I started at the venomous tone that was so uncharacteristic from him. His words stung deep.
“Don’t take that tone with me,” I snapped. It was a petty response, but I was off guard and desperately wanted to regain control of the situation.
Myra wasn’t having it though. “He asked you a question, Pa.”
My blood was rising now. “I kept it from you both, because I’m your father and it’s my gods-be-damned problem. Not yours.”
Myra’s voice softened with a deep hurt. “We’re supposed to be family. That means the problem is not just yours, but ours.”
Zadok added, his voice close to pleading, “We’re your children, but we aren’t little kids. We could have been helping you all this time.”
“I don’t think you can.”
Myra tightened the grip on her reigns. “But you don’t know that for sure.” She gave me a look that I’d heard described as very Tyrus-like. “Regardless, I’m helping you now whether you want it or not. And that means I’m going with you.”
My jaw clenched. I knew there was no keeping her behind. “Fine.”
Having scored a victory over her father in an argument, she sat taller in the saddle. Things would only go downhill from there I was sure.
“I’m going too,” said Zadok.
Myra and I both swung our gazes to him as one and said together, “No.”
He flinched, scowled, and muttered. “Gods, y’all are so much alike. Why not?”
“Because I won’t have both my kids in harm’s way.”
His scowl deepened, but he didn’t say anything more, further proving how much more Myra took after me than he did. No way would I have given in as easily.
Trying to make myself feel better about losing the argument, I gave Myra an order. “Get everyone formed up. I’ll be along in a minute.”
She quickly told Zadok and Damaris goodbye before seeing to her task. Despite the clear displeasure with me, Zadok still gave me a proper hug goodbye after a short hesitation. When we parted, he walked to the northern edge of town to watch us off.
When Zadok was out of earshot, Damaris said, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t try to follow after you on his own.”
I snorted. “You don’t have anything to worry about. Zadok wouldn’t do that.”
“Are you sure? He’s fast approaching fourteen and none too pleased with staying behind.”
I gave that some thought. Just as Myra seemed to take after me, Zadok definitely emulated his mother. Where I would face an obstacle head on and not relent until I got the answer I wanted, or at least one I could live with, Lasha would back off and bide her time until the right moment. Many times she made me think I had won an argument. Then hours, or sometimes days later, she’d say or do something that completely flipped the previous outcome.
I swore. “Tell Boaz not to leave Zadok alone in the stables. Have Reuma place a guard on the remaining horses at night.”
“I’ll talk to him later so it doesn’t come to that.” She smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. “But I’ll see to it anyway just to be safe.”
I didn’t move away from her touch, but instead toward it. Since she had begun work in the tailor shop, we rarely saw each other during the day. She had been at my side and had intuitively seemed to know when I was most under duress. Her touch had helped steady my thoughts. I didn’t realize I had missed her company so much.
I said, “I’m actually surprised you didn’t insist on coming.”
“I thought it best if I didn’t. I did what was needed when fighting alongside your sister, but I didn’t like very much who I was then. I’ve only put in half-efforts during Reuma’s drilling.”
I bobbed my head, but stayed silent as we approached the uncomfortable moment of parting. How do you say goodbye to someone who was more than a friend, but not quite a lover? Someone who you wanted to grab and hold forever one moment, but the very next didn’t want to see again because of the guilt that want brought?
Thankfully, I didn’t have to consider the question long. Damaris took the lead, stepping forward and kissing me on the cheek.
“Be careful,” she said.
“Of course,” I managed, trying not to focus on my shameful desire for more than that kiss.
She pulled away to look at me intensely. “I love you. Maybe you already know that. Maybe you don’t. Regardless, I wanted to say it.”
I tried to answer quickly, but the Molak-be-damned words wouldn’t come.
As if seeing something in the expression I wore that I could not articulate, she smiled, kissed my other cheek, and joined Zadok at the northern edge of town.
I found my bearings and my horse, then climbed into the saddle. All the while, my eyes never left Damaris’s retreating form.
CHAPTER 28
Four days after their last engagement, Ava and her sixty-eight remaining men followed Kamau and his squad into Danso’s camp. The camp had moved approximately thirty miles south, surrendering ground to the enemy. Other than the scenery, it looked no different, perfectly organized and well-guarded.
Moving past the outer guards and into the main part of camp itself, Ava noticed that some things had actually changed. A second tent to house the injured stood next to the first. Also, the Southern Kingdom soldiers walking about wore an increased look of battle fatigue.
She commented to Kamau. “You didn’t tell me things were this bad.”
“Because they were not this bad when I left. This is the result of something recent.”
She heard the bitterness. He was not pleased to have been sent to chase after her.
Kamau picked up his pace, separating from her as if discussing the army’s state was too painful. He signaled for her to wait as he entered Danso’s tent. She halted and ordered her men to do the same.
She addressed Sergeant Margo. “I’ll probably be asked to speak with Danso in private. See that the men are on their best behavior while I’m gone. I don’t know how he will react to what I tell him, but I don’t need any additional problems to deal with.”
“There won’t be any,” he said, eyes scanning the Southern Kingdom camp. He reiterated her earlier observation “They’ve seen some real hell since last time we were here.”
“Yeah.” Her hand brushed against the parchment at her hip.
And there’s still more to come.
“High Mage Ava,” called Captain Kamau at the entrance to Danso’s tent. He waved her over while the young boy held the flap open.
When she neared, Kamau said, “I’ll see your men are fed and rested.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
The tent flapped closed behind her, plunging the space into a familiar dimness.
“Sit,” Danso said.
She squinted at the center of the tent, expecting to see Danso standing over his table as she had before. But he wasn’t there. Instead, he sat in a chair to her right. He had a hand to his face, forefinger and thumb rubbing the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache. In front of him was a small table with two cups. Another empty chair sat on the other side of the table.
When she didn’t immediately move, he gestured. “Please.”
Ava had run through how the conversation might go many times during the last couple days in an effort to be prepared for any number of questions, concerns, and criticisms. Not one of her scenarios had begun in this manner. So disarmed by Danso’s approach, she chose to say nothing while taking the seat across from him.
Closer, and with her eyes ever adjusting, she saw how worn he looked. Besides, an obvious puffiness under his eyes, the whites themselves were no longer clear, but tinted red. Danso also wore bandages on both arms.
“Are you all right?” she asked, surprised almost as much as he seemed to be by her sincerity.
He glanced at his injuries. “They are not deep.”
“You were in the midst of the fighting?”
“Yes.”
“Had you died, the army would lose its leader.”
“Not ideal, I agree.” He poured water into both cups from the pitcher and added bitterly, “But a commander must be willing to do things what he would not prefer to do if it will accomplish his task.”
The phrase sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
She accepted the offered cup but did not drink until Danso did first. She doubted he’d try to poison her, but she could not help but be cautious, especially with such a drastic change in behavior.
Ava lowered her cup after a small sip. “Is that what you think about having me return? You feel forced into doing something that isn’t ideal?”
“That isn’t exactly what I meant.”
She managed to keep her voice calm. “But at least in part it is.”
He let out a long sigh. “I’ve been hearing a lot about your recent successes.” He paused as if waiting for her to respond, but she chose not to. “I’m not sure what prompted you to do so, but I appreciate you looking out for my people. However, I need you and your men to help me here.”
She couldn’t help herself. “I bet that hurt.”
He raised an eyebrow. To her surprise, one side of his mouth curled up. “Quite.”
Gods, he’s like a completely different person. What happened?
“If help is what you need, then you have it.”
“That simple?”
“Yes. Help was all my men and I ever wanted to do.”
He grunted.
“Based on what I’ve seen of camp, it looks like things haven’t gone well.”
He let out another slow breath as if further resigning himself to his situation. “No. We’ve fought two larger pitched battles since you left. The first was much like those before. We won, but did not drastically alter the course of the war. The second was much different. Things started just as they always had, similar probing, similar maneuvers from the enemy. We solidified our lines and pushed forward, making it known we would not be moved . . .” his voice trailed off.
“And then what?”
He took a gulp of water. “Then the dead came. Not just a body or two or even a handful. More than a hundred attacked.”
Danso shook his head as if unable to continue.
Ava gave him a moment and offered. “We’ve run into necromancy ourselves lately. The last confrontation involved a full squad. And they fought like real soldiers.”
He sat taller. “What did this squad look like?”
She shrugged. “Like the enemy. Just dead and rotting in their armor.”
“Ah.”
She frowned. “I feel like I’m missing something. A company of dead shouldn’t have been the catalyst to cause what I see out there.”
“If they had looked like the enemy then I would agree. But they didn’t. The soldiers they fouled with their sorcery were once ours. We had to fight a hundred of our own brethren, men from past battles the enemy had stolen before the customary rites could be performed, or perhaps robbed from their graves afterward.” He paused. “It was too much to see someone we once called brother in that state. We faltered and the enemy took advantage. I had to withdraw.” He cursed himself. “I should have foreseen this possibility.”
“You can’t know everything.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t feel like I should.”
Her thoughts drifted to the document at her waist.
“How long ago was the last battle?” she asked.
“Two days.”
“Then we still have time.”
“Time for what?”
She pulled out the parchment and handed it to him. “I found this on an enemy sorcerer.”
He looked it over, tracing a finger while squinting at the foreign words. “I don’t understand. What language is this?”
“It is an older form of the Noval tongue.”
“And you can read it?”
“Some. Enough to catch the gist of it.”
“Which is?”
“It explains how to use necromancy in ways the High Mages of Turine thought impossible. It talks about performing necromancy on large groups, like the company you encountered. And doing so quickly. The process I witnessed on one subject in Turine took hours to complete. From what I can tell, the enemy has found a way to cast a necromantic spell in minutes. Probably less if multiple sorcerers are casting in unison. They’re working to field an entire battalion of dead soldiers.”
“Engai,” he whispered.
The exclamation using the name of the Southern Kingdom god took her back. She had no qualms about cursing gods, but in her experience, it was a rare occurrence to name a Southern Kingdom deity with anything less than reverence.
“It gets worse,” she added.
“How?”
“They aren’t just going to raise dead soldiers. They’ll use every available body in the Southern Kingdoms. I think that was why they had attempted to go west. They’re planning to raid those towns, kill the inhabitants—men, women, and even children, and raise them to fight.”
Danso’s voice cracked. “How can they even consider such a thing?”
“It’s war. Rarely is anything outside of consideration.”
He spat. “Bad enough they treat our dead so dishonorably, but then to kill so many innocents and disgrace them in Engai’s eyes. We would never consider doing that.”
“Too bad they don’t hold your values.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Would you do the same with their knowledge?”
“I wouldn’t slaughter innocents, but I’d use the enemy’s dead to fight in a heartbeat.”
He blinked, mouth open and unable to speak.
Ava continued. “If I was fighting a military that’s been feared for centuries, I would be foolish not to take any advantage I could to win.”
He shook his head, mulling over her words. “Then we’ve lost,” he said low.
The defeat in his voice took her aback. It was one thing to see Danso cast aside his pride to ask for help. But to hear him concede the remainder of a war without fighting just didn’t make sense.
“How can you say that?”
“I doubt you truly understand how our requirements for handling our dead are the backbone of our religion. Our prayers for and rites over our dead allow the soul to leave its earthly form. When the body is buried, the soul journeys to paradise. Disturbing the body before the flesh has fallen away could jeopardize that soul’s path, possibly causing them to never reach paradise. Violating Engai’s rules by harming a body and damning a soul’s journey results in the loss of paradise for the living offender.”
Every religion had their version of hell. Ava tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “So the one who disturbs a body or doesn’t give it proper rites would spend their afterlife in eternal torment? Burning, beating, being denied sustenance, or something like that?”
“No. There is either paradise or there is nothing.”
She shrugged. “Why is that so bad? You won’t ever know what you’re missing?”
“You don’t understand. Or maybe I’m just doing a poor job of explaining. You’ll have nothing and know you have nothing. There will be separation from every other soul alive or dead. Never entering paradise means complete isolation from not only Engai, but everything else. You will be conscious, but you will be in complete seclusion for all eternity.”
A surprising shiver ran down Ava’s spine at the thought of such loneliness.
Danso bobbed his head. “Now, you understand.”
“Sure, but I don’t believe in it,” she said, trying to stiffen her resolve.
“My men do. And they are now debating whether their recent actions will prevent them from entering
paradise. I think the only reason that many fought at all that day was because everyone was so taken off guard.” He paused. “Three men have taken their lives out of guilt though. Some believe doing so softens Engai’s judgment and allows them at least a spot in lesser parts of paradise. It’s likely my entire army will simply flee from facing the same situation again.”
“They would flee even if it meant losing the war? Even if it meant risking the lives of those still breathing?”
“Yes.”
Ava couldn’t reconcile how the dead were held in higher esteem than the living. “That makes no sense.”
“To you. But I have no doubt if I was to analyze the Turine religion, I would be equally as baffled by parts of it.”
No doubt. But certainly not like this.
They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. She had no clue what Danso was thinking, but she doubted that any of it was good.
Probably wondering how it all fell apart so quickly.
A thought came to her. “Is there anything in your religion that would prevent your people from just stopping the dead? Not harming them, but,” she paused to choose her words carefully, “restraining them.”
“No. So long as they are not purposefully harming the dead or doing something that might jeopardize their stay in paradise, there should be no issue.”
“Then that’s how we handle the dead. Create traps that remove them from battle.”
He rubbed the stubble on his chin, making a light scraping sound as he thought on her suggestion. “That could work,” hope creeping into his voice. “There would be no direct harm to any of the dead, and any that were damaged would be more as a result of the enemy’s interference than our own. Engai would surely punish them over any of us. I think most of my men would see that. However, what do we do with those we’ve trapped?”
“Nothing. We worry about the enemy sorcerers. Kill enough of them and their spell should break. After it breaks, you can do whatever your religion calls for to ensure the dead continue their path to paradise.”
Forever Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Four Page 22