The Lost Memory

By Venkat Raman V

 

The field that had been burned by the sun and forsaken by the rains for many years was littered with dead bodies now. There had been a short but brutal battle that ended two days ago. Vultures were flying towards the field to feast.

“Look for swords, shields and anything shiny,” said a woman to her son. His head was barely above her waist. She had become a single-mother due to a war not too long ago. Desperate for money, she was hoping to make a few coins with what they could scavenge in the battlefield.

She pulled the boy close and said, “Do not be scared. If you get scared, close your eyes and call for me”

The little boy walked through the field. He took a deep breath and stared at a pile of bodies. He noticed a sword handle. The hilt was shiny and had a green jewel. He pulled hard when something unexpected happened. The body moved! A man stood up pushing the bodies around him.

The boy began to scream as the man stood up. He was tall, muscular and covered in blood. He had multiple cuts and a deep gash in his face.

The woman looked at him like she had seen a ghost. “Some water, please and for the love of god, make him stop screaming,” he said in agony. He could not remember anything. “Who am I? How did I end up among bodies?” he thought to himself.

The woman gave him her water bag. He emptied the water in one gulp while letting it drip over his face. The water washed away a little bit of the blood on his face.

“The child, ok? I didn’t mean to scare him,” said the man politely.

“He’s fine,” said his mother. The boy was still hugging his mother but he was not screaming anymore.

“Thank you,” said the man weakly as he got back on his feet. He grimaced and then took another step forward towards the east. His memory was hazy. He remembered being knocked out in battle. He remembered vaguely that he had to go east. He walked slowly, trying to recollect what had happened. On the outskirts of a town, outside a small wooden fortress was a beeline of people. Most of them were soldiers and almost all of them were injured. He wore similar clothes as them.

“Oh good! It isn’t over already,” he thought to himself as he slowly dragged himself to the back of the line. They had been told to assemble here to receive treatment for their wounds and collect their payment.

He had one question in his mind, the answer to which would determine his fate. “Did we win?” he asked the man who stood closest to him.

“We sure did,” said the man happily. The man had a bandage across his face.

“Where did you get your face fixed?” he asked pointing at his bandage.

“Go into that alley and ask for Burman. He treats soldiers for free,” said the man pointing to an alley in the far distance.

The injured man found himself in Burman’s warehouse where many soldiers were getting treated. A middle-aged woman in bright clothes and a cloth covering her nose and mouth came to tend to him.

“That is a nasty cut. You are lucky to have survived. Hold this tight,” she said as she began to roll a bandage around the top of his head. “Your memory should be a bit hazy but Burman says it will come back to you in a few days. No lasting damage,” added the woman kindly.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully.

“Your friend over there identified you. We found you on roll. This is free of charge,” said the woman with a smile.

“Which one of those guys identified me?” he asked looking at the crowd.

“The one with the bandage over his left eye,” she said.

“Elrond!” called the man with delight. He waved his hand looking excited to see him but Elrond had no idea who he was. However, he knew his name now. “That looks bad. How bad is the pain?” he asked, looking with concern.

“The pain will go away but he will have trouble with his memory for a short while,” said the woman softly.

“Oh Elrond!” said the man looking at his friend sadly.

“You are …,” began Elrond doubtfully.

“Damon! From your village. How did this happen?” he asked with a look of genuine concern on his face.

“I don’t know. I’ll remember soon,” said Elrond looking at the man.

Elrond closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall nearby. Just as he began to get comfortable, he began to remember a little. He had set out with a few others from his village.

The potion that Burman’s assistant had given was making him drowsy. Elrond was too tired to give it any thought. He woke up several hours later to the sound of Damon snoring. His vision was still hazy. He squinted a few times to see Burman’s assistant.

“Wake up! The king is paying the soldiers today. Damon will help you identify yourself,” said the woman politely. She checked on him as Damon woke up.

“Do you remember everything now?” asked Damon, stifling a yawn.

“He will in the next few days,” said the woman as she checked his reflexes. “You are making good progress”

Damon and Elrond followed the other soldiers who were all walking towards the treasurer’s office. Elrond began to recollect more. He remembered his mother sending him away tearfully. She wanted him to come back safely. War was the only way to get his sister a good groom. To afford a decent dowry, they needed money. Elrond also remembered that one of his companions was Reginald, his best friend.

He was a farmer. While it was cultivable, Elrond had inherited a mountain of debt. He had a sister and an aged mother. To take care of them, he needed a lot of money. He had learned to make quality wooden furniture but he did not have the money to set up a business.

 

This war was a chance to get him started. He had been given two silver pieces on enlistment which he had sent home with his sister. That was supposed to settle majority of their debt.

He knew that war had no nobility. Soldiers sang about bravery and sacrifice as leaders sat in galleries and watched them die. There was very little chance of survival for unseasoned soldiers but it was a way out of their poverty. It was a dangerous and desperate gamble.

“Did you see Reginald?” asked Elrond.

“You remember Reginald! That is good,” said Damon. His smile faded as he spoke. “I haven’t seen him but I think we will meet him soon,” he added hopefully.

Elrond stood in the line with Damon and they both kept looking around for the others from their village with no luck.

“His name is Elrond. He registered with me,” said Damon, mentioning the details to the treasurer’s assistant.

The treasurer’s assistant took a while but found both their names on his ledger. “Will he do alright? He seems out of it,” said the scrawny-looking man.

“He will be fine,” said Damon reassuringly.

The treasurer’s assistant looked doubtful but not enough to deny them their bounty. He gave each of them ten silver pieces. Damon and Elrond grinned at each other. With or without his memory, Elrond knew the value of ten silver pieces. On the way home, they found another person from their village named Titus. He had lost an arm in the battle. It was a long way back and they began to swap stories.

They travelled slowly with Titus needing to clean his wounds regularly. Elrond remained silent in most conversations, trying to listen.

 

Damon had a large family and had been in desperate need for money. Titus on the other hand had been a veteran. This was his sixth time. Elrond realized that almost everyone he met on the road had participated in the war out of necessity. Titus was the only exception.

“It makes no difference whose side we fight on. We are still fighting another person’s war. Fighting on the winning side means more money,” said Titus seriously.

As they got closer to home, Elrond began to regain more of his memory. He still could not remember how he got knocked out. At nights, one of Elrond or Damon took turns sleeping. They did not want to risk being robbed.

“I hate wars. War settles nothing. I lost my brother and my father to wars,” said Titus one night as they sat beside a fire, chatting about their lives.

“Why do you keep enlisting?” asked Damon sharply.

“It is my way of feeling closer to them,” said Titus gravely.

“Why do the kings fight? Why do soldiers die for them? I understand why we fight but what about the armies?” asked Elrond slowly.

“Kings have different reasons. Sometimes they are noble. Sometimes it is just greed. The soldiers fight because they believe in their kings. Money is our motivation. Patriotism is theirs,” said Titus seriously.

“I thought I was dead. I don’t exactly know what happened but I remember a sword slashing on my face,” said Elrond pointing to the gash on his face.

“Be glad that you don’t remember it. It will come to you. These memories never leave you. My father survived the war that my brother died in. It haunted him until the day he died,” said Titus gravely.

“You could have stopped whenever you wanted. You have enough money,” said Damon looking at Titus.

“I cannot sleep. The death of my father and brother keeps haunting me. I know that I could not have done anything to save them but my mind keeps punishing me,” said Titus gravely. He stared at the ground as he spoke.

They spoke for a long time that night before going to sleep. Titus was in better spirits and moving faster the next day. They were making good distance and reached the outskirts of their village a little before dusk.

“This is where I part,” said Elrond pointing towards the left.

“I guess your memory is back,” said Damon looking relieved.

“Except for the moment I got knocked out on the battlefield, I think I am good,” said Elrond pointing to his head.

“See you soon, Elrond,” said Titus as he left with Damon in the other direction.

Elrond reached his home. He saw his mother working in the farm and his sister feeding the goats. Hearing the gate open, his mother looked up and smiled. “Elrond!” screamed his sister Adria as she ran towards him. Before he could do anything, she was hugging him tightly with tears in her eyes.

“I cannot tell you how glad I am that you are alive,” said his mother. She looked at the bandages on his face with concern.

“Don’t worry, Ma. It is not as bad as it looks,” said Elrond.

“He was ugly already. There is nothing that could have made him worse,” said his sister sarcastically despite her tears.

“Hush,” said his mother, smacking his sister on the back of her head. Elrond gave her the little pouch with the silver pieces. He knew that he would never need to go to war again in his life.

His mother received the pouch but did not even bother to open it. Her son was back. Nothing else mattered to her. “Where is Reginald?” asked his mother giving the pouch to Adria for safekeeping.

“We have not seen him yet. The war just got over. He should take a while to return,” said Elrond optimistically. He spoke to his family about the war, leaving out the details of his injury. After some rest, he sat down to eat.

His mother sat next to him and held his hand. “I am glad you are back safe. We must talk about Adria’s marriage,” said his mother.

“We can find a proper groom for her, mother. I got much more than I wanted. I will find her the best,” said Elrond confidently.

“A couple of days after you left, Reginald’s parents came here. They like Adria and apparently, Reginald does too,” said his mother.

Elrond turned to look at his mother with a surprised expression. “Don’t be angry. Reginald never approached your sister. He behaved like a gentleman because of his respect for you. His parents do not even want dowry,” said his mother as she looked to gauge Elrond’s expression.

“He …,” began Elrond when it hit him. He began to remember the battle. When it began, he clutched his sword and stood his ground.

 

With his instincts kicking in, he raised his sword to defend himself. He was strong enough to withstand an attack. His attacker stumbled and he stabbed him in the neck. That gave him confidence to kill two more people.

He felt an arm on his shoulder. He saw over the corner of his eyes that the person behind him was wearing enemy colors. He swung his sword furiously and turned. His sword found its mark. He had hit the man just below the ribs. That was when he looked at the man’s face. It was Reginald!

“No,” said Elrond with a groan as he saw Reginald’s face. Reginald was in pain. “No,” shouted Elrond as Reginald dropped his sword and fell to his knees. He caught his friend who was in shocked. “You are going to be fine. I will get you help,” said Elrond looking around frantically. He began to shout for help when he heard a horse gallop towards him. He had no time to react. He blacked out almost immediately.

“Elrond?” called his mother, looking at him nervously.

“Huh,” said Elrond, unable to say a proper word after what he had just recollected.

“Adria liked the proposal. We have known their family for years. Can I tell them that we agree?” asked his mother, looking at him hopefully.

Elrond sat speechlessly. He had wanted to go to the war to arrange for a dowry. Reginald had been telling him that it was too risky but he did not listen. He had failed to see things clearly. Elrond shook his head and realized the irony. He had got the dowry but lost the groom. He had lost his best friend to get some silver, fighting someone else’s war. He put his face in his hands and began to do the one thing he had failed to do since he killed his best friend. He began to cry.

War is futile. It leaves the vanquished with pain and seldom satisfied the victor. The silver that he had been so happy to receive now disgusted him. Elrond cried as his mother and sister watched with shock. They did not know. When they did, they would share his agony.

 

Venkat Raman V from India is a banker and a writer by passion. His short stories are published in several magazines, and he writes across various platforms. He recently signed a deal for a debut with a leading publishing house.