Bullets whizzed past my ear leaving a wake of piercing wails and blotches of blood splashed across my face. I turned my eye from the enemy to the havoc behind. Marcus was screaming words I couldn't interpret. As the soldiers began to crawl back, I found myself alone facing the wave of gunfire with only Francis at my side. Marcus' words ruptured my concentration, "Fall back, fall back! I say, you are ordered to fall back.'

There was nothing to do but obey. I kicked Francis ahead of me. He had this awful habit of waiting for me to go first. I hated this, seeing him as my little brother, I didn't wish him to be taken just as my back was turned. I always made him go first in a retreat or last in a charge.

By the time we reached Marcus, I realised I should have followed his orders sooner. The look on his face was enough to unsettle any stomach. The chance for conversation was cut off by the cracking of an explosion on our right. We were rained with bits of earth and flesh. Like a hailstorm, roots and stones were tossed in a whirlpool fashion sending every member of the militia to grovel in the firm mud. With the commander bellowing orders, we were dared to rise in the line of bullets and run back to our camp.

I dashed into the last remaining thicket of trees, the earth shaking beneath my feet. The ground was a mass of mud and trickles of blood. One could hardly move and I found myself lying face down in sludge. I saw Francis run past, for a moment I held back the cry of reproach. Wiping the mud from my face, I let Marcus help me up. The sounds began to grow dim and distant; the terrors of the Dark Lord lifted as soon as the trees gave way to a ruined fortress. The sun peeked from behind the stormy clouds, enshrining the camp with a hint of hope. We had survived another battle.

The Dark Lord couldn't break the shine of our fort. His powers were no competition to what protected us within these walls. The Light penetrated every crack and crevice, holding us firmly together.

The passage to the mess hall was layered with dirt and blood.Some militia lay groaning in the dirt, awaiting the hermit. A young boy quivered before me. I reached into my pocket–the apple was still there–and handed it to him.

‘Bear?’ The matron stepped in my path. ‘Once you’re cleaned up, you are to clean this passage.’

I nodded, not daring to glance at the floor again. I pushed past her to the mess hall.

‘Christi! Lyn!’ I said, seeing the two girls sipping tea. Their hard embraces shocked me.

‘You’re alive! Thank the Light!’ said Christi, examining me carefully.

‘How was it out there? Bad?’ said Lyn. Both Christi and Lyn, from the area around my village, were new recruits and hadn’t been sent out. The matron kept them as cleaners, cooks, and nurses. I often thought how lucky they were. Here I was a woman traipsing through mud and avoiding fatal blows.

‘Lyn, pray you never have to leave this room.’ I patted her shoulder and moved to the table.

Marcus and Francis were chewing on the miserable pottage. Haggard they looked bending over the table, barely able to stand. I pushed two mugs toward them. The gentle smiles warmed my heart. My two field comrades hadn’t lost hope yet.

‘I was talking with one of the lads, apparently the commander is sending out a special team to finally eliminate the Dark Lord and his hoard,’ said Marcus.

‘If he asks for voluntaries, would you go?’ I asked.

He didn’t meet my gaze. ‘Of course, if I am fit.’

I took a hasty swig of tea and flinched as the hot liquid scalded my tongue. It was better to feel that pain, than the thought of losing my friend.

‘It will be a suicide mission,’ mumbled Francis.

I agreed. ‘The Dark Lord, if he realises he is losing, will take any victim to heal his wounded pride.’

‘So be it. Something must be done. I can’t abide by this anymore.’ Marcus’ voice sent an alarm bell ringing in my head. The possibility that he mentioned and created the mission for the commander was fresh in my head.

‘Marcus, sometimes patience and fortitude are better than reeklessness.’

‘Those are one thing alright. But this isn’t reckless. He is crushing us to the bone. How many were lost in our last march? Half the team. A fight, one on one, will end this famine of death. Perhaps then, we will at last be free. I would rather die than see my friends taken at my side, one by one, second by second.’

He met my gaze then and I saw what I feared. Nothing would change his mind.