The smell of sweat fills your nostrils as you pull the helmet over your head.
“Pre. Alle.” The referee says, and the match has begun. Your opponent lunges at you, and you move back and parry, but he disengages and lunges again, attacking your sword arm. The touch is his. Back to the starting line. Another few words from the referee, and you’re off again. Eyes focused on your opponent’s sword and arm, you bite your tongue in concentration. A balestra. Lunge. Parade. Degagement Alonge.
Okay, so I didn't really need to edit this one... but I like it so much, if anyone took it...
The sword whistled as it circled above Ciaran’s head; then swooped down on his opponent. It seemed like hours had passed in the half-an-hour they had been fighting. Caderyn, his opponent, also the king of Stargonia, was stronger than Ciaran imagined for an older man. Of course, Caderyn had trained for many years when he was younger, and Ciaran had never had any training other than what he could teach himself from watching others. He had always been the outcast when he was a child, being different from everyone in various ways, from his extraordinary height and golden yellow eyes to his wittiness and quick tongue.
The sound of steel on steel echoed through the Great Hall. Elsewhere, soldiers lay, either slain or wounded, mindless of who they served.
Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded. Help was coming. Ciaran knew the approaching warriors were not fighting for him; they were the wild barbaric clans of the North, who feared nothing. Ciaran hesitated for a split second, silently debating what to do, then whirled on Caderyn with a new strength. The king stumbled backwards, surprised at this, and fell onto his back. Ciaran towered over him, the hood of his grimy cloak covering his malicious smile.
“So, then, I have finally gotten what I’ve wanted for so long. At last, I can die in peace.” Ciaran unsheathed a small knife at his waist, but it slipped from his fingers, crashing down to the floor. Caderyn rolled over and grasped it in his hand, pulling back his arm to throw. The knife whistled through the air and found its mark, the center of Ciaran’s heart. Small trickles of blood began oozing out, and Ciaran dropped to his knees.
The barbarians entered the castle.
A strong wind swept through Stargonia, blowing out all candles and covering the sun with the clouds.
The approaching warriors stopped in their tracks.
The sun came out again, and the people of Stargonia set about relighting candles and lamps, and then returned to their tasks.
In the castle, the king was nowhere. Where he had been standing, stood no other than Ciaran himself.
Eight years later:
His sister’s cry had awakened him that night. If she hadn’t he would have lost her – the only person he had. Nathan snapped out of his thoughts and rolled over, getting to his feet. Anya, his younger sister, slept nearby, murmuring something about cats chasing birds. Smiling briefly, Nathan stirred the dying embers of the fire with his makeshift poker, and then adding more wood. When he was sure the fire was stable, Nathan jogged to the crest of the hill they had journeyed over the night before. Blue eyes, flecked with green and hazel, scanned the ground below. His shaggy, dirty blond hair was blown about by the wind, making it even messier that it usually was. Lips pressed tight in frustration and his jaw set hard, he shook his hair out of his face and continued his search. His hands lay limp down at his sides, and he stood with his long legs spread a foot-length apart. His broad shoulders rose and fell as he caught his breath, and then he began to move cautiously down the other side of the hill. From there he could see the ashes of Bywyn. Yesterday evening, raiders had come through the town, taking captive all they could and burning the wooden houses to the ground. Anya had woken, crying, in the middle of the night, waking Nathan. His first reaction was to go back to bring Anya into bed with him, but then he heard the screams and shouts outside and had scooped Anya up in his arms instead. Kicking open the back door, he took one last glance behind him, and quickly grabbed a burlap sack containing some food and his few possessions. Not knowing exactly where to go, he ran into the foothills, silently praying they were not being followed. Now Nathan was forced to make a decision that would affect both of them, possibly for the rest of their lives. In addition to this, Nathan did not want to stop his search for his younger sister. Technically, Anya was not his sister; Nathan had found her wandering outside of Bywyn the year before, and since then he had taken care of her and been like her older brother.
Down below, Anya stirred. “Nathan?” She called, terror rising in her voice.
Nathan turned and ran down the hill. “It’s alright, Anya, I’m right here,” Nathan comforted.
“I thought you were gone. I thought they’d gotten you.” Anya’s big, hazel eyes began to fill with tears. Nathan hugged her, stroking her straight, light brown hair. Anya drew closer to him, not wanting him to go anywhere away from her. Nathan kissed the top of her head and held her away from him to look her in the eye.
“I’d never let them do that. Come on, let’s eat some breakfast and get going.” Rummaging around in the burlap sack, Nathan pulled out two apples. As he handed one to Anya, he praised God that he had been able to grab the bag before they left Bywyn. “Will you thank God for our food?” He asked.
Anya took the apple and bowed her head. “Dear Jesus, thank you that Nate and I escaped the raiders. Bless this food and help us to find a safe place to stay. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
“Amen,” Nathan echoed, biting into his apple. “Eat quickly. I know where we’ll be safe, and we should leave as soon as possible.” And hopefully get there as soon as possible. Nathan added in his mind, not wanting Anya to know the danger they could possibly be in at the moment. He knew why the raiders had attacked Bywyn; he knew what they were after and who they really were. The raiders were Ciaran’s men, and they were after him. He shuddered as he thought about that night, nine long years ago. Closing his eyes, he moved his hand to the back of his neck and ran his finger along the scar that he had gotten that night.
“Nathan! Take your sister and go!” Nathan grabbed his sister’s hand and began to run. Her short legs had trouble keeping up with Nathan, but he kept moving onwards, as he knew from his mother’s tone of voice that this situation could kill them all if they did not run. Suddenly a burning timber from the barn crashed down in front of them, and Nathan skidded to a stop, turning to go the other way. As he turned, he saw one of the enemy charge at his mother and run his sword through her. Nathan screamed and began to rush towards her, but then stopped, realizing he was heading straight into danger. His sister noticed this, too, and they turned to run the other way when a foot soldier began to run after them. Totally unsure of what to do, Nathan pushed Anya ahead of him into a wheat field outside of the farm where they were hiding. As Nathan dove into the field, he felt something sharp scratch the back of his neck and he blacked out.
Anya tugging on his sleeve snapped Nathan out of his thoughts and brought him back to the present. “How long will it take us to get where we’re going?” She bit into her apple, chewing thoughtfully as she watched Nathan intently.
“A while - possibly a week or more. When we get there, though, we will be safe at last.” Safe at last, Nathan sighed happily at the thought. He took one last bite of his apple, and then buried the core. Nathan tossed dirt onto the fire to extinguish it, silently watching as the flames died out. He pushed the remainder of the bad memories into the back of his head, not wanting them to overwhelm him as they so often did. Anya finished eating her apple and dug a hole in the ground and buried her apple. She stood up and Nathan grabbed his sack, then he motioned to Anya and began walking away from Bywyn. Anya followed him, humming and sometimes singing quietly as they went along, happy to be out and about.
They traveled into the foothills all morning, Nathan telling Anya stories farmers had told him, and Anya listening intently. By mid-afternoon, Anya was tiring and was having trouble keeping up with Nathan.
“Nate, I’m tired.” She sighed, pressing her lips together.
“Want me to carry you?” Nathan offered, stopping to turn around and look at her.
“I don’t want to tire you.”
“You won’t, don’t worry. Here, climb onto my back.” Nathan bent down to help Anya onto his back, and then broke into a run. As he ran, the cool mountain air blew on his face, and from time to time he sang softly to himself. By nightfall, the two were high up in the mountains and they could feel a change in the air. Anya fell asleep, her head resting on Nathan’s shoulder. Nathan continued onward, slowing a little as the stars came out. Shivering slightly, Nathan laid (lay) Anya down on the ground and put his cloak around his shoulders, then picked up Anya again, carrying her farther up and in, with the stars. Anya woke as the sun was rising, and then they stopped for a light meal.
“Anya, we will have to travel quickly today. I’m going to carry you all of today. It will be necessary to travel on through the night again, and sleep in the morning when it’s warmer.”
“Yes Nathan.” Anya clambered back onto Nathan’s back, and Nathan set off at a steady pace. The day was fair, with the sun shining down on them through a few clouds. Nathan and Anya took in all the beautiful mountain scenery, dotted with trees here and there. Anya enjoyed watching the forest animals playing out in the open and the birds flitting from tree to tree. By dawn the next morning, they had made fair progress and were well into the mountains. Exhausted, Nathan stopped and set Anya down, and together they started a fire and ate, then Nathan lay down to sleep while Anya kept watch. She watched him as he slept peacefully, every now and then his nose twitching. Anya giggled when it did, and as she sat cross-legged on the ground she played with pieces of grass and twigs, making faerie houses out of them. Nathan woke as the sun was setting, and after a chunk of bread and cheese each, they set off again. Near mid-afternoon the next day, they had reached the convent near the middle of the mountains. The convent’s walls rose high up out of the mountains. The walls were constructed with large rocks cut out of the mountains and inside a steeple rose out of the center. Nathan set Anya down on her feet near the front gate, and put his hand gently on her shoulder.
“I’m going to leave you at the Convent, Anya. You’ll be safe here.”
“I want to go with you, Nate. Please don’t leave me here! What if the raiders decide to come here, too, Nathan? What if they get me?”
Nathan heard the undeniable fear in her voice, and when he looked into her eyes, he knew how she felt. He remembered how scared he had been those nights when he was a boy, running from Ciaran’s men. Nathan couldn’t let Anya go through the same things he had, especially when she was so young. He closed his eyes to shut out the memories and then sighed. “You’re right. I can’t leave you here. But we’ll stop here for food and shelter.” He rapped loudly on the thick wooden door. A small window opened and a nun peered out.
“How may I help you?”
“We’re travelers, madam, seeking lodging and food for our journey,” Nathan explained, gently taking Anya’s hand.
“Lodging, in the middle of the day?” The nun asked, bewildered.
“Aye, madam. We found it easier, and perhaps wiser considering the weather, to travel at night. We will only be here until dusk, and then we’ll go. We’d also like food for the remainder of our journey.”
“Come in.” The nun unbolted the gate and Nathan and Anya followed her in, as she led them up a few flights of stairs and into a small room. The room was only about ten by eleven feet big, with two cots on the floor and a small dresser and wardrobe.
“You may stay here, and before you leave we will provide you with the food you will for your journey.”
“Thank you, madam. We are traveling to Agranthea, however many days that will take I do not know.”
“I will see what we can do.” The nun closed the door behind her and silently went down the stairs.
Nathan sat down on a cot in the middle of the room, and took off his boots, followed by his cloak. Anya lay down on a second cot and soon was fast asleep. Nathan lay awake for a while before drifting off to sleep. Shortly before dusk, a sharp knock sounded, waking Anya. Quietly, Anya walked across the floor and opened the door.
“It’s almost dusk – the mother wanted me to tell you.” A young nun said, and set down a knapsack. “This is enough food for your journey – May God go with you.”
Nathan rolled over in bed, a sign he was beginning to wake up.
“Thank you, ma’m. God bless you all.” Anya replied, taking the food and setting it inside the room, then closing the door. Nathan sat up in bed.
“Sleepyhead.” Anya teased.
“Hey…” Nathan returned, “I haven’t gotten much sleep lately.” He got to his feet, stretching slightly. “Anyway, it’s time to get going.” Nathan put the bag of food into his own knapsack, tied on his boots and grabbed his cloak.
Anya followed him out of the room, and after a quick word of thanks to the nuns, they left the convent and continued their journey through the mountains.
The following two days the travel went smoothly, going down the mountains was easier than going up, and Anya enjoyed stopping by streams and playing by the water while Nathan rested or they ate.
Less than three days later, Nathan and Anya had reached the edge of
“Now that we’re out of the mountains,” he told Anya, “it’s safe to sleep at night – we won’t get so cold.”
Anya rummaged through the food the nuns had given them, pulling out a loaf of bread and a large hunk of cheese. Nathan took out his knife and sliced the bread and cheese.
“Eat your fill – we have enough that we don’t have to ration it.”
Anya grinned. Nathan smiled back at her, then bent his head to say grace. After he did so, both travelers ate until they were full. Anya lay down to sleep near the fire, resting her head on a small pile of leaves. Nathan kept watch close by, softly singing under his breath. His eyes watched the gentle waves lapping at the sand on the beach. A cool sea breeze blew, and Nathan shivered slightly. It was all he could do not to fall asleep to the peaceful sounds all around him – Anya’s gentle breathing, the crackling of the fire, and the waves on the beach… even a few crickets chirping. Nathan sighed. He missed home, if he could call anywhere home – he was more of a wanderer than anything else. Nathan had been an orphan since he was eight and for those nine years since he was on his own, doing farm work wherever he could, until he had found Anya, that is. It had helped to have a companion, even if that companion was twelve years younger than he was. Not that he minded – he loved children, and at least they both had someone now.
The farm work he had done had made him strong, and he had been able to learn much from the different farmers he worked for – reading, writing, logic, reasoning, anything he needed to know, and more. Many times, he stayed at one farm for a whole year, only a few times only for harvest or planting. Nathan was glad he had had that experience, and one of the farmers had led him to Christ, which was the biggest change of his life.
As a hint of the new day dawning appeared over the horizon, Nathan lay down and slept. The few hours of sleep that he managed to get were restless and filled with dreams of things from his past. Many were of good times, but the last – the last was of his mother’s death, soon after which his father disappeared. Nathan woke with a start, sitting up to find Anya awake and watching him curiously. The sun had now risen, and it was probably about seven in the morning. Anya had found Nathan’s cloak and using it as a tablecloth; she had gotten out some more bread and a few apples out of the bag.
After breakfast, the two packed up camp and started on their way around the lake. They were able to travel much faster than they had in the mountains. Anya ran along the beach, letting the waves crash against her legs, and picking up shells here and there. Nathan watched her, thankful that she was happy, happier than he had ever seen her before. He laughed along with her when she slipped and fell into the water and smiled as she shook herself off like a dog, his smile revealing deep dimples on both cheeks.
Only a few more days before we will be on our way to freedom and safety, Nathan thought, rubbing a small scar near the base of his neck. Once more, his mind took him back to that terrible night.
When he came to, his sister was bending over him, crying.
“Nathan! Nathan!”
He groaned and tried to sit up, but pain shot through his head and neck. “We need to get help…” He murmured, shivering in the cool night air. “I need you to run and find someone.”
“Nathan, I don’t want to! I don’t want to leave you here, and I’m scared, Nathan, I’m scared.”
“Go, please. I’m scared, too. Let’s pray, ok?”
His sister nodded.
“Jesus, protect us. Keep Rina safe and me safe here. Amen. Ok, now go, will you?”
She turned and ran through the wheat fields, popping up and down every now and then to look at her surroundings. Nathan slept in the field. He slept fitfully, his neck hurting so badly it was almost making him cry. When he woke, his first thought was ‘Am I in heaven?’ But then he looked around him and realized he was in a small farmhouse. A tall woman dressed in a simple dress belted at the waist sat next to him, and a few children sat playing on the floor. Nathan blinked a few times, and then noticed he was lying on his stomach and something was on his neck. He tried to move it, but the woman gently placed her hand on his neck.
“Don’t move your neck.” When Nathan opened his mouth to protest, she put a finger to his lips. “You have a bad cut there. It goes from your neck across your shoulder. Do you know how you got it?”
“Ciaran’s men… dagger.” Nathan whispered faintly, and then gasped. “Where’s my sister?”
“Your sister is over there, playing with my children. She’s fine.”
Nathan closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Anya fell down in the water, causing Nathan to pull out of his thoughts, and then he returned to his original thoughts.
Safety from raiders, safety from – Here Nathan stopped. He didn’t want to think about that. Safe from Ciaran’s men, Nathan finished, trying to stop hate from welling up inside of him. He knew that it weren’t for the overflow of Christ’s love in him; he would have gotten himself killed long ago. Silently, he thanked God that his eyes had been opened to see the light.
Anya came running up to Nathan, holding a small crab in her hands. Nathan picked her up, spinning her around, laughing with her, and then carried her for a ways, the whole time listening to Anya chattering away about her crab.
Ciaran stood looking out of the window of his favorite tower, his right-hand man – if we can call him a man, Donal was a were-wolf; man by day, wolf by night. His short, cropped grey-flecked hair was unkempt, and he wore a leather jerkin with a long-sleeved tunic underneath it. He was short and rather stocky, his round face almost hiding his sunken blue-grey eyes. Donal’s face was scarred from many battles, and although ugly, his face was almost kind.
“So, Donal, any news from Bywyn?” Ciaran turned from the window to look at Donal, who stood behind him. Donal nodded, as Ciaran’s yellow-gold eyes glittered with anticipation.
“It has been destroyed, my lord. We left no one alive.”
“And no one escaped? The whole of Bywyn and its inhabitants must be destroyed. If a certain person escaped, it does not matter that the whole of Bywyn, the whole of Stargonia, were gone, but if the lost prince is still alive, all of rampaging the raiders have done was in vain.”
“I know, my lord. And to our knowing, no one escaped. The men had the city surrounded, and it would have been incredible if anyone escaped.”
“Good. That’s good to know. Now,” Ciaran walked to a table in the middle of the room, on which a map lay. “Where next?” He ran his large, calloused hand through his long, dark brown hair as he thought, also chewing the inside of his lip.
“I don’t know exactly, my lord. But the city that could cause the biggest hindrance right now would be here.” Donal placed his finger on Edaled. “We already have control of Itheial, obviously; Bywyn is gone, Maris is too tiny to be of any use to us, Tharia is ours, and Dalentia soon to be.”
“And Mytymnea?”
“Still remains to be conquered, of course. But that, I think, should be saved for our final victory. Save the best for last, the one hardest to get last, so that any rebels will be crushed.”
“Brilliant, Donal, absolutely brilliant. Just one question – how long do you think this will take?”
“Anywhere from a few months to a few years, my lord. Now that we’ve started to get Stargonia under your thumb, the rest should submit easily.”
“You know what happened the first seven years of my reign.”
Donal bit his lip. “Yes, my lord, I do. Now that we have a plan, though,” he paused, gulping, “it should be quick.”
“I should hope so. Now, on to the figures, now that we know our route. How many men do we have?”
“Total or in each city?”
“Total.”
“If my calculations are correct, my lord, we should have around one thousand men on our side. But then there are my fellow werewolves, few though they are, we are very ferocious. And the phoenixes, my lord. Grenech’s minotaurs are on our side, as well.”
“That’s not much,” Ciaran sighed, disappointed. They had much less than they thought. It would be a while until they had a large enough army to attack, and by that time, the rebels could have possibly attack by then. “How many do the rebels have?”
“We’re not sure, my lord. They’re very secretive about what they do, and we know almost nothing about them; when they will strike, things like that.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you any of that.”
“I see. Well, try to rally as many men and creatures as you can onto our side. Even the dragons, if you can find them.” The dragons. No one knew where they had gone, and most were too scared to look for them, as the dragons were very ferocious. But whoever found the dragons and got them on their side – whether the rebels or Ciaran’s men – would most likely win the overall fight. All of Ciaran’s men knew this, and were commanded to keep a sharp eye out for the dragons.
“Yes, my lord.” A knock sounded on the door. Donal opened it cautiously. “Oh, hello, Grenech. Come in.”
Grenech was Ciaran’s top general, a minotaur, commanding the whole army, but especially the other minotaurs. Grenech held a cutlass in his upper right hoof, and he grunted as Donal opened the door. Grenech had been in charge of the army that had attacked Bywyn, and he had come with some very important news for Ciaran.
As Grenech entered the room, he bowed to Ciaran. “My lord, I come with news.” “Is it good or bad?” Ciaran asked, his dark eyebrow raising in question. He could not afford any bad news at this point. Everything needed to go as planned, else everything was lost.
“It may be of no importance, my lord. But one of my minotaurs spotted a young man and a little girl running off into the foothills just to the West of Bywyn. I do not know why he did not chase after them or tell us sooner, but there are some survivors from Bywyn.” Ciaran’s eyes widened. “This is grave news, Grenech. Where are they now?” Fear began to grip Ciaran’s heart. From what they knew, a very important person was in Bywyn, and if he escaped, then Ciaran could very easily be overthrown.
“We do not know, my lord. They could be anywhere by now; there’s been enough time for them to have reached Dalentia.”
“The little girl will slow him down. Donal!”
“Yes, my lord?” Donal straightened and left where he had been near the door.
“Send out a search party. Go through Maris, Dalentia – both gates, and the region of Tharia. I want them found!” Ciaran sank down into a chair, and then put his head in his hands. This could be the end of him.
By the time Nathan and Anya reached Dalentia, four more days had passed and they were beginning to become low on food. Nathan realized they had eaten of it too freely in the first few days, and was surprised at this – usually he was too careful. Off in the distance, they could see the walls of Dalentia, high and strong, rising above the ground. Earlier that morning, they had crossed over the river Tharia. As they neared Dalentia, Nathan heard shouting and the sound of armored men. Glancing around, Nathan scooped Anya up in his arms and began to run, looking for a place to hide. There was nowhere they could hide out on a flat plain, he noted, seeing no rocks or tall grass anywhere. Now he could see the army marching. Anya began to cry.
“Shhh… Anya, I need you to be very quiet,” he comforted, putting a finger to her lips. She quieted down, but the look of terror still stayed on her face. What should we do? Nathan wondered. Even if the army was not out looking for them, there would still be danger of being seen – and caught. Dalentia was still too far away at the moment, but reaching the city was the only hope they had. He shifted Anya over his shoulder, and broke into a fast run, knowing his life and Anya’s could depend on them reaching Dalentia before the army saw them. The army came over one last small hill and onto the plain.
“Captain!” A foot soldier shouted, pointing over towards Dalentia. “Could that be them?”
Grenech smiled inside. This was better than they thought. They had practically caught them. He motioned to the cavalry. “Ride ahead to catch them. Go quickly, once they enter Dalentia, they will be lost, especially on a market day like today.” As he shouted, the cavalry wheeled around in the direction of Dalentia, and galloped faster and faster, coming closer to Nathan and Anya. Nathan was beginning to tire. He heard the horses coming on quickly. The gate was just ahead of them, and as Nathan glanced up at the walls of Dalentia towering above them, he began to feel a tad bit scared, not being able to see what lay behind the walls. The gate was just beginning to close after letting in a group of minstrels, and Nathan, Anya still over his shoulder, slipped inside. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a single horseman wheeling around to go back to the army. He sighed a sigh of relief and set Anya back down on her feet.
“Who were they?” Anya asked, shaking.
“Some of Ciaran’s men. Come on.”
Winding through the streets of Dalentia, they made their way to the docks, where sailors were loading up ships. Holding Anya’s hand, Nathan looked at the various boats and ships, wondering if any of them were headed towards Agranthea. Probably not. He thought, considering the fact no one really lives there, other than animals and maybe a few hermits. So how are we going to get there, with almost no money, and what little I have needs to be used for food and gear for the voyage? He sighed, then spotted an office nearby, the sign on which read ‘Port Management Office’. The office looked as if it were only one room, and the small window had curtains drawn over it. The roof looked as if it needed a few repairs, as did the rest of the building. Nathan told Anya what his plan, and together they headed over to the office. Lights were on inside, and through the window they could see someone moving about the room, so Nathan pushed the door open, letting go of Anya’s hand and knocking. “Come in!” Someone shouted, and then came the sound of a chair scooting across the floor. Nathan stepped inside and Anya followed him in, glancing about the room as she entered. The room they were in was plain, having only a desk and a few chairs for furniture. A map hung on the wall, and ledgers and other maps were spread all over the desk. An elderly man stood behind the desk, ink all over his fingers and a quill pen tucked behind his ear, leaving a thin trickle of ink on his cheek. His white hair stuck out everywhere, and his blue eyes sparkled when he saw Anya. He smiled at her, and she shyly smiled back. “How may I help the two of you on a fine day like this?” He asked. “We’re looking for a boat or a ship, sir.” “And which boat or ship would that be?” “We’d like to go to Agranthea, if there are any ships heading there.”
“Let me check.” The man sat down, picked up one of the ledger books and began flipping through it, humming to himself as he went along. Nathan bit his lip, worrying there wouldn’t be anything going to Agranthea. His worry increased when the man put down the one book and picked up another. Anya looked up at Nathan, his worry wearing off onto her. He picked her up and whispered in her ear, comforting her. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the man looked up. “There’s nothing going to Agranthea, I’m sorry. But, however, there seems to be a small boat for sale near the edge of town. It’s not that much money, and it may be your only way to get to Agranthea.” “Thank you, sir. Where can we find it?” “If I’m correct, it’s the first house after the third dock from here. It should be easy to find.”
“Thank you for your time, sir.” “You are very welcome. Godspeed on your journey.”
“God bless you. Farewell.” Nathan and Anya left the office, and with Anya counting the docks they walked down to find the house where the boat was for sale. The house was large, and through the curtain less windows, Nathan could see rag dolls and toy wagons and towns scattered about the wooden floor. The house looked well kept, and Nathan guessed a large family lived there. As Nathan knocked on the door, he smiled inwardly. I seem to be doing a lot of knocking today. The door opened a crack, and through it Nathan could see a small boy, his face dotted with freckles, his red-brown hair hanging a little ways into his lively, green eyes. His small hand wrapped around the door handle and he pulled the door open a bit more to poke his head out. “What do you want?” He asked, his voice sweet and clear. “Is your father in?” Nathan questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Papa died at sea last year.” The boy’s face grew solemn, and his eyes lost the adventurous look they had held before. “Alfred, who’s there?” A voice called from the back of the house. “A boy and a girl, mama.” “What do they want?” “They’re asking for papa.” A woman appeared at the door, shooing the boy into the back of the house. The woman’s face was similar to the boy’s, although there were fewer freckles and even a wrinkle or two on her forehead. Her red hair was pulled back into a braid, and as she greeted Nathan and Anya she wiped her floury hands on her apron.
There's more, but yeah. Y'ken.
Shh... this is Emily's art exchange... I know, most of the doggies look lopsided, but whatever, eh.
And so came war. Bloody, bloody war. All around him he saw comrades, friends, and enemies fall down, screaming in the agony of death. Bullets whizzed by his head, and the rain in the gutters was stained red with blood as he ran sloshed through the streets. This is what they had meant. This is what they had warned him about. This is what his parents had told him to watch out for. This was war, bloody war. It was terrifying, unlike anything else he had ever experienced. Fearing that any minute a bullet would hit you, sick to your stomach when you shot someone and watched them crumple to the ground, every time thinking it could be you who was next. Knowing it could be you who would feel the searing pain shooting through your body next. Around you the injured hobbling to safety through clouds of smoke and streets filled with dead, rotting bodies that no one bothered to clear away. This was so different from training. He was there, in the midst of war. In the middle of the fighting. Surrounded by people who knew the next instant they could die, pierced by a bullet from an enemy’s gun. His boots filled with bloody water. He knew the rest of him was stained with blood and he was covered from head to toe in grime.
So this is what war is. He shuddered .This is pain. This is life. This is reality. This is war. Bloody war.
And then he turned and ran. He ran into the ruins of a house. He found a corner, sat down, and cried. His tears mingled with the pouring rain, washing away some of the blood and grime. This isn’t what I thought war was. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what I expected when I came. He licked his parched lips, and reached for his canteen. It was almost empty, and after he drank, he held it out to catch the rain. As he did, he glanced heavenward, and let the rain was his face. Putting the cap back on his canteen and placing it away, he glanced down at his hands. They, too, were stained with blood. This isn’t right. I didn’t come here to cower in a corner. I came here to fight, and to fight for freedom. Staggering to his feet, he stepped out of the house. And he was back. Back to the place he dreaded, back to the place he never wanted to return to.
Back to bloody war.
mask: [mask, mahsk] noun: 1. A covering for all or part of the face, used to conceal one’s identity. 2. anything that disguises or conceals; disguise; pretense. 
