Resurrected Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Three (28 page)

“As much as I want to rip into you for last night and this morning, I’m going to trust your decisions.”

That wasn’t what I expected.

“Thank you, sir.”

“However, you will be more vigilant in ensuring nothing like this happens again. We cannot afford the distractions, and you cannot afford to have these things occupy more of your time. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He stared at me a bit longer then. “We have more important matters to attend to. I have information that the enemy has already gotten wind of our last victory, and new forces are converging for another battle.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

I blinked. “So soon? Sir, we’re still licking our wounds from the last one. And I have several hundred soldiers who were prisoners I haven’t even placed into companies yet.”

“Then I’d say you better get started.”

CHAPTER 30

The sound of lapping water coupled with the sensation of rocking slowly brought Ava out of the darkness.

The river. We made it! Wait. No.

She caught herself before she gave away her awareness. Her mind was fuzzy, her thoughts unclear, but she at least remembered the disappointment Zadok had shown when discovering the river moving in the opposite direction.

She took a deep, slow breath without trying to make it noticeable in the hopes it would clear her mind.

She swore internally, but managed to hold back a wince. A sharp pain ran deep in her shoulder. Things started to make sense.

Something struck me. An arrow? A dart?

Definitely an arrow. The blasted thing feels like it’s still in me.

That realization cleared her thoughts further.

We were attacked. And we obviously lost, otherwise the arrow wouldn’t be there still. And since we’re on the river, I need to assume we’ve been taken as prisoners. But why did I get knocked out? I don’t recall hitting my head. Blasted arrow must be ensorcelled.

That awareness helped her fight against her desire to search for Zadok and Myra, then others like Nason, Damaris, and Dinah. She didn’t have enough information yet.

She wanted to use her meager sorcery skills, but again knew better. Someone among their attackers was likely a mage. They’d have a spell ready to counter Ava the second she tried to do anything.

Bide your time, Ava. At least for now.

She kept her eyes closed and listened. There was no conversation right away, but there was plenty of heavy breathing, grunting, and wincing as if someone woke and realized they had slept with a rock in their back the night before.

If she didn’t know any better she’d say the sound came from her as her body ached terribly from the position she was in, especially at the shoulder.

Finally a clear nasally voice emerged from the other sounds, the language was Geneshan. After ten years of fighting the enemy, she knew more than enough to follow the conversation.

“An hour until dusk. We’ll go ashore then.”

Ava hoped that nasally tone came from a broken nose, one incurred during their capture.

“Shouldn’t we press on, commander?” asked another. “We are already behind the others.”

“Pressing on at night will only increase the likelihood that we lose soldiers who fall into the river. No, we rest. I know you’re concerned about being late, but if we stay our course, we should arrive with plenty enough time to meet the convergence.”

“So long as our sacrifices honor Beel.”

“And after we honor the great Beel, he will bless us. Our blades will drink the blood of any Turine army standing in our way.”

Ava swore inwardly again. It sounded like they were taking her and others toward Hol. It was bad enough that their progress south had been slow and barely noticeable in advancing toward their goal. Now, they were actually nearing both the artifact and a growing enemy army.

Atta way to screw things up, Ava. They shouldn’t have gotten the jump on you.

Though she had a sinking feeling of failure, she would not allow herself to wallow in it long. She needed to determine first if Myra and Zadok were alive. Then who else had survived.

And afterward, how to escape.

She had experienced setbacks before in life and was not one to just give up and flounder in self-pity. Or at least allow her wallowing to freeze her from taking action and rectifying a bad situation.

Her options were to be patient, or she could put forth the effort now. She decided it best not to wait. For all she knew, an opportunity to escape could present itself, but she’d be unready to act because she had dallied. She didn’t want to let the Geneshans know she was awake, so that meant she’d have to attempt sorcery.

Before the eruptions, she had more than a dozen spells at her disposal that would benefit her current situation. However, she could immediately eliminate half of those because they were either too difficult to perform or they lacked the subtlety she was looking for.

Ava settled on a small spell that would search out a specific individual. It was a spell she used many times in the army on the men in her unit. More than once Tyrus would split their unit into smaller squads in order to accomplish a goal. If several members found themselves trapped, it would be Ava’s responsibility to locate those individuals so the remainder of the squad could attempt a rescue.

She focused, and ever so slightly reached out with sorcery.

Nothing happened.

She tried once more, but again she felt nothing.

Ao’s teats.

She had tried to reach out delicately to not draw notice from any of the Geneshans who might be adept. However, she was not getting anywhere with her efforts so she tried harder.

Once more, nothing.

Anxiety and a bit of panic clenched inside of her.

What’s going on? Why won’t this work?

For a moment, she wondered if something had happened to Zadok and Myra, or maybe they had escaped and were out of range of what she could do. After all, she had no idea how long she had been unconscious.

But no, it isn’t that I can’t find them. I can’t feel the power to find them. And I don’t think it has anything to do with their resistance.

Gods, not again.

Losing her connection to sorcery for months had been one of the worst experiences of her life.

What am I going to do? She took a deep breath. Stop with the self-pity, Ava. Try something else. Anything else. It might just be that spell.

She tried another one, something that would just increase her body’s temperature, a simple but useful spell. But again, nothing. No reaction.

She tried another, then another.

Her panic rose.

A chuckle sounded nearby.

“What is it?” asked the nasally voice of the Geneshan commander.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m just amused at the struggles of our little mage here. She’s realized that her ability to perform sorcery has been taken from her.”

“She’s awake?”

“Yes, sir. Has been for some time though she is doing an excellent job of trying to fool us. If not for the spells she’s attempting, it would be difficult to detect her change in consciousness. You should just quit pretending, woman. It does you no good.”

That at least explains what is going on with my connection. It also tells me I just as soon open my eyes.

She fluttered them open, welcoming in the gray light from above. She flicked her eyes to her feet where two Geneshans stood over her. One was dressed as an officer, the other wore the robes of a Geneshan Master Sorcerer.

The sorcerer smiled. “See, Commander.”

The commander grunted, but seemed to have already lost interest as he looked down stream.

“How’s the shoulder?” asked the sorcerer, grinning wider.

A sharp jolt ran deep into Ava’s shoulder and down her arm. The shock caused her body to jolt as she turned over from her side to her back.

She swore. “Ao-be-damned.”

“She curses her own goddess?” asked the commander, looking down with renewed interest.

Great. They understand Turine.

“That is not surprising. How many prisoners did we capture in the last decade who did not hold their gods and goddesses in the proper reverence? Most cursed the ones they call Prax or Xank.”

“It’s amazing that these Turines ever gave us so much trouble.”

“I presume that Beel was merely using them to test us. To make sure we did not grow too full of ourselves and believe we could defeat them without his aid.”

“It must be.” The commander paused, then gestured. “How long must that stay inside of her?”

Ava glanced over to her injured shoulder where a shortened crossbow bolt protruded from her shoulder. On the shaft, glowed a series of interconnecting symbols.

They found a way to disrupt my connection with the bolt.

“Until we’re ready to sacrifice her,” said the sorcerer.

“Is she that strong?”

“Yes, but she’s also pretty inept which is why we caught her off guard. It’s easier to keep the disrupter in her until we’re ready for the sacrifices. No one else other than me can remove the bolt lest they injure themselves.”

“Her wound—”

“It will heal immediately once the shaft is removed, commander. I would not risk presenting a damaged sacrifice to Beel.”

He nodded. “Good.”

“Where are the others?” Ava asked in Turine since she knew they understood it. She was surprised at how dry her voice sounded.

The sorcerer nodded to his left, the grin that had stayed on his mouth, grew wider. Had she been her old self and didn’t have Zadok and Myra to worry about, she’d have brought her foot up into the man’s knee to wipe off that smile, regardless of the consequences.

But people are counting on you.

Ava followed the gaze of the sorcerer, angry at herself for her situation as much as she was angry at his grin. All around them on the river, rafts floated. Geneshan soldiers filled many of them. However, prisoners sat tied up at the center of several with their sword-carrying enemies looming over them. Many of the prisoners she had never seen before. However, one of the rafts slowed, revealing another on the opposite side. There, she recognized her people.

Nason and his kids huddled close with Chadar and Galya next to them. Farther down, Dinah had her arms around Abigail and Nadav. A few spaces later came Damaris. She seemed relatively calm considering their situation. Zadok leaned into Ava’s view, placing his head on Damaris’s shoulder. He wore a somber look. Damaris leaned into him, and the two stayed there with eyes closed, comforting each other. Scanning farther over to her left, Myra sat as far away from the others as possible, obviously wanting to be alone, but hindered by space on how to accomplish her desires.

Considering how upset Zadok was, she expected Myra to be the same or worse. But Myra looked anything but upset. Though Ava only saw her profile, Myra’s left eye, constantly in motion, smoldered beneath a furrowed brow. She hadn’t seen Ava yet, which meant that Ava could study her without notice. Myra’s gaze danced from raft-to-raft, soldier-to-solider. There were hundreds of them. Every now and then Myra tensed her jaw, breathing through her nose.

I know that look.

Tyrus never had the temper that Ava had been known for. Ava’s temper might burn out as fast as it grew, but Tyrus’s burned slowly.

Like a bonfire. It takes a lot of effort to get it going, but once it’s lit, it takes just as long to calm.

Ava wondered if that was one more thing Myra had inherited from her father.

Myra noticed Ava staring. She didn’t seem surprised, nor even happy. She gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, then went back to what she had been doing.

Ao-be-damned. She’s making a plan. We’re captured in the middle of an army on our way to be sacrificed, tied up with enemy soldiers all around us, and my sorcery has been negated. But she’s still making a blasted plan.

Ava wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Myra had shown loads of potential, but she had also missed several things by not having any of the real military training that Tyrus had. The last thing she wanted was for Myra to do something stupid.

Even more unsettling than the thought Myra could get them all killed by acting too hastily was the way her niece had looked at her.

Like I’m just another piece in her puzzle. Another asset.

She hissed a curse under her breath which brought a chuckle from the Geneshan master sorcerer who took pleasure in her frustration. Her mind was too occupied on other things for her to curse him in return.

* * *

Two hours later, their rafts struck land. Two armed guards escorted her to shore while bound with rope. Upright, she got a much better view of the army’s size. She estimated somewhere near four hundred soldiers.

And at least half that amount in prisoners.

The guards took Ava to a tent away from the other prisoners, across from the tent of the Geneshan Master Sorcerer. Her tent was small, and bare, but in some ways seemed a luxury in that it provided cover from the cool wind. A small brazier added warmth to the evening air.

She thought about her treatment and compared it to the way the Turine military had dealt with their prisoners of war.

Turine had held Geneshans chained in pens. There was no separate latrine to use or even a dry place to sleep. Instead, they had forced the enemy soldiers to relieve themselves where they stood, and sleep in it afterward. Those guarding Geneshan prisoners often turned a blind eye to a disgruntled soldier wanting to take out their frustration on the enemy within arm’s reach.

Seeing and experiencing the difference in prisoner treatment made Ava feel some guilt. She tried to justify the difference to herself. Turine had never sacrificed their enemy to gods or goddesses at least.

Yet, countless died from beatings, untreated wounds, or disease. Were we just as much monsters as they are?

Ava dug her nails into her palms. She couldn’t allow herself to get too distracted. Contemplating who the more awful people were could come later when she, Myra, and Zadok were safe in the Southern Kingdoms.

She recalled memories from her time in the army when she had witnessed the result of the Geneshan sacrifices. It helped focus her hate. For all the arguments on whether Turine or the Geneshans treated the enemy better, she at least knew her people had done nothing on such a terrible mass scale to those they conquered.

Bodies with practically every bone smashed to bits. People gutted, then strung up from trees until they bled out. Fed alive to animals. Burned alive from the feet up.

The list went on and on. There was no manner of death too gruesome for the Geneshans.

And no line they would not cross.

Women and children took part in the sacrifices with as much frequency as the men.

Worst of all the images—more so than blackened corpses, mutilated flesh, and mounds of dead—were the faces. The faces gave many nightmares, it motivated soldiers never to surrender, no matter how bleak their chances seemed.

Mouths sewn shut to trap the screams. Eyelids ripped off so that none could blind themselves to the horror awaiting them.