Swords of Cinder

Chapter 2: Sleeping Wars

Chapter 2: Sleeping Wars

Cool sweat dripped from my brow onto the dense soil. My entire body felt sluggish and my boots were heavy as I trudged on. One foot, in front of the other. We had been walking for days. The forest felt endless. The vast greenery was dreadfully boring. Every tree looked exactly like the next one. When was all of this going to end?

My throat had become painfully dry, and it took everything I had not to break into another coughing fit. My head felt groggy and heavy, and my nose was so stuffed that my ears were constantly ringing. This was miserable. All I wanted to do was sleep. The image of a bed floated through my mind. Warm sheets. Soft pillows. I groaned in despair. Longing for something that was far gone would only make things worse.

Everyone, except for the soldiers, seemed exhausted and defeated. A few miles back, a girl had collapsed. She was the blacksmith's daughter. As awful as it was to admit, her stumble had been a faint relief in the ongoing hell. When she didn't get up, the soldiers stopped the line and ordered her to stand. She didn't. Her face remained planted in the forest trail, and her sandy hair that was caked in dirt, blood, and sweat coiled lifelessly on the ground beside her. When she hadn't moved, one of the soldiers, a heavyset, scowling man grabbed her braid and pulled her up, but she flopped back onto the ground, once he released her hair. It was only then, when I saw her eyes. Grey, empty orbs stared back at me. Gone. The redness of her nose was the only color that still remained on her face.

A sickened feeling crawled through my stomach as her lifeless gaze crossed my mind. They said it was pneumonia. Apparently, the cold, dry air, along with the endless walking, had worsened her condition, to the point where she slowly asphyxiated. She had been coughing for days. Guilt crept through me. I should have checked on her. Maybe if I had talked to her, done something, she might still be alive. Stupid. So stupid.

If Llyr was affected by her death, he didn't show it. He hadn't looked at me since Sera died. Llyr treaded slowly beside me. His head hung downwards, and a greasy mop of loose curls hid his face. His skin was caked in dry mud, and a putrid stench hung to his clothes. I probably didn't smell or look much better.

The sun still shone high in the sky, which meant that it would be hours until we could get a break or water. Water. Never in my life had I been so thirsty. My lips were incredibly chapped to the point they were bleeding, and my skin had become flaky and dry due to the dehydration. At least I wasn't hungry. I probably was. The overwhelming need for water made me too nauseous to even think about food. For some reason, the thought of eating made me want to throw up. Bile burned at the back of my throat. Food. Water. Food. Sera...

The sick feeling of guilt returned. I'm so selfish. Here I am thinking about my next meal or drink that the girl who died a few hours before had left my mind. At least I was still alive. The girl, a couple years my junior, was probably seventeen or eighteen. She had probably gone on for days in complete agony, slowly suffocating from the fluid taking over her lungs. I should be grateful. It could have been me. Selfish. Here I am thinking about myself once again. If there was one thing that this hellish journey was good for, it was self-reflection. I definitely was learning a lot about myself, despite the neverending reluctance to acknowledge my faults.

***

By the time the sun was beginning to set, the soldiers already were starting to fall into the routine for setting up camp. I was back on my duty collecting dry leaves and twigs to form a barrier around the campsite, and the rest of the recruits from my village carried on with similar tasks. It was tedious, but according to the soldiers, it was absolutely necessary.

It took almost an hour to complete the ring, and the soldiers had already set up their tents which were laid out in dozens of lines and consisted of around a hundred. Only the highest ranking officers would sleep within the makeshift shelters. The rest would sleep beneath the stars, under the thin canopy of raky branches. Thankfully, the darkening sky was clear of clouds.