Resurrected Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Three by Joshua P. Simon

their god.”
    Dinah looked as though she wished she hadn’t asked her question. “I better be going.”
    Ava watched her, wondering if she should have sugarcoated the answer. Then she shrugged. She’d second guess herself later when she had more time.
    Spinning away from the courtyard, she walked carefully along the designated path to the run-down armory. Voices inside carried several conversations.
    A sliver of movement from above and to the right caught Ava’s eye. She paused, looking up at the nearest tower where two small figures flashed in front of the window.
    She called out. “Abigail? That you?”
    A little girl’s head popped out of the window. She waved and smiled, an expression rarely seen among the group since the eruptions began. It happened less frequently after Tyrus’s departure.
    Zadok’s head poked out next. He also smiled. “Hi, Aunt Ava.”
    “I hope you’re being careful up there,” she said, more than a little annoyed. “I already removed the tracks from that section of the outpost.”
    “I know, but Myra wanted us to set a couple of small traps. We’re almost done.”
    Ava sighed. “Hurry up then so I can go back over the area.”
    She didn’t wait for a response, heading into the open door of the old armory. On the way in, she glanced at the rotted frame, noticing that there wasn’t much of a door remaining.
    Ava’s eyes adjusted to the dim, candlelit space. She was surprised her eyes needed adjusting at all since yellow sunlight seemed like a fairy tale to pass on to the next generation. With an orange sky after the first couple of eruptions and now gray brought on by the third, color really mattered little, only brightness.
    Her eyes focused. Nearest to the doorway sat the crumbling remains of old barrels that once stored arrows and quarrels. Rusted metal racks, bent and leaning, stood more toward the center of the space. The racks were empty now, but Ava imagined that when the outpost had been in use during the Byzan Wars, they held spears, swords, and the like.
    Despite blocking some of the light entering the space as she walked in, only a couple people acknowledged her. The attention of most remained on the back of the room.
    There, stood the half dozen volunteers from among their group. They were mostly nude and recently made hairless. The men varied in age, but overall, most were young, several on the borderline of what some might even consider to be men at all. She realized as her eyes continued to adjust that of the six, four were teenagers that had joined their group after Uman when they came across the town destroyed by raiders.
    The six positioned themselves in a half circle. They held their arms out from their sides with legs spread. Rezub and another man swept up piles of hair around them while another put away a pair of shears and cleaned a straight razor.
    Others not set on a specific task relating to the six watched in fascination at the transformation. It was a step-by-step process for those involved.
    Damaris was first, using her tailoring skills as she adjusted a small white loincloth, the only piece of clothing that each wore. Somehow, she managed to pin it in such a way that it removed nearly all of the creases and seams, making it seem molded to the individual’s skin. Behind Damaris, several older men grabbed handfuls of a thick white paste from two pails. The paste was something Ava had thrown together with water, ash, and some of the root herbs from their small garden. The older men slathered the paste over each of the six, until nothing except their eyes, nostrils, and mouth remained uncovered.
    Three women, all former prostitutes from the Soiled Dove, were the last in the assembly line. They removed the excess paste and smoothed out the covering, especially around the edges of the loincloths to hide any seams.
    The two men received approval from Myra that they were done. Ava chuckled at their relief at no longer being groped by men and women while on