“Kid, it’s time to get out,” the Major said, shaking Dawn’s shoulder.
Dawn yawned loudly, stretching her arms as far as they would go in the truck. She stretched her left arm a little too far, pulling the sensitive skin and quickly retracting it, hissing in pain.
“You need to be careful with your burns, kid, or you’ll end up cracking open the skin,” Braddock sighed.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dawn groaned, “where are we?”
“The town of Capri. We need to refuel, and get you some new clothes,” the Major answered, keeping his head pointed away from her.
Dawn looked down at herself. Her coat was the only actual clothing she had covering upper body. Her pants were tattered, with holes burned in them from the fire. She had been meaning to replace her boots for a while, but never really got the chance too after her town was attacked.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Dawn sighed, covering herself up more with her jacket, “but I don’t have any money. How am I going to-”
Braddock pulled out a thick wallet out of his coat, saying “thankfully for you, I still have some mission funds left. Now let’s go, kid.”
The two got out of the truck, and stepping out onto the sidewalk. Thankfully there was no one out and about this early in the day, the sun still rising from the horizon in the distance. Dawn wrapped herself tightly in her coat, trying to stay warm as much as she could.
Dawn noticed that her a Braddock were the only two from there group there, and asked, “where is everyone else?”
“Horton went to get ammunition, as well as try and call command and get an idea of the situations in the trenches. Miss Armor got out before we got to town and is circling around. She said it’s better if she didn’t draw too much attention,” Braddock explained, “now here we are.”
Braddock gently turned Dawn by the shoulders inside a shop. The bell rang as they entered, causing the shopkeeper to raise their head up from behind the counter.
“Ah yes! How may I help you today?” he asked, adjusting his glasses.
“We just need some new clothes for her, that’s all. A young woman’s shirtwaist, skirt, socks, shoes, and hat,” Braddock said, removing his hat.
“I’m not quite sure what we have, so I’ll go check if you’ll give me a moment,” the shopkeeper said, ducking out from his counter and hurrying into the back.
He returned not shortly afterwards with the requested items, setting them on the counter. He begins writing down and checking his ledger, saying “These should fit her fine. The total comes to…$20.”
Braddock pulled out several bills and handed them to the cleric, asking “is there perhaps a place she could get changed?”
The cleric counted the bills, tucking them into drawer, and scratching his head. He eventually spoke, saying “I shouldn’t do this, but she can get changed in the back room, if you need to.”
“Thank you, we appreciate it,” the Major said, handing the clothes to Dawn. She quickly stepped out into the back room. She changed as quickly as she could. The waistshirt was the normal white color, with the long, ankle-length skirt made out of a grey-blue fabric. The socks were white, and slipped quite easily into the brown shoes. She tossed her old clothes and boots in the nearby bin, and stepped out of the back room with her new hat in hand. Her coat was wrapped around her shoulders, arms outside of the sleeves.
Braddock gestured to the door, and Dawn followed close behind him. The bell rang again as they left, Dawn’s new shoes making little clicking noises as she went. Dawn and Braddock both slid their hats into their heads and began walking back to the truck, where Horton was sitting in the driver’s seat. Braddock opened the passenger side door for her as she stepped inside, nearly tripping on her new skirt.
When Dawn was finally seated full, Braddock closed the door and hopped into the back, the truck shaking with the weight. He tapped on the back of the cabin twice, and Horton got the truck moving. About five minutes out of town, the slowed and stopped by the side of the road, where Solara was waiting. She hopped into the back of the truck, causing an even bigger shake.
“You took your sweet time,” she said.
“We needed to get our princess here some new clothes,” the Major said, “Horton, now that we’re all here, tell us what you heard from command.”
“I heard a whole bunch of nothing,” he said, getting on the road again, “couldn’t even get through. I assume that means we stick to plan A?”
“That’s right. Let’s just hope that we still hold the trench line we need,” Braddock said, pulling out a cigarette, and giving it a light, “we’ll be at the mill in about half an hour. Relax while you can.”
Just as Braddock said, the party arrived at an old, beat up Windmill built partially into a hill. The small house next to it appeared to be abandoned, with the windows shattered and door missing. Horton got out of the truck, followed quickly by Solara and the Major hopping out of the back.
“Into the mill, kid,” Braddock said, pointing to the decrepit tower.
He led them inside, where the air was swirling with dust, and the walls coated with mold. He slid a battered old chest out of the way, revealing a trapdoor built into the floor. Braddock pulled it open, revealing a stairway down, that led to a narrow passageway with just enough room for one person to walk down.
“Old smugglers built this tunnel years ago to transport goods past the fort. It’s been abandoned for years now, but we use it sneak back and forth to our forward trench line,” the Major explained, “kid, you should-”
“Major,” Horton called, drawing his pistol, “we’ve been followed.”
Braddock cursed under his breath, and yelled at Dawn, “Go! Start running, we’ll be right behind you!”
Dawn rushed down the steps and into the tunnel. She began running down the passage as fast as she could, hearing gunfire behind her. She locked back, seeing the Major and then Solara following her. She could barely see beyond, but blood was running down the steps from the mill. Not long after another man came down and began firing shots at them with a pistol.
“Go!” Solara yelled, turning and planting her shield down. It took up the whole width of the tunnel, and nearly all of the headroom. “I’ll hold them off and inch my way there! I’ll be fine!”
Dawn turned back down the corridor and kept running. It was nearly pitch black, and she needed to feel her way around, but the sound if gunfire kept her going. After nearly 15 solid minutes she finally saw a faint light. As she approached it, the sounds of gunfire came with it.
“When we get to the door, open it up a little bit and peak into the trenches. See if we still have friends waiting for us,” the Major said.
Dawn climbed up the stairs slowly, pushing up on the door. After a while, the door finally gave way, sending dirt down onto her head. She peaked her head out, glancing into the nearby trenches.
There were several men there, all in black coats, the uniform of the enemy.
“It’s all Gold Army. What do we do now-” Dawn began, before something caught her eye.
A flash of white and black hair in the trench, accompanied with pained screams. A moment afterwards, a she recognized the back of a familiar head in the trench and rushed out.
“The hell?” Braddock yelled, chasing her, “what in the serpent’s name are you thinking?”
Dawn dropped into the trenches, finding the bodies of several enemy soldiers dead on the ground, all killed by a blade. She looked up to find her closest friend rip her blade out of the chest of an enemy soldier. Her white shirt stained with blood, and her trousers caked in dirt. Braddock hopped into the trench behind Dawn, pistol drawn.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he asked.
“I can’t believe it. It is you,” Dawn said, approaching as the assailant turned around, “Lucatiel, I-”
The furry eared warrior immediately took a wild swing at Dawn, who stepped back just in time to avoid getting sliced. Dawn was in utter shock. Braddock raised his pistol, but Dawn immediately stepped in front of him.
“Wait! Don’t shoot! Look at her eyes!” Dawn said, “they’re supposed to be amber, but they’re glowing a bright red. That means she’s possessed. That also explains her sloppy attack.”
“It doesn’t matter now, she’s trying to kill us. That makes her our enemy-” the Major said, stepping to the side and taking aim.
An enemy soldier ran around the corner behind Lucatiel, rifle raised at the swordsman. Dawn reacted on her instincts alone, rushing at Lucatiel. The possessed warrior thrusts her sabre forward, but Dawn moves to the right just in time. The blade slices along her side and she grits her teeth in pain and she wraps her arms around her friend.
“I’m not going to lose you again!” she growls, tackling Lucatiel to the ground.
Now with a clear shot, Braddock fires his pistol at the enemy soldier, hitting him right in the shoulder. The rifleman staggers, squeezing the trigger and firing. The round glances Dawn in the right shoulder, cutting all the way across the skin. Braddock fires again, hitting the rifleman in the chest, his corpse going limp against the wall.
Lucatiel struggles under Dawn’s weight, trying to push her off, but Dawn fights through the pain, hissing at her “come on, Lucatiel, fight through it! Don’t you remember me?”
Blood flows from the wound in Dawn’s shoulder, soaking through her shirt and dripping off. A droplet of the blood lands right on Lucatiel’s cheek, who immediately stops struggling. The color in her eyes faded, and her body relaxed. She lay there in shock, looking up at Dawn as she bled.
“I’m glad…,” Dawn says breathfully, “I thought you were-”
Lucatiel pulls herself up, dropping her sabre and holding onto Dawn, “you’re injured! What-”
“You did part of it!” the Major yelled, “now are you going to attack us again, or not?”
“I did this?” Lucatiel questioned, lifting her hand up from Dawn’s waist, where it was covered in blood. “Please, forgive me.”
“Your mother is still in the tunnel…she’ll be happy to see you…” Dawn said, completely ignoring Lucatiel’s words.
“Well?” Braddock asked, leveling his gun.
“I’m not going to attack you anymore,” Lucatiel said, “I assume you’re trying to get her to the White Army right? I can help. I know the way there. It’s just a few lines west.”
“Alright then,” the Major sighed, holstering his pistol and picking up Dawn, “I’ll carry her, you lead.”
Lucatiel nodded, and glanced at her sabre. ‘I can do this,’ she thought to herself, ‘I can control it, even if it’s just for a second.’ She grabbed her Sabre, and immediately felt the urge to slice into whoever was nearest to her. She quickly slid it back into its scabbard on her waist. The urge subsided, and Lucatiel let out a deep breath.
She picked up a nearby rifle and stood up. “Follow me,” she spoke as she made her way down the trench, stepping over the corpses in the way.
The trenches were a hell on earth, with dead bodies from both armies lying on the frozen earth, their blood tainting the dirt a sickly brick red. The stench of decay hung in the air wherever one went, a constant reminder that death is close. The sounds of gunfire were persistent, bullets flying overhead, above the trench, and burying themselves in the dirt. The occasional scream or cry was not uncommon, as was the boom from grenades. The distant thunder of artillery was the only thing that changed this routine, as when heard would cause every person to duck down against the ground, followed by massive explosions. All day and all night, a constant war over a distance of a few measly feet.
Lucatiel had only been here for a few days, but she knew the trench well. The forward trench was connected to the support trench by a connecting line, and then to the reserve by another, and so on. The Gold Army had recently taken the forward trench line, and was still fighting to over the support trench, constantly sending over reinforcements. The White Army was putting up a hell of a fight, preventing the enemy from getting further than the two lines they took, but they were starting to crumble. The reserve wasn’t as well reinforced as the others, and casualties were high.
The screams of the dying echoed through Dawn’s head, their souls screaming out for help. Just as each scream finally faded away, another would take its place. It was an endless cycle of pain and despair.
“I’m wondering,” Braddock inquired, “If you’re her friend, why are you fighting for the Golds?”
“Well,” Lucatiel responded, peeking around a corner and darting her head back, “when mercenaries attacked out village, myself and many others were captured. They then sold us to the Gold Army as ‘recruits.’ If we didn’t follow orders they would kill us. Toss me that grenade, will you?”
Braddock kneeled down, pulling a stick grenade out of the hand of a dead soldier, tossing it to Lucatiel. “Then why did you suddenly start to kill them? Weren’t you scared they would shoot you?”
“Well,” Lucatiel continued, pulling the string on the bottom of the handle with her teeth, and chucking the grenade down the passage, “my blade was a gift to me by my birth mother. It’s an old Vampiric artifact than contains the souls of those it kills, and enhances the abilities of those who can overcome its madness.”
Screams of “grenade!” came from the trench, followed by an explosion.
“Wait, isn’t this like that old children’s story that supposed to make little kids stay away from swords?” Braddock asked.
“Stories always have a basis in fact,” Lucatiel said, moving forward, “It’s the Blood Blade. The officer here took it as a prize, but when the souls of nearby soldiers seeped into the blade and woke it up, it kept calling to me. It eventually overpowered me and I rushed him, taking the sabre. I thought I was strong enough to control it, but…everything just became a blur. I can suppress the effect for a few seconds, but that’s it.”
“Damn. Then you just started slaughtering them. Give me a warning whenever you think of drawing that sword,” Braddock commented.
Lucatiel stopped abruptly as the reached another corner. The connecting channel was right there, leading back to, hopefully, friendly lines. The gunfire there was making a pattern, a burst of “yakyakyak…yakyakyak…”, with the sounds of shells soon after. Lucatiel focused her hearing and listened a little further west. She could hear the “pkaw-thck” of a rifle firing and burying its round in the wood wall. Lucatiel knew those sounds, and turned to Braddock.
“There’s a machine gun pointed right down the connector. That means there’s at least a gunner and a loader. Down the tunnel is a friendly infantry with a rifle,” she said, half-cycling the lever on her rifle to make sure it was loaded. “I hear a rifle I’m going to run out, and then I want you to follow right behind and run down the line. You look like you’re wearing their trench uniform, and carrying wounded so they probably won’t shoot you on sight.”
“What about you?” the Major asked.
“I’ll keep fighting and prevent them from following,” Lucatiel says, taking a deep breath, “I’m wearing what their enemy wears, so your people won’t hesitate to fire at me.”
Braddock nods in agreement, shifting Dawn in his arms to get himself ready to run. Lucatiel switches her hands around on her rifle, holding the foregrip in her right hand, and the handle in her left. Rather than on the trigger, she kept her hand wrapped tightly around the wooden stock. She raised her rifle, and charged around the corner, letting out a guttural cry as she ran.
Dead head of her was 2 Gold Army soldiers. The gunner was further away, the machine gun set atop some boxes, while the loader was kneeling right next to him, preoccupied with loading another belt of ammo into a drum. Lucatiel made the gunner her target; it wouldn’t take much to turn and gun her down with his machine gun if she took out the loader first.
Lucatiel plowed right into the gunner, sinking her bayonet right into the base of his neck. She carried the momentum and pushed him to the ground, twisting the blade to make sure he was dead, and tuned to the loader. He reacted quicker than she expected, already on his feet and reaching for his pistol. Lucatiel ripped her rifle out of the gunner, turning and swinging her bayonet at the loader. He leaned back just out of reach, his hand now pulling up his sidearm.
She could see Braddock running around the corner now, Dawn slung over his shoulders. She couldn’t risk falling now, and then letting the soldier gun down the Major. She reached her right hand down to her waist, and with one, single, clean motion, drawing her sword and slicing directly across the chest of the loader. She instantly felt a sense of anger as the Blade’s influence began to take hold, Lucatiel spun the sabre around in her hand, pointing the blade down towards her hip. She drew her arm down, sliding the sword back into its scabbard. The Blade’s influence waned as soon as the hilt clicked against the top of the sheath. There was no time to relax, as she heard a “tink” behind her; the sound of a pin being pulled on a fragmentation grenade.
Lucatiel turned to her left, seeing the dark green bulb land in the dirt several feet away. She raised her arms up to protect herself as the explosive detonated, sending metal fragments everywhere. The fragments embedded themselves into her left side, in her shin, her hip, and both segments of her arm. A shard of cap flew right at her face, slipping between the gap in her arms, and slicing her face from lower cheek to above her eyebrow, narrowly missing her eye.
The soldier that threw the grenade ran around the corner, only to be gunned down with several shots. Braddock’s pistol was raised in his right hand, smoke coming from the barrel. He holstered it and ran by Lucatiel, grabbing her right arm, and led her down the tunnel.
“HEY! FRIENDLIES COMING DOWN!” he yelled.
They turned the corner to find a friendly rifleman positioned straight down the channel. He gave the thumbs up, followed by shouting “Colonel is in the shelter 50 feet south! We have medics there too!”
Braddock gave him a nod and ran down the trench, passing by several soldiers as he went. Dawn saw many of them as she went. Most of them were wounded, but they were still fighting. They were willing to fight to the last man to hold these trenches, but they were scared that they might have to. The look of despair on there faces was a clear giveaway that they knew they wouldn’t be going home.
The major ducked into the shelter built into the dirt, where an officer was leaning on a table, distressed. A medic was tending to some injured soldiers against the wall, doing their best to keep them alive. Several other soldiers worked a telegram against the wall. Everyone was feeling a mix of panic and hopelessness.
“Who the hell are you?” the officer ordered in a deep, scratchy voice.
Braddock carefully set Dawn against the wall, before saluting and responding, “Major Miles Braddock, reporting from deep scouting in enemy territory. The rest of my squad is dead, but we recovered Princess Lumina, her friend, and her royal guard, who is currently in combat.”
“Excuse me, Major, but did you just say, ‘Princess Lumina?’ As in the Royal Family?” the officer asked, shocked.
“Yes, sir. The king had an illegitimate heir, and she was in hiding until recently and-”
“Medic! See to her wounds, now!” the officer interrupted, “she might change the whole damn course of this war…”
“Yes, Colonel!” The medic responded, running to see to Dawn’s wounds, treating them with antiseptic and bandages. Dawn hisses in pain as the chemicals touch her sensitive flesh, her consciousness slipping.
“Major, as soon as she’s patched up, I want you take her and get as deep into friendly lines as you can,” the Colonel said, “we were about to retreat back to the next trench, but we can’t afford to now. My men and I will buy you some time.”
“Sir! Stormtroopers are on the attack! We need a medic!” a soldier yelled from outside. The medic, finished with Dawn’s treatment, ran out into the trenches. Her vision blurred and darkened, and a voice reverberated from the back of her head.
“These people are going to die…your people are going to die…all for you to escape and live…” the voice exclaimed.
“No, I don’t want anyone else to die because of me,” Dawn mumbled to herself, the edges of her clothing beginning to smolder, “first it was my village, then Jenkins, and Horton…”
“Then you need to fight. I have already given you my power, now you must use it,” the voice spoke, embers swirling around in the air, “Go, my vessel! Uphold the promise of your ancestors!”
Dawn’s eyes shot open, her irises glowing a bright silver. Her injuries seemed to burn away into glowing ash. She picked herself up, using the walls as support. Her breath was hot, and her clothes began to burn away into cinders. Her right hand began to swirl with white flames, and the skin rapidly healing and burning away.
Footsteps approached the shelter, accompanied by rapid gunfire. A friendly rifleman fell in front of the entryway, blood seeping into his coat from several bullet wounds. 3 soldiers clad in black wielding submachine guns rushed in before anyone could react. The stormtroopers raised their weapons, preparing to sweep the room.
“Get back!” Dawn shouted, throwing her fist forward.
The flames on her fist launched forward, flying though the air as a ball of white fire, and collided with the enemies. They instantly burst into flames, their bodies engulfed in white tongues of inferno. They shrieked and screamed, dropping their weapons and collapsing to the ground in a panic as they were burned alive.
Everyone in the room tuned to look at Dawn, who was breathing heavily. No one said a word, unsure of what to say. An explosion soon rocked the trench, causing dirt to fall from the ceiling.
“Sir!” a rifleman shouted from the trench, “they’ve got a tank!”
“No one else is going to die because of me,” Dawn growled, shuffling her feet toward the trench, climbing up the ladder to No Man’s Land, Lucatiel following close after.
She stood up tall as she stared down the hulking mass of armor that was approaching. Its cannon turned, aiming directly at Dawn. She quickly ducked to the right as it fired, the 30mm shell flying right past her head and exploding behind her. She ran forward, clenching her fists. They became wrapped in flames, her sleeves burning away entirely. She came right up against the tank, screaming and swinging a fist. The flames expanded and smashed against the flat wall of the tank, creating a small explosion. The front armor dented, and the whole vehicle slid back over the frozen ground, its back end slipping into the trench behind it.
Dawn yelled and swung her other fist, blasting more flames into the underside. The explosion broke through the weak bottom plate, and broke into the cabin. The flames shattered the shells on the inside of the tank, creating a massive detonation that blew the entire tank apart.
She looked to her left and right, where soldiers were taking aim at her. She wrapped her hands in flame again, smashing them into the ground. She growls and screams at the top of her lungs,“Inferna!”
The flames on her hands flared up, spreading quickly across the ground. They raced into the trenches, setting them alight. They covered the ground all over the area, the flames reaching several feet tall. Not to long after they started, the fire began dying down, leaving only small patches of fire in its wake.
Dawn dry heaved into the ground, trying to recover her breath. Her body felt weak, as if all the strength has been sapped from it. She looked up to find the hell she created, the smell of burning corpses permeating through the air. She had just killed countless people, but she saved countless others.
She pushed herself up on her feet. Taking deep breaths and trying to get her strength back. And then it hit her.
The sound of what sounded like a bee whizzed by, followed by a sharp, intense burning pain in her gut. It was unbearable, like someone had stabbed a red-hot spike into her body. She looked down to find blood seeping into what remained of her shirt, the blood contrasting against the white fabric.
Her vision blurred as she fell backwards into a crater. The sounds around her were muffled, and she felt nothing but pain. Lucatiel ran into her view from above, sliding down in the crater. She was yelling something but Dawn couldn’t understand a thing she said.
‘Good…I’m safe then…’ she thought, no longer fighting to remain awake. Her vision turned dark as her consciousness slipped away.
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
gummygunk
gamechangershow
romaincrisis
