by J. E. Keep
After some time he released the man from the flow of the ice-cold water. “How was that, old boy?” he asked darkly.
Caprice took a step back, but she was fascinated by the tepid and terrifying torture. It looked so harmless, water just careening down someone’s face, yet he’d thrashed so.
“Daddy?” she asked quietly as she stared.
Her father gave the old man another moment then dunked him back under again. As the disturbing struggle replayed itself out, he looked back to her and said, “It’s a form of interrogation we used in the officer corps, darling.” He gave a smile. “Simulates death in the individual.” And he acted oblivious to the noisome struggle before him. “It’s been known to induce heart attacks at times. And in this old fellow?” He laughed cruelly and turned back to his work. “We’ll get there, won’t we, old boy?” he said in a raised voice.
Her breathing held, but she wouldn’t look away. Couldn’t. It was the most horrific thing she’d seen, but it made her feel so alive. So in control. Just to see how delicate another person’s life was, how easily they could disappear in a flash.
“Yes, father. We’ll get there,” she agreed, and felt a wave of heat flood her body beneath her fine golden-and-teal gown despite the chill in the room.
The struggle came to an abrupt and erratic change. Duke Rensford bucked and struggled against his bindings more than she could’ve dreamt possible for such an old man, and her father remarked, “Got there sooner than expected. Sooner than you deserve to be sure.”
Chapter 9 – The Front
No new recruits got it easy. The simple fact of the matter was that forces couldn’t spare anyone from being thrown into work immediately, and the second part to that was the exhaustion and weariness of the veterans already at the front meant the “new meat” tended to get it worse than anyone.
So it was that when Sergeant Levek managed to find the opportunity to make his way outside the medical tent, he found Caslian working hard at scrubbing the bloody medical sheets. She was up to her elbows in the scrub basin and working all by herself, as no doubt the other medics took a moment to rest their weary selves or tend to some more urgent problem.
“Lookin’ good, Private,” he chimed in, face shaved, hair combed back in a sleek look. As much as anyone could while at the front, he’d managed to turn his appearance around and looked nearly presentable. “Them fingers worn to the nub yet?”
She wiggled her wet, pruny fingers at him before she went right back to work with a smile. “Don’t think so, sir!” Even though exhaustion tensed her shoulders and made her face look a bit red, she still seemed in such good spirits. “You scrape your knee already?”
The woman was so sweet, and the smile she gave him lit up the darkening sky. Her flaxen hair was still tied back, though her bangs had come loose and threatened her eyes as she scrubbed.
Seeing her like that he could almost imagine her back behind the front at some farmhouse, living a life that approached decent. Somewhere she belonged. It warmed his heart to think of it, even as the sound of some mortal exploding in the distance took him back to reality.
“Where ya grow up, Caslian? You don’t seem like you’re averse ta gettin’ yer hands dirty with some hard work, that’s for sure,” he added with a big, toothy grin. He wanted so bad to forget the rest of their bleak reality.
“Same place as anyone, I guess. Just south, one of the fishin’ villages.” She grinned broadly. “I can fillet a fish faster than you can even blink, I bet. And everywhere you go there’s always sheets needing cleaned.” It went unspoken, though, even in her expression: Usually they didn’t have to clean blood off them.
She stood, taking the sheet with her and draining out the cool, soapy water. Some of it splashed on the front of her simple brown suit, but she didn’t pay it any mind. “What about you, Levek? Sir, I mean,” she added on cheekily.
“Levek’s fine,” he said with a smile, though he refrained from pointing out she’d not see a single fish here, nor likely ever again. The ocean was far, far off, and any bodies of water here were drained of all life thanks to the pollutants of the front. “And I’m from a small ranch down southwest,” he said, “on the cusp of the desert. We raised goats mainly.”
He leaned against the wood post, watching her with no small amount of satisfaction. She reminded him of a place less hellish than where he was, even as he stood in that well-worn uniform of his.
“I like goats,” she said as she squeezed the water from the material before hanging it up and grabbing for the next. “I mean, I only saw one once and he screamed at me, but he had the cutest goatee.” She paused. “Oh, that’s where that came from?”
He broke into a chuckle at that then rolled up his sleeves. He carried over the next load for her without asking. “Must be,” he said with a toothy smile, that smooth, sandy complexion of his alight with joy for the first time in ages. “But goats can be nasty creatures. Eat anything, bite the crotch off you if you give ’em half a chance, kick it in if you don’t.”
The sun was setting, leaving the horizon a blood red that matched the horror of the trenches. Though they thankfully resided on one of the rearmost fallback lines.
“Fish can be nasty too. Some have barbs you gotta be careful of,” she said as she took another bloody sheet, dumping it into the water and pressing down on the brush to get it under. “Though mostly they wouldn’t kick you.”
With a smirk he settled down near her and dipped his forearms into the tub beside her, helping out. “I don’t imagine, no. I’ve heard tell fish legs are pretty stubby. Well, unless ya mean those weird scaly ones from the deeps. The, uh, what’cha call ‘em? Kape’lar.” Scourge of fisherman everywhere, the nasty things were allies of no side, and made the seas a treacherous place for all.
“Got a lot of family back home?” he asked, genuinely interested.
“Yeah.” She nodded, her hazel eyes staring at him over the basin, and he could see the light sprinkling of freckles beneath her tanned skin. “Bunch of us out home. Dad always joked that mom’s as bad as a kitten, always poppin’ out litters.” She laughed. “Three sets of twins, one set of triplets, then me.”
He laughed at that too; it was a pleasant thought. Though bittersweet, which was as good as it got, he told himself.
“Sounds like my old ma,” he said with a faint smile. “Last I heard I had a good six brothers and five sisters.” It’d been a long time since he’d heard from his mother, however. Many years. Mail didn’t make it to the front often, and families usually ended up letting go after so many failed attempts. After all, it was not like their sons and daughters ever returned. Even on the off chance that they did, they were not the same. It was best to let go.
He rose up with another mass of sheets, moving to hang them up. It was then he caught sight, in the fading light of day, of some soldiers with their collars undone, looking off duty, making their way through the medical section. They didn’t belong here. No soldiers came here like that, not unless it was to see a dying comrade off, and they were too cheerful for that.
“Thanks,” she said jovially, scrubbing one stubborn stain with a pursed face before she sighed in satisfaction. Even though she’d seemed pleasant when he first came along, it seemed he’d rejuvenated her spirits and helped relieve her exhaustion. “I hope my ma has a few more. No boys,” she sighed. “Always wanted some boys, they both did.”
He’d barely heard her last words, but they registered a moment late and he smiled and nodded to her. “Yeah.”
That was what he figured. Families didn’t give up daughters to the war unless there were no more sons to sacrifice. Though that was far from his mind then. As he saw that group of soldiers approaching he knew what was afoot. They were headed down the row of medical tents, peeping in each one. They weren’t here to see anyone injured. They were after the new female medic they’d heard about or seen.
Levek turned towards her. “Say, I gotta show ya somethin’.” It wasn’t the graceful or gentl
emanly way to do it, but he didn’t have time, he took hold of her arm firmly and tugged her from the basin, leading her back away from the tent.
“But the sheets!” she said with a gasp, turning to look at the abandoned basin, her fingers still pruned from the water and rubbed nearly raw. Already her hands were toughening and there were small sores developing from her hard work, though she’d never let on about them. “I don’t wanna get in trouble.” She didn’t tug away though, looking up at him with wide eyes.
She had been too loud. Her girlish voice would carry, he realized. He led her on around behind the racks and through the alleyways between tents and wooden supply caches. “Don’t worry,” he told her, looking behind them again and again, for all the world looking nervously anxious as he took her forcibly by the arm through the sprawling maze of makeshift structures. “I’m an officer, remember?” he told her with a smile, though it was forced and obvious.
“Right.” She was practically being dragged, but her legs worked to try to keep pace with him at the reminder. “Where are we going? I’ve not been ’round here before, I don’t think,” she said as she gazed, wide eyed, at her drab and dreary surroundings. It almost seemed like she lit up the area before it dissipated back into the glum drudgery of war barracks.
Levek heard footsteps from behind. They’d heard, of course, just as he’d feared. He tried to tell himself as a Sergeant he could usher them off, but he knew how frail a hope that was. They weren’t his men, and the command structure only went so far out here. Even if he managed to frighten them off with threats of his authority, they’d just ambush them both separately later.
Besides, only a new recruit would be fooled by his threats. Whatever punishment he could mete out would be miniscule, nothing that would deter a group of desperate soldiers. And no commissioned officer over him would severely reprimand some soldiers for so “minor” an offense as this. Not when the grinder always needed new bodies.
He was leading her through blindly, down alleys, up others. He had no clue where they were. “Me either, I don’t think,” he said, and the cries of the men calling out to one another behind them carried forward. “How about we keep a bit quiet, huh?” he said to her with hope in his dark eyes, picking up his pace as his heart thudded in his chest. Damn it, he had to get her somewhere safe!
Her nose crinkled in distaste and confusion, but much to his relief, she didn’t speak. She stuck a bit nearer to him, as if sensing the worry and urgency in his voice, finally. Her legs were much shorter than his, but she kept pace with him on those toned limbs.
The sound of a man shouting out “here!” did it. He nearly had a heart attack, but he grabbed her, swept her up into his arms, and carried her.
Levek dashed ahead with his trench coat fluttering in the dim of early night as he ran as fast as he could down the labyrinthine corridors of old crates, makeshift buildings, and endless coffins.
She clung to him, though she had no idea of the menace behind her, of what he was trying to protect her from. Still, her clammy hands held tight to his trench coat, her weight so easily lifted by him. She couldn’t have even been a hundred pounds with her slender, waifish figure.
He had no idea how close they were, but he knew he couldn’t outrun them all forever. Rounding a corner, he saw it. What might’ve been her only hope.
He slid down into the latrine ditch and clutched her to him. The stink of excrement was nearly overpowering, but he did all he could to hold her to him and keep a low profile.
The sound of those booted feet moving above them was clear as day, the men within a few paces as they looked about. It occurred to him only too late that if they gave up but went to take a piss they’d be caught, and it’d all be for nothing.
“Where’d they go?” He heard one of their voices, the men making guesses, arguing. Arguing so near.
She held her breath, and he could only imagine part of it was the stench. Her eyes were clenched shut as her small body pressed against his larger form, like a small child clinging to a loving, protective parent. The darkness of war didn’t befit the angelic woman, and she trembled against him.
He could detect defeat in some of their tones, but at least two others went off in further search. Levek cradled her form against him, buried his face to her beautiful hair, and tried to imagine they were anywhere but in that ditch. He swore he could detect her feminine scent even through the awful reek, and he shut his eyes, tried to imagine they were elsewhere.
It worked. For just a brief moment he was holding that delicate young woman by the pond near where he grew up. It was a rare spot so close to the desert, but he caught fish there at times. She was in a beautiful yellow sundress that complemented her, and she was ready to teach him how to fish, for he’d never been any good at it. They always got away from him. And the only time he met any success was when he fell in and grabbed one. Which had only worked because the damn thing bit him in turn, allowing him to yank it out.
She’d have laughed, that beautiful, musical laugh that was ethereally perfect. No malice in the tone as she saw him flail.
It all vanished immediately, though, as the sound of one of the grunts relieving himself in the ditch but a couple feet away broke his reverie.
She tightened her grip, her trembling nearly uncontrollable yet she didn’t even make a peep. She was perfectly silent as he held her in the lowest point of their hellhole. She was fresh to the gritty realities of war and couldn’t possibly be expected to understand why they were being chased, why they were hiding. She was pristine.
“Damn bitch,” came the other man’s voice as he relieved himself. “Wanted to wet my dick,” he remarked crassly.
As he finished up and trundled off, Levek didn’t dare budge or say a thing for some time. It wasn’t until all had been silent for a good quarter of an hour that he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
He couldn’t tell with her silence, but it was only then he could notice that she’d been sobbing, the front of his trench coat stained as she refused to let him go. Her fingers were white and her face looked green under her tan, but still she nodded. “It’s fine.”
It had been dark, and that was all that saved her. The hiding spot wouldn’t have passed muster even minutes before when there was still some glimmer of daylight remaining.
He rose up, carried her out of that stinking pit, and spoke softly. “I’ll take you back now, safe and sound,” he promised. And though the whole ordeal had endangered him nearly so much as her, and was far from done with, his smile was at least somewhat genuine. He was happy to have spared her something worse. If only for now. “Swear it, Miss Caslian.”
“Hope the sheets won’t be cold,” she replied, but her voice lacked that spark, that glimmer that had been so pronounced in everything else she’d said and done. It was if a little part of her had been snuffed out, darkened by the cruelties of war, and she hadn’t even seen combat.
When he rested her back upon her feet, he reached out with his hand. “Cold sheets never hurt no one,” he said, taking hold of her hand with a warm, comforting grip. Trying not to let the reality sink through his own stubborn skull.
Chapter 10 – The Matron
The glacial plateau was to her back, but still the chill winds blew from on high down the cliffs and into the sparsely forested area below. Aleena travelled on the edge of the permafrost, and the scraggly trees did little to mask the bleak nature of the landscape. With the two large Kron at her sides, however, the trip wasn’t all that bad.
They all kept their cloaks bundled tight to them as they braved the arctic winds from the north, Ramtok and Saghar’s massive forms doing more than she would’ve thought to block it from her as they trailed behind obediently as was the way of their people. The “savage” giants bowed to the authority of their matrons at all times.
Since leaving the plateau, Saghar had even taken to covering himself more. He’d braved the cold of the arctic in little more than his fur kilt, but now
that he was beyond there he donned a thick cloak like the other two. “You trust these people then,” he said, not daring to phrase it like a question, though she knew it was.
The frontiersmen of the area were different. They were given special dispensation from the state, requiring fewer recruits to meet their quota in exchange for them using their skills and knowledge of the area to patrol and keep the Union’s enemies at bay. That was to say: the Kron. Though like any group, Aleena knew they were eminently bribable.
“I don’t throw around that word, no,” she said as she shivered beneath the heavy fur cloak. Her white, porcelain flesh was reddened from the wind, and her hair flowed from behind her. “But I believe we can come to a mutually advantageous agreement, and that’s even better than trust.”
Ramtok chuckled at that, seeming to enjoy her take. Saghar, however, grunted and nodded in appreciation of her pragmatism. “Caution shall serve us well indeed,” he intoned, though she got the impression he was immensely uncomfortable now that they had ventured beyond territory familiar to him.
The barren wastes had only a spattering of snow left, and as they trudged on further the flatly uneven land became increasingly littered with the scraggly northern trees. She’d traversed the area many times, and knew the terrain.
It wouldn’t be long before they ran across one of the kaliak patrols. Despite their inevitable corruption, they did keep to their side of the bargain and patrol regularly. Though it was more for their own benefit than the Union’s. After all, bandits operated even this far north.
And they were the hardest type, to even be living in such a place, but it didn’t bother Aleena much. She tugged her white fur around her tighter, her fingers freeing her eyes from her white tresses. “Keep your eyes open for bandits,” she said as she tied her hair back, leaving her long, elven ears exposed. She couldn’t risk not being able to see, and the wind whistled past her.