Joshua Simon - Forgotten Soldiers

I guessed after Damanhur, some of the men felt like their half-hearted efforts in worshipping the father of the gods had caused Molak to abandon them at a time when all was supposed to be well. They figured that by taking advantage of this golden opportunity with Kehat, Molak might get off his rear and throw them a hand out.

I doubted Molak would do anything. He sure seemed stingy with the blessings during the last decade when hundreds of thousands of men lost their lives on the Turine side alone. It seemed that Molak would have been a bit understanding of his followers’ inability to properly worship since they were busy trying to block the swords coming at their throats.

Regardless, Kehat had the men chanting prayers and singing hymns as we set up camp. Even quiet Dekar joined in. We were so far away from any major form of civilization, I decided to let the men go at it and get it out their systems. From the looks of things, they all needed it.

I, on the other hand, did my best to block out the dozens of songs I remembered from my youth, lest I accidently slip into a chorus myself. That was no easy thing. Several times I caught my lips silently repeating the refrain of a specific prayer on their own accord.

Comfortable the work was getting done, and filled to the brim with the carryings on, I placed Dekar in charge, and went to the outskirts of camp to get away. Thinking about Lasha and the kids helped clear my mind.

Some say that religion was infectious. They may have been right, but it was a disease I had no wish to catch.

* * *

Captain Nehab returned just after camp was set. I knew this only because the singing came to an abrupt halt. I heeled and toed it back to camp to greet him but he was already walking toward me.

“Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I was farther out than I thought.”

“No problem, Sergeant. We can stay out here. Hamath told me about your aversion to all things religious. I don’t have quite as strong of feelings as you, but I’m no disciple either. How have you been killing time?”

“Just thinking. Mostly about my sister now. Wondering how she’s doing with her studies under the High Mages of Hol. She never got along with them before. Put one in the infirmary about four years ago when he tried to belittle her in front of several others because she was only classed as a squad mage under my unit.”

He chuckled. “I remember that. Your sister has a unique personality.”

I grinned. “That she does. Hopefully, it’s not getting her in trouble. Especially since I know she wanted to be a part of looking over that Geneshan artifact.”

He grunted. “Well, I hope looking is all the Council of High Mages is doing. Balak told me what the Geneshans think the artifact is capable of. I’ve dealt with enough misery and chaos in the war. I don’t need that stuff following me home.”

“I hear you, sir.”

The singing started back up, and I shook my head. “So, how’d it go today?”

We started walking.

“Well enough. No one seems to be following us, which is what we suspected. We came across a small town off the main road. Heaven’s Way. Ever heard of it?”

“No, sir.”

“Me either. For something with heaven in the name, it sure was a dump. Maybe eighty people or so. I kept the men back and entered on my own after removing all signs of the army about me. Just to get a feel of things.”

“And?”

“Not great, but not awful either. They hadn’t heard of Damanhur yet, thankfully. But I’m sure they will soon enough. Regardless, the sentiment seems mixed. Most of the general populace doesn’t hold the army in high regard. Lots of stories circulating about the war. Some false, some true, some exaggerations of the truth. Those who seemed to be more supportive of the war or at least indifferent to it were around, but outnumbered in their opinion.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Hard to say, and I couldn’t press without being suspicious.”

“So, what are your orders?”

“Keep doing what we’ve been doing. Avoid people as best as we can until it’s time to start dropping people off at their homes.”

“And what do we do if things are just as bad at those places?”

He sucked his teeth. “I really don’t know. That will be up to the individual to decide. Stay, or move on to a place where they’ll be welcomed.”

“The thought of returning home is the only thing that has kept most of them alive all these years. To not be welcomed there, well. .”

He sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

The singing got really loud just then. We both turned our heads.

“Sorry, sir. I may not be religious, but the priest looked pretty bad off.”

He patted me on the shoulder. “No worries, Sergeant. I would have done the same. And if nothing else it seems the men needed him just as much as the priest needed a meal and a ride. We’ll let him stay with us for a bit. When we part, we’ll give him some supplies to take with him.”

I nodded.

“And, Tyrus.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Let’s not mention what I said about that town to the others just yet. No reason to bring them down again.”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then I’ll leave you to your thoughts. After a day of hard riding, I can put up with some off key singing if it means a full stomach.”

Over the next week, Kehat went his own way and we continued to shun any large communities we passed. That practice changed as we reached several smaller towns that were the final destination for several in our group.

To ensure the safety of those we dropped off, Nehab sent half a dozen men into town as an escort. He didn’t want to send in anymore, so that the locals weren’t threatened by us. The six men selected as escorts were never the same, rotating men out here and there so everyone at least got a brief taste of civilization.

Reports from those who returned to the group were mixed. Some were surprised to see soldiers returning, and asked questions about the war in a more curious than accusatory manner. However, many locals cast sour looks, even crossing the streets to avoid contact. Still, no one tried to raise arms against us like in Damanhur so we at least had that going in our favor.

Since the hostilities seemed minimal, every soldier we dropped off chose to remain in their home town, just as I expected they would.

Several men who returned after one particular trip into a passing town tried to look at the positive, explaining the looks and behavior of the people as just being cautious of strangers. The pessimists of our group felt it proved that many in the world no longer wanted us.

I hadn’t decided which side of the argument I fell.

After another night of debating the same thing, Dekar changed subjects. “Hamath, don’t you live somewhere around here?”

He threw a stick he had been fidgeting with into the fire. “Yep. We should make it there in a few days.”

“You don’t sound excited,” Dekar said.

Hamath shrugged. “Not especially.”

“What about Bilhah?” I asked. “You aren’t happy to see her again?”

He snorted. “She got married years ago.”

I blinked. “What? You never told me that. When did you find that out?”

“It was in that last batch of letters we all received before the army quit delivering messages.”

Shortly after Wadlow Hill, Balak had called for all outside communications to cease. Things were bleak then, and he was worried about our dwindling resources. He didn’t want to deplete them further by ferrying personal messages back and forth across country.

“Why haven’t you said anything before now?”

He threw another stick in the fire. “Because I knew how much it meant for you to talk about your family. I didn’t want to make you feel guilty about it just because I no longer had anyone waiting for me.”