Forever Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Four

by Joshua P. Simon

  We all met so little resistance to our dominance, that Hamath and Ira quit talking trash to their opponents and began doing so to one another, waging a side bet on which team would win the most.

  Based on the curses of our opponents, I had a feeling we’d be determining the victor soon. People can only take losing for so long.

  My gaze returned to my sister and the soldier she spoke with. He made a gesture with his head, insinuating they go somewhere more private. I balled my hands into fists and debated whether to say something.

  Then Ava’s head whipped about. The soldier was still talking, but she had stopped listening, focused elsewhere. A glow formed in her hands as she spun my way with a panicked expression. I knew.

  “Sound the alarm!” I shouted. “Full alert!”

  There was a moment of complete silence before my orders sank in.

  That silence ended when a horde of Geneshans roared into camp.

  * * *

  My eyes shot open. “To arms!” I yelled, reaching for my sword.

  But my hand only slapped against my still naked hip beneath the blankets I lay under.

  Damaris placed a hand on my heaving chest, “It’s all right. It was a dream. You’re safe.”

  Every part of my body hurt. And I felt unbelievably weak, but I still pushed down on my bed, attempting to slide myself up.

  “Be still,” she said. “You’re—”

  “I need to sit up.”

  Though still hoarse, my voice sounded better than it had the last time I had spoken. She must have noticed the same because instead of arguing, she helped me while adjusting my pillows and covers.

  For the first time in what seemed like ages, I dreamed. I might have dreamed more recently, but given my illness I couldn’t remember.

  The dream, like so many others, was about war. However, the memory, for once at least, began as a pleasant one.

  If it was possible for my time in the army to have bright spots, it was because of the close relationships I had built with people I served beside. I had always longed for home, but Ava and close friends like Ira, Dekar, and Hamath, had at least made the misery of being away from family bearable.

  The effort of getting comfortable took far longer than it should have and when I was done, I felt as though I had marched twenty miles in full gear. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I fought the desire. My mind was clearer and I needed answers.

  Damaris must have sensed my determination to stay awake as she brought a bowl of broth over to me. The fact my stomach didn’t revolt from the whiff was a positive. I opened my mouth to accept the first spoonful. As before, it wasn’t warm, but by the gods, it actually tasted amazing.

  I swallowed it slowly, enjoying the salty taste on my tongue.

  She asked, “Is that a smile?”

  “That might be the best broth I’ve ever had.”

  She chuckled and brought the back of her hand to wipe her eye. Was that a tear? I don’t think I had noticed just how tense she had been until then. Not just her face, but her entire body relaxed.

  I asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Am I all right?” She gave a small chuckle and sniffed. “I am now.”

  “How bad was I?”

  “Bad.”

  I cleared my throat. “Tell me.”

  “After your broth,” she said, bringing another spoon to my mouth.

  I let her spoon feed me like a child. It was hard to allow, but I don’t think she would have had it any other way. Truthfully, I didn’t know if I could have fed myself anyway considering that my arms and shoulders still ached from the strain of sitting up.

  I asked her halfway through the bowl to start talking, but she shook her head and said, “Broth first.”

  When empty, she set the bowl on the bedside table. “How do you feel?”

  “Awful, but better.”

  My stomach gurgled.

  She tensed. “Do you need to vomit?”

  “No. I think my stomach is just figuring things out again.”

  She smiled. Again, the change in the way she held herself was obvious. I yawned just as she wiped her eye once more.

  “Are you crying?” I asked.

  “Of course I’m crying,” she chuckled.

  “Was I really that sick?”

  “Yes. Do you not know what happened?”

  “Not really. Tell me.” I yawned again, then smacked my lips. “Please.”

  “I think you should rest again first.”

  “I can rest later. How are Myra and Zadok?”

  “There’s no need to worry about them right now. Just get some sleep.”

  Her hand touched my face. She stroked the side of my cheek and my eyelids immediately drooped. I shook her hand away. “Stop.”

  Her hand was back a moment later caressing my face while her other found one of mine.

  Once our fingers interlaced, Gods-be-damned if I didn’t fall asleep again.

  * * *

  Another nightmare about the war came to me, and I woke yelling. I was in roughly the same spot in my bed as when I had gone to sleep. Nothing in my room looked like it had changed except Damaris wasn’t at my side.

  I felt a brief moment of panic as hurried footsteps pounded up the stairs. I turned my head to my open bedroom door. Damaris appeared a moment later, panting.

  “Are you all right?” She hurried in.

  I lifted a hand. The move seemed to surprise her as much as it did me for having a bit of strength back. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Just give me a minute to collect myself,” I said, and frowned as I realized my voice had more bite in it than I meant it to. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “I know. I’m sure this has all been confusing and frustrating for you.”

  I gave her a sour look. “Especially since I don’t understand exactly what happened.”

  But I finally had an idea. The alcohol must have had something in it.

  “I’ll start explaining in a minute. I was downstairs fixing you more broth. Let me get it and I’ll talk while you eat.”

  “Is there any bread? My stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself.”

  “I’ll bring up a small piece.”

  While I listened to her movement downstairs in the kitchen, I repositioned my still sore body in the bed, peeling away two of the three remaining layers of covers. I could have done without the last layer as well, but not without clothes.

  Damaris returned with my bowl and a small heel of bread on a tray. She set the tray across my lap.

  “I thought you might want to try and feed yourself.”

  I nodded and set to work with the first spoonful of broth, doing my best to keep from ripping into the bread I desperately wanted.

  “I’m not sure how to begin,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about choosing your words. Just tell me everything. Gods, I don’t even know what day it is.”

  Damaris bit her lip, then said, “A week and a half ago Zadok found you unconscious, and lying in your own urine and vomit on the floor of your room. He thought you were dead.”

  Those two sentences made my blood run cold.

  I asked no questions, too enthralled with the miserable truth reaching my ears.

  “Once Zadok found you, he immediately called for Myra. They realized you were alive, but neither could wake you. Myra stayed with you while Zadok ran for help. He came to me first as I was closest. I hurried over to help Myra after sending Zadok for Vered and Yehoash.”

  Listening to Damaris recount the tale killed my appetite. Only the knowledge that I needed to eat regardless of desire, kept me from putting the food on my lap aside.

  Damaris had begun cleaning me while waiting for help. Myra had been there physically, but mentally was
in shock.

  Zadok had run into Ira and Reuma and told them of my situation. They rushed over. Reuma took Myra to a different room for comfort while Ira helped Damaris strip, clean, and move me to my bed.

  “At first, everyone thought you just had too much to drink. It was the obvious conclusion because of the alcohol. Vered began working on a mix of herbs to help your body process the alcohol when Ira found a small empty vial that had fallen from your shirt. Vered recognized it right away. He put the herbs away and told Yehoash not to give you anything until he went see about the vial.

  “A short while later, Vered returned with Lieutenant Dar. Dar filled us in on the vial’s history. We pieced together that after running out of the potion, you must have pursued a short-term alternative with the whiskey. Vered yelled at Dar for his carelessness as the potion did not mix well with most other herbs, and was extremely dangerous to consume with alcohol. It was a wonder to him you still lived.

  “Neither Vered nor Yehoash could do much then. Both agreed the potion needed to naturally work its way out of your body. That’s what you’ve been going through—fevers, vomiting, sweats, chills. It seems the worst is finally over. Now, you can start to heal and get your strength back.”

  Gods, my kids already had enough awful memories to last three lifetimes and I had to give them one more. Exactly what I told myself I’d never do. Some father I was.

  “I bet everyone wonders why I did what I did,” I finally managed.

  “No. We all know why. It’s just . . . we all knew you had your struggles, but none of us fully understood how bad it had been for you until this. Even after Sinsca. We were fools.”

  “It’s not anyone else’s fault but my own,” I said solemnly.

  The admission got no sympathy from Damaris. “Of course the fault lies with you. Because again, you refused to completely trust anyone to help you.”

  I worked my jaw, averting my gaze. I wanted to argue, but why bother? I had no argument.

  “Where is everyone else?” I asked low.

  She shrugged. “At the moment, I’m not sure. Busy with the various tasks for the council, I’m sure.”

  Wincing, I asked, “How did Xola take the news about me?”

  “Well enough based on what we’ve told her. She doesn’t know the truth. Not many do. We just let it be known that you accidentally mixed some things you shouldn’t have in an attempt to get some restful sleep. Myra and Reuma picked up the work Xola had intended to give you. She seems pleased with them.”

  “When does everyone usually come by to visit? I haven’t seen anyone here but you when I wake up.”

  She looked uncomfortable. “That depends, I guess. Udo and Ayodele come by every other day to get an update, but their visits are quick and at the door. They’re worried, but feel uncomfortable about intruding. Nason, Ira, and Boaz come by more frequently, especially Ira. He usually stops by a few times a day. If nothing else, he would lift you while I cleaned up.”

  I grimaced. That was a humbling thought.

  “And the kids? What about Myra and Zadok? You told me not to worry about them before, but I have to apologize to them and try to explain myself.”

  She folded her hands in her lap. My gut sank at her reaction.

  “They stop by regularly to check in and make sure you’re doing well, but they haven’t been up to see you since the first day. And since I last told them you were awake and doing better, they haven’t stopped by as frequently for updates either.”

  I blinked. “What? Why did you tell me not to worry about them then?”

  “Because you needed to get more rest. I never said all was perfect. Just not to worry about them then.”

  “You starting to sound like me,” I said bitterly. “I—”

  “They still love you very much if that’s what you’re wondering. I know that hasn’t changed. But seeing you as they did hurt them. Especially because you got that way by continually lying to them and shutting them out.”

  I balled my hands into fists.

  “Myra especially must be angry,” I said, thinking about how she had inherited that long burning anger of mine.

  “I think betrayed more accurately describes how she’s feeling. Zadok is the one who’s angry. He hasn’t even stepped foot on the porch since he learned the truth. He’s been sleeping in the loft at the stables. Boaz said he won’t talk about you or listen to anything others have to say past general knowledge of if you’re doing better or not. Myra has been staying at my place since that first night after finding you. She said that Zadok won’t even talk to her about you.” Damaris sighed. “Both have thrown themselves into their work. And after the council members arrived, there’s been even more work than before.”

  “Because of my confrontation with Paki?”

  “No. After that. Raiders attacked Sinsca. The two councilors who went there to speak with Paki sent word to us to help them. And we did. Hunted the raiders down and gave them a sore beating while suffering no deaths of our own.” She cleared her throat. “The same can’t be said of Sinsca though.”

  My gut knotted. Paki wasn’t exactly my most favorite person in the world, but I still didn’t wish that kind of suffering on him or the town he led.

  “Who led our force?”

  “Myra.”

  I swore and was ready to argue the stupidity of that. How dare Xola allow my daughter to be placed in such danger? But then I realized who else would they have chosen? Reuma led Kasala’s guard, and she was pregnant. Whether I liked it or not, I had allowed her to make Myra her second, and it was a role others had accepted.

  “Paki saw us differently after we helped them against the raiders. He’s no longer resistant to opening the river to us.”

  “Figures,” I muttered. More proof that I was the problem.

  Staring down at my hands resting on the empty tray in my lap, I noticed how much weight I had lost. My skin had taken a yellowish tint as well. Gods, and according to Damaris I was doing better? How close to death was I before?

  Thinking about what others had to deal with regarding my health, especially at such an inopportune time, I said, “Probably would have been best for everyone had Zadok found me dead. Maybe next time I’ll do the job right for his and Myra’s sake.”

  A quick movement preceded a slap across my face. I blinked not just in surprise, but because of the sting numbing my cheek. I brought a hand up to rub what I knew was surely a red mark. I met Damaris’s smoldering eyes. I had never seen that kind of anger from her before.

  “I don’t want to ever hear you say that again. Your kids still need you. Do you understand me?”

  “What? I—”

  “I asked do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” I said, still dumbfounded that she had struck me.

  “I didn’t spend the last week and a half of my life here cleaning your vomit, piss, and crap so you could kill yourself the moment you’re back to some semblance of health.”

  Her tone brought me out of my shock and gave my voice some bite. “Why did you do any of that? You didn’t see me off when I went to Batna and you didn’t greet me when I returned. I thought you had washed your hands of me.”

  “I did.” She paused, softening her voice. “At least I tried to.”

  “So this is pity? Poor Tyrus needed your help?”

  Her eyes smoldered again as she leaned forward. “Not pity, you idiot. Gods-be-damned, Love. Despite the promise I made to your sister to help you, I still tried to wash my hands of you. I tried to make the break clean. And it was working, or at least I was telling myself it was working. But the second Zadok told me what happened, I rushed over here without a moment’s pause. All I could think about was how I’d do anything not to lose you.”

  Her words should have brought me comfort, hope, joy. Instead, they stung. I looked to the window, unable to meet her gaze any lon
ger. As much as it had hurt me not to see Damaris, I thought it was the best. I should have just shunned her long ago when she first expressed an interest in me. If I had, my poor decisions wouldn’t have affected her.

  “I don’t know what to say. My mind . . .” I paused, somehow burdened with greater worry than before. “I’m just tired.”

  Her hand grabbed mine. Instinctively, I started to pull away, like I was unworthy of her touch. She seized it tighter. “Then rest. And think. We have plenty of time to continue this conversation later.”

  “Maybe you should—” I started.

  “Later. I’ll leave the door open while I clean up downstairs. Shout if you need me.”

  Damaris stood, leaned over, and kissed me on the forehead. She took my tray and left. I watched her, wondering what in the name of Molak I had done to have someone like her in my life.

  * * *

  I had every intention of using that time alone to do some actual thinking, but my body was still too weak. In my solitude, I drifted right back to sleep.

  As usual, my mind continued on the problems dominating my waking thoughts. I went over my conversation with Damaris several times in a dreaming state, though never faring better than I had awake.

  My dreams jumped around, growing ever darker. However, war no longer dominated them.

  Lasha did.

  My subconscious mind returned to the darkest dream of my wife, the awful ‘what if’ scenario of how our reunion might have been had she lived. Just as before, the admission of my faults, worries, and fears not only dampened her lust for me, but also spawned an intense look of disappointment. Despair jarred me awake.

  I looked around the dark room and realized it was night. My heart pounded in my ears.

  The door was open, but I was alone. Damaris was likely downstairs, I thought.

  I had kicked my blankets to the floor while dreaming. Yet still, sweat had beaded over my body, and my hair lay matted against the side of my face.

  The sudden urge to urinate sped the process of casting the somberness of my dream aside. I glanced over and spotted a bed pan on the floor. I thought to reach for it, but then caught sight of the chamber pot across the room.