Joshua Simon - Forgotten Soldiers

One of the workers, a big man, nodded.

“Good.” I tossed him one of my few remaining coins. That might have seemed like a dumb move, but since I thought to take care of him he might be more inclined to leave what still lay on the porch alone.

We hurried toward the main road. Myra and Zadok were complete opposites. She walked in a daze. He wore a smile and dragged her along by the hand.

A bright crescent moon hung in the clear night sky interlaced with countless stars. It was the sort of night Lasha and I used to admire on our porch after the children went down for the night. The memory began to calm me until another image of her and Jareb took over. I cursed and picked up my pace.

“Where are we going, Tyrus?” Myra asked in a huff.

“Tyrus?” That jarred me.

“That is your name.”

I looked back at her. “Did you call your mother ‘Lasha?’”

“No. She earned the right to be our Ma.”

Ouch. That might be the worst thing anyone had ever said to me.

Zadok shoved Myra. “Stop it. He just saved us from Jareb.”

“Appearing after ten years and beating on a few people doesn’t make up for all the time he’s been gone,” said Myra.

“Shut up! You’re going to make him angry. He’ll leave us again.”

“No,” I said. “The first time I left, it wasn’t my choice. It was the king’s. But that doesn’t matter. Regardless of what either of you say or do, I’m not leaving you again. Ever.”

“You never answered my question,” said Myra. “Have you been away so long, you’ve forgotten where town is?”

“I know where town is,” I said, trying to mask my frustration with her. “I thought it might be wise to keep to ourselves tonight since it will be late when we would get there.” That was only part of the truth. The rest was that I was barely thinking straight after everything that I learned in the last few hours and the last place I wanted to be was around more people who might try to do me harm. Gods, I hoped Dekar and Ira would have a better go of things in Tamra.

I continued. “Don’t worry, I know a spot in the woods that will give us what we need.”

“Do we have to?” asked Zadok, voice shaky.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“He’s scared,” said Myra. “The woods don’t hold good memories for us.”

I thought of Zadok’s story about how Lasha had them living there for a few months.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “It’s just for tonight, and I’ll be with you. All right?”

He nodded.

We managed our way through thick undergrowth and low hanging oaks thanks to the starry night. It took less time than I thought it would to find the place Ava and I used to spend our free time as children. Surprisingly, it looked undisturbed after all the years away.

Wild blackberry bushes lined the clearing between tall pines. A lean-to that Ava and I had built out of old logs still stood in as good of condition as it had when we were younger. Later when Ava’s sorcery manifested, she managed to figure out some minor spell that added strength to the logs, preventing rot and repelling bugs.

I recalled that a quarter mile north stood a giant walnut tree and another half mile past that ran a small creek. At the low point, the water was only a foot deep. When younger, I remember snatching fish right out of the water while they maneuvered through the rocks.

Shelter, food, and water all within easy walking distance. Had I thought about it, I would have shown Lasha the spot long ago. Such resources might have stayed her decision to work at the Soiled Dove.

Maybe a part of me had just wanted to keep it a secret between me and Ava. As children, it was our refuge from the world when we decided we had enough of it. We had built plenty of good memories in our little hideout.

But with what Lasha and the children had gone through. . those memories seemed unimportant.

It took me less than ten minutes to pull away the vines and brush that had grown around the lean-to. Next I cleared out the leaves littering the ground inside, replacing them with tall grass for Myra and Zadok to sleep on. In the meantime, I had Zadok and Myra gather firewood.

By the time they returned with their fourth load, I had gotten the area squared away for the night. I started a fire in an old pit Ava and I had lined with river rock. It too had stayed intact.

We said very little while we worked. Myra’s sour mood hung over us, dampening the easy conversation Zadok and I instantly had.

Once I had the fire going well enough, I stepped away.

Myra and Zadok sat inside the lean-to.

“Do you both know how to keep this going?” I asked.

Myra rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“All right. Good.” I started rummaging in my pack which I had set off to the side earlier.

“Why?” she asked.

I pulled out a couple of hard biscuits and my last apple. “Because, I’m going to go work on getting us some supper.” I handed the food over to them. “This should hold you over until I get back.” I also handed Myra a knife. She gave me a look. “So you and Zadok can share the apple.”

She hesitated before taking it, looking nervous. “If this is all you have, we can split it with you.”

“No, that’s yours. I’ve actually got some jerky, oats, and a few more biscuits in the bag in case I don’t come back with anything. I just thought it might be nice to have something fresher.” Her eyes darted about, searching the dark woods like a monster might run out of it at any moment. I realized I was leaving them, even if it was only for a little while. “If you’re more comfortable with me staying, I will.”

The frightened look vanished, replaced by a mask of hardness. “No. It’s fine. Go,” she said.

“Can I come, Pa?” asked Zadok through a mouthful of biscuit.

A bit of that worried look returned to Myra.

“Well, you could, but I really need you to protect your sister for me.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, of course.” He paused. “But how am I supposed to do that?”

Good point. The boy was skinny as a whip and without a weapon. I couldn’t do much about the former and I doubted he’d be much use with anything fitting the latter. Still, just holding a weapon can bring as much comfort to a person as being able to actually use it. I unstrapped one of the daggers I kept on my body and gave it to him sheathe and all.

“Here you go.”

His eyes got even larger. “Is this mine?”

“Sure, a boy your age should have one. I’ll start teaching you how to use it soon. But for now, only pull it out if you have to. And no play fighting with that, especially around your sister. If she tells me you have, I’ll take it back.”

“He’ll be fine, Tyrus. He’s knows what not to do with a dagger. He’s not five,” said Myra.

“No. He’s not,” was all I could say. Neither one of my children were quite adults, but they were also so far from what I remember them being, I didn’t really know how to talk to them. “No one knows about this place or that we’re out here,” I added. “Besides, I won’t be far off.”

“You can go whenever you want,” said Myra, cutting into the apple.

I realized that I had been just standing there, not sure how to part. I took her cue as the hint I needed. I grabbed some twine out of my bag, waved awkwardly over my shoulder and disappeared into the woods.

The sudden lack of anxiety I had from not being in my daughter’s presence brought on a burden of guilt I had not expected. I paused, inhaled a few deep breaths to calm myself, then drifted deeper into the trees.

I somehow managed to spot a set of fresh rabbit tracks thanks to the bright moonlight. I narrowed the well-used path by jamming sticks into the ground on either side of it. At the end of the narrowing, I set up a noose with the twine the rabbit would have to pass through. The other end was tied at the base of a nearby bush.