Infused (Book 2 of The Pioneers Saga)

by William Stadler

“We have to keep moving!” ordered one of their commanders. This burly man who stood several heads above Caleb, jerked up a few of the Polarist soldiers who had crumbled to their knees in fear. With the man’s command, the galloping footsteps gradually resumed. Men and women alike hoarded upon the woods where the Pioneers camped.

  “You ready, Uriel?” Caleb asked.

  Uriel cracked her knuckles and twisted her neck to both sides. “Just say the word.”

  “Charge!” Caleb yelled.

  Intruding into the field, the Pioneers rushed out of the forest. Uncharged arrows sliced through droves of Polarists. Many of them dropped to the ground.

  Caleb slipped his dagger off his belt, spun it around in his hand, and flung it into a soldier's neck. The man grabbed his throat like he was swatting a mosquito, but his life slipped out of his hands before he could pull out the knife.

  Caleb ran past the downed man, kneeled, and mangled his blade from the man's neck. Two Polarist soldiers closed in on Caleb with their short swords in hand. Their eyes were cloaked by the blackness of the night. Gliding the bow over his shoulder and loading it with a arrow, Caleb dropped the soldier to his right. The other man tackled Caleb and pinned him to the ground.

  Struggling underneath the man, Caleb managed to get his arm free. He grabbed the man's wooly collar, trying to throw him off. The man grunted, and flecks of spittle smacked Caleb in the face. The soldier got control of Caleb's wrist and pounded it into the dirt. Caleb squirmed to free himself. With his free hand, the Polarist reared back his short sword.

  “Ah!” a woman screamed. Two daggers cut into the man's neck. The man's lips parted, and blood spilled out of the crevices of his beard. Caleb could see the woman's face, and it was Uriel. She smiled slyly as she reached down to help him up.

  “Saved again,” he said, brushing himself off quickly.

  “Try staying on your feet next…ugh….” Her words were silenced as a Polarist woman covered Uriel's mouth and jabbed a sword through her back.

  Uriels' hair swung forward over her face as she retched over. She crinkled her fingers like claws. The scar on her chest wrinkled as she clenched her shoulders together. Caleb was paralyzed, watching the crimson fluid spilling from the edge of the blade. She sword disappeared as the woman slid it out. Uriel fell to the ground, shivering between painful gurgles.

  Caleb snatched the guard by her coat and thrust his dagger at her chin. The guard caught his wrist and kicked him backwards. She turned and disappeared into the battle. He fell to his knees. His hands quivered, and he looked over Uriel's body to see what he could do to help her.

  Looking up, the solid sole of a heavy, leather boot smashed against Caleb's chin. His head rammed into the hard soil. Caleb's face lay pressed down in the dirt, but he could see out the corner his eye. The thin-bodied Polarist with a slender chin wasn't going for Caleb. The man was going for Uriel! Caleb picked himself up and turned towards the man who was crouching over Uriel's bleeding body.

  Reaching for the man's head, Caleb lunged forward. But Caleb was too late. The man edged his dagger into Uriel's shoulder. Her body stopped writhing, and her expression of anguish morphed into a blank stare that gazed deathly into the starlight.

  “Uriel!” He yelled her name, knowing that he wouldn't hear a response. He clasped the man's tangled hair without looking at him and slit the man's throat. Caleb's rage intruded on him. The anger that he'd held back and the fury that he'd contained was released.

  “Kill them all!” Caleb called out. He pried the dead man's dagger from his hand so that he now carried two blades. A Polarist woman rushed in on Caleb, holding her sword high above her head. He slung one dagger at her that stuck between her eyes. Then he walked over to her body that fought for its life and snapped her neck.

  The rage was empowering. The ground pounded heavily behind him. Caleb looked over his shoulder. A soldier closed in on him. Caleb kicked backwards, stopping the man in his tracks. Then Caleb pounced on the man and slid the knife into the man's heart. He whispered with his nose barely touching the man's face, “Die a slow, painful death, you Polarist scum.”

  Standing to his feet, Caleb looked across the battlefield. Bodies of Pioneers and Polarists were strewn about carelessly, lying in the unnatural positions that their unexpected deaths forced upon them. There were more Pioneers still standing than Polarists which was the contrary when the siege began. Caleb smiled in sinister satisfaction at the death of those brutes.

  Keeping his eyes on the city, he pulled off his bow and effortlessly killed several more Polarists who were fighting his people. His last arrow ripped through the chest of a Polarist, and the battlefield erupted with cheers.

  Bruised but not defeated, the Pioneers had won the first assault. Caleb wiped his nose and sluggishly trekked back to Uriel's body. As he kneeled before her, the sound of two notes from a trumpet interrupted the night. The first was short and the second was long.

  The Pioneers' cheers quieted, and the moon snuck behind the clouds. The spirits that had surfaced in curiosity of the battle drifted back into the night. Caleb twisted his body to face the town of Irez. Then sounded two more notes from the trumpet – one short, one long.

  The galloping thuds from before returned. The booming of the footsteps felt like thunder in Caleb's chest. Blue lights shined from around the gate as hundreds of Polarist soldiers leaked out of the city. Another sound from the trumpet – one short, one long.

  The field was full of throngs of Polarists. Silence fell. The galloping stopped. The wind didn't dare breathe. The flames from the torches burned motionlessly as a hefty cloaked man emerged. It was Raylen. He stood behind some of his troops to keep from being downed by a stray arrow, but Caleb could tell that it was the very weasel whom he had come to abhor.

  Raylen peered spitefully over the field at the remaining band of Pioneers. He raised his stubby fingers and pointed to them like their were dogs. “Kill them all,” he said with his squeaky voice. The galloping returned. The night became alive again.

  “Retreat! Retreat!” Caleb screamed. He turned and raced towards the canopy, pushing the straggling Pioneers forward. He forced himself not to look down at the injured Pioneers who cried out for help. “Retreat!” he called out again.

  Caleb passed through the tree line, purposefully keeping a few steps behind some of the Pioneers. Other Pioneers were not as fortunate, and they were slaughtered mercilessly by the Polarists.

  Once he had entered the canopy, he did not turn back. The shadows of the night flickered through the crevices in the leaves, and he could hear the other Pioneers rushing through the thicket nearby. His trips around Juten had not prepared him for this. His lungs and his heart could last the run. But his heart could not endure the pain of the deaths that he'd caused. He had no idea how many Pioneers had been killed, and he wouldn't have any way of knowing until he settled.

  And what about Uriel? Was she alive or dead? She had rescued him from death twice, and when she needed him, he had failed. What had he done? Still running, he tried not to think as the branches and sharp twigs scratched against his pants and shirt.

  Spirits surfaced around him and shuddered in and out of the plane. But he kept his eyes forward, navigating his way through the wilderness of Broughtonhaven. Where was he going? He didn't know. He turned east to head for Juten. Hopefully the other Pioneers would make it back with him.

  CHAPTER 17

  THE BREAKING POINT

  The sun's rays burst through the tiny cracks in his wooden cabin back in Juten. Caleb didn't want to get up. A week of wearied travel, countless deaths, and a shameful defeat were memories that he hoped his sleep would rid him of.

  He lay in his bed with his eyes closed. His face and his back were drenched in sweat from the island’s humidity. Images of the failed siege washed though this thoughts like the crushing waves that tore into Juten’s flimsy shores. Clenching his eyelids tightly together, he hoped he could squeeze the thoughts from his mind, to force them back into a pl
ace in his mind that he could not reach. Dead faces of Pioneers whom he had once known stared into the depths of his thoughts, pressing him for answers that he could not provide.

  The scar on his chest throbbed, and it seemed to be burning. He pressed his palm into his chest to ease the pain. Friends he had come to respect and admire since his time in Juten were now roaming in the land of the spirits – thrown into the same lifelessness that he had seen on Anise when she had surfaced as an empty spirit. How many had been maimed or killed? He wasn't sure, but he had to get the numbers. Arthur would certainly demand for them.

  Prying himself from the bed seemed impossible, and his sweat-soaked tunic squished against his skin as he peeled off the hay-filled sack. He tried to stand firmly, but the joints in his knees disobeyed, and he dropped limply to the wooden floor with his legs beneath him.

  Caleb grabbed handfuls of his hair, pulling until he nearly out the strands. His eyes were on fire from the tears that marched to the surface, and he screamed until the veins of his neck bulged. He wanted to cry, but his body refused. A few compassionate tears streamed down the bridge of his nose, but the others neglected to move. He screamed again, and the muscles in his stomach tightened.

  Failure. That's what he was. The one thing that he had not wanted to become stared viciously at him. How could he face the families of the men and women who gave their lives for nothing? How could he endure the pain of knowing he couldn't save Uriel?

  Caleb pounded the floor until his knuckles were bloodied and splintered. But there was no satisfaction. The soreness could not cover the wounds of his soul. He sobbed into his hands hoping for tears. But none came.

  “Third Watch Pioneer Caleb Eaves! Get up!” The door to his cabin swung open, but he didn't care to see who it was. “I said, get up!” A powerful hand grabbed his head and snatched him to his feet. He stumbled backwards to catch his balance.

  “What is it now, Sarai? You here to make it worse?" he asked through slobbering words.

  She stood in the doorway, the sunlight wrapping around her frame. “I came to talk you out of this foolishness.”

  Caleb braced himself against the rear wall, eyes red, shaking his head. “Just get out.”

  “Pioneers don't just walk away.”

  Caleb squinted, confused. “Don't walk away?” he asked, voice high and sharp. “You left us to die at Irez!”

  “You chose to stay, and you dragged the others right down with you.”

  “What you did was abandon us! My soldiers!" he screamed, pointing to the walls of the cabin, referring to Pioneers of the Southern Sector. “They stayed and they fought and they died. They were not cowards like you!” Saliva leapt from his lips as he hollered at her.

  “Cowards?” she asked, the side of her lip upturned.

  “You said that cowards are people who have the power to do something, but they don't do it. You could have stayed. You and your people. But you left. And you took the rest of the cowards with you.”

  Sarai bit down, the muscles in her slender jaw flexing. “Don't you dare turn my words around! We could have left our shovels with you to help you dig the graves that you so willingly walked into. There was nothing that we could have done. And just like when you ran off to go save Shauna, you put all of your people in danger. But this time it didn't come out like you planned.”

  “So you are here to rub my face in the mud. I hope you feel better,” he mocked.

  “And just to let you know,” she started again, lifting her eyebrow slightly. “Those Pioneers who followed you only did so because you were their commander, and they trusted you, even though they knew what would happen to them. That is how we were trained.”

  Caleb flicked his hand at her, waving her away. “I don't want to hear this.”

  “But you're going to. You took the trust that they had in you, and you crushed it, only because you wanted to prove yourself. And to whom? Me? Arthur? Who? Nothing was proved except that you know how to lose a war. But you didn't listen. It's that Naturalist thing again. 'Do whatever you feel like doing.' Look where it got you. Nowhere.”

  “What's your problem? You came all the way down here to gloat? How could I ever have had feelings for you?” He shook his head and crossed his arms, staring at the floor.

  Sarai paused and pulled her braid over her shoulder. Caleb's words knocked her off her guard. Her chest throbbed, and she wasn't sure if it was her scar or her heart. “How could you even say that?” Her voice cracked from compassion and pain.

  “Why does it matter?” he shrugged.

  Sarai regained her steadiness. “Look, Caleb. I heard what happened.” She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The veil of the sunlight slipped away. “People are talking.”

  “W-What are they saying? That they think I'm not fit to lead them?” Weak, he slouched onto the bed and smashed his forehead into the palm of his hands. Sarai sat next to him and caressed his back.

  “Something like that. But what does it matter?”

  “What does it matter?” he asked, turning his head slowly to face her. “This is what I've lived for, and now this is what I have to live with.”

  “You want to know what people are saying?” Sarai asked. Her voice was hard and cold. “They want to know where you're going to lead them next? Down into the emblem caves to die in vain like their comrades. Out to sea to drown in the abyss? This is what they're saying. These are their questions. They want to know to what destruction you're going lead them into next.”

  Caleb squinted at her in disgusted annoyance. “Why are you even telling me this?” His words dragged off of his tongue.

  “Because, Caleb. Can't you hear their hearts? They think that you're going to lead them to their deaths.” A gentle smile eased onto her lips, and she put her hand on his shoulder. “But they would still follow you. They still consider you to be their commander. I don't know what you've done to these people, but they believe in you.” Her hand slipped off his back and into her lap. “Probably the same thing you've done to me,” she sighed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I push you because I know that there's more. I told you that these people would follow you to their graves. If a man will give his life for you, you at least owe him yours."

  “That's what I did. I gave all that I had to take the city.” His eyes were still red with tears trembling on his eyelids.

  “Did you? Because if you had given up that selfish attitude, then none of those people would have died. You held onto more than you gave up."

  Caleb pressed his head back into his hands. “I can't do this. I just can't.”

  “So you messed up, and now you want to quit? Is that what this place has taught you? Is that who you've become? Do you know what happened on the first Emblem Run that I led?”

  “Let me guess. People died, and you were better off because of it. I've heard all this before.”

  “Have you? On my first Emblem Run, no one died. None died on the second or the third. I was so skilled at the runs that sometimes I would take squads to the mainland, send them to one Elemental Cave, and then I'd raid through another by myself.”

  Caleb leaned in towards her, though his expression seemed to pretend that he didn't care. “What difference does that make?”

  “My squads would come back with more emblems than any of the others, and it felt good. Not only was I helping Juten, but I felt like I was needed. Then it happened. My entire squad was captured. They got rid of their belts like they were supposed to, but they are still imprisoned to this day.”

  “But you didn't get anyone killed like I did.”

  “No. And I can't say that I envy you. But the reason it happened is still the same. I wanted to show that I could handle it, so I put everyone on the squad at risk which is exactly what you did.”

  “What am I going to tell Arthur?” he sighed.

  “Look, Caleb. Here are the facts. You lost the battle. Men and women were killed because of you.”

  Caleb buckle
d over and grabbed his scar. “It's all my fault. I should have never gone. I should have listened to you. Uriel would still be alive if I hadn’t stayed to fight.” His saliva thickened as the burden weighed on him, and he turned to look at Sarai who sat next to him with her hands in her lap. “I missed,” he said calmly, thinking back to the battle.

  “What?”

  “My Guide Shot. I missed it. I shot the first arrow, the guard moved forward, and I missed.”

  Sarai sighed and stood to her feet, pushing off her thighs with her hands. “Caleb. Listen to me. There’s no way that you could have taken a city occupied by several thousand soldiers. Not with a few Pioneers. That’s why we left.”

  “But we could—”

  “Stop. There’s no way. You didn’t even make it to the city before you were forced to flee. Face it. You made a choice, and it was the wrong one. Now you have a chance to make the right choice.”

  Caleb stared at the wooden floor between his knees. His hair draped over his face, and the few strains of sunlight that tore through the cracks in the wall didn’t seem so invasive. “And what choice is that?” he asked.

  “Are you going to lose this battle? The battle for your mind? These people still want to follow you,” she said, pointing backwards without turning around. “And leading people after a victory is easy.”

  “What do I do?” His voice was still weak and defeated.

  “Third Watch Pioneer Caleb Eaves, you do what I told you to do when I first came in here. You get up!”

  Caleb felt his muscles twitching as his body pushed him to move before his mind let him. “I...can’t,” he said, shaking his head.

  Sarai grabbed his sweaty tunic and yanked him up. “Get up!”

  His eyes widened from her strength. Landing on his feet, he steadied himself in the center of the cabin. His muscles were tense, and the room seemed dimmer, as if his eyes were readjusting. He sighed and covered his face with one hand, while he held the other hand on his hip. “Now what?”

  “Is that what I think it is?” Sarai crouched down below Caleb’s eye level and searched his face. “It is!” She bounced back and pointed at him with a chuckle. “There’s that smile. Now with your head high, head over to the Southern Sector and visit Arthur at the conference hall. He's waiting for you.”