He purposefully ignored the part where she called him handsome and the way it made him want to stand taller and pull his shoulders back. He gave her an exaggerated smile. “Like this?”
A bark of laughter escaped her mouth, and Celesta quickly covered it. “I take it back! You look like you’re in pain. Maybe the dark and brooding mien is better after all, Alexander.”
“Alex. My friends call me Alex.” He wasn’t sure why the admission came pouring out of his mouth, but it was too late now to take it back.
Celesta stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened as she gasped dramatically and put her hand to her chest, the end of the sleeve flapping comically as she did so. “I’m your friend? I am honored, Alex.”
He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Keep walking, Sugar Plum.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept moving forward. He was sure he would come to regret the warmth that spread through his chest when she said his name, but for now, he basked in the feeling.
So much for keeping his eyes on the goal.
Alex trailed behind Celesta as she navigated through the streets of Arboris. The way the city was built, up as well as out, he was certain that it would take him years before he could find his way without help. The trees all looked much the same from one street to another, and even with the signs giving directions, it would be all too easy to get turned around.
Night had fallen, and the way was lit by lamps hanging from the lowest branches of the trees. Their warm, flickering light gave the forest a magical, almost unearthly glow. Music drifted down from the treetops, the pure, delicate sounds of reed flutes and the dulcet tones of harps held together by the light, energetic rhythms of hand drums and tambourines. The music fit with the surroundings, as wild and bright as the trees and birds around them.
The trees became sparser and the ground covering thicker as they went. Alex knew little of forestry, but it was clear enough to see that they were entering a part of Arboris that was newer, as the trunks of the trees were significantly smaller around and the paths not nearly as well-worn.
“We’re almost there,” Celesta called over her shoulder cheerfully. “I can smell the smoke from the fireplaces. Since most of the buildings in this part of the city are on the ground level, they aren’t quite as opposed to having open flames. Now, in the older sections of Arboris it’s a different story entirely. If you so much as light a candle there without the proper precautions, you’re likely to have at least three angry neighbors at your door in a matter of moments. I can remember one time…”
Her words faded into the background of his consciousness as the scent of fire that she spoke of reached Alex’s nose. His blood ran cold as a wave of trepidation washed over him at the hauntingly familiar smell.
“That’s not smoke from fireplaces,” he whispered, as much to himself as to her.
Celesta stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him with eyes growing wide with comprehension. Then, like a rabbit, she bolted.
Alex hurried after her, his legs carrying him forward despite the dark memories that surfaced, making him want to curl in on himself and hide. The acrid smell of smoke grew stronger as he went.
So focused was he on simply keeping his feet moving that he missed when Celesta stopped in front of him and nearly bowled her over before with the force of his momentum. She stood, surveying the scene in the small clearing before them.
In the darkness, dying embers glowed on the ground, highlighting the edges of broken branches and the frames of burned houses. Leaves and debris were littered all around, barely visible shadows in the dim light. It was obvious that there had been a number of homes there, now reduced to nothing but burnt ends and ashes. Voices filtered through the air, urgent whispers and muffled whimpers that seemed far too calm for the situation at hand.
As Alex stood there, frozen in place, the memories overtook him, and he was suddenly no longer in Faerie but rather looking upon the devastation left behind by the Brisians.
Tendrils of black smoke rose from the charred remains of the town, mixing with and becoming lost in the thick fog that hung in the air. The damp, cold, winter air was full of the harsh, pungent scent of burned wood and flesh, and as Alex surveyed the scene before him, he could almost hear the screams and cries of the dying.
But that was only in his mind. In reality, an eerie silence penetrated to his very soul. He looked over to the soldier who leaned against his shoulder for support. Fritz’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were hard. Alex knew that Fritz had family in the area, and though none of them had been residents of this town, it was close enough that he likely had visited many times before.
“Spread out and search for survivors!” their commander called out.
Alex held back a sigh. They had been hoping to find some respite, replenish their supplies, and care for the wounded. They had just narrowly won the last battle, but it had come at a tremendous cost. Their regiment was only a fraction of the size it had been when they left, and the few that were left were definitely worse for wear.
But it seemed that the Brisian philosophy was to go down while taking out as many lives as possible, and some of the retreating soldiers must have attacked and torched the town as they limped back to their own borders.
“Come on,” he said gruffly, readjusting the arm that supported Fritz’s back. “We’ll take the south side by the fields.” It was the furthest from the main road, and hopefully would hold fewer memories for his comrade.
As they approached what remained of a small farmhouse, Alex carefully and purposefully locked his emotions away. “You’re like Adam’s toy soldiers,” he mentally pictured his youngest brother and repeated the same words to himself that he did before every battle. “You are made of wood. You don’t feel, and you don’t hurt. Keep your head on straight and your eyes on the goal, and make it out alive.”
The sights that met their eyes were enough to turn his stomach, and despite his earlier mantra, Alex found himself growing angrier and angrier at the atrocities committed by the Brisians. None had been spared, and both young and old alike had fallen victim to the enemy’s sword.
So absorbed was he in his anger that Alex missed the slight movement to his right, and it was only Fritz’s cry of warning that alerted him to the danger. He spun them both around, and the sword that had been swinging for Fritz’s head instead sliced through his ear. Alex let Fritz fall to the ground in order to draw his own sword and had just barely raised his weapon in time to block the next blow.
Though the Brisian soldier had the element of surprise, Alex had the greater strength and skill. It was not many minutes before he leaned over, wiping his sword on the damp earth to clean it. He turned his attention to Fritz.
His friend was pale, and blood streamed between the fingers of the hand he held up to the side of his head.
“Well,” Fritz said bravely, his teeth chattering from both cold and shock. “At least my mother can never get mad at me for not listening to her anymore.”
Alex quickly tore the hem of his shirt and bandaged Fritz as best he could. His own arm was bleeding as well, but he could wait until they reached the rest of their company before taking care of it. Right now, it was more important to get Fritz to safety.
