Resurrected Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Three (8 page)

Sivan bobbed his head. He looked to be on board. He stood straighter, seeming more like the old war vet he should have always portrayed, rather than the compromising former tailor. “That settles it. Ava, you and Myra get together and start laying out exactly what we need to do to make this happen.”

Myra’s eyes widened. She started to pale, but Ava leaned in and whispered.

“Calm down. I’m here with you. You won’t be giving orders or anything like that. That’s on me. I just need to pick that brain of yours and talk through how we should do things.”

Something inside of Myra changed. Her eyes hardened, her jaw twisted, and she set her stance in a way that was the spitting image of her father.

That’s eerie.

“All right. I can do that.”

“Good.”

Ava turned to Sivan “Can you take two men and get back out there? I want you three to cycle in with reports regularly with what’s going on. We need to have as much warning as possible. While you’re out there, look for a place where we might be able to temporarily stash our animals. We can’t leave them here and hope to pull off the ruse.”

Sivan started to leave, but Ava grabbed his arm. “Before you do that, announce to the others what’s going on.”

“I will. And I’ll let them know that they should listen to you in everything.” He gave Rezub a questioning look.

The former mayor nodded in agreement.

The realization of what had just happened punched her in the gut.

Gods-be-damned, I ended up taking charge anyway.

Myra spoke while the weight of the situation continued to hit Ava. “Rezub, can you find some cutting shears and a razor? Then get a team of four men to gather as much ash, soot, and dirt as possible.”

“But—” he started.

Myra turned away from him to Ava. “I’ve got some ideas if you’re ready to hear them.”

CHAPTER 6

A concentrated gust of air Ava controlled rolled back and forth across the loose dirt of the courtyard. It shifted the countless tracks made by those who called the military outpost home, hiding indicators of a recent presence.

She had performed a similar spell many times in the past, learning that the key was not to eliminate all tracks because that would raise suspicion as well. The trick was to confuse the number of people, and more importantly, age the tracks themselves. Months ago, the spell would have barely taken her a minute.

However, she had sectioned the outpost off, and over the last hour she worked on her task at a frustrating pace. That being said, the repetition and required concentration had admittedly done her good. Her control and speed had seemed to improve.

She looked over the latest section of work, pleased with what she saw. The dirt and ash that littered the land and the fort was spread in a much more natural way, as it had been when they first arrived. Pieces of dead vegetation, as well as bits of crumbled stone, randomly sat in the courtyard.

Dinah, wife of the innkeeper Boaz, ran up to Ava, carrying an armload of junk. “It’s mostly trash, an old sack filled with vegetable peels and bones.”

Ava asked. “Is that all of the stuff we brought in from the east side then?”

“Every last bit.”

“Take it downstairs and give it to Nason to hide in the cellar.” She paused, casting a glance about. “Where’s your daughter? And the boy?”

It was odd to see Dinah without Abigail and the young boy, Nadav, they had saved from a patch of briars months back. Since Boaz left with Tyrus, the two were always by Dinah’s side.

“With Zadok, doing one last sweep of the west side of the outpost.”

“I just took care of masking those walkways,” muttered Ava.

“I know. That’s why Myra wanted them to go. Said they’d make less obvious tracks than an adult. And it would be easier to hide their presence afterward.”

No. It would have been easier to hide their tracks if they’d have done their sweep beforehand. Little feet or big feet are all the same to an experienced tracker.

Ava gestured to the load Dinah carried. “After you put that away, start rounding up everyone still out into the cellar.”

“Already?”

“We don’t want to wait until the Malduks are here and rush around. Better to be ready for them. Plus, it will make it easier for me to finish hiding our presence.”

Dinah nodded. She started to go, stopped, and asked. “What are the Malduks like? Are they worse than the Geneshans?”

Ava didn’t really have time to answer that sort of question, not with other things still left to do that required so much of her focus. However, she liked Dinah and decided to give her something to satisfy her curiosity.

“Worse or better is all relative. I’d not want to be around either. The Malduks are sometimes deemed as more evil since their home is farther away and they dress less civilized than what we’re accustomed to. Mostly crude furs. Ugly too from purposefully scarring their bodies. Not too far off from how they’re described in the stories we all know. The Malduks use the bones of their enemies for scouting and such, but then again the Geneshans are the ones who are known to brutally sacrifice large numbers to honor their god.”

Dinah looked as though she wished she hadn’t asked her question. “I better be going.”

Ava watched her, wondering if she should have sugarcoated the answer. Then she shrugged. She’d second guess herself later when she had more time.

Spinning away from the courtyard, she walked carefully along the designated path to the run-down armory. Voices inside carried several conversations.

A sliver of movement from above and to the right caught Ava’s eye. She paused, looking up at the nearest tower where two small figures flashed in front of the window.

She called out. “Abigail? That you?”

A little girl’s head popped out of the window. She waved and smiled, an expression rarely seen among the group since the eruptions began. It happened less frequently after Tyrus’s departure.

Zadok’s head poked out next. He also smiled. “Hi, Aunt Ava.”

“I hope you’re being careful up there,” she said, more than a little annoyed. “I already removed the tracks from that section of the outpost.”

“I know, but Myra wanted us to set a couple of small traps. We’re almost done.”

Ava sighed. “Hurry up then so I can go back over the area.”

She didn’t wait for a response, heading into the open door of the old armory. On the way in, she glanced at the rotted frame, noticing that there wasn’t much of a door remaining.

Ava’s eyes adjusted to the dim, candlelit space. She was surprised her eyes needed adjusting at all since yellow sunlight seemed like a fairy tale to pass on to the next generation. With an orange sky after the first couple of eruptions and now gray brought on by the third, color really mattered little, only brightness.

Her eyes focused. Nearest to the doorway sat the crumbling remains of old barrels that once stored arrows and quarrels. Rusted metal racks, bent and leaning, stood more toward the center of the space. The racks were empty now, but Ava imagined that when the outpost had been in use during the Byzan Wars, they held spears, swords, and the like.

Despite blocking some of the light entering the space as she walked in, only a couple people acknowledged her. The attention of most remained on the back of the room.

There, stood the half dozen volunteers from among their group. They were mostly nude and recently made hairless. The men varied in age, but overall, most were young, several on the borderline of what some might even consider to be men at all. She realized as her eyes continued to adjust that of the six, four were teenagers that had joined their group after Uman when they came across the town destroyed by raiders.

The six positioned themselves in a half circle. They held their arms out from their sides with legs spread. Rezub and another man swept up piles of hair around them while another put away a pair of shears and cleaned a straight razor.

Others not set on a specific task relating to the six watched in fascination at the transformation. It was a step-by-step process for those involved.

Damaris was first, using her tailoring skills as she adjusted a small white loincloth, the only piece of clothing that each wore. Somehow, she managed to pin it in such a way that it removed nearly all of the creases and seams, making it seem molded to the individual’s skin. Behind Damaris, several older men grabbed handfuls of a thick white paste from two pails. The paste was something Ava had thrown together with water, ash, and some of the root herbs from their small garden. The older men slathered the paste over each of the six, until nothing except their eyes, nostrils, and mouth remained uncovered.

Three women, all former prostitutes from the Soiled Dove, were the last in the assembly line. They removed the excess paste and smoothed out the covering, especially around the edges of the loincloths to hide any seams.

The two men received approval from Myra that they were done. Ava chuckled at their relief at no longer being groped by men and women while on display.

It’s amazing the loincloths stayed in place.

Now finished, they began teasing the four teenagers still undergoing the process of being made into apparitions.

“Better get your mind somewhere else, boy,” said one.

“Might pop Damaris’s stitches,” said the other.

Myra gave them a cold stare. “Enough.”

They hesitated, but only for a moment. No matter how cold the stare was, they were adults and Myra was still a teenager.

“Don’t be upset, girl. It’s only a joke.”

Myra looked as if she were debating on what to do next.

Don’t dwell. Make a decision fast and stick to it. Just don’t make a scene and create bad blood at a time like this.

She began to walk behind Myra, hoping that a glimpse of her presence might ease the two older men from pressing the issue.

It didn’t matter because as Damaris finished her last stitch, she looked back at the two men. “I don’t think Myra’s upset.” She leaned forward, squinting at the crotch of both men. “Probably just thinking that you two had an unfair advantage over the younger boys. There doesn’t look to be much there that might pop a stitch at all.”

Smiles broke out wide on all in attendance, relieving some of the tension. The younger men chuckled. The two men who were the targets of Damaris’s teasing joined in last, but loudest of all.

“Xank-be-damned,” one said, laughing. “I remember when my wife used to talk like that.”

Damaris snorted, while putting away her needle.

The hoots and laughter increased then. If the man wasn’t covered in white, he might have turned red.

“All right. I quit. You win,” said the other man.

Damaris winked at Ava.

Gods, did Tyrus know she could do something like that?

The men asked Myra. “What do you want us to do next?”

Myra looked as though she was dissecting and analyzing the exchange and outcome. If she continued to take after her father, Ava knew the lesson would be filed away for a future use.

Myra collected herself. “Grab your gear and go to your assigned spots.”

“And the tracks?”

She turned to Rezub. “Can you and two men take care of covering after them and the others?”

He nodded.

“Take your time,” Ava interjected. “Just as I showed you.”

“I got it,” he said, half in aggravation.

He and a couple others headed out the door with an old shirt tied on the end of a stick.

With the reduction in numbers, the remaining tension left the room. Ava got closer to Myra as she eyed the three women working on the last two young men Myra had selected. Besides, the unbelievable job of smoothing out the white paste so that it appeared natural, they added dried ash and dirt to make them seem almost like undead creatures out of myth rather than ghosts.

“How’d you know they’d be so good at that?” Ava asked.

“I saw them work wonders with make-up and thought the skills might carryover.”

Ava gave a confused look.

“Had to do something to pass the time when Ma was working,” she said grimly. “Watching them try to get some of the less youthful women ready for a job was often all I had to do.”

Of course. How could I forget about the Soiled Dove?

An uncomfortable silence stretched. Damaris was there a moment later, helping fill it.

“How’s the courtyard?” she asked.

“Finished for now,” said Ava, thankful for the save. “Though I guess I’ve got more work to do on the walls and in the towers and gatehouse. I saw Zadok up there.”

“He should be finishing up soon,” said Myra. “I just wanted him to work on a couple of smaller traps Dekar showed me after a game of crests. He said the Turine army used them during the retreat from Wadlow Hill.”

Ava tensed. Wadlow Hill wasn’t a pleasant memory for anyone who lived through it. There were many hungry nights and tired days following it until they began pushing back against the Geneshans. She remembered several traps that Hamath and Tyrus had come up with. Nasty things that didn’t use any sorcery so they would be more difficult for the enemy to detect.

“Are you crazy to have a bunch of children working on those? Do you have any idea how much can go wrong if they aren’t careful?”

Ava spun, ready to go after Zadok and Abigail as horrible images of small limbs lying next to bloody stumps flashed through her mind.

Myra grabbed her arm. “Aunt Ava. Stop.” She lowered her voice as other eyes from those in attendance were upon them. “I made adjustments based on what Dekar showed us. The traps aren’t the same ones you used against the Geneshans. Just inspired by them.”

Ava relaxed. “All right. But no more. You’re in danger of almost doing too much. Remember, I still need time to go over any last minute camouflage soon if I’m to save my strength to help cover Sivan’s tracks when he returns and later keep everyone hidden in the cellar.”

She hated knowing that she needed to recover from such simple spells, especially since they took longer and more effort to perform than before. However, she also couldn’t wait to cast the next one.

Each spell successfully cast was like rediscovering a part of who she used to be. Since her connection had slowly returned she longed to keep pushing herself, anxious to regain her competence and confidence of before.

She thought of the people at the outpost relying on her and her skills.

Am I ready? Have I regained enough?

* * *

Sivan and the other scouts returned, stopping just outside the gate on foot, huffing after having hidden their mounts. Beads of sweat rolled down their faces.

Sivan hobbled over to Ava and Myra, forcing his words through labored breaths. “They’re coming.”

“How long?” Ava asked.

“Less than half an hour. We would have been back sooner to give more warning, but it took longer than I would have liked to cover our tracks.”

“It’s fine. Everyone is already in the basement.”

He nodded and walked in that direction with the other two men following.

Myra turned to Ava. “Are you ready to cast another spell?”

What choice do I have? Either do it or we die.

“Sure.”

There was no need to let Myra in on her doubts. She honed her focus, then cast a final spell over any recent tracks while they slowly retreated to the cellar.

She sagged once finishing.

I did it. But can I still do more? She breathed slowly. Find a way to make it work.

Myra touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She forced a smile. “Just need some water. That’s all.”

The truth was that she had slowly grown more fatigued with each spell. She had cast more sorcery in the last day than she had since the eruptions began months ago. Under normal circumstances she’d be elated by such a realization.

But an approaching army puts a pretty big damper on that.

Ava cursed, feeling a bit light-headed.

“What?” Myra asked.

She admitted, “I don’t know if water will be enough.”

Myra bit her lip. “Maybe we can figure something out once we’re below with the others.”