We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

-John McCrae

His chest was wracked by pain with every step he took. Their run had been ceaseless ever since they had left the LZ, with little chance for rest since. Their communication with the drone had been momentary, their shelter in the mountain cave had been brief. Now, with their path ahead still forging ahead and uphill, the hopes for any semblance of rest was long forgotten.

“Keep it moving, soldiers, come on!” Cpt. Armor called continuously, his voice as ragged and heavy as his men, though every word he spoke exuded encouragement. “Every step gets us closer to safety and they’ve gotta be looking for a way to pick us up. But we’ve got to keep moving, so keep it up!”

Marc’s sweat fell down his face despite the freezing air of winter that surrounded him. His exhaustion was unlike anything he had ever felt before, more tiring and wearing than even the great battle of Toruń. Every inch of him screamed its displeasure and he began to fear his muscles would seize if he ever dared to stop moving. With so little of him left to give, only adrenaline fueled him now.

“Reyes! How we looking back there?” Cpt. Armor called, his voice echoing across the rock and frigid night.

“Nothing yet, sir,” Marc replied in a tone that suggested more strength in him than he had previously believed. Perhaps there was more left in him than he had realized.

There was a sound of engines roaring overhead and their watchful guardians appeared yet again, their continuous patrol around their presence a great comfort for the weary Cavalrymen stranded below. Though it was no clear means of rescue, the skilled firepower that soared in the skies above was a welcome deterrent to any foe who might dare to come closer. Perhaps they held the Iron Guard at bay, and their rescue was not far off…

The pair of aircraft gave a low, slow swoop across the mountains as though trying to speak with the soldiers below, their flight path dipping dangerously close to earth before they increased speed and raced off into the distance, quickly racing out of sight into the deep black of the night.

“Where they going this time?” Lt. Sentry wondered aloud.

“To stop something from getting closer,” Big Mac guessed. “We’re not safe here.”

“Damn right we aren’t,” Cpt. Armor said. “Don’t stand and gawk, come on! We’re halfway there now. Don’t give up hope yet.”

This was the part Twilight dreaded in her work. When she had done all she could, and with no clear direction in which to push, she had to settle for waiting and watching, praying that all her efforts would not be for naught.

The air support continued it surveillance of the area like a pair of hawks, scanning the entire area with an unmatched vigilance as they reigned in the skies. So far, the Crystal Empire had yet to try and rebuff them- something that worried the young woman. Either the Empire’s air power had been drastically diminished, or they were already on their way with something far deadlier. The Air Force was worried about sending any further assistance, having already lost two birds on the mission in its earliest minutes. Those two pilots, now running with diminished ammunition and fuel, would have to find a way to hold the line until Shining Armor was brought home.

“They’re up, sir!” Sgt. Buckner’s triumphant voice boomed through the tiny room. “4th Battalion is up in the air and on their way to rendezvous with Knight Troop.”

“What’s their current ETA?” Col. Roark asked.

“Two hours, sir. Approximately 0618 local time.”

“Lieutenant!” Col. Roark barked.

“Sir!” Twilight already knew what his next query would be.

“Give me a status report on the Iron Guard. How long till they make intercept?”

Twilight turned back to her screen to check that her information was correct. “If Knight Troop can maintain their current pace and continues unabated, the Iron Guard will intercept in approximately two-and-a-half hours. The mountains have shuttered their artillery from any further movement, but the majority of their forces are still in pursuit.”

“And what would happen if Knight Troop is forced to delay?”

“Intercept time decreased to two hours, sir,” Twilight answered.

Col. Roark’s face was grim at the news. “That’s one thin line,” he muttered. “What’s the status of Dagger Flight? Get me a fuel and ammunition report immediately, if they need to be relieved I’ll get another flight on the way.”

“Dagger Flight is currently yellow on fuel, sir, red on ammunition. We’re cutting it close.”

“Sir, Dagger Flight is in communication,” Sgt. Buckner announced. “They’re refusing to be relieved until Knight Troop is picked up.”

Col. Roark’s face was twisted by his snarl of displeasure. “Damned flyboys. Fine- tell them to keep to them tightly until I can get some additional fuel in the air to their location, but if they will return to base immediately if they’re going to go black, understood?”

“Contact! Bogey inbound, flying low!” the cry cut through every individual conversation like a blade, and all eyes turned to the screen above to watch as a machine of war came rushing across the terrain at a blistering speed, its underbelly missing the jagged terrain of the mountains and hills by mere inches-

“Imperial transport helicopter, heading for direct intercept of Knight Troop! Five clicks out!”

“Alert Dagger Flight immediately, take it out!”

Sergeant Buckner immediately went to work, his words barely distinguishable from one another as he spoke in a rush to the circling pilots, informing them of the new inbound threat. The aircraft reacted immediately, performing a slow turnaround just above the Cavalrymen below before screaming off into the distance to commence their attack-

“Target three clicks out and closing!”

“Target in sight- locked on! Three, two, one-”

It mattered not to Twilight who fired, only that the missile shrieked across the skies and scored a direct hit through the cockpit of the soaring bird, detonating on impact and swiftly turning the helicopter into a malgamation of fire and metal and burning fuel-

Her eyes flickered to the lower side of the screen for only a moment- a hint of movement where no movement should be. The Imperial aircraft had flew over the area just seconds before, and its doors had clearly been open. Someone was inside- they airdropped someone into the area.

“Sir, that vehicle’s doors were ajar. I think they just dropped additional hostiles into the area,” she said.

“Is our drone still airborne?” Col. Roark asked.

“Approximately fifteen more minutes of flight time before it’ll have to return to base, sir,” was the reply.

“Get it to the area and get a thermal scan of the surroundings to confirm. God, I hope Knight Troop is hauling ass.”

The sound of the explosion, though distance and obscured by the ragged terrain of the mountains, nonetheless illuminated the skies in the distance and set them all on edge.

“What the fuck was that?” Featherweight asked.

“Their target. We’re not alone out here, someone just tried to cut through right to us,” Marc said. “Keep it moving, I know it’s unsteady.”

Their path was almost straight up now, the Troop having been forced into a narrow passageway between a series of small outcroppings. The terrain was forbidding and left all who entered wary; it was a beautiful killbox if their foes were to arrive. Marc, still holding watch at the rear of the group, tried desperately to ensure his mind played no tricks upon him. Every sound spoke of a hidden enemy- until he knew it was only the cold winds of winter. Every rock that fell was a foe creeping up the mountain- but it was only his brothers climbing the unsteady path ahead.

“Come on, Featherweight, almost there. Give me your hand and I’ll help you up!” Lt. Sentry said, reaching out and grabbing for the young soldier’s flailing hand. “Come on, hold steady- gotcha! Climb, that’s it!”

“Reyes, move.” Big Mac’s soft, heavyset voice filtered down the tottering steps of rock to the Cavalryman, who was more than willing to leave the lethal passageway and head on. He paused as he began his climb- a sound of rocks tumbling that echoed softly from elsewhere, though he could not quite place it.

“You hear that?” he said quietly to Big Mac, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hear what?”

“Someone else is with us.”

Big Mac remained stationary as Marc continued into his climb, the stone-steady sentry above the passage through the mountains as his comrade fought against the unsteady footing of the rocky stairway. A short time later, Marc felt the hands of Lt. Sentry and Cpt. Armor upon his gear and lifting him upwards and he was heaved up to the top of the stairway, his fingers rubbed raw against the rock and he gasping for breath.

“What did you hear?” Big Mac asked, rising to his knees to come beside his friend.

“Rocks shuffling. It wasn’t me. You see anything out there?”

“Nothing.” Big Mac and Marc stared out into the black, the moonlight above obscured by a veil of clouds passing overhead and leaving their surroundings sinister before their eyes.

“Keep an eye out,” Big Mac said, taking his place in the center of the group as they continued onward.

Marc’s sense of unease did not leave him even as they pressed forward, certain of what he had heard. But with his night vision gear quickly losing power, what clarity he had in the dark was swiftly disappearing. Before the night was over, he would be blind, and whoever pursued them would be free to make their mark.

A sound of metal on rock echoed through their surroundings. I brief, momentary sound that lasted for only a heartbeat, but loud and grating against the silence of the empty night. It was all Marc needed-

“Sergeant?” Marc turned about to scan his surroundings while he reached out and tugged at his nearest companion, who turned out to be Featherweight.

“Pass it up to CO- quietly. We’ve got company,” Marc said. His body tensed as though a foreign pair of eyes had come to rest upon him and he felt a thrill of fear as his growing sense of mortality reared its head. It only took one bullet-

The sound of a gunshot and a round flew through the air, severing the quiet of the night in an instant as the round made its mark, cutting through flesh and bone and wrenching a choked cry from Big Mac as the shot cut through his throat and spilled his blood across the mountain-

“Sniper!” The Cavalrymen sprang from their place and threw themselves to cover, a second round falling just short of Featherweight’s boot and missing by the smallest of margins-

“Anyone see him?” Cpt. Armor roared, all pretense for cover and security now gone-

“Negative, I got nothing!” Lt. Sentry called, crushed up against a large slab of rock beside Marc. “You?”

“I think he’s behind us,” Marc said quietly, bending low to the ground and leaning forward. “Can you give me cover while I sneak a look?”

“I can try,” the young officer grunted, his expression now grievous. “I’ll be firing blind.”

“Just a few seconds.” Marc shuffled to the corner of his hiding place, his breath coming in an unsteady shudder as the moment pressed upon him with unrelenting force-

A sound of distress met his ears and his focus suddenly shifted. The body of Big Mac began to move ever so slightly, his hand reaching out into the air for comfort as another mangled cry for help escaped his lips. “Oh my God-”

“Go!” Lt. Sentry fired the moment his rifle was flared, his rounds falling wildly across the mountainside in a vain attempt at finding their foe’s hiding place-

Marc, body low to the ground as he peered out with his darkened night vision, scanned the mountain for any sign of movement. A falling rock, a shuffled boot, a body pressed suddenly up against rocks in an attempt to secure cover-

A sudden shift in the rocks, about fifty meters out, just above a small outcropping of rock. Subtle, possibly even a reaction to one of Lt. Sentry’s rounds falling, but it was all he had. Marc slowly tipped his rifle against his cheek and peered through the sights at what might be his target-

A quick flash of light and Marc gasped, his right eye suddenly blinded. He fell back against his cover and shook himself as his eye saw stars-

A round fell where his head had just been the moment before. Both Marc and Lt. Sentry rushed back to earth as instinct kicked in-

“Fuck! Tell me you got him!”

“I think I do. Can you try again?”

“He’ll know we’re coming-”

“Get me five seconds!”

“Fuck me-” Lt. Sentry threw his body out from cover and took a standing position above the rock face, firing wildly and hoping to distract his foe’s attention long enough-

Marc dipped out from behind cover and searched the mountainside for the small outcropping, seeing a swift movement that could only be a human body shifting-

He knew it was coming the moment before it happened. Marc leapt away as another round struck the ground beside him and he refocused his sights, his reticle now place just above the sniper’s exposed weapon-

The sniper shifted forward and prepared to squeeze out another round-

Marc’s weapon fired a split-second before, the round tearing through the night sky and connecting with the sniper’s left eye and driving deep into the brain. The sniper’s body went limp and sagged, falling down the mountainside before falling broken in the pathway.

“Are we clear?”

“Clear!” Marc roared, leaping to his feet and running to Big Mac, who now flailed out wildly for any semblance of rescue-

“Over here, out of sight!” Cpt. Armor said, grabbing the wounded man as carefully as he could, with Marc taking Big Mac’s legs and trying to hold him down. “Jesus, he won’t stop squirming- Sergeant Mac, you’ve gotta keep calm!”

A bloodcurdling cry of fear and pain erupted from Big Mac’s lips, the full severity of his wounds now evident as they looked over him. Most of his neck had been torn away instantly, little muscle and bone still remaining. What had survived the blast now looked more akin to shredded rags dipped, tatters of skin hanging loosely as blood gushed out onto the ground-

Marc had never seen anyone survive such a devastating wound, and the sound of his friend’s cries cut into his soul like a knife. “Oh my God-”

“Help me hold him down!” Cpt. Armor cried. “Sergeant Mac, listen to me! You’re gonna be alright, we’re gonna get you out!”

Big Mac gave another twisted scream and his hand fell on Marc’s shoulder and gripping tightly as though his friend were keeping him alive-

“IFAK! Get his fucking IFAK-”

Marc remembered the day he first met Big Mac. A distrustful, sneering teenager still fresh from a life of vice and cruelty. Yet even his harsh attitude had done nothing to faze the reserved farmhand-

“That’s it, press down. Carefully! Come on, Big Mac, just hold on-”

They had worked together, for a brief few months. Marc’s new life had been a series of twists and turns, ups and downs, but working at the farm had been a delight. Hard work, pleasant company, not a single cruel word ever escaped the man’s lips. They had become friends and had barely spoken a word-

“That’s just our air support, we’re good! Keep working, don’t give up!”

When the war had broken out, he and Big Mac had enlisted together. They had trained together, learned to fight together. Marc wondered if he had ever had a friend as close as he, one for whom he would gladly give his own life. They had sworn that they’d get through it all and make it back, to go home and have lives truly worth living-

Marc suddenly noticed a deathly quiet and he broke from his thoughts. His hands, pressed gently against Big Mac’s shredded wound and drenched in blood, reached down to just above the collarbone and felt nothing. No pulse met his fingers and he knew it was over.

The silence of the surviving Cavalrymen became a horror. It had been so swift, such a sudden thing that none could believe what had transpired. Marc felt distant from them, his mind traveling back to his past one last time and watched as another thread of his old life was snipped away. Only one strand left untouched, and he wondered if that too would be lost to him tonight.

“We’ve got to keep moving,” Cpt. Armor said quietly. “Iron Guard are gonna be close now. We keep moving until we get picked up.”

“Sir, what about Sergeant Mac?” Lt. Sentry asked.

“Grab his SI and weapon. It’s all we can do.”

Featherweight looked appalled at the decision, his expression torn between distress and anger as he struggled to find the words for protest-

“We can’t carry him. We don’t have a way of doing so without slowing everyone down,” Cpt. Armor said. “We’ll mark the location with a chemlight for later pickup- but we need to move.”

Marc felt sick to his stomach. He reached out and grabbed Big Mac’s rifle and slung it across his shoulders, while Lt. Sentry took his night vision and maps from his pockets, stowing them within his own. When all his equipment had been secured, Marc stretched out his hand and pulled the dogtags from Big Mac’s hip, pulling hard until the chain broke and he stuffed them deep into his pocket.

Marc rose to his feet, knowing nothing would ever alleviate the guilt of abandoning his friend. “CO’s right- we keep moving,” he said firmly. “I’ll keep our rear secure. Let’s go.”

The Cavalrymen plunged forward into the dark, leaving their fallen brother behind.

Author's Notes:

And so the farmhand falls. I am so sorry.

Only three more chapters to go. Can you stay true till the end?

Comments and corrections below. As always, enjoy.