victor would still be so overcome with emotions they’d grab whoever was beside them in a hug and the thrill of conquest lasted a bit longer. Who cared whether they knew the man or not? He was on their side, right?
Other times when confusion would hit them, the joy would flow out of their body and panic would take its place. Frantically, they’d start searching for that person who was supposed to be next to them.
Then panic would turn to fear and the search would move to the bodies at their feet.
Covered in blood and gore, frantic hands would drag away dead soldiers, enemy and friend. Sometimes, these men would ignore the wounded because, gods be cursed, they had to find that friend they had expected to see next to them, the one who would make the joy of victory last.
Most of the time the person missing was found. Sometimes, the person was alive and looking for the soldier searching for them. Those were the good times as relief washed over both. Other times, the person missing was injured and carted off to a physician. But at least they were alive. Some joy could still be had.
It got worse when a soldier didn’t find much left—limbs missing, guts spilled on the ground. But at least there was closure in that, a grim sort of peace they’d choke down before saying a last goodbye.
The worst feeling came to those who never found the person they searched for. That happened often in the big battles with so many dead that the funeral pyres lit up the night sky.
I’ve been in every one of those situations at one point or another, even the last. Maybe that’s why I gravitated toward those blazing infernos of flesh and bone. I was saying good-bye to all those people no one ever found in time to properly share in the victory.
After the raiders fled, Zadok found me first. He wrapped me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe.
Thankfully, there would be no unsaid good-byes between us this time.
CHAPTER 8
When the momentary exultation of victory passed, the townspeople began searching for the missing.
One of the few solaces I had was that I wouldn’t have to say good-bye to anyone at the pyres because they couldn’t be found. Too few people were involved, and the field of battle too small for someone to be lost. I wanted to join the searches, but had to see to other things first. After my embrace with Zadok, I selfishly sought Myra, Ava, Ira, and Dekar with a fast visual. The clenching in my gut eased with each placement.
Next on my list was Sivan. I had an idea where he might be, and after a quick search found him moving away boards and other debris camouflaging the blacksmith’s cellar. Like me, his thoughts went to his family first.
How he managed to get through Ira’s traps unscathed was another matter. I chalked it up to his skills as a scout.
Damaris embraced her father. Nothing seemed to be wrong that I could tell upon walking up. She saw me and her face brightened further. That made me uncomfortable. I staved off any chance for conversation with her by speaking to her father.
“Sivan, I need you to go back out.”
“Why?” asked Damaris. “They ran away. We won.”
Sivan pried his daughter’s hands away. “Tyrus is right. They could come back.”
“Exactly. Many turned away at the bend in the road before town. Their leader could try to rally and regroup. We are easy to take now with all our traps sprung and half our hiding spots on fire. Plus, they now can add revenge to the list of reasons why they should come at us.”
“I’ll grab a mount.”
“Take one that the raiders left behind. They look to be in better shape than the ones you’ve been using.”
“Will do.” He gave Damaris a peck on the forehead and took off. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
Damaris turned after her father was out of earshot. She wore a look of hurt. “You’re taking advantage of his willingness to help.”
“He’s the best I’ve got.”
“It’s not fair.”
“I never claimed it
Other times when confusion would hit them, the joy would flow out of their body and panic would take its place. Frantically, they’d start searching for that person who was supposed to be next to them.
Then panic would turn to fear and the search would move to the bodies at their feet.
Covered in blood and gore, frantic hands would drag away dead soldiers, enemy and friend. Sometimes, these men would ignore the wounded because, gods be cursed, they had to find that friend they had expected to see next to them, the one who would make the joy of victory last.
Most of the time the person missing was found. Sometimes, the person was alive and looking for the soldier searching for them. Those were the good times as relief washed over both. Other times, the person missing was injured and carted off to a physician. But at least they were alive. Some joy could still be had.
It got worse when a soldier didn’t find much left—limbs missing, guts spilled on the ground. But at least there was closure in that, a grim sort of peace they’d choke down before saying a last goodbye.
The worst feeling came to those who never found the person they searched for. That happened often in the big battles with so many dead that the funeral pyres lit up the night sky.
I’ve been in every one of those situations at one point or another, even the last. Maybe that’s why I gravitated toward those blazing infernos of flesh and bone. I was saying good-bye to all those people no one ever found in time to properly share in the victory.
After the raiders fled, Zadok found me first. He wrapped me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe.
Thankfully, there would be no unsaid good-byes between us this time.
CHAPTER 8
When the momentary exultation of victory passed, the townspeople began searching for the missing.
One of the few solaces I had was that I wouldn’t have to say good-bye to anyone at the pyres because they couldn’t be found. Too few people were involved, and the field of battle too small for someone to be lost. I wanted to join the searches, but had to see to other things first. After my embrace with Zadok, I selfishly sought Myra, Ava, Ira, and Dekar with a fast visual. The clenching in my gut eased with each placement.
Next on my list was Sivan. I had an idea where he might be, and after a quick search found him moving away boards and other debris camouflaging the blacksmith’s cellar. Like me, his thoughts went to his family first.
How he managed to get through Ira’s traps unscathed was another matter. I chalked it up to his skills as a scout.
Damaris embraced her father. Nothing seemed to be wrong that I could tell upon walking up. She saw me and her face brightened further. That made me uncomfortable. I staved off any chance for conversation with her by speaking to her father.
“Sivan, I need you to go back out.”
“Why?” asked Damaris. “They ran away. We won.”
Sivan pried his daughter’s hands away. “Tyrus is right. They could come back.”
“Exactly. Many turned away at the bend in the road before town. Their leader could try to rally and regroup. We are easy to take now with all our traps sprung and half our hiding spots on fire. Plus, they now can add revenge to the list of reasons why they should come at us.”
“I’ll grab a mount.”
“Take one that the raiders left behind. They look to be in better shape than the ones you’ve been using.”
“Will do.” He gave Damaris a peck on the forehead and took off. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
Damaris turned after her father was out of earshot. She wore a look of hurt. “You’re taking advantage of his willingness to help.”
“He’s the best I’ve got.”
“It’s not fair.”
“I never claimed it
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