Chapter 65: Tale 6, Ch 9: Gravedigging

“I’d say, maybe a mile away,” Aela said, perking her ears to hear the sound of approaching vehicles in the west.

“Can you hear any Torins yet?” Darren asked, inspected his gun and wiping away a little dust off its crimson-inlaid surface.

Aela paused, trying to listen over the light hum of vehicles in the distance. “No. But I’m sure they’re trying another landing, probably a little north of the last one to avoid the same mistake they made yesterday.”

“Who do you think will get here first?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah,” Darren said, pulling the safety catch on his pistol. He holstered it and stood up. “Let’s get to work.”

There were so many soldiers. Hundreds lined up on either side of the square. Darren and Aela thought there were a lot before, but once they actually had to do something about them the problem became much more daunting. The red and brown uniforms in massive groups on the east side of the square, the blue and green of Ierilans and the yellow trench coats of Joya Union soldiers on the west mixed with the Red, Gold, and White Prophets, their blessed weapons lying beside them in the mud.

Darren drew his gun, aimed, and fired. A blast of dirt erupted and sprayed mud on Aela’s face.

“Was that really necessary?” Aela asked, and wiped her face, staring down into the wide hole her brother had created.

“Better than a shovel,” Darren said, and watched his sister lift Jake, the dead White Prophet, and gently lay him in the hole.

“I wish we had more time to do this properly, and that we had a sheet or something.”

“We’ll figure something out. For now, let’s just get these bodies buried.”

The hundreds of dead soldiers, untouched for days or even weeks, lay about the square in droves as the two Prophets set about laying them to rest. Comfortable in their fortifications, Darren blasted grave holes while Aela gently arranged all sides of the conflict with their empty-handed arms crossed over their chests.

It didn’t take long before Aela stood up straight and looked toward the west. “I hear a motorcycle,” she said, and pointed in the direction she’d heard it.

Darren didn’t hesitate, but ran straight in the direction his sister had pointed, Aela right behind him. He ran to the southwest corner and scaled the mound of debris blocking it off. When he got there, sure enough, he saw two motorcycles, their drivers looking around nervously as they scanned the barrier.

Darren aimed and fired two shots, hitting both drivers in the arm with enough of his power to knock them unconscious, holding back the force that would normally have killed them instantly. He let his sister run past him, in case there were more lying in wait, and the siblings quickly reached the two Joya Union soldiers.

“Nice shot,” Aela said, inspecting the minor wounds as she healed them. “But wait for me next time.”

“I’ll be fine,” Darren said, and began dragging the motorcycles to the entrance to the square, adding them to the rest of the bulk blocking the street. “Need help carrying them?”

“No.” Aela’s shield glowed dimly golden as she concentrated on the soldiers, transferring her Prophet energy into their wounds.

With a quick gasp, they sat up and looked around with fear as they saw the two Prophets holding them.

Darren leveled his gun on them. “Jeez! Warn me next time you’re gonna wake them!” he said.

The two soldiers made a motion to run when they saw Darren’s glowing red gun leveled on them. They froze, their mouths moving as they tried to speak.

“I am Aela of the Gold Prophets,” Aela introduced herself, her shield shining in her grasp. “And this is Darren of the Red Prophets.”

“Hello,” Darren said, his gun not moving.

“Sorry, we’re sorry,” one of the soldiers whined.

“Yeah, we’re sorry,” the other soldier repeated, less audibly and more mumbling.

“Sorry for what?” Darren asked.

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“For, uh… uh,” the first soldier said, unable to take his eyes off the muzzle of the Red Prophet’s pistol. “The whole, you know, not… I mean…”

“Betraying,” the second soldier said, clasping his hands over his mouth immediately after. The first soldier punched him in the shoulder. “I mean, I’m not talking. You can’t get me to.”

“How did you betray us?” Aela asked in a stern, calm voice.

“I’m not speaking.”

“What, you don’t know?” the first soldier asked Aela, looking around, trying to figure out if there were any more Prophets around, or any of his fellow soldiers to come rescue him. “I thought that was why you guys all left.”

“Does it look like we left?” Darren asked.

“No, no.” The soldier swallowed, looking around again. “I thought you guys had gone. I mean…” The soldier chuckled, smiling weakly at us as if he were sharing a joke. “Your leader told us we were on our own after we refused to help in the push two days ago.”

“You what?” Darren grabbed the soldier by his yellow collar.

“Don’t tell him any more,” the second soldier insisted.

“You what?”

“You’re supposed to be gone. You were supposed to be gone and angry with us so we could keep fighting,” the first soldier insisted, looking away from Darren’s face.

Were Darren any better at the draining touch he would have been tempted to suck the life out of the soldier right then. As it was, Darren could only glare. “You mean the dozens of Prophets who died because we didn’t have reinforcements, you did that on purpose? You didn’t help us on purpose?”

The first soldier gulped, hardened his expression, then looked Darren in the eye and nodded. Darren dropped him.

“Darren, calm down,” Aela insisted.

“Calm down!” he said.

“Yes.”

“Calm down!”

“Yes!”

The siblings stared at each other, Darren fighting the urge to execute the soldiers and Aela readying herself to stop him. Seeing the stoic, dutiful expression on Aela’s face made Darren take a quick, deep breath and holster his pistol. “Fine,” he said, and turned back to the soldiers. “Why did you do it, then? We could have driven out the Torins if you’d have helped us.”

The first soldier, sensing that he’d won a minor victory of some kind, chuckled as his confidence returned. “We’re the ones fighting this war. We don’t need the Prophets telling us when and why we can fight. Every soldier on both sides knows you just want to end the war. Well, we want to win it.”

“And you can’t do that with us here?”

The soldier grinned. “So what? You guys get left behind or something?”

“Nope. We chose to stay.”

The soldier’s expression fell off. “What?”

“Yeah, we’re here for good, so you better get used to it.” Darren smiled as he looked down at the two captured soldiers. Then he noticed the trench packs they wore on their backs, kits full of everyday tools for a soldier. “Are those shovels?”

About twenty minutes later, Darren was sitting in the fountain, watching as his sister kept a lookout for anymore scouts. “See anything, sis?” he asked Aela, standing on top of the only intact building in the square and looking around for any soldiers approaching.

“Nothing close. The Torins look like they’ve finished landing,” Aela said, out of sight from the square’s grounds.

“What?” the first Joya soldier said, dropping what he’d been carrying.

“Hey, hey,” Darren said, quickly walking over to the soldiers. “You handle those bodies with care. They gave their lives for something they believed in and you will respect that.”

“But they’re Torins.” The soldier pointed down at the red and brown uniform with disgust. “And this one smells.”

“Then plug your nose and get to it. I don’t care if it’s a Sai body, you’re going to bury everyone in this square with the decency a human being deserves, is that clear?”

The two soldiers mumbled weak agreements as they picked up the soldier again and carried it toward the many graves they’d dug.

“Torin half-track on its way,” Aela said. She ran off the roof toward the weakened ladder hanging off the side of the brick building, originally intended to be a fire escape. She quickly descended to the square. “Over to the northeast, Darren.”

“Right. Watch these two.” Darren pulled out his pistol and ran toward where the halftrack was coming from, its back treads grinding against the debris blocking its path.

“Sure, because I was just going to let these two run off. And make sure you only stun them. I don’t want them dead by the time you get them here for me to heal.” The two Joya Union soldiers stared up at the Gold Prophet, frozen and confused as to what their fates would be. “Why did you stop working?”

The soldiers quickened their pace as they went back to the slowly shrinking piles of bodies in the square. They stopped momentarily after hearing a single, loud pistol shot from the direction Darren had gone. A few minutes later Darren appeared, moving over and around the stacked vehicles blocking the northeast entrance. He carried a Torin soldier on his back.

“There’s two more back there,” Darren said, setting the soldier down near the square.

Aela ran over to the soldier and dropped to her knees, placing a hand to heal the soldier. It was a Torin second lieutenant, by the rank emblazoned on his red collar. He had a gash in his right shoulder that sealed up in a few moments as Aela healed the man. He sat straight up and immediately fell back, dazed.

“Keep watch here,” Aela said, and wiped her hands. “I’ll get the others.”

“Sure,” Darren said.

The Torin soldier blinked, squinting as he looked up at the mid-morning sky.

Darren leaned over him so the soldier could see his face. “Hi,” he said.

The Torin groaned, realizing he’d been captured.

“Can you move?” Darren asked.

“Name, rank, and serial number,” the Torin grunted.

“Not sure if that was an answer so I’ll ask again. Can you move?”

“Name, rank, and serial number. That’s all you’ll get out of me, Prophet.” The Torin practically spat out the words.

“I’m going to go ahead and take that as a yes and insist you stand.” Darren grabbed the Torin by his brown overcoat and lifted him to his feet. He noticed that the Torin’s eyes widened when he saw the two Joya Union soldiers carrying an Ierilan body toward a grave.

“See what they’re doing?” Darren asked, pointing at the two soldiers. “They’re taking these bodies to those graves. Now you can either help them or you can dig more graves for us.”

The Torin spat in Darren’s face.

Darren wiped the spit off and said, “Digging it is then.”