The Price of Hope by Lance Conrad

Author:Lance Conrad
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historian Tales, inspiring, last stand, clean fantasy, YA fantasy, Utah fantasy
Publisher: Dawn Star Press
Published: 2022-09-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Shame is a trial. How a person responds to it often defines the rest of their life.

-Musings of the Historian

Around that time, Sahn came back with a new group of civilians to join the others on the walls. He looked like he was about to fall over. A spot of blood had soaked through his bandages and his shirt. Still, he insisted on walking around and helping get his people arrayed to the best effect. Surprisingly, Ison let him do it.

Over the next couple hours, the scene with the returning soldiers was replayed several times over. Many more pockets materialized, looking sheepish at best, petrified at worst. In each case, Ison accepted their lame excuses in a tone that said he believed none of it.

However, if Ison expected these reformed deserters to break at the first sign of battle, he must have been pleasantly surprised. If anything, these men came to the battle with something to prove, to Ison, their fellow soldiers, and to themselves.

Sometimes, when they weren’t on the front lines, I could see them talking to some of the other soldiers who had been there the whole time. I wasn’t close enough to hear words, but I could recognize the animated pantomime as they mimicked a javelin throw, a hunched man, and then a sudden straightening into strength.

It was always around that time that the newcomer would look around and find the Teacher, usually walking around, checking on his own men. He walked with that strange limp you see with abdominal wounds. There isn’t one leg or foot to favor, but still the body refuses to walk correctly. To the common soldier, he was the perfect example of the strong hero shrugging off his wounds.

I knew better, sadly. Wounds did not disappear by strength of will. Anyone who saw Sahn up close knew that he still struggled under the pain. And it was still unknown whether or not the javelin had killed him. There had been no thorough examination of the wound, only a dash of crushed herbs that had a pungent smell and a tight bandage.

If the javelin had nicked any of his organs, he could be facing a slow death from within. Worst of all would be if his intestines had been punctured. If so, his fate could be like the King’s, dying slowly over days as his body leaked poison into itself.

Still, the stories spread. And knowing how such stories worked, they were also growing with each telling. I imagine the facts were already only a minor component in the retellings.

Still, the strength of the story remained and I saw many of the new soldiers find blood and earth with which to mark their forehead.

As darkness fell, Ison forced Sahn to go lie down. There was a quick exchange of words as Sahn pointed out that the medical tent was full. Ison won the round, however, by ordering the Teacher to go lie down in the command tent, which was still empty, as Ison insisted on seeing every skirmish as it happened.

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