etan said, “It’s one thing to fight a war for a nation’s freedom. Another entirely to fight a war for one man’s greed. I was angry with you after the Geneshan War for leaving, but these last couple months of watching you lead us has made me realize I was wrong about you.” He gestured to the general. “And Balak.”

Our fighting had drawn an audience, one that continued to grow as people woke from their stupor and learned of what had happened.

The range of expressions on the soldiers around me ran the gamut. There was lots of confusion as they looked at their dead, gutted leader. There was also a lot of anger, resignation, bitterness, and even joy.

Plenty of the army stood silent, shifting from one foot to the other, staring at us, specifically at me. They wanted me to say something. I think they needed me to say something. I thought of a dozen different ways to eloquently convey the magnitude of our situation, but in the end when I opened my mouth, “You’re free!” came out instead.

People shifted back and forth, exchanging glances and whispers. I expected jubilation from my statement, but instead got more confusion.

A soldier spoke up. “Free to do what?”

I frowned. “Whatever you like. Return to your families. Your homes.”

“Most of our homes are gone. So are our families. This was all we had. What are we supposed to do now?”

For some, taking Balak’s life also took away their purpose.

I frowned deeper, understanding that though Balak’s ways were oppressive toward me, I could see how to others, they provided a sense of belonging and family that many lacked. It was like that before the eruptions too, where a community outcast could rise in ranks and earn the respect of those soldiers around him.

I couldn’t just abandon them.

“I’m heading south. To the Southern Kingdoms where I have people waiting for me.” I hope, I added silently. I continued, gesturing over the tops of the heads of those around me. “It will take years for the land to heal here. The farther south you go, the less destruction caused by the artifact there is. Everyone is free to go where they please, but any who are interested are more than welcome to join me. I’m leaving in an hour.”