was disappointed with him, much like Taennen had been with his own father. Taennen stopped his wobbling walk as the setting sun caught his eye. He wanted to wallow, to drown in the lament of his mistakes and the sorrow of the soldiers he lost. But he knew he could not.
His father had told him to attach his hopes and dreams to the rising sun and let the setting sun take away his pain, fear, and sadness. That way, he had said, every day was new. Taennen stared at the orange and red hues of the horizon and did just that. Ironic, he thought, that something his father had taught him long ago would come to him when he needed it most.
'Let me help you,' Loraica said beside him, drawing him from his memories.
He accepted her arm, and together they walked to his tent. The Maquar they passed whispered to one another as they continued their work. The air was filled with the scent of mucjara soup, a staple among the Maquar. The citrus scent itched at his nose and his stomach growled despite the pain from his wound.
'You should have told me before I talked to him,' Taennen said.
'I know. I'm sorry. I just couldn't,' Loraica said. After a moment she continued. 'What did he do?'
'Nothing,' Taennen said.
'Nothing? What do you mean?'
'I mean nothing. He told me what I needed to know, and that was all.'
'What did he say?'
'That I acted foolishly and that I need to be a better soldier if 1 don't want more lives on my head, Terir.'
Loraica stiffened at her title but said nothing.
'I'll take the list now.'
'You should rest tonight,' she said.
'I have letters to write to the families of our fallen, Terir. I'll have the list now,' he said.
Loraica paused in her steps to look him in the eyes. 'Aye, sir.' She pulled a parchment from her belt and offered it to him.
Taennen took the list and released his grip on Loraica. 'Thank you, Loraica. I can manage it from here.'
Loraica studied him a moment longer. 'Yes, sir. Rest well.'
'And you, Terir.'
Being so stern with Loraica felt like lying. Even through rigid military training they had always been close and had been a source of support, a stable rock of sanity for one another their entire careers. But as he stumbled into his tent and read the names from the list by the low light of a candle, Taennen knew Jhoqo was right. Soldiers followed the chain of command so strictly for a reason, and Taennen had failed to follow his orders. He had taken it upon himself to win information and, he admitted to himself, Jhoqo's admiration by trying to take prisoners. It had cost him the lives of his men and the trust of his commander. It would not happen again.
The sound of gravel grinding under booted feet woke Taennen from his restless sleep. He could only guess the time, but the sun was nowhere near relieving Lucha of her nightly travels. Taennen took in a slow breath and held it to better hear. The grinding sound repeated. Someone was pacing outside his tent. Taennen released his breath and rolled from his cot. His stomach jarred him more fully awake with a jolt of pain. He covered himself with a light brown tunic and grabbed his khopesh. The pacing continued outside, but there were no other sounds, no indication of an invasion of the campsite. If hostile, the person outside his tent was either slow or foolhardy. Few enemies were ever gracious enough to be both.
Taennen stepped beyond the flap of his tent. A tall, thick man stood a few strides away, his pacing stopped. Haddar had been with the Maquar for a very long time, longer than Taennen. His rank of muzahar was well earned. He was known by all for his skill with the scimitar, and his drinking prowess was equally legendary. He stood with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. He was fully dressed, including his leather armor and his blade hung at his belt.
'Muzahar,' Taennen said.
'They are dishonored,' Haddar said. 'Wajde is dishonored.'
Wajde, one of the men lost under Taennen's command that day, had been Haddar's cousin and closest friend. Taennen felt his loss more than any other, as Wajde had been a guide and aide to Taennen since his youth. As much as Jhoqo had been like a father, Wajde had been an uncle. Where Haddar was gruff and firm, Wajde was warm and patient.
'I would gladly give my life for his honor, Haddar, if I could,' Taennen said. 'It is a dangerous life we lead, and my actions did not help matters.'
'Wajde knew he could die in battle. We all know that!' Haddar said.
'I led them and it is-' Taennen started.
'I do not question your ability!' Haddar said.
Taennen frowned. 'What, then?'
'Your mistake went unpunished!' Haddar said. 'The honor of the dead demands a price be exacted. The urir should have done that, but no! You are like his own blood, his child of favor! He could never punish you. If any other man had led your troops into that fight with such a disastrous result, what would have happened? What would Jhoqo have done to him?'
'Do you believe, even for a moment, that I asked to be absolved?' Taennen said.
Haddar stared at him, his chest heaving and his hands clenched. From nearby tents, heads peered out at the commotion, and whispers filled the tense air. Another muzahar approached the two men from behind Haddar, motioning to Taennen that she could subdue him, but Taennen waved her away and motioned for everyone watching to return to their tents.
After a few moments, Haddar stepped in close to Taennen and grabbed the younger man by the shoulders. His grip was like iron and his breath was hot on Taennen's face. Haddar snatched the back of Taennen's neck and squeezed hard drawing him closer to his face.
Taennen looked at Haddar's curled fist and nodded. 'Exact the toll for them,' he said.
Haddar's face twisted, but his grip relaxed. 'No. I will not. Because Wajde loved you like his own and because you wish for me to do it,' Haddar said. 'Better for you to live without the absolution.'
'What in all the…?' came Loraica's voice from nearby. 'Muzahar!'
'Terir,' Haddar said, releasing his hold on Taennen as he stepped back.
'Taennen, are you all right?' she asked.
Taennen nodded and turned his eyes to the ground. The weight of Haddar's words pressed down upon him, and he forgot the pain in his stomach and the new ones in his shoulders.
'Explain yourself, Muzahar,' Loraica said to Haddar.
'No,' Taennen said. 'It's fine, Terir. Everything's fine.'
'Sir, I just saw him-'
'He did nothing. Let him be,' Taennen said as he turned back toward his tent.
Loraica sighed but nodded to Haddar who narrowed his eyes and screwed up his face tightly. 'I have wronged a commanding officer, Terir. What is my punishment?'
'You heard the durir, soldier. Back to bunk,' Loraica said.
'Sir, I assaulted an officer. I am to be reprimanded, at the least,' Haddar said. The warble in his voice could not be mistaken. Without punishment, he had no discipline, no honor.
'Back to bunk,' Loraica repeated.
'Wait,' Taennen said, facing the man again.
Haddar stood at attention, unmoving, his gaze distant. Taennen watched the man for several moments before moving to stand before him. Haddar's jaw clenched with tension, but he did not flinch.
Taennen stepped back from the muscular man and drew his right arm high over his left shoulder. He sent the back of his hand searing across Haddar's cheek. The blow sounded with a snap, but still Haddar did not react.
'You are dismissed, Muzahar,' Taennen said.
'Yes, sir,' Haddar said. He nodded, his eyes thankful, and marched away toward his tent.
'Do you want to tell me what that was about?' Loraica asked. 'I thought you said he didn't do anything. So why did you punish him?'
'Because I care for him as we care for all of our soldiers, Terir,' Taennen said. 'Good night, Loraica.'
