out.
Unfortunately, some others had not.
Our attackers had overlooked the captain and our wagons. Hamath made it back in time to warn Nehab. By the time they rode out of the city, the first few returning soldiers left with them.
The captain pulled the wagons off the road into an apple orchard near the lake a few miles outside of the city. Hamath stayed by the road to direct survivors.
Men had escaped Damanhur any way they could. Most jumped over the city’s obscenely low wall as we had.
Dekar, Ira, and I were among the last group to arrive—bruised, tired, and exhausted.
When all was said and done, we lost twelve men. Ten more were seriously injured. I tried to take solace in the fact that Dekar, Ira, Hamath, and I had killed well over a dozen citizens of Damanhur alone. Based on the reports of others, we gave a lot worse than we got.
The unevenness in casualties was a small consolation though.
The night was supposed to be one of fun and merriment, a chance to relax after years in service and over a week of monotonous travel. I had even expected to receive some appreciation for our service in the war. It ended up being more of what many of us had hoped to never see again. We wanted a celebration and got a massacre.
Some in our meager group, now roughly forty men, wanted to reform and go on the offensive.
“How dare they do this to us!” someone shouted. “Don’t they realize what we did for them?”
Others expressed similar sentiments. With blood racing, I even found myself siding with the mob of angry veterans, but thankfully, cooler heads prevailed.
Nehab attempted to calm us all down before we did something stupid. “Everyone shut up! I know you’re mad. By the gods, I’m mad too. We lost good men tonight, and I don’t want to lose anymore. I’ve got a wife waiting for me. Some of you have that and more. Do you want to die here and now on Turine soil by your own countrymen when home is closer than it has been in years? I sure don’t.”
“So they’re going to get away with what they did to us?” someone asked.
“Considering how many everyone said they killed, I’d hardly say we’re letting them get away with anything,” said Nehab. “But no, I’m not just dropping what happened tonight if that’s what you mean. I’ll get word to Balak and let him know what’s going on. He’ll pass it on to the king. Let him take care of it. We need to worry about getting home. Ain’t that right, Sergeant?”
I blinked from my angry daze as I realized Nehab was addressing me. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Hamath set up a perimeter and watch. Everyone else get to sleep. We’re leaving at first light tomorrow.”
People started to shuffle off. I was ready to do the same until Nehab called out. “Sergeant, a moment.”
I walked to him. “Yes, sir.”
“You all right?”
I rubbed the shallow wound at my collarbone. “I will be. Pretty ugly back there. But I’m fine now.”
“I understand.” He walked me toward the injured. “I need you to take a look at someone. It’s Lieutenant Teyman.”
“I’m not any sort of a healer.”
“I know. But he had a run-in with a minor mage and we can’t get his wound cleaned out.”
“I see.”
A benefit of my resistance to sorcery was that it not only protected me from spells cast by mages, but it also allowed me to draw away sorcery as well.
Lieutenant Teyman lay on his back with hands around a black wound on his side that oozed a green pus that stank like a dead possum rotting in a ditch. The private trying to clean the wound kept gagging into his arm as he wiped away the infection. Teyman didn’t cry out, but the pain was evident on his wrinkled face each time the private touched his skin.
Nehab cleared his throat. “Private, step back a moment and let Tyrus take a look.”
I kneeled at Teyman’s side. Too busy trying to manage the pain, he didn’t even notice.
I placed my hand over the wound. As I made contact, I felt a slight vibration. I
Unfortunately, some others had not.
Our attackers had overlooked the captain and our wagons. Hamath made it back in time to warn Nehab. By the time they rode out of the city, the first few returning soldiers left with them.
The captain pulled the wagons off the road into an apple orchard near the lake a few miles outside of the city. Hamath stayed by the road to direct survivors.
Men had escaped Damanhur any way they could. Most jumped over the city’s obscenely low wall as we had.
Dekar, Ira, and I were among the last group to arrive—bruised, tired, and exhausted.
When all was said and done, we lost twelve men. Ten more were seriously injured. I tried to take solace in the fact that Dekar, Ira, Hamath, and I had killed well over a dozen citizens of Damanhur alone. Based on the reports of others, we gave a lot worse than we got.
The unevenness in casualties was a small consolation though.
The night was supposed to be one of fun and merriment, a chance to relax after years in service and over a week of monotonous travel. I had even expected to receive some appreciation for our service in the war. It ended up being more of what many of us had hoped to never see again. We wanted a celebration and got a massacre.
Some in our meager group, now roughly forty men, wanted to reform and go on the offensive.
“How dare they do this to us!” someone shouted. “Don’t they realize what we did for them?”
Others expressed similar sentiments. With blood racing, I even found myself siding with the mob of angry veterans, but thankfully, cooler heads prevailed.
Nehab attempted to calm us all down before we did something stupid. “Everyone shut up! I know you’re mad. By the gods, I’m mad too. We lost good men tonight, and I don’t want to lose anymore. I’ve got a wife waiting for me. Some of you have that and more. Do you want to die here and now on Turine soil by your own countrymen when home is closer than it has been in years? I sure don’t.”
“So they’re going to get away with what they did to us?” someone asked.
“Considering how many everyone said they killed, I’d hardly say we’re letting them get away with anything,” said Nehab. “But no, I’m not just dropping what happened tonight if that’s what you mean. I’ll get word to Balak and let him know what’s going on. He’ll pass it on to the king. Let him take care of it. We need to worry about getting home. Ain’t that right, Sergeant?”
I blinked from my angry daze as I realized Nehab was addressing me. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Hamath set up a perimeter and watch. Everyone else get to sleep. We’re leaving at first light tomorrow.”
People started to shuffle off. I was ready to do the same until Nehab called out. “Sergeant, a moment.”
I walked to him. “Yes, sir.”
“You all right?”
I rubbed the shallow wound at my collarbone. “I will be. Pretty ugly back there. But I’m fine now.”
“I understand.” He walked me toward the injured. “I need you to take a look at someone. It’s Lieutenant Teyman.”
“I’m not any sort of a healer.”
“I know. But he had a run-in with a minor mage and we can’t get his wound cleaned out.”
“I see.”
A benefit of my resistance to sorcery was that it not only protected me from spells cast by mages, but it also allowed me to draw away sorcery as well.
Lieutenant Teyman lay on his back with hands around a black wound on his side that oozed a green pus that stank like a dead possum rotting in a ditch. The private trying to clean the wound kept gagging into his arm as he wiped away the infection. Teyman didn’t cry out, but the pain was evident on his wrinkled face each time the private touched his skin.
Nehab cleared his throat. “Private, step back a moment and let Tyrus take a look.”
I kneeled at Teyman’s side. Too busy trying to manage the pain, he didn’t even notice.
I placed my hand over the wound. As I made contact, I felt a slight vibration. I
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