Act 2

Interlude

The palace of the Shah in Vurun lay in ruins and held little of its former glory. Some of it had burned. Other parts had suffered destruction from the power of cannon and sorcery. Still, other parts had been looted. Now it had also been converted into a makeshift military encampment for the time being. Vurun was occupied once more, though if Generals were to be believed, it would not last long. It was not because any army was coming, but because the place held little value now that the army of Vastrum had swept through like a wildfire. With the production of aethium over, the cost to keep the valley no longer made sense. The only reasons the army stayed were first, to locate and free prisoners and slaves who were still held in the valley, and second, to allow those who had been rescued a chance to recuperate before making the arduous trip back over the Settru Pass and down through Andaban to the southern colonies. Vastrum was nearly done in Vurun.

Dryden picked his way through the wreckage of the palace to the great ballroom. The ballroom was now a hospital room with makeshift beds and cots put together. This was where the men were put. Other more private rooms held women who were recovering from their ordeals. Dryden had avoided those areas. He felt that the Ladies Julia Gorst or Helena Belfair did not desire to see him, and he felt a great shame come over him when he thought of what they must have endured. He took the time each day, however, to visit his fellow officers of the 13th who were billeted in one corner of the ballroom.

Lord Havor greeted him as he approached, “John, good of you to come.” He started to rise, pushing himself up. He was dressed in bedclothes and was still rail thin and pallid. It had been weeks since they had been rescued in the dark pit-like dungeons of the Red Fort. He was beginning to regain his colour and strength, they all were, but it would be a long road before the men were themselves again. Dryden wondered if they would ever be themselves again. The privations that they had endured were unspeakable.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Don’t get up, sir,” Dryden insisted.

Havor ignored him and stood anyway, “Tea?” His old commander asked, “The orderlies will get it for you if you’d like.”

“No, thank you, sir.”

“They won’t bring us any gin, though,” Pugh joked. The young Captain was still very thin, but he was recovering more quickly than Havor, “What I wouldn’t give for an ale, major.”

“Amen to that,” Lieutenant Brine replied, “When I get back home to Astonbury, I’ll stop at the first pub I see and drink them dry.”

“When will that be, I wonder?” Havor asked.

There was silence around the room. Everyone was looking at Havor. “We’re going home, aren’t we? After what we’ve endured?” Brine asked.

“Seven years, lad. Seven years under the banner of the 13th. Not Three, not six, but seven. That was the commission.” The commander told him grimly, “You’ll not see Vastrum again until then. How many years have you served, Brine?”

“Three. But I thought… after all this. Won’t we be going home?”

Sergeant Flint chuckled grimly, “Don’t you be getting ideas of home, son. Soon as your seven are up, and you see what sorry state awaits you back home in Astonbury, you’ll be signing up for seven more. This is the life, son, and there ain’t none better. Not in this world.”

“How long have you been in the service?” Brine asked Flint.

“I’m in my third contract.” The grizzled sergeant grinned at the young lieutenant, his gold tooth flashed in the light.

“They say only cowards or blackguards live in the cavalry beyond thirty years,” Dryden jibed at him grinning, “I don’t think I have to ask which you are, sergeant.”

Flint let out a great belly laugh, “Oh, we’re all blackguards here. I’m in fine company.”

The rest of the men laughed. It was the laugh of men who have survived when others have not, relief masking agony. Dryden was happy that he was not alone. He had been so alone on that ride down from Andaban. So many had died. To find that someone else had lived, no matter how sorry their state. These men were his brothers, or more than brothers, even.

“So, you weren’t done telling us the story of how you lot got down here,” Havor changed the subject, “Did you get the witch at the northern passes?”

“No, not then, but we did get her. That’s a tale in itself.”

“I’d love to hear it,” Havor replied.

Dryden pulled up a chair and the rest of the men leaned back in their cots to listen, “How much do you know of the lands east of the Shan?”