Shadows of the Past

by Samuel Small

  “Anybody!? It’s Major Braxton. I’ve encountered a-” The transmission abruptly stopped with a sudden high-pitched whine. Leal ripped the comp off of his belt and placed it in front of his eyes, knowing that since he’d just made a transmission, Braxton’s location should be updated. The screen shined upon Leal’s face, painting it a strange shade of white and blue as coordinates appeared on the device. It wasn’t far from where he was now, so he took off.

  It had to be in an alleyway on that street, it had to. Leal rounded the corner, then scanned the dark locations. But to attack a Major...this guy has to either be extremely ballsy or extremely experienced, Leal thought just as his body commanded him to stop and turn. Before he realized it he was charging full force at a pair of people, his hand on his rapier’s hilt.

  In front of him was the back of a guard with braided blonde hair that he knew well. Opposite from him stood the vague shadow of a person, hazy on account of their dark trench coat that seemed to blend with the shadows of the buildings. Still running full force, Leal pushed Braxton aside with his free hand, then drew his sword with a horizontal slash. Despite the efficiency of the move, his opponent managed to leap away from the blade that cut through the air, landing with their legs spread in a proper fighting stance. They didn’t mount a counter attack, seeming more intent on analyzing this newcomer, so Leal took the brief calm before the storm to glance at his comrade and assess his injuries.

  On one knee, Braxton grasped his forearm. Blood oozed between his fingers but based on his pained smirk it couldn’t be too bad. Knowing his comrade’s injuries weren’t fatal, Leal brought his attention to this cloaked person, who charged with a dagger in hand.

  Leal quickly slashed into the dagger, knocking the cloaked person’s hand away, although it did little to deter them. They dropped their already short stature lower and brought the blade in once again, lunging straight for Leal’s midsection.

  By shooting his hips backwards Leal was able to move his stomach away from the stab. He quickly titled upright and tried to counter, but the person moved their head out of the way. Leal’s sword didn’t even graze the cloth of that dark hood. Scoffing as his arm rushed past this person, Leal came to a sudden realization. The murderer was supposedly a Purist, yet this person wielded a dagger and at no point indicated that they had the ability to use any kind of Sol.

  With a quick pivot Leal was able to avoid his opponent’s next attack and he countered with a kick to the stomach. His opponent hadn’t suspected this at all and Leal managed to plant his shin well into his gut. Since this guy didn’t appear to have Sol, Leal could use his rapier’s length to its full advantage without fear of being hit with a wayward ranged attack. With that in mind, he followed his roundhouse up with a swift push kick to his opponent’s chest, which sent them stumbling into the wall of a nearby building.

  His enemy slumped and dazed, Leal set up his next attack, placing the handle of his sword to his chin and putting his opponent’s figure in line with the blade. Then he pushed off the ground, his sword thrusting forward at his shadowy adversary.

  Just before Leal’s rapier pierced the cloaked boy’s throat something went horribly wrong.

  It was as if there was a string attached to the far end of his blade that someone suddenly pulled. Leal’s rapier, which he was certain was on a direct course for the person’s throat, veered off toward the right, forcing Leal to smack the wall with his free hand in order to avoid a larger impact. There he stood, the arm he braced himself with pinning his hooded adversary. Unable to wrap his head around the shift of his blade, Leal panted and stared into the dark shadows cast by that hood. They weren’t moving at all and as the darkness swirled in front of him Leal thought he might get caught up in it entirely.

  Pain exploded into Leal’s jaw as his entire body jerked backward, breaking him from his terrifying trance. His opponent had buried their forehead into his chin, the force of which was so powerful that Leal stumbled to the other end of the alley, smacking his head up against the concrete building behind him. He winced in pain, then quickly opened his eyes, afraid that he would lose his opponent’s shadowy figure in the dark if he looked away for too long.

  However, Leal had no problem locating his opponent. All thanks to the glowing blue ball hovering just above their hand. Pure Sol. That ball expanded, an indication that it was going to fire a beam of energy that would destroy everything in front of it. On instinct Leal tensed his muscles to dodge, but then realized the attack wasn’t pointed at him at all. No, it was pointed at the injured Braxton, who kneeled on the ground with no hope of being able to avoid it. As the ball condensed, Leal found his feet carrying him toward the injured man. With a leap he grasped the Major and rolled with him, just as he felt a searing heat soar by. He gripped the man in his arms tighter as the line of energy sent his uniform lashing out and the shadows it created stretched out and danced on the wall in a mocking display.

  When the terrifying screeching died down, Leal let go of Braxton and rose to his feet. There was a clear path burned through the alleyway, the trash that riddled it knocked to the sides, ending at a local shop which had a hole burned through its back end, revealing two awestruck waitresses and a handful of customers. Leal knew firsthand the sheer destructive force of Pure Sol, but he’d never imagined how powerful it could be inside a confined city. This person was dangerous and had to be apprehended before-

  After Leal turned sharply, his blade in hand, he almost immediately dropped it. The alley was empty. No sign of the cloaked boy, other than a dumpster with a hole burned through it, the ends still glowing a faint orange. Leal understood that a pursuit would lead Braxton vulnerable, so he sheathed his sword, then pulled out his comp and informed the rest of the guards in the area to be on the lookout for a boy wearing a black trench coat. Once he finished his command, Leal took in the destroyed building behind him, where a terrified crowd had begun to gather.

  “Dammit.”

  4

  “Hey, did you hear?”

  “Hear what?”

  “King Arnold’s personal advisor and his wife just joined the infantry.”

  “Not those bastards!”

  Leal tried to ignore the gossip and focused more on unpacking his things, but the loud voices of the other guards coupled with his own curiosity kept his ears open. As he brought his sleeping bag out of his backpack, he continued to listen, although feigning disinterest.

  “And guess what? They got assigned to this unit!”

  “Can you believe it Leal?”

  The comrades who Leal had been through the academy with all stared at him curiously. He’d been at the top of their class, so they all sort of looked up to him, and must have wanted to know his opinion before anyone else. He stood up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of everyone within the large tent. Once all of their eyes were focused squarely on him, he spoke.

  “If they’re here to fight, then it’s because they feel guilty about what’s going on. I don’t think we should hold them responsible… at least not yet. I’m sure they’re perfectly reasonable people who-”

  “Hiiiiiyaaa everybody!”

  The entryway of the tent flapped open, prompting everyone to bring their attention to it. There, with one leg raised high, was a man with bedraggled hair in a poorly fitting guard uniform. One of the buttons was either undone or not on at all and the blazer was only tucked in a few places. Okay, so he’s unkempt, Leal thought with a frown, but he’s an advisor to the king. Regardless of how mad the king may be, surely it hasn’t spread to his staff.

  This new guard, who was apparently the advisor to the king, jerked his head toward Leal. He jumped from the intensity of it and stared back at the man, who didn’t move an inch for several seconds. The sun leaked in through the slightly open entryway and reflected off of his spectacles, casting a shine to them that concealed his intentions. Although to Leal, that shine seemed to radiate malice.

  With several small steps, the advisor appeared in front of
him. Leal was taken aback and leaned away as this person only came closer. Once the back of his head pushed against the far end of the tent, Leal couldn’t help but stammer out. “Um, can I help you?”

  “Do you want to see pictures of my son!?” the man shouted and leapt upward, swinging his duffel bag into the air, which Leal had to duck under. When he raised himself, the recruit was unzipping it on the floor, shifting through its contents with an abnormal (and probably unhealthy) ferver. Suddenly, a mischievous grin encompassed his face, then he sprung up, pinching a bundle of photographs in between his fingers. “His name’s Jake and he’s sooooooooo cute!”

  “Hooooooooooneeeeeey!”

  The screeching voice came from just outside the tent and no more than a second later a woman dressed in an equally ill-fitting guard uniform tore through the entryway. All of the remaining guards who had stood and watched Leal’s exchange with this newcomer booked it for the ends of the tent, knowing that this lady was likely the wife, and, based on her inhuman screech, she was just as crazy as her husband. Before long she was panting in front of Leal, her long brown hair in slight disarray. She raised her head and let out a breath of air, which Leal could have sworn was accompanied with energetic steam, then turned to her husband.

  “Did you show him pictures of Jake without me?”

  “Er, yes. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist! He’s just so cute!”

  “Oh I can’t fault you for that! His cuteness is absolutely hypnotizing!”

  Leal had begun inching his way along the inner fold of the tent in an attempt to get away from whatever the hell it was these people were doing, but suddenly they both turned to him sharply. “Well, what does he think?” the wife said.

  “I don’t know, I haven’t shown him yet, here!” the husband said as he thrust the pictures into Leal’s face.

  There wasn’t much to them, really. Just a baby in various positions. In the bath, lying in a grass covered field, in his mother’s arms. To Leal, one baby was the same as another, at least in terms of appearance, and all he knew the little fuckers were good for was crying and pooping so-

  “Well? Do you think he’s cute?”

  Still, Leal figured he should just give them what they wanted. With a sigh he said, “Yeah, I guess.”

  Suddenly, every instinct in Leal’s body flared up. He could feel, hell, practically taste, a bloodlust in the air all around him. He looked around the tent, which seemed to have gotten darker, only to see the other guards cowering on all sides of the structure. Their terrified eyes were focused on two figures just in front of Leal.

  Their heads were downcast, leading Leal to have no idea of their true intentions. But he could swear the woman’s hair floated gently up and down from the current of murderous energy. Sweat running down his forehead, Leal began to inch his hand to his sword, just as the husband sprung at him.

  “What do you mean you guess!?”

  The newcomer grabbed Leal’s collar and pushed him forward. His wife peeked over his shoulder, nodding through sparkling eyes as her husband continued to shout. “My son is the uncontested champion of cuteness!”

  “Champion of cuteness,” his wife mirrored behind him.

  “And anyone who suggests otherwise is a fiendish scoundrel, one deserving of a punishment far worse than death!”

  “W-wai-” but before Leal could get his protest out, the newcomer pushed in further, causing Leal to wheel his arms in a futile attempt to maintain balance. He couldn’t stop himself and this guy was following right along with him, his wife behind and repeating everything he said.

  “Now I demand you have another look at these photographs and recon- whoa!”

  At that moment Leal had backed up to the far edge of the tent and, with no way to stop, plummeted through it. The rest of the tent caved in as Leal fell onto his back, the advisor landing on his stomach with an influx of pain. He heard several pops as the poles dislodged from the ground, then the tent draped over him. It was suffocating, the air in the place growing thinner by the breath, so Leal threw the crazy guy off of him, then crawled through the grass and out from under the heavy blanket. After a few seconds he was met with fresh air and raised himself to his feet. Several of his comrades had also managed to crawl out and were groaning as they assisted others with their exit.

  “What the hell!?”

  The shout brought Leal’s attention away from his comrades and to the fuming bull that strode toward him. His large arms, pushed upon by a tight-fitting uniform, pumped in tandem with his feet. “Major Iroh…” Leal mumbled in both fear and respect.

  His fresh and alert eyes scanned over the draped tent, the confused guards, and the curious onlookers of other squads. Every member of the squad then looked from their brisk commander to Leal and the Major’s narrowed eyes locked on him. “Well? Care to explain, guard Miles?”

  “Er, uh,” Leal stammered. What was he supposed to say? Was there a way to explain what just happened that didn’t make him seem equally insane? As Leal struggled to form any coherent words the Major strode toward him, but came to an awestruck stop at the sound of an energetic voice.

  “I’ll tell you exactly what happened!” It was ridiculous. The guy hadn’t bothered to crawl out from under the tent when he sprung up, so he looked like a child’s imitation of a ghost. Leal could tell his finger was pointed proudly upward based on the bump to the right of his head.

  “Yes, he’ll tell you exactly what happened!” Another ghost said as it sprung up to the right of the other.

  “What the hell!?” Major Iroh shouted so loud it caused the spectating guards to cringe. He then bent down, grasped the remains of the tent, and tore it back like a blanket off a bed, despite its immense size. As he tossed it to the ground the two new recruits came into his vision and he looked sharply to Leal. Leal’s heart jumped in his chest, but the sensation faded when Major Iroh glanced at the married couple.

  “I wanted to talk to you anyway, Leal. Jason, Charlie, come with me.”

  With a sigh Leal took his first step forward, his shoulders slumped. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the husband and wife, who he now knew to be Jason and Charlie, exchange an excited glance then come forward.

  After following behind the man for a minute they made it to the tent that was Major Iroh’s office. The Major flipped it open then came inside, at no point looking behind to check if the guards had actually followed. Leal brought up his rear and sat across from the metal folding table that was his desk, already well aware he was going to get screamed at. Jason and Charlie seemed to be oblivious to this fact, however, looking around the Major’s tent, which didn’t have anything particularly interesting in it anyway, like they were on a tour. Not good, they were going to make things even worse.

  Only Major Iroh didn’t fixate an intense stare on them, the one that made you feel that you were fucking up immensely and not even knowing how. Rather, he had an eyebrow raised. The couple must have looked at him, as he gestured to a few more seats across the way.

  “Well, I guess I should start with what I was going to say to Leal. Leal, there will be two new recruits coming in who are part of Arnold’s personal staff. They aren’t well trained and are apparently a bit eccentric, so I’m trusting you to keep an eye on them.” He focused his gaze away from Leal and back to the married couple, his eyes stone cold.

  “I couldn’t have arrived more than five minutes after you two. Still, you managed to take down an entire tent and cause a ridiculous scene. I don’t need to tell you that a lot of the military personnel in this army, informally myself included, don’t agree with this war, Arnold, or his staff. I’d recommend keeping your heads low, though I guess that may be impossible at this point.”

  Jason suddenly sprung up to attention, despite the fact that his actions up until now had led Leal to believe he didn’t even know what attention was. From his standing position he looked down at the Major, his features hardened in a way Leal would never have expected. They left no indication of the
playful, goofy man he had just encountered. The man in front of him exhumed an aura of leadership and authority, one that even the stoic Major Iroh seemed affected by. His mouth was slightly agape, obviously as surprised by the outburst as Leal was.

  “With all due respect, sir, King Arnold has done a massive amount of service to our people without asking for anything in return. As someone who has served under him, I can tell you that until now he’s never initiated a policy without giving me a precise reason, or telling me what he believed the end result would be. With this war he didn’t give me one, but I think he’s done enough by now that we should give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  “‘Benefit of the doubt?’” The words drifted out of Leal’s lips like smoke from a raging fire. It was taking everything in him not to send his clenched fist directly into the man’s nose. And his cool gaze down only made it so much harder to resist, like he wasn’t ashamed of what he said at all. Just as Leal thought he might lose control Major Iroh’s head sprung up in recognition of someone entering the tent. Leal broke from his blind rage to look over his shoulder and when his eyes focused on the figure he immediately jumped to attention. “General Bellator, sir!” he called.

  The General’s lips parted, but no human sound escaped them. Instead, an infernal buzzing emerged.

  That buzzing broke Major Leal Miles out of his dream and back into reality. He was no longer waiting to enter the battlefield for the first time. He was in his bed, his comp buzzing loudly on the dresser. He reached for it and placed it to his ear, hearing a familiar voice. One that he’d heard in his dream only a few seconds before.

  “Major Iroh?”

  “Are you half asleep Leal? That’s General to you.”

  “R-right, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  “I guess it can’t be helped,” General Iroh said, his voice weak. “Considering the context of the murders, it's hard not to remember. Anyway, Braxton sends his gratitude.”