Joshua Simon - Forgotten Soldiers

“Well, I’m glad it isn’t like that.”

“Yeah, me too. Makes me feel guilty for admitting it though.”

“Every soldier feels that way.”

“Maybe. It’s just sad that a hundred years from now, no one is likely to remember what they died for. Gods, how many people are likely to forget in ten years? One year? Molak be cursed, less than that?”

“I won’t forget them. That’s for sure,” said Hamath.

“Me either.”

Hamath turned, slapping me in the arm. “All right, enough of this. We’ve got all the time in the world to mourn. Let’s get back to the others and celebrate. We’re going home, and we’ll be treated as heroes. What better way to honor those soldiers who died than enjoying all the accolades for them.”

I chuckled as we turned and started walking away. “Heroes? You really don’t believe that do you?”

“Trust me.”

The next morning I saw Ava off.

I stood in the middle of camp near the officers’ tents with Ira, Dekar, and Hamath. They had already wished Ava good luck, and said their farewells. Though Ava could be a hard person to get along with at times, I could tell they’d all miss her. Even Ira. You didn’t fight alongside someone for ten years without growing close in some way.

Ava waited for the transfer portal a step ahead of me, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

Further away, High Mages guarded prisoners of war, most of which wore the robes of Geneshan sorcerers. The leader of the High Mages, someone’s whose name I couldn’t pronounce, carried the wooden box that held the Geneshan artifact under his arm.

The Geneshan sorcerers looked nauseous just being in the box’s vicinity. Thinking on my conversation with Balak, it appeared the Geneshans believed the artifact was something to fear.

Loud, rapid popping filled the air. A blue and white flash of radiance followed. It coalesced into an oval of bright light that hung a few inches above the ground.

I’ve seen dozens of transfer portals over the years and they never ceased to fill me with a sense of awe.

According to Ava, portals were a handy method of travel, though not safe enough to use in battle. After a few disastrous attempts at transferring units close to enemy targets, the mode of transportation had been relegated to delivering messages to Hol to keep the king abreast on the war while he spent his time doing whatever it was kings did.

She faced me, looking nervous. “I guess this is it,” she said.

“No guessing about it,” I said.

Neither of us knew how to say good-bye. The knowledge that we’d likely never see each other again left us formal and stiff.

“Take care of yourself, Big Brother.”

“You too. And be careful.”

Apparently, being close wasn’t a guarantee of saying what you felt.

My sister followed the High Mages leading the prisoners through the transfer portal.

Ava stood out among the group, but not because she was one of only three women, but because she alone disdained the robes. She wore instead, of course, her black leathers. I wondered how long it would take for them to force a change in her wardrobe. The corners of my mouth turned up as I thought of that confrontation. The High Mages would rue the day they had agreed to apprentice my sister.

Ava paused at the entrance to the portal and spun toward me. I gave her a wave. She smiled, offered a slight nod, and then was gone.

“That was maybe one of the worst good-byes I’ve ever seen in my life, Ty,” Ira said behind me. “Ow!” he added as Dekar cuffed him.

I snorted. “It was pretty bad, wasn’t it? Good thing she and I don’t need to say much. We know how things stand between us.”

And that was true. Granted, that didn’t stop me from wishing I had actually said the hundred things running through my mind. Most of all, I wished I had told her how proud I was.

It took some effort not to start bawling like a little girl when the portal closed. I hadn’t ever shed a tear in my life except when it came to family. Whether it was the happiness of watching Lasha give birth to our children or the sadness of my parents passing, family tugged at my heart the most. It really affected me to see the person who knew me better than anyone else in the world leave.

* * *

We hung around camp another three days before we were ready to depart.

Those three days took longer to pass than the nearly ten years I had spent in the army. I must have played a thousand hands of cards, lost nearly all my money twice over, and still managed to come out a few coins ahead in the end.

Finally, we set out at dawn on the fourth day.

Most soldiers sent us off with a smile and a wave despite the gods’ forsaken hour, believing their turn would come around soon enough. Others more cynical stared with jealous eyes and sneers. The faces of the latter lingered with me the most as I recalled Balak’s mention of pursuing Noval after Genesha had been cleaned up.

Though some of the army would be allowed to return home in the coming months, many seemed destined to suffer through another conflict. If successful, I wondered when Balak and the king would finally call it quits, to allow life in Turine to return to normal.

Somehow, I didn’t think they ever would. They had tasted success and had become greedy. War just might be the new norm.

Hamath and I stared at the Turine camp from the back of a rolling wagon, feet dangling over the road. Soldiers sat behind us, crammed between barrels of salted pork and oats. Other wagons were loaded similarly.

None of us said a word until long after the army faded from sight. If it wasn’t for the occasional grunt when the wagons hit a hole in the old roads, you’d think we were all asleep.

I think we were just taking time to process the return home.

We began talking about things weighing on our mind, each glad they weren’t alone in their thoughts. How many more soldiers would never return home? And why did we deserve to leave when so many others were forced to stay behind?

* * *

By evening, the depressive mood shifted to celebratory. We were on our way home.

A clear and starry night hung over us as we finished prepping our camp for the night. We formed a circle with the wagons and tethered the mounts just outside of it to graze on tall grass. Sentries patrolled the perimeter with loaded crossbows.

The war was over and we were happy, but old habits died hard. The likelihood of any bandits brave enough to try their hand at a few dozen veterans was slim, but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t prepare for such a scenario. You didn’t stay alive as long as we all had by taking things for granted.

I took my place in the chow line, behind Hamath. I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was until I caught a whiff of the night’s stew. My stomach growled.

Hamath turned. “Lasha a good cook?”

“Why you want to know?”

He shrugged. “Just curious. I can count on one hand the number of meals we’ve had over the last decade that’ve been prepared by someone outside of the army. Thought it might be something you’d look forward to.”

“I guess you’re right. The last time was what? Two and half years ago?”

“Yeah. It was when we spent a couple weeks in that city near the battle of Urtok’s Ridge. What was it called? After all this time, the places are starting to run together.”

“Awarta.”

“Yeah, Awarta. I liked it there.”

“Really? Don’t you remember all the trouble we had with them trying to poison us?”

“I remember. But outside of the poison, the food was good.”

I shook my head, chuckling. “I guess.”

“Too bad we razed the place when we left,” said Hamath. “Balak’s never been the sort of person you want to upset.”