Ashes of the Stars (3 page)

When an eternity finally ended and I reached the lowest step, the screams were so loud that I wanted to reach my hands up and cover my ears like I was the child. I could see a soft, pink baby blanket half hidden by my chair that sat by the fireplace. Inside of it there was no fire, the hearth was completely cold; I could see that clearly from the stairwell. I couldn’t see her, just her blanket. She was kicking and thrashing so hard it was a wonder the blanket was left on her at all. The baby had been placed on my andirons; she was smaller than a log. She was a tiny thing but she had the strength of a champion.

Something inside of me snapped. I could almost feel something breaking off in my mind but I didn’t have time to wonder what it was. I launched myself off of the stairs and toward the innocent baby who was sitting in my fireplace like kindling. I was vaguely aware, to some degree, that the crying and thrashing stopped as soon as my feet left the steps but I couldn’t stop the force of motion and I couldn’t stop to marvel at this new turn of events. I dropped to my knees when I did finally reach the fireplace and I felt my face crumple. I could feel the savage contortion of my features; my eyes were barely open as I let the burning hot tears sting my eyes and cheeks, my mouth was a pinched raisin, my forehead became a valley of wrinkles. The baby blanket remained pristine but wrapped inside were the charred, blackened bones of an infant. There was no doubting the very human, very tiny bones that made up her body. I didn’t know this baby, how could I? I didn’t know how I knew it was a girl aside from the blanket but I know I did this. I did it.

I didn’t know how long I stayed there sobbing at my fireplace and the remains of the child. Sometime after the tears had slowed, and my features had smoothed out, and I was quietly mourning this world’s loss, I realized that I had to bury this child. I had to put her to rest. Maybe that would save me from my ghosts.

I reached my hand slowly towards the fireplace. I saw her, I knew she was there, but I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to feel the evil I’d done to her rip free of her bones and take root in my heart where so much evil already lived like a black, lifeless stone, but I knew I had to. I had to reclaim what was mine. My hand barely crossed into the fireplace when there was a sudden whoosh of noise like a gust of wind. I felt my heart stutter and I lost my balance, falling backwards on my butt. The child, in a puff of smoke, was gone and replaced by a roaring fire. I could feel the heat of the flames, I could feel the sweat dripping off of my body and mingling with my tears. There was no child in my fireplace, there was only the fire that I set and stoked before I left for mission preparations.

I lifted my trembling hand towards the fire though now I was not close enough to touch it, and I felt a slow, shuddering breath leave my body. I closed my eyes against the things living inside of me. They felt like they were outside now, like they were looking in and I was the living thing inside of them.

My world was nothing but kill or be killed, though the world hadn’t always been that way. Some camps, I’d imagine, could go on for a very long time without being attacked or even discovered. There were books that had been recorded by people who lived in both the old and the new worlds. We used to be civilized people for the most part. Sure, there was war and murder and other atrocities done by man to man. The world was coming to an end anyway, they said. The people had used up so many natural resources; fear and greed reigned towards the end and war broke out everywhere. Nations attacked other nations and turned cities and towns to dust. The numbers recorded by survivors for the casualties were in the billions. I, in my twenty short years of life, could never fathom so many people living in the world at once.

There were two types of people in the world. There were people like me, who lived under the Legion’s militaristic reign and people who lived freely under the Clash’s reign. Most of us never really had a choice about which side we fought for; it was mostly a matter of parentage. It was said that a man named Adam Tchaikovsky survived the old war, and once the dust settled, he believed that the world needed to be rebuilt on law and order, simplicity, and harsher punishments for wrong-doers. He believed that the easy-going nature of law enforcement in the old world was what led to its nearly ultimate destruction. He created the Legion and called his people Legionnaires.

One of Adam’s friends, a man named Thomas Cendara, disagreed with Adam in almost every way. He believed that it was the law and restriction that led to the end of the world as they knew it. He believed total freedom was the way to save humanity. And thus, the Clash was born.

They parted ways with their own followers and hearts full of hatred towards each other. Adam and Thomas didn’t disagree on everything. They both believed that some things should never be brought from the old world into the new one ever again. Anything that used up an excess of resources that could put the world in danger again like automobiles, mass production of food, books, and electricity were considered extravagant conveniences not necessary for the continuation of humanity. They both believed that if they took something from the earth, like a tree for a building or fire, that a new, young tree should be planted in its place. They both agreed on one more thing: should the others’ group remain alive and well with followers, the world could never have peace. The new war was born, and two hundred years later it still raged on.

Children who grew up with the Legion’s influence learned this story and were taught it repetitively over many years until the story became almost like a rhythm in their heads. Thomas’s Clash was bad, they made sure we knew that. Freedom could never bring peace because there could never be an end to the atrocities if there were never any punishments for them. We grew up to call members of the Clash
zealots
and that was all they ever were to us.

Ceid’s report about the place my team needed to scout was vague. He could tell that the people who inhabited the large town weren’t Legionnaires but he couldn’t tell if they were Zealots either. They seemed to have order, he’d claimed. They lived like the wild and free people of the Clash but he couldn’t find the typical chaos in it. He warned me of the guards that this new town had posted on its outskirts. They changed hands every night after sundown and every morning before sun up; they were armed and seemed prepared to attack.

At dawn before my team left, guards allowed entrance to some stragglers who had sought shelter in my city. They were Legionnaires, they had survived an attack from the Clash a few nights prior. They were all that was left of their city. It was a shock to our system that the enemy had attacked so close to home but we weren’t so rattled that we were nervous to leave our home on our mission. The Clash attacking a Legionnaire camp was as common as us attacking theirs; it didn’t seem unusual or strange, it was just another part of this life.

The journey to this new camp would take roughly seven days, depending on pace and weather. We had no faster means of travelling than on foot, though I heard once that in less extreme environments people were able to travel on horses. For us, every journey that we took ended up taking however long our slowest soldier walked. It wasn’t unusual to walk a few hundred miles in about a week’s time. On the journey I could sense the restlessness of my team. They didn’t like scouting if only because they didn’t like the uncertainty of whether we would be invading or not.

I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t close my eyes, couldn’t allow the nightmare to invade my body after whatever it was that had happened in my house. Sure, I would lay down in my tent at night and I would close my eyes against the bitterly cold air, but I didn’t allow myself to doze for longer than an hour, certainly not long enough to dream or remember it, at least. After two days of Finn noticing my lack of sleep and casting worried glances my way, I made him go sleep in his own tent.

We were only two days out from the new camp when we crossed into the hot and humid jungle territory. The wild overgrowth of trees and vines was amazing to look at, no matter how many times I saw it. It was just
so
bright, it almost hurt my eyes to look at. We traded our white uniforms for special jungle green and brown camouflage uniforms: same style cargo pants, tank tops, and body paint that we usually ended up sweating off halfway through the day. We abandoned our packs and tents at the edge of the jungle where we entered and where we would leave. We were out of our element, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. I could only hope that this journey was worth all of the discomfort that we did suffer.

Chapter Three

The town was as strange as Ceid had described. When we arrived, some of my team climbed high up in the trees to watch down below, but most of us stayed close to the ground. The town was big, as I’d expected, but that was the extent of my expectations being met. The town seemed to fit perfectly into a flat stretch of the valley, encircled with steep hills. Some of the trees had been cleared away, but in most of the ones left standing were houses built high up and around the trees themselves. On the ground level were streets of buildings all built around the trees in the same fashion as the houses. Some of the buildings stood by themselves and, even when we first arrived, smoke could be seen escaping these buildings as if fires were raging inside despite the heavily humid, hot air.

The guards that Ceid had mentioned were posted on flat boards built up into the trees. They faced away from the town and the guards were very strict in paying attention only to the jungle itself. It didn’t help them to notice us, I noticed. At midday, someone brought food around to each of the six guards. It appeared to be the only point of the guards’ watch that they slacked in their duties.

There was a massive green field with clipped and beautifully green grass at the west end of the town. It seemed that people who had nothing better to do hung out there. It also appeared that these people took their meals there.

I watched and waited along with everyone else. Some of my team drifted off to sleep in their sleeping bags after dark. When the darkness surrounded me, I finally stood up from my position and walked over to lean against a tree. I couldn’t hear Finn’s approach, but I could sense it, and I wasn’t startled when he appeared in my peripheral vision.

“I’ll watch, you sleep,” Finn whispered to me.

“I’m fine,” I whispered back to him. I watched the town below with my arms crossed at my chest. They had fires burning in sconces built into the trees; they were far enough away from the wood that there wasn’t much danger of a wildfire. The people had mostly drifted away to their individual homes but there were some stragglers that remained outside. I didn’t watch them very closely, there was no need. We’d been here for a full day and they still hadn’t noticed us.

“Aili, you need to sleep,” Finn’s tone was desperate despite the nearly silent volume.

“Go away,” I hissed. I tilted my head to the side as I watched a fire burning below. It reminded me too much of the newborn I had murdered in cold blood so I looked quickly away, feeling a shudder rip through me.

“Tell me what happened. Why won’t you sleep? Is it the nightmare?” Finn questioned me. He stepped closer and placed a hot, sweaty hand just above my elbow. I could feel the intensity of his gaze as he looked down at me.

“I
said
go away,” I turned my head just barely enough for him to see the cold glare I’d arranged my features into. Finn dropped his hand and took a deep, shuddering breath before he walked away from me.

I wasn’t the only one who stayed up all night that night. My team had worked out an inconsistent routine of sleeping for a few hours and then switching with others who had stayed awake. I slept in my sleeping bag for about an hour, but I was leaning against the tree again when Finn finally got up at dawn’s break. I saw his worried glances but I ignored them as best as I could.

After two weeks of watching and waiting in silence, I still hadn’t made up my mind about these people. I’d left scouting mode and gone into decision-making mode but nothing was coming to me. It was the middle of the day and I was watching the simplicity of their living. I finally understood that most of these people worked jobs, there were hunting parties that came and went on a rotation, cooks, clothiers, everything you could imagine it would take to make a small civilization run smoothly. There wasn’t chaos the way the Zealots usually lived, but there wasn’t quite the same order that Legionnaires lived with. I couldn’t go back home without proof that they were friendly but I couldn’t attack them without proof that they were enemies. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure how to proceed.

It was then that I heard the noise, a small, almost buzzing sound. At first I thought it must be coming from the town below but I knew after just a minute that it was coming from closer than that. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. I heard people start whispering, trying to figure out who was giving away our position.

I pushed up from the ground, no longer caring about whether the guards saw me or not. My anger hit me out of nowhere, like a slap in the face, and any rational sense seemed to escape me then. I jumped to my feet silently like a jungle cat just as Finn was pushing his torso away from the dirty ground. I walked calmly towards the humming voice. It was rapid, it sounded panicked and crazed even without words to go along with the melody. There was always at least one on a scouting mission that went nearly crazy from the lack of direction.

I found her sitting by a tree, facing away from the town. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and she was rocking back and forth, not seeing anything as she slammed back against the tree. I could sense the stillness in the air from my team all around me, even the ones high up in the trees, as if no one dared to even breathe. The girl didn’t notice me even as I stood beside her. My hand shot out and gripped a handful of the girl’s shoulder-length brown hair. I felt her hair tearing out in places as I hauled her to her feet.

“Captain!” Finn hissed behind me. The girl’s eyes were wide with fear and she’d yelped in pain. It was a quick, high-pitched screech. I heard gasps filling the air behind me as they watched. I couldn’t bring myself to care about the town below, I had nearly forgotten about them. I was seeing red, the anger rushed through my veins and ripped the air out of my mouth with gasping hisses. The lack of sleep and frustration of my mind warping was finally bleeding out of me and this poor girl was going to get the brunt of it.

I slammed her against the tree and heard the air rushing out of her body. She whimpered and closed her eyes in fear. I knew what I looked like. My hair was loose around my shoulders and hanging halfway down my back looking like blood in a fire. My camouflage paint was mostly sweated off of my body, and my eyes were wide with anger. This girl was new, I didn’t even know her name.

“What the
fuck
is wrong with you?” I growled at the girl. When she didn’t respond, I jerked her away from the tree and slammed her back into it again. “When your
Captain
asks you a question, you fucking answer.”

“Captain, please,” Finn pleaded desperately behind me.

“I-I…” The girl whimpered. She was being much too loud; there was no way the guards weren’t alerted to us now.

“You-You,” I mocked the girl.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” The girl had clearly lost her mind.

I tightened my grip on her throat. I could feel the tendons giving way beneath my unrelenting grip.

“Stop!” Someone yelled. They weren’t part of my team, that much was obvious. The person was one of the guards who had taken his place that morning. I turned my head to the side along with my glare and gaped at the man who had dared to interrupt me. Like everyone else we’d seen that inhabited the strange town, he wore no uniform. He had a simple face with small features, a trace of paleness left under the mild tan on his skin. I’d never seen this man before in my life but I could tell he was once a Legionnaire; he was a deserter, an enemy. His hands were empty and held up towards me, palms forward as a show of peace. His weapons still hung from his belts.

It was too late to make a decision now and this guard clearly meant no harm. Perhaps he knew he would be the first to die should he draw his weapon. We were either going to have to destroy this camp or make peace with them somehow. I kept my hand on the girl’s throat, I could hear her trying to take air into her body without much success, but my eyes stayed locked onto the guard’s.

“Captain,” Finn hissed. I could hear the movement of my team as they got to their feet behind me.
Hearing
them only fueled my anger; they were supposed to be silent unless noise was absolutely unavoidable.

“We mean you no harm,” The guard said slowly as if I couldn’t comprehend, “Please, release the girl and come speak with our leaders.”

I didn’t react immediately, I took a moment to consider his words. They meant
us
no harm? But a diplomatic conversation between leaders was one of the options I’d considered and here was the perfect opportunity presented to me.

“Please,” The guard begged again.  His desperation to save a stranger, no matter what she’d done, cooled my anger and reignited my fear of ghosts. I couldn’t let this girl become another one who would surely haunt me. I let go of her and she collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. I flexed my hand as I tried to relax my stiff muscles.

“Fine,” I said to the guard as I straightened my spine. “Your leader.”

He nodded once and dropped his hands back to his sides. I followed him slowly, feeling Finn walking closely behind me. The rest of my team fell into two lines behind us as we trailed the guard down the hill. Any activity in the town died, they were all silent with fear, and the other guards had left their posts and waited at the ready. I eyed the strange people cautiously but I didn’t try to hide the residual anger in my cold eyes. I was sure that, to them, I appeared as wild and blood-thirsty as a beast. I felt like I was becoming unhinged at the very core of my being.

As the guard walked us right into their town, I tried to distract myself with thoughts of my tattoo. It covered my shoulder and spread down my arm. When I’d told the artist what I’d wanted he’d nodded his acceptance and he’d proceeded to work on the best piece of body art I’d ever seen on any human being. Black flames climbed my arm from my elbow up, and wrapping around my shoulder was a series of ghosts wrapping around a scythe. Even before I became a Captain I was known as the Reaper, and I’d wanted my body to show exactly what I was.

The people of the town had lined the dirt paths to watch my team filter into their town. Some watched us from the safety of their work buildings, from open doorways and windows cut out in the wood. Some looked on with eyes pierced with fear, others with disdain, and others still with pure, unfiltered rage. We walked on in silence, and after a while I stopped looking at the people of the town and just watched the guard’s back with my chin haughtily lifted in the air.

He led us to the huge meadow where a small group of men waited patiently. They were clearly nervous but they were also clearly well-versed in this occurrence. I took note of the two men on the sides first. One had long, loose, brown hair with a streak of white as plain as day on only one side. He didn’t appear to be much older than me, but the deep tan to his skin was starting to wrinkle in places. He seemed the most relaxed out of the three. The man to the right made me freeze in place. I’d never seen him before in this life but I knew his face, somehow. His long, jet black hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck, his green eyes almost perfectly matched the jungle around us. His skin was golden brown, but not as if he’d spent too much time in the sun; his skin looked like the sun itself lived in his blood. He stood stiffly off to the side and when his eyes met mine they widened and stayed that way.

It was the man in the center that scared me the most. Though I wanted to keep my eyes on the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, I looked to the man who was clearly the leader. He had short cropped, golden hair and tanned skin, his eyes a chocolatey brown. He neither looked stiff nor relaxed, but his eyes followed my every movement with the same wide-eyed fear as the beautiful man’s. As I approached I could see the center man’s hands were trembling.

“Captain?” The guard had stopped and turned around to face me.

I bowed my head slightly towards him as if out of respect. “Renault.”

“Captain Renault, this is Whitestrand, Kai, our version of your Lieutenant, and our leader, Kieran,” The guard introduced us. I mostly noticed Kai, the beautiful man, and Kieran, the man who was apparently terrified of me.

“Captain Renault,” Whitestrand was the first to recover and stepped out of line to stand before me. He reached his hand out. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I’m sure,” I shook his hand firmly and let my hand drop back to my side. “Do you have a real name?”

“I’m sure I do,” He chuckled, unoffended. “But it has been so long that I no longer recall it.”

I felt a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips but I forced it back. I glanced over my shoulder and Finn stepped up to my side. I cleared my throat to force the rest of the smile away and waved my hand loosely at Finn. “My Lieutenant, Morse.”

“Pleasure, Lieutenant Morse,” Whitestrand bowed his head slightly to Finn before looking back at me. He gave me the once over and then he teepeed his hands under his chin. He narrowed his eyes as if in thought, and finally when he spoke, my rage came back almost in full force. “You’re the one they call the Reaper.”

Somewhere under my rage I could hear Finn clear his throat. “I see we’re past the formalities.”

“I apologize,” Whitestrand’s tone conveyed his sincerity. “I did not realize that this nickname was unacceptable. It
is
your most popular moniker.”