Joshua Simon - Forgotten Soldiers

Another promise I’d never fulfill.

Myra followed me into the bedroom. She pulled the sheets back as I lay Ava down on the bed. Keeping one hand on her shoulder, I started pulling the sheets up.

“Wait.” Myra closed the door.

“What’s wrong?”

“Shouldn’t we undress her? No telling how long she’ll be out and we don’t want her soiling her clothes.”

“I didn’t even consider that.”

I made a move to slip off her robes and then froze as it suddenly struck me what I was about to do. I hadn’t seen Ava without clothes since we were children sharing a bath.

We weren’t exactly kids anymore.

It may sound dumb considering Ava’s circumstances, but the idea of undressing my sister made me uneasy. Still, it needed to happen.

I gritted my teeth and began to pull one of her arms through the sleeve of her robe.

Myra must have noticed the difficulty I was having, both mentally and physically, as I kept one of my hands in contact with Ava’s body at all times, worried the shaking would return.

She walked over. “Let me do it. Just focus on staying in contact with her.”

I nodded. “Thanks. For multiple reasons.”

She shook her head and muttered. “All of them obvious.”

Myra got Ava’s robes and the leathers worn underneath off quickly before drawing the sheets over her body. She searched the drawers of the dresser and as luck would have it found a suitable bed pan to slip underneath Ava.

Relatively safe inside our room, the potential of losing my sister struck me again.

I swallowed hard. I loved my kids and couldn’t have been happier to have them back in my life. However, with Lasha’s death, no one knew me better than Ava. There’s something to be said for the connection you share with your sibling. No one else gets to see you at your best and worst as you enter and exit each phase of your life like they do.

“Tyrus!”

I sat up to Dekar’s voice. “Yeah?”

He entered the doorway. “That innkeeper is at the door. He wants to see you.”

“Why?”

“He says his daughter is really bad off. He’s worried she’s going to die.”

I could hear the innkeeper arguing with Ira about coming inside to talk to me. I knew he wouldn’t win that argument.

“I’m not leaving Ava.”

Dekar nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

“Wait,” said Myra. “Why can’t you help him?”

I gave her a sour look, one because of how guilty I suddenly felt having to face the question, and two because her asking it surprised me. “I thought Zadok was supposed to be the one with the high morals in the family now.”

“I’m serious, Tyrus.”

“I’m not leaving Ava. Too much can happen.”

“Let me take care of her. You already said I have a resistance too.”

“It’s not as strong as mine.”

She turned toward the door. “Zadok! Grab a chair and come in here!”

The boy came running in holding one of the chairs from the sitting room. “Yeah?”

“Go sit on the other side of Aunt Ava and put your hand on her arm.” Myra faced me. “Together we should be able to come close to matching your resistance, right?”

Zadok did as his sister said.

I grimaced. “I don’t know. It’s all a guess at this point.”

“We could go help instead,” Zadok offered.

“No. I don’t want you two running off without me. You can stay here with Ira and Dekar. That way I’ll know where you are and that you’re safe.”

“So that means you’re willing to give my idea a chance?” Myra asked. “It shouldn’t take but a moment.”

“A lot can happen in a moment,” I said, still not ready to give in. “Besides, why do you care so much about the innkeeper’s daughter?”

“Because she’s just a child. Completely innocent. Unlike the rest of this town.”

She had me there.

“All right. We’ll test things out.” I stood. “Take my seat. Put a hand on her. If I let go and nothing visibly changes, I’ll see to the innkeeper’s daughter. If anything negative happens, I’m staying.”

Myra did as I said. I slowly lifted my hand, one finger at a time. My eyes drifted from Ava’s face to her chest, and back again, looking for any sign of change. Nothing happened.

I grunted. “I guess you were right.”

“Then hurry and go,” said Myra. “The girl needs your help.”

“Don’t worry, Pa. We’ve got it,” said Zadok.

“All right.” Passing by Dekar on the way to the door, I told him. “If her condition changes at all, you come and grab me, understand?”

He nodded.

By the time I got to the door, the innkeeper was literally jumping up and down. To Ira’s credit, he hadn’t laid the man out, despite his frantic behavior. The innkeeper saw me and started rambling at such speeds I only understood maybe every third word. The gist of it was that he would give me anything I wanted or do anything I desired so long as I came to look at his little girl.

“Take me to her.”

He reached inside the doorway, latched onto my arm like a vice, and started dragging me through the hallway toward the stairs.

In the midst of everything, I managed to get his name.

Boaz brought me to the basement, past several sacks of flower and barrels of ale. In a corner, sat his wife and daughter next to a tray of spilled limes.

“They were down here getting supplies for the kitchen when whatever happened, happened,” he said.

His wife, Dinah, looked rough, but she at least was awake, even having enough strength to lay a hand on her daughter who quivered unconsciously next to her. The lucidity of Boaz’s wife had me adding to my theory that although my resistance to sorcery would heal people faster, many might get better on their own. It would just probably take them longer.

I kneeled next to the young girl, probably around eight, and placed both my hands on her. I felt a slight vibration, common when my resistance drew away sorcery. Her shuddering ceased.

“Hold your wife up and put her hands on me while I stay in contact with your daughter,” I said.

Boaz quickly obeyed. His wife’s breathing improved significantly. “You too,” I told him. “I can tell you still aren’t completely recovered.”

He touched my other shoulder.

“Thank you,” Boaz’s wife whispered between quiet sobs. She chanced removing one hand from my shoulder to stroke her daughter’s cheek. “Why is she so worse off than us? Is it because she’s so young?”

“Possibly.” I glanced over to Boaz. “Does she have any talent?”

He gave me a look. “Talent?”

“You know, sorcery?”

“By the gods, no,” said the wife, appalled that I would even suggest such a thing.

I ignored her and stared at Boaz, waiting for his response.

“None that we know of.”

“What about a penchant for good luck? Predicting the weather? Anything odd like that?”

Boaz grunted. “She’s always had a way with animals. It seems they do whatever she tells them to, wild or not. Why?”

“Because only my sister acted anywhere near as bad as her and that’s probably because she’s a mage. Your daughter might have some hidden talent you aren’t aware of.”

“Don’t say that!” Boaz’s wife began to cry harder at that news than she had before. “What will we do?”

I thought about all the hardships Ava had suffered during her life-the looks, the names, the ridicule. . The tone of horror this little girl’s mom held in her voice for her daughter made me sick. My initial inclination was to slap her. In the end, I opted for a more tactful approach.

“What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Abigail.”

I stared at Abigail’s innocent face. Smooth skin framed with long brown hair.