Joshua Simon - Forgotten Soldiers

He grunted. “Let’s hope they haven’t had a recent population surge then.”

A half mile later, we came out on the other side of the woods. Seventy yards from the forest’s edge stood the smallest settlement I had ever seen. Farmland stood to either side of eight round hovels congregating in a circle around a massive white birch. Seeing the tree lord over the little community made me wonder if one of the lesser gods occupied the thing. It had that sort of aura about it.

A few residents noticed our arrival and gathered on the edge of town. They held tools of trade like weapons where everyone could see-shovels, hoes, and pickaxes. That didn’t bode well, even if I could understand their concern upon seeing several dozen soldiers rolling into their tiny town. I could almost sense Hamath ready to utter an “I told you so.”

“Halt!” Nehab called. He dismounted the wagon as it rolled to a stop, unbuckled the sword at his side and made a show of dropping it in the dirt. “Stay here until I say otherwise,” he added over his shoulder.

He walked alone, hands out at his sides. Additional people from the town materialized next to the original group. More people lived there than I had thought.

A woman screamed out and burst through the group. She sprinted toward the captain, brown dress flowing behind her. Nehab abandoned his calm approach and took off toward her. They met in a loving embrace with the captain raising her off the ground.

A lump formed in my throat as I thought about Lasha again.

The townspeople relaxed as recognition set in. They hurried out to the couple, white teeth showing in wide smiles. Nehab shook hands and hugged several others all while keeping one arm firmly wrapped around his wife’s waist.

After a minute, he waved us over.

“Well, one less thing to worry about at least,” I said.

Hamath responded with a grunt.

* * *

Treetown ended up being the opposite of Damanhur in more than just appearance. People shook our hands, thanked us for our service, and even made small talk about the weather. The only time I ever saw a smile leave their faces was when Nehab gave a very brief summary of the events in Damanhur. They offered condolences and said prayers for the dead. It was the reception we had hoped for from the beginning.

An elderly man, tall, wiry, and bent over a cane made a suggestion all could get on board with. A celebration.

I’ve never seen people move so fast in all my life. In less than an hour, meat dripped on open spits, bread baked in nearby ovens, and corn roasted over open fires. The comforting smells made it hard to keep from drooling. Everyone alternated between eating and talking. Someone rolled out a couple kegs of ale shortly thereafter and things really got going. With each mug of the warm, satisfying drink voices grew louder until all it seemed I could hear was laughter.

The mood had become so infectious that Dekar managed to talk Hamath into a match of Crests, a strategy game that I was barely serviceable at. Dekar had never lost, even winning a tournament the army put together two winters ago when we couldn’t do much else but sit around on account of a blizzard. Since then, he nearly had to pay people to play him.

The elderly man pulled out a fiddle while a woman I assumed was his wife began singing songs I hadn’t heard since my parents were alive. None of that religious garbage either. These were about the sun, the rain, family and friends-finding joy in the simple things of life.

I sat beneath the white birch with eyes closed, listening to the upbeat tempo and recalling fond memories of my youth. A small sigh escaped my lips, wishing Ava had come along to see this.

“Everything all right, Tyrus?”

I opened my eyes at the captain’s voice, watching him as he approached. “Yes, sir. I was just thinking how much this place reminded me of home. Well, a better version of home actually.”

“I hope it’s even better than how you remember it when you get there.”

“Me too, captain.”

“You can cut the ‘captain’ and ‘sir’ out now. I’m officially a commoner again. Nehab works fine by me.”

I nodded and gestured to a line of people, townsfolk and soldiers alike, dancing. “I’m glad you invited us to stay for the night. Not even that priest of Molak mustered this much genuine happiness from them.”

He smiled. “I thought they might need it.” He pointed and chuckled. “The way some of them are acting, it makes me realize how little I know them.”

I followed his hand. Ira danced in a circle with a group of kids ranging between the ages of two and seven. After a few moments he purposefully took an exaggerated tumble and they piled on top of him laughing.

I grinned. “Yeah, most people wouldn’t expect it but Ira’s always had a soft spot for kids. Don’t tell him I told you, but he used to sneak food all the time to give to the younger ones attached to the army. Most of my unit knew about it, but none of us ever said anything to him. We figured if he wanted to keep it to himself, then so be it.”

I looked up as the leaves rustled in the wind. “By the way, you were right about the name of this place. Treetown just doesn’t do it justice.”

Nehab rubbed his hand across the white bark, eyes traveling up and down the thick trunk. “The gods know I’ve tried to sway everyone’s mind, but people here just don’t seem to like change.”

“Considering this is the best place we’ve come upon in a long time, the people here might be on to something. Who would want to change this?”

Nehab smiled at his wife as she walked toward us. Her grin was just as wide. “Not me, Tyrus. Not me.”

By the gods, I missed my wife.

With the group now my responsibility, I no longer brought up the rear as had become my habit, but rather rode in one of the lead wagons. I kept the pace steady, just as Nehab had, still concerned about the health of those who had suffered injuries.

The countryside looked less ravaged by war the farther away from Genesha we journeyed. Fighting hadn’t touched these areas in years, most places not at all.

Lush trees danced in the summer breeze. For once, the wind carried scents that in no way reminded me of life in the army. No animal excrement from overcrowded pens, no urine from flooded out latrines, no sickness hovering over the infirmary. Finally those were nothing more than sour memories. Clean air, fresh grass, and lavender filled my nose instead.

Three days and one stop after leaving Treetown, we reached the top of a low hill. Over the pecan trees standing behind an old wooden fence, we saw the outline of a distant town. Smoke from one of the buildings rose over the trees.

Hamath let out a sigh. “There she is. Home sweet home.” He snorted, scratching at his red side burns. “I wonder if old Aviad is the one still stoking that forge.” A distant tone took to his voice. “I remember hanging around his place for hours as a kid.”

“You wanted to be a smith?” I asked.

“Nah, I had no interest. I still picked up a few things anyway. It was hard not to.” He chuckled. “My ma always wanted me to be a tanner. Gods, could you imagine that smell?” He shrugged. “No, I hung around the forge so much because I liked listening to Aviad pound away with that hammer of his. You know, I think that helped me become a better scout. I got to where I could figure out how and where each blow struck without ever opening my eyes. It got to be a game for us.”

“I’m sure if that’s him, he’ll be glad to see you then,” I offered.

Hamath stood in his seat. “Stop here.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it.”

Confused, I gave the command to the driver. He pulled on the reins and our wagon creaked to a halt. Those behind us followed.