Resurrected Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Three Read Free Page A

information about morale and the general state of the army from them without my opinion tainting theirs.
    Dekar looked up at my approach. “You look rough. Tired?”
    “Talked to Hamath some,” I said, setting my things down next to his. Despite my mood, it felt good to see a familiar face, one that I could trust.
    “That bad?”
    “Pretty much. I’ll fill you and Ira in later. I want to walk around for a bit first. Have you made sure that everyone that came from the outpost knows where we’ve set up for the night?”
    “I passed the word. Others should be along soon. I haven’t seen Boaz, Zev, or Caleb though. I was actually just about to go looking for them. I already stopped Captain Habak from giving Boaz a hard time earlier today.”
    Boaz, the former innkeeper of Denu Creek, had become a friend after the war. He and his family had treated me and mine with respect and kindness from our first meeting. I was not the sort of person to forget that. Zev and Caleb were two people we picked up on the road south after leaving Denu Creek. Both seemed like decent enough men, but I hadn’t much of a chance to get to know either in depth.
    Hopefully, I’d find time to remedy that.
    “Why would Habak go after Boaz?”
    “Because he doesn’t like you very much on account of Balak coming all the way out here to find you. By extension, he doesn’t like anyone associated with you.”
    Habak was a bitter and angry man. To my knowledge, he didn’t particularly like very many people, period. He had taken a brutal injury during the war, a mace to the head that had left him permanently malformed. Those that knew him before the injury said that like his face, his disposition never fully healed either.
    I clenched my jaw. “Where is he? Best if I go set him right before things get out of hand.”
    “I believe he was on the south side of camp. I can stop what I’m doing and come along.”
    “No. I’ll take care of it. Better you stay here and watch over our things. I’ll see you in a bit,” I said over my shoulder.
    Flint struck steel as soldiers lit fires fueled by the abundance of dead wood around them. Scents of burning pine filled my nose, muting the sweat and grime of the army. The smoke was strong, almost as strong as the memories from my past.
    It wasn’t that long ago I walked through another camp with men who looked and smelled just as bad. The only difference was then the war had ended. Here, a new one was about to begin.
    That defeated look of men moving closer to their deaths sent shivers up my back. Every soldier carried a sense of dread and uncertainty that they might not live through the day. However, the faces I saw walking through camp wore that look too strongly, especially since many hadn’t seen a real battle yet.
    That wasn’t good.
    If the fear of death was getting to them already, how much worse would it get when death stared across from them with a weapon raised?
    Confidence and even a good dose of arrogance helped the fighting spirit of any soldier. If neither was possible to instill, a cause to believe in also worked. Considering what little I knew of our cause, confidence seemed like the better way to go.
    But that was a problem for later.
    I heard Captain Habak long before I saw him. I didn’t understand much of what he said since the mace that had once rearranged his face made it difficult for him to enunciate. Still, what Habak lacked in clarity, he made up for in volume.
    That voice had been a trademark of his during the Geneshan War.
    Habak’s clarity increased, albeit slightly, as the path to him cleared. The captain stood before three men he had on their knees with arms up high, holding weapons over their heads. Boaz, Zev, and Caleb winced beneath the strain, faces twisting. Those faces held bruises from a recent scuffle.
    My anger flared as I closed.
    “Don’t make me repeat myself. Get those arms up higher!” he said. “You’ll learn that—”
    “Captain Habak!” I yelled.