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

thoughts it stirred. Coming to terms with my own mortality was not an easy thing. Obviously, as a soldier, I knew I could die at any moment, whether in some epic clash of swords, or an unexpected arrow in the neck. But dying that way wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. The last thing any soldier wanted was to be stuck in a bedroll, slowly wasting away from some infection the healers couldn’t cure. With my resistance, that outcome held a greater probability. Healers had to work much harder when treating me. Even a particularly strong healer could struggle. Among those with a resistance, few could match the level of strength my talent had. And like most talents, depending on the situation, it could be a blessing or a curse.
    I put a clamp on that fear as I pushed the tent flap aside. As much as I hated the infirmary, it was crucial I understood its condition.
    The first thing that struck me was the smell. Only a few injured occupied bedrolls, but old death had still permeated the tent to such a degree you’d think it was packed tight with bodies.
    “What do you need?” a voice asked.
    I faced a man wearing the long brown robes of a healer. Like most in his profession, he looked overworked. Bags rested under his dark eyes and long lines marked his face. He was probably near my age despite looking almost fifteen years older. Because of the demands placed on them, healers weren’t known to have long life spans.
    “I’m looking for the man in charge.”
    “That would be me. I’m Noam. And you are?”
    “Tyrus.”
    He bobbed his head in a way that made him appear impressed. “The man who ended the war.”
    I snorted. “Not my place to take credit for that. Especially since that war was only replaced by another.”
    “Just so. What can I help you with?”
    “Information. The general state of things here.”
    A man groaned somewhere to my right. I refused to look, afraid of what I might see.
    “You mind if we step outside?” I asked.
    He nodded and led the way out.
    The cleaner open air did wonders for my focus.
    “What is your staff like?” I asked.
    “Six cutters and four healers, including myself.”
    “That’s it? Why so few?”
    “We lost many healers after the first eruption, more after the second. There were only so many with a resistance available to negate the sorcerous affects and Balak used them for some purpose he never shared with me. As a result, several healers never recovered. Several more died while pushing themselves to help soldiers those with a resistance didn’t get around to.”
    I shook my head at Balak’s stupidity. Why would he do that? What could be more important than saving healers and the lives of his soldiers? That wasn’t like him.
    “Why only six cutters?” I asked, getting back on topic.
    He shrugged. “It’s not a job men volunteer for. They have to be assigned. And if I had to guess, I’m sure Balak would prefer to have a man carry a sword on the front line than hold a cutting knife behind it.”
    I grunted. “I noticed some men with the runs earlier. Not sure if it was something they ate or if it could be the start of something more serious.”
    He sighed. “Where? I’ll go heal them.”
    “No.”
    “No?”
    “At least not without an evaluation. I know the old habit was just to heal without asking questions. But if we keep up that practice, you and the others aren’t going to be worth anything when you’re needed most. From now on, you’re to evaluate every person before treating them. So long as it isn’t a disease that could spread and infect a large number of men, you’ll treat them with herbs, rest, and time. No sorcery. That’ll keep your strength up as we get closer to Hol. Get the cutters to help. The name might imply surgery, but I know they’re capable of more.”
    The man almost started to smile, “That would help.” He paused. “But we’d need more resources to treat the soldiers that way.”
    “What do you need?”
    “More people