A Long Journey Home, Paths of Life
#7 of A long journey home
Alrighty the seventh and final part of AbleArcher's request. I hope you enjoy it.
As always, comments are appreciated and requested.
Continued from 'the Essence of Fate'...
Even as the officer drew his saber and lifted it into the air above his head, Lucas had drawn a cartridge from his box, biting off the end with the ball, the familiar sour taste of gunpowder upon his lips. The other men in the formation drew their swords and spread out, forming the wedge he had seen so often and Lucas poured a thin stream of powder into the pan, snapping it shut, then allowed the long barrel to slide beneath his hands, the butt thudding into the ground. The officer lowered his blade, the formation starting forward at a walk, and Lucas poured the rest of the powder down the barrel. The villagers were starting to panic, starting to run, scattering, most sprinting for the little cover the village offered but it was far too great a distance; they would never reach it in time. Even as he saw this, Lucas wrapped the ball in its patch of greased leather with the speed of man who has done it thousands of times while under pressure, swiftly and surely pressing the patch around the metallic sphere. The formation of dragoons was trotting now, its ordered lines starting to spread out in preparation for the charge and Lucas rammed the round down the barrel, forcing it down the grooved metal tube, all the time running at full tilt. The officer was starting to point his sword forward, his steed aiming right for Olivia, drawing a breath to call for the final charge and Lucas skidded to a halt, kneeling in the same motion and drawing a bead even as his finger pulled the trigger back to half cock. There was no time to think, no time to judge logically, it was all up to instinct and experience now.
Just as the officer started to call out the command to charge, the distinctive sharp crack of Lucas' rifle, so different from the dull thunder of a musket or a carbine, echoed in the air and the officer jerked upright as if he had been kicked. Then, he fell backward, his sword falling from his hand even as he slipped to the side out of the saddle, his horse swerving out of line, and the formation suddenly wheeled about, seeking the unexpected threat. Even as they turned, wheeling around in confusion, Lucas was halfway through reloading his rifle, already wrapping the second shot in its patch, his green uniform with its black trim hiding him against the green background. By the time the squadron was rallying back into formation, chivvied along by the swords of the non-coms in the ranks, Lucas was drawing a bead. Another sharp crack rang out and a corporal slipped from his saddle, throwing the lines into yet more confusion as they all stared around, seeking the source of the fire. And then, exactly as the rifleman had hoped, a group of the inexperienced horsemen turned their horses about and galloped away, desiring only to get away from the mysterious and deadly enemy that they couldn't see. Only about a dozen remained, the hardened core of the company, the veterans. And as they formed up, spotting the smoke from his rifle, and began to ride quickly towards him, Lucas recognized the man who led them.
It was Sergeant Maddox, the spell weaver's jaw set grimly. He, like only a true veteran could, had recognized the distinctive sound of a rifle. He also knew that riflemen tended to shoot leaders first, sniping them at range. He knew that the next shot was probably meant for him. And Lucas knew, as he poured the powder from a third cartridge down the barrel of his rifle, that there was only one thing a cavalryman would do in such a situation. Moments later, the sergeant shouted for his men to charge, urging his horse into a full on gallop. Lucas knew he would only get one more shot before they would be on him, so after he had rammed the wrapped bullet down with his ramrod, he took a few extra seconds to draw the long sword bayonet from its scabbard and slot it into place, turning his rifle into a deadly spear. Then, standing up in full view of the cavalrymen, he took aim once more. And then, he saw Maddox's face light up with recognition.
Acting solely on a hunch, Lucas let his aim drift off the sergeant, picking a new target instead. And his hunch paid off a moment later as Maddox reined in his horse, shouting a halt to the others. Most listened, checking their steeds and circling back to from up with him once more. Two didn't. Lucas' final shot downed one of them, a grizzled man whose grey hair had come loose from under his shako, spilling about him as he fell like so many cobwebs. And then, as Lucas lowered the still smoking rifle to his hip, preparing to fight the last charging man hand to hand, he realized why this one wouldn't hold back. He too had recognized the green jacketed rifleman. It was Private Hodges, the sentry that Lucas had gotten in trouble back at the road block. And, as he bore down on him, Lucas knew that he wasn't going to be called off, not even if Maddox had tried to stop him. But Lucas put that thought out of his head. He had faced down a charging horseman before, and he knew what the young and inexperienced recruit didn't.
All cavalry expected lone infantry to scatter when they charged, running for cover, but experienced infantrymen knew better than that. Panicking and running away only left you open. Instead, to survive when alone, a soldier had to hold still, had to wait, though it took every ounce of courage to do so. As the cavalryman bore down on him, Lucas stayed put, coolly waiting for the right moment despite the hammering beat of his heart, time seeming to slow down as the dragoon got closer and closer. Everything else faded into the background until it was just Lucas and Hodges, soldier to soldier. And then, just when it was almost too late, just when it looked like the horse would run him down, Lucas leapt aside, his hands jabbing with the bayonet as the horse sped past him, the thunder of its hooves nearly deafening, the razor sharp blade flashing in the sunlight. The rifleman felt the blade catch on something, but he didn't try and stop it, allowing the momentum of the charging horseman to carry him around, nearly ripping the rifle from his hands. And then, as he dropped to one knee, facing the opposite way he had been, time seemed to speed up once more. Lucas saw the charging man clutch at his side as his horse slowed down, the reins falling from his hand, his orange jacket turning red as blood blossomed from beneath his fingertips. And then, he slumped to one side, falling from the saddle.
Lucas rose into a crouch, drawing a deep breath of relief. That was one trick that few soldiers could master, and one that he had thankfully learned very quickly, when dealing with Kindrin cavalry outriders during the siege of Constantine. Setting himself, Lucas came forward towards the fallen soldier, his bayonet tipped rifle held at the ready to finish the wounded man. Hodges was starting to recover, his gaze locked upon his tormentor, scrambling for his saber with one hand as his other tried to stem the blood from the wound in his side. The orange jacketed cavalryman managed to get a hold of his weapon and then struggled up to his feet, but Lucas knew that it was futile. The young man was dying even as he struggled to come near enough to attack. Hodges managed a few steps on his feet, then he faltered, falling forward, the saber clattering to the ground. Lowering his weapon, Lucas walked to the fallen man's side and then knelt, turning him over so his eyes looked skyward.
He still lived, but barely, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his eyes glassy as they stared towards the sunlit heavens above him, though what they saw there, Lucas couldn't imagine. It wouldn't be long for him now and Lucas laid his rifle aside, unable to do anything but watch as the young man died. And, finally, as the cavalryman drew a last rattling breath, his chest becoming still as his life left him, Lucas was suddenly struck by the futility of what had just happened. He hadn't needed to die. If Hodges had just listened to sergeant Maddox he wouldn't have had to kill him, but still, it had been he who had killed the young man, and he had done it without hesitation.
It had been easy, something he had done before, almost a practiced motion. And finally, as he closed the man's eyes and pushed himself to his feet once again, Lucas made his decision. He would abandon the soldier he had been, and hopefully he would never need to take another life again. Leaving his weapon on the ground beside the fallen soldier, Lucas let out a breath in a deep sigh, looking around. The veteran cavalrymen that had remained on the field were gathering around their sergeant, who was speaking in a low voice to them, perhaps explaining the situation, but Lucas took it as a good sign that they had all sheathed their sabers. And then, even as the sergeant separated from his men, riding slowly towards where he stood, he felt Olivia slide her arm through his own, the ferret girl having turned back towards him when she saw him take on the cavalry.
Lucas looked over at his young lover and managed a slight smile at the look on her face. He saw admiration, relief that they had survived and the haunting remnants of the terror of the surprise attack in her gaze, but above all, he saw the joy that it was over. Pulling her close and trapping her in a hug, Lucas felt his smile widen, holding her to him as his racing heart calmed in the aftermath of the fight. When a shadow fell over them a few minutes later, Lucas looked up and found Maddox sitting astride his horse beside them, staring down at the odd pair with a faint smile on his lips. Releasing her, Lucas looked up at the veteran sergeant and nodded once in respect.
"Sergeant." He said. The spell weaver swallowed a little, looking at the girl that stood next to the young rifleman, staring defiantly up at him.
"Finch, what the devil is going on here?" He began, his gaze shifting to the fallen private who lay beside them. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in? And who or what is this?"
"This is Olivia, my girlfriend." Lucas replied, looking up at the older sergeant once again, daring him to challenge Lucas's choice. "And the rest of these people are the villagers who lived in Keirnan. Sometime during the war, a couple of strange men came to my village with a gigantic spellstone. And though no one could tell why, they shattered it, and the magic contained within it changed everyone in the village into mixtures between humans and animals. It took a master alchemist months of hard work to give them back their humanity, and even he couldn't figure out how to reverse it and make them human again." To his surprise, Maddox didn't look surprised at the explanation, but instead looked grave.
"There was a rumor circulating among the alchemists in the military a while back," He began looking saddened. "That a faction in the Kindrin Empire had constructed the largest spellstones in existence, and that one of them had disappeared all of a sudden in the middle of the war. We all worried about what they had done with it, but we never thought they would do something so foolish as to break it. Perhaps they thought it would be the ultimate weapon." The sergeant paused, shaking his head. Lucas could only imagine what would have happened if they had decided to use such a thing on an army, or worse a city. The chaos that would have caused would have been horrible. "Well, I wonder what I am going to tell my superiors about this one. I certainly can't tell them that there is a village of hybrids up here. They would tear this village apart at the very least."
"I know, I know." Lucas said, looking down and pondering the problem. He had hoped that it wouldn't become an issue, since, if things had gone the way they were supposed to, the village would have been moved up into the mountains by the time anyone came looking for them. And then, a realization burst within his mind and he smiled, raising his head. "Why don't you go back and tell them that the crystal turned this whole area into a wasteland so changed by magic that anyone who enters it will be killed. Tell them that the men who died went crazy and had to be killed because they disregarded your warning not to enter it." For a moment, the older sergeant looked skeptical, then his gaze broke into a grin.
"Alright. I think, coming from an alchemist, they would probably believe it." Maddox said, leaning forward and resting his hands on the pommel of his saddle. "But still corporal, you have to know that it won't hold as an excuse forever, and it is too much to ask of one man, even a rifleman, to keep these people safe and secret."
"We know all that." Lucas replied, offering up his hand to the older soldier. "We are moving the village way up into the mountains, where only we can find it."
"And what do I tell anyone who asks about you?" Maddox asked, taking his hand and shaking it. "As you know, we have you on record as heading this way."
"Well sergeant," Lucas began, looking down at his lover as she laid her head on his shoulder. "Just tell them you couldn't find me. Chosen Man Lucas Finch of the Irnathi Rifles just disappears."
"I hope you two live a long, happy life Finch," Maddox said, turning his horse and urging it back towards the other dragoons. "And you will pardon me when I say I hope we don't see each other again."
"And you." Lucas replied, watching as he collected the rest of the cavalry and, with the bodies of the fallen soldiers strapped to the saddles of their horses, rode off out of sight in pursuit of the rest of the squadron that had ran off. As the last of them disappeared into the trees, Olivia smiled, rubbing her head against Lucas' neck.
"That sergeant was a good man, really." She said and Lucas nodded. Then, the ferret girl looked up at him and, in a quiet voice, spoke again. "Did you really mean what you said just now?"
"Yes." Lucas replied. "From this moment on, I am a soldier no more." Then, arm in arm, the pair walked back towards the ruined village, and then on towards their new home...
***
Lucas laid the wreath of woven lilies upon the snow covered mound before him, a smile coming unbidden to his lips. It was the heart of the winter, and the mountains were covered with their annual blanket of brilliant white snow, with more drifting down slowly from the heights, laying dust down upon the shoulders of his heavy winter coat and his woolen cap. He was standing on the edge of the highest point on the ridge overlooking the ruins of their former village. More and more, the village was becoming indistinguishable from the high plain upon which it rested. There was nothing down there of any value to the villagers anymore. In fact, he was the only member of the new village of Keirnan who came this close to the outside world anymore. Behind him, towering out of the trees that slumbered beneath their load of winter snow, was Lucien's tower. It was shut up tight, the long trailing vines of ivy that had crept their way up the sides now brittle with ice. No light had shone in the tower's windows since late autumn, when its owner had left it for the last time.
Reaching out with his gloved hands, Lucas brushed the snow from the face of the tombstone, revealing the finely carved owl wings that graced its surface near the top, just above the name. Lucien now lay beneath the earth at his feet and Lucas had to admit that he missed the old owl. The old alchemist had lasted for two months after the cavalry raid, living just long enough to see that the village was on its way to being resurrected in the mountain valley. The spell creating the potion that had saved the Keirnans had taken everything he had to give, draining the strength of his body until he could no longer fight off the end. With his health failing and his old age finally catching up with him, he had finally passed on after almost a hundred and fifty years of life. He had died peacefully in his sleep and Lucas had suggested that they bury him here, the beautiful vista having been one of his favorites towards the end. He and Lucas had spent many hours sitting here, enjoying the view while they talked about things that worried them, striking up an easy friendship so unlike the relationship they had had while being a student and his teacher.
The villagers had been busy all autumn, and there was still work to be done, putting the finishing touches on the new village. In the coming year, it would be completed, but for now, everyone hunkered down in their homes, awaiting the thaw of spring that was still months off. And though Lucas and Olivia had finished their own cozy home in the lily-lined gully before the first snows, he was still very busy, with good reason of course.
It had been after Lucien's funeral that Olivia had revealed the secret that had kept him busy for so long. When everyone else had drifted back to the new village after the funeral, she had finally whispered that she was pregnant, and it hadn't taken them long to realize when they had conceived. After thinking about it for a while, they had realized that she must have been in heat the first time they had loved, and despite the fact that Lucas wasn't a hybrid, he was apparently close enough. She would have come with him to visit Lucien's grave, but she was so far along that she wouldn't have been able to make the hike up the ridge in the snow. It wouldn't be long now until she gave birth and Lucas couldn't help but smile at the thought. He had never been so happy as he was now, especially since no one from the outside world had been seen since Maddox had led his cavalrymen away and it seemed that, for now at least, the lie was holding.
"I think you would like the way the village looks Lucien." He said into the silent snow fall, looking at the gravestone once more. Lucas liked to think that, where Lucien was now, he could hear him. He missed his old teacher now more then ever, and wished that he could talk to him about fatherhood. He had a feeling that the owl man would have had some advice on the subject. "Olivia will be giving birth soon. I wish you were here, but I guess you earned this rest old friend." Smiling, he felt the breeze stir the swirling snow, caressing his bare face. "I guess I should be getting home now. Rest well Lucien."
Turning his back on the vista, the young man walked away, down the well trodden path, back towards the foot of the ridge. Outside the mountains, the rest of the world could have died and Lucas wouldn't have cared. Here, in these mountains, he had all he wanted. The rifle he had carried sat above the mantle he had constructed in his new home, untouched since he hung it there all those months ago, and if he had his way, nothing would take it from its place again...
The End.