Chapter 3

  The fire crackled gently on pieces of worn out coats and tough tailored hats of their dead comrades. They will not be needing them any time soon. The wounded laid silently, half of them consumed in an embracing, seducing darkness, with the thoughts of them waking up to see the light of day again no longer being a thought in Viktors mind. They were really dead… their hearts still declared their aliveness, but what good was a man on death's door for those who are barely living? It was best to let them die in the mountains glacial cold… He couldn’t bear the thoughts of finishing them off, he had the other half to worry about.

  The coldness that slowly penetrated the entrances of the cave, where those who were unconscious laid their to greet death, with those who had regained consciousness, and were willing to live, quilted in thick leather blankets from their bags, as they were all huddled up against the fire which Viktor played about with his left hand, his right hand sipping on a metal mug. It was a dark, silky smooth chocolate, a ration that was prescribed during the cold to keep hearts and faces warm. It really did the trick, with a milky taste ebbing down his throat as a tear trickled down his freckled face.

  To his left was Genwealth, the stubborn old man who refused to die. On his right was the Lieutenant, a really handsome fellow. Both were awake. The wings of the huddled group were alive, but they needed their sleep, their metal mugs either full, empty or barely empty, asleep as their pink noses blew out little plumes of condensation. It was eerily peaceful.

  Genwealth cleared his throat as he placed his mug to the side with his remaining arm;

  “Who would have thought the Goddess blessed us with the Priestesses apprentice… Napoleon, please tell me once more… I need to stay awake.” Viktor would have looked at Genwealth and sighed, then he looked at the handsome lieutenant who stared deeply into the fire… he clearly was immersed in his own thoughts.

  “So…” Viktors voice was no longer raspy, it was silky, feminine, it had the distinctness of stubbornness but had that shine of adventure. This was Napoleon, her face being slimmer, as the pieces of cotton that she filed her gums with were now used as fuel for the fireplace.

  “It came when me and the Priestess had a heated argument… I was so angry that I ran away from the temple. I ran to Viktor’s house, he was an old friend of mine and someone I knew I could trust… he was my confidant” She hugged her legs with one arm as she continued, feeling Genwealth listening attentively, very attentively.

  “He was surprised… so were his parents… That was when I learned that Viktor was to leave to join the army. A few days passed, as you know, and they were looking for me… Palace guardsman, Yeoman and the authorities. Everyone was looking for me.” With Napoleon looking up from the fire to the sound of Genwealths voice.

  “So you thought, on the day Viktor was to leave, you were to take his place…?- you foolish child.” Genwealth sighed, with Napoleon's cheeks blushing as she gripped her legs.

  “I am no child-”

  “But you are.” Napoleon would shoot a glance at Genwealth as he shook his head. “You’re just like my grand-daughter. You think you know better, and look at where it has landed you miss. You’re a lady… You’re a lady with so much responsibility, do you understand that? I’m glad my Erina had the second chance after she had done the foolish thing she did… but you’re the Priestesses apprentice. The Goddesses servant. You’re the beacon for the people and the fuel that will help the fires of millions to burn- You’re a maiden of fire.”

  “I understand that.” she insisted

  “But you do not! Instead of using your magic for the good of the lepers, you instead used it to deceive.. Changing your voice and your appearance. You had such a privileged life ahead of you… but you still ran.” Genwealths voice sounded weak. For being the oldman that he was, he retained the honesty of his generation and the love and compassion for his religion and country. Napoleon knew that. It was hard to object. Her eyelids sank, the feeling of remorse and regret eating away at her, with Genwealth stirring slightly.

  “I understand.” His old voice continued. “I should not be so harsh. The stunt would have been realised… we had reports of the the missing priestess and we were given a… tip that she could have joined the army… but then, his Majesty declared war on Zemlya”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “I’m sorry.” Napoleon would have replied, the gilt slowly crawled up into her throat, still seeing the displeasure on the furrowed brows of her superior, and the half-aliveness of everyone that was within the cave. Maybe the journey was cursed by the Goddess herself, as s sick, cruel and twisted punishment to remind Napoleon that her place in society was to stay at home, like all women were to do.

  “But what good is dwelling on the past and the what ifs? Were you not here, we all were surely to have died” The Lieutenant inserted himself into the conversation, with the fire slowly dimming as both would look at him.

  “I say we rest for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll make our way back to outpost Theta, with so few of us it should take us no longer than till Midday.” Silence would have consumed them once more. With the thought of returning home entering their minds. The few of them left would be incapable of capturing the objective inland. The offence on Stena could be in full swing. If the Second brigade failed to capture the Mountain fortress, then the whole campaign would have been for nothing. If they returned alive, in failure, then they would be as good as dead. The same could not be said for Napoleon. The whole affair would be brushed under the carpet, with herself returning to her normal duties.

  With the flick of a wrist the fire was extinguished, the comforting sound of rain lulling them to sleep.

  But Napoleon could not sleep. The whole night she was either half asleep or not at all, her red eyes focused onto the entrance of the cave as the jagged shadows of nearby mountains moved slowly like caped cultists. It was an odd sensation, the feeling of moving whilst being still, or falling, spinning and tumbling whilst in warmth. The cave became cooler and cooler as the sky became brighter and brighter. Then there were these disturbing screams that roused her from comfort, sounding like a she cat in heat, but the flapping of wings and the sheer incessant screaming made their names known. Valley vultures were already feeding on their dead, the thought of them gorging on unburied Ignian bodies, the sound of tearing and the image of the flesh of men being torn tumbled her tummy.

  Then, one of those wicked beasts walked with large strides towards the cave, its thick woolen furr and and grotesque deformed head staring down the entrance. It was huge, as big as a grey wolf that roams the Zemlyian plains, half the size of herself, and she was fairly tall. It locked eyes with Napoleon, its grotesque and malformed beak going down towards an abandoned body as it pulled at its clothes, slowly dragging him out of the entrance of the cave as Napoleon had her hand out, the urge of letting a fireball loose towards the sickening hellspawn, seeing it burn and scream and fail about. That thought gave her solace.

  She stood up gently and slowly to not wake up the others, the sickening urge to see those creatures suffer for breaking the covenant of burial burned in her mind. Her eyes slowly readjusted as she unsheathed her sabre, gently peering out the entrance as she saw the bird beginning to gorge on the body of the Private on the right. She would slowly approach, but she was none the wiser as one of the vultures from behind screamed out, alerting them all of her presence. A soon pause, and a quick maddening dash, with the bird running as its large, cumbersome body was unable to take flight fast enough, its wings spread out and flailing about, crying in fear as Napoleon closed the distance.

  (For reference, the Valley Vultures have really long legs with long, sharp talons. They can run, or hop, at a blistering 15km/h for short distances)

  Its sense of terror filled her with satisfaction as she drove the blade into it, her saber stabbed and slashed it several times, on and on and on as its cries for help slowly faded away as her saber became stained with its blood. Her saber would soon catch in a flame as she would continue to butcher the carcass, the satisfying sizzling and gurgling sound of its insides being cooked and boiled. Soon enough, she was exhausted, panting as a cold wind brushed against her short, matted hair.

  Had she gone mad? She grabbed the carcasses head with one hand as she sheathed her blade, dragging the body as she slowly made her way back to the cave. How long were they running for? Not for long surely. With the sound and talk of others being distinguishable. The comotion must have stirred them from their sleep.

  Gleefully, she picked up her pace, hoping that a warm meal to begin the morning sat well with their minds…

  A thundering volley was heard as soon as she passed the bend, the entrance of the cave being a few meters in front of her as… Zemlyians was all she saw.

  Non seemed to have noticed her presence, with two, of what seemed like officers seeming to have argued amongst themselves behind the firing line. They did not notice her.

  One of them, in a fit of anger, punched the other officer in the face, the man falling onto the floor in pure shock as the dark, green eyes of the others met hers. His grey nameplate, the ferocious bear roaring on his woolen hat.

  His angry expression softened up as his face mouthed in surprise.