The Dieya Chronicles - Incident on Ravar
Page 66
CHAPTER 64
The day passed quietly and word spread that the Sevoal were busy making siege towers. This respite allowed the men to repair their gear, sharpen their weapons and think about next time.
The worst detail was body removal. Balthus saw Dieya and Bo gathering a group of men for the job and decided to give them the benefit of his combat experience.
“Dieya, why clean up the bodies? I say let them rot at the walls! It will give the next attackers pause when then see their dead friends, bloated, stinking, covered with maggots and – ” The black look on Dieya’s face halted his harangue.
“These people are not the enemy – they were only misled by our real foe. We will treat them honorably!”
Dieya spoke with such vehemence that Balthus involuntarily stepped back and held up a hand. “As you say, Dieya,” he said softly.
The cleanup crews carried the bodies to the remains of the forest they had cut down a few days before. There they erected pyres from the cut logs and placed the Sevoal bodies and their own dead on top.
Balthus expected trouble from the enemy when this work commenced, but after the Sevoal saw what the defenders were doing, dozens of unarmed Sevoal approached to aid in the work. After a while it was common to see leather-armored swordsmen working side by side with bare-chested Sevoal warriors.
Balthus stood next to Rory on the parapet and watched the gruesome work. “It never ceases to amaze me how stupid war is,” said Balthus.
Rory nodded. “Yes, but at least there are enemy bodies. The only time I’ve been on details like this the dead were all our own people. The Kraken I’ve faced are just metal men with no life.” He sighed. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”
The work took all day and at dusk, the funeral pyres were lit. Flames reached high into the night sky and burned for hours. Hundreds of Sevoal walked to the pyres and stood with arms outstretched to the sky.
Balthus and Dieya watched the orange firelight cast an uneven glow on the clustered Sevoal. As the flames climbed high, the Sevoal began to sing a simple dirge for their fallen friends.
“The Sevoal believe the sparks that fly up to heaven are the souls of their dead. The brighter the spark, the braver the warrior,” said Dieya.
“Who knows…” Balthus leaned on the wall and gazed at the scene, lost in thought. “They might be right.”
The two stood side by side watching until the fires burned low and the Sevoal returned to their mutalehs.