Pillars of Glass Read online

  The man stood up and walked to Aaron and kneeled down in front of him. “Your brother, he made a sacrifice that only men in legends have done, even to his last moment, he held his oath looking out for others before himself. You must be very proud of him.”

  Aaron choked on the words as they forced their way out of his mouth. “Thank you, sir. Please send some people in to get his body as soon as you can, I’d like to someday get him back to my mother and father to bury him in the family plot in the desert.”

  “I will do my best young one. There is a storm coming tonight, and that may provide us the chance to get him out of there. More than likely once they see no one else is left in that sector, they will regroup and attempt to hold the main roads of the city and the bridge.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sir,” Hawskins said. “I would be honored if you let me and my team go at sundown, we know the location and can tell if anything is out of place.”

  “Is that ok with you?” The man asked Aaron.

  Aaron responded with a nod and a forced smile.

  “Perfect, till then young men, find your way to the mess hall as I’m sure you all are hungry.”

  “One last thing sir,” Aaron asked. “Who was it we were fighting?”

  The man stood up and looked at Hawskins, “They are a liberation group that we have been monitoring for some time, but are surprised at this type of action by them. You all are safe here in Vanahei. No matter if you are a native son or not.”

  With that, the man exited followed by Hawskins. Who stuck his head back in a moment later. “I’ll show you boys where the mess hall is in a few minutes; I have to go prep my team.” He looked at Aaron. “I’ll bring your brother back with us.”

  The boat landed where it had been only hours earlier in enemy territory, once again on a rescue mission. Hawskins exited the craft first followed by three of his men. Night began to set in and with it, the cloud cover of the impending storm. The small unit moved quickly in the dark, there were a few fires still lingering from the pillage earlier in the day to guide them. No patrols seemed present, and it only took them a few minutes to get to the rubble of the cathedral. Hawskins rapidly secured the area and they started the search. The rubble was heavy and difficult to move without calling any attention to the mission. The search of the area where Hawskins thought Alex may have fallen turned up without a body. After widening the area some, they came across a mound of neatly stacked rocks with a black M24 rifle and tac-helemt on top of it. Next to the pile was a stone pillar that would have supported the main chapel. There they found an epitaph of sorts:

  “The Lesson is learned, Burden of Command is not death, tis betrayal”

  Bending down, Hawskins examined the helmet. The last name Ehlinger was on the back and a pair of matching dog tags were under the helmet. Hawskins stood up and looked around the remains of what use to be the Cathedral of Aurorae. Still holding the helmet and dog tags, Hawskins leaned over and wrote the last name Ehlinger and the date next to the words already encased there. He pointed at the rocks and his unit started to remove the rocks one at a time, eventually exhuming the body. It was badly burned but the military dress made it clear it was who they were looking for. The placed the body in a bag and made their way back to the boat. Hawskins moved the rocks back into a pile, and took the helmet with him. As he stood up to read the inscription once more, he felt the rainfall. The tears of the saints and martyrs rapidly covered the floor and cued Hawskins that his mission was successful.

  Boarding the boat he felt a longing. A sort of disturbed feeling of hate that Aaron had felt earlier that day. Who had buried and left that message above his remains? The same men who fired upon innocent women and children? Had stormed a school and executed its teachers and students in the name of liberation?

  When he returned, Hawskins gave Aaron his brother’s helmet and tags before telling him the condition of the body. Aaron nodded and expressed his gratitude for Hawskins risking his life once again for the Ehlinger family. Hawskins told Aaron the body would be sent to military command and be given a proper burial with all the honors that a member of The Guard would receive for their lifetime of service.

  “He will be remembered as the hero he was Aaron.”

  “He would only want others to live by The Oath. Maybe that could be inscribed on the coffin?”

  “I’ll see it done myself. For now, head back to the barracks and we’ll send you out with the body tomorrow.”

  “I’m going to fight.”

  “And Command is the best place to continue your training till you’re a few months older. Don’t worry though Aaron, You’ll get your chance.”

  Hawskins waited another moment to see if there was anything else he could do for the youth. A man came in and escorted Aaron to a place where he could sleep for the night. Once Aaron had exited the tent, Hawskins recanted the dispatch Alex had sent and how much the information he and the other members of his unit had received. It seemed as a nightmare come true when they were sent across the channel into the city now crumbling into the sea. Watching those children he rescued, fight for the lives of others, as he approached the cathedral and the attempt to research the area for their young leader, their brother. It fortified the dream like trance, compounding and adding a new to the nightmare that was brewing like the tempest over head. Still in the spell, he left the tabernacle in the opposite direction Aaron did, towards where the melancholy waters dwell. He walked up to the surf-tormented shore, both boots breaking into the bleak waters in front of him as he peered about the shoreline to see if he was alone.

  Putting his hands up to his face, Hawksins took a breath and wept. The storm cloud and fog had moved in and taken a hold over the normally vibrant channel. He looked to the pillar, barely visible though the smoke and haze, and could see an orange glow beneath it on the water. The raging fires and cries were engulfed the natural beauty of the bridge and were instead echoing into the dully-shimmering blackness below it. He thought of the innocent blood that had stained the concrete of peace that had for so long, reigned over the two nations. It was that same burgundy stream that was now soaking the quartz and seeping through its gaps, dripping slowly into the unknowing fog. The sepulcher by the sea not only encased the bodies and sprits, but cries of the people that spewed forth that day, cries that would never be known to the annuals of time. A detraction of real terror housed in the voices of so many as they perished. He could see that there was no interest tonight for a battle of the narrow necropolis, as neither military force seemed interested in crossing it into the unknown. Death and his millstone of fire had come to make their collection, and continued to do so as all the rivers and streams from heaven opened and flowed onto the earth. The black clouds bellowed over Aurorae to meet the waters and guide them to earth below.

  Looking at his feet, as the levies of his own wells burst open, he could see a small yellow bear that had floated down stream and was stopped by his boot. He bent over and picked up the bear with one hand and saw the burgundy stains the fur was holding deep within itself. Hawskins dusted off the grey soot and ash that was still sitting atop the bears face and gawked into the eyes of the small bear. Colorless eyes as blank and empty as his spirit was. He could faintly hear men behind him in the distance squawking at one another as birds do when they fight over the carcass of an animal. Hawskins put his empty hand to his mouth to trap the impending wail inside and bowed his head. And there, on Death’s Plutonian shore, he wept.

  The resonance of a million marbles bouncing on concrete was interrupted just long enough to see a mile by the root of raw energy that descended from the heavens. Not stopping at illuminating the unknown to those on watch it passed through their windows and took hold in the murky, shallow, waters of the soul. Upon its hold, the concussive feeling produced a heart stopping jolt that was unparalleled to anything else felt by them in the last twenty-four hours. It truly was a dreary night. Among the formerly rugged ground, was the unseen merger of rubble, powder an
d blood. It passed from their feet into the wells below without a moments mourning. Muddy tracks soon craved out a tedious trail for the watchmen to follow. Mindless and lacking in emotion, they continued on, on as the rain fell fatter making it difficult to see. They had become like trains making the required stops. However these trains neither picked up nor dropped off any passengers; they ran through empty stations in an illusion of control to any who thought they could jump the tracks. In the middle was their dispatch, their control, the building whose cornerstone is the translucent ceiling of the aquifer now polluted by martyrs.

  Another root appeared and attempted to take hold, but the echo was not strong enough to take hold and quickly withered. At the window of the Operational Control Building, Peering out into the night, the council of men sat around tables drinking and plotting as a fire flickered against the far wall. They went on as their shadows danced in the firelight to the drumming of thunder like daemons welcoming the damned into hell. Their enchanter was happy with the victory, but knew there needed to be more successful skirmishes and battles, which were not against children and those fresh out of the academy, along the way to insure the success of a proper campaign. Those who shared the room with him cared not for whom they slaughtered, as long as their men pressed onward into myth. Songs of victory clouded their judgment the booze flowed forth, unwavering in its current.

  Turning away from the window he glided across the creaky wooden floor, towards the table, He cleared his throat, the only sound he had made in hours.

  “Gentlemen, if we can suspend the pomp and circumstance for another occasion in which we truly have a victory instead of running over snails as they tried to impede our path.” He reflected on the battle as the fire crackled. He remembered his students attempting to fight his well-seasoned vets. They had executed battle plans similar to those they had learned in their textbooks. They were students of war, but that’s all they were; young inexperienced and predictable. One student though, proved his worth. It was sad he perished along with his brethren. In another time the trainee would be at the table with him now instead of these lackeys. No these jackals, ones who basked in the destruction of others. A pack of wild dogs, instead of a true regiment, he shook his head as he looked back at the animals begging for scraps from the table.

  Tillery waited another moment for their attention before continuing on. “Your leader recruited me to help you take this city and control the port. It was my understanding that the collateral damage of the day, was well over what was deemed expectable to command.”

  “We were told to take all necessary steps to strike fear deep into the hearts of the overreaching Vanahei government, General Tillery. And that’s what we did. We made sure they knew we wouldn’t let anyone escape our grasp."

  “What you did, was show that we are a bunch of blood thirsty renegades, who weren’t organized enough to acknowledge the fact that the people of this city gave it to you without the need to spill blood. Five thousand men, women and children are now lying dead because of your men firing on the bridge. All you had to do was scare them, not murder unarmed people.”

  There was a long silence in the room before the alpha of the pack spoke again. “I will defend my men until command deems a punishment to carry out. Twenty four of my men also died today from that armed guerilla group you went after. And how many bodies were there when you and that squad checked the rubble? Zero General.”

  “If you justify the murder of five thousand for the deaths of twenty seven soldiers, I would hate to see your bloodlust when we engage the Vanahei Army. Can we now discuss the next phase of this operation?”

  The wolves drew in closer to the map on the table. Before Tillery could open his mouth to explain another flash of light and the ensuing thunder had somehow broken the window in front of the General. Dumbfounded, a few of the men approached the window to see just a small round hole in the upper half. Looking to his left, there was something seemingly out of place with his dress uniform, a small hole where one of his stars should be. General Tillery looked on the floor around him to see if it had fallen. He searched the top of the table coming up empty. Moving around another out of place thing had caught his eye. There was a hole in the map behind him, a hole right in the middle of Aurorae. Tillery walked slowly over to the map on the wall and placed his fingers into the missing section. Pricking his finger he winced while removing two small pieces of metal that had been fused together. He held them in his palm for a moment before tossing the missing star and slug onto the table.

  “Gentlemen,” He said looking down at the slug. “I believe we have a visitor out in the tempest. Search the hilltop and the buildings close by. He is obviously armed so take caution.”

  They scattered and sounded the general alarm. He knew it was going to take at least ten good minutes before they returned, so he walked across the wooden floor creaking with each step, and poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bar in the corner. He looked at it for a long moment before taking the first sip. Pressing the fingers to the corners of his eyes the General turned around to look once again at the shrapnel on the table and then to the newly damaged map on the far wall. The wind the rain, if the shooter had been aiming for his chest, it would have been a great shot he thought to himself. He hoped he was right but knew hope doesn’t sway fate. If the shooter had executed the shot he meant, which seemed more likely, it was perfect through and through, framed by embedding of its spot on the map. Only a few men in the world could execute that shot, and he had trained all of them.

  Tillery wondered to himself how he was able to get close enough for that shot. Were these patriots he was now leading, truly that incompetent to not have a properly secured area? The time between the flash of lightening and the rumble of thunder wasn’t long enough for it to be a true long-range shot. He was close, somehow, someway, he had moved quietly to position himself such a shot. The escape after the ‘miss’ now caught his attention. He hoped he would speak to a man instead of a corpse.

  The door to the room opened and the men filed back in, the last of them holding a standard black M24 rifle in one hand and an envelope in another. Tillery waved for them to set it on the table and extended his hand out for the damp envelope. He walked over to the fireplace for better light, opened the letter and read the short note.

  Tillery looked up at the men waiting for his response. “How far away did you find this?”

  “We found it about two hundred and fifty yards from here sir” one of the men said. “Is there a problem?”

  Smiling Tillery shook his head and spoke quietly to himself. “An eidolon named Night.”

  “Excuse me General?” sounded a voice somewhere in the corner.

  “It’s nothing to be worried about men, double the patrols and move to the table so I can explain the next phase of your liberation.”

  Balling up the letter, he dropped it on top of the yule longs and walked back to the table, now looking at the M24. As he started to explain the next goal of the operation, Tillery’s mind wandered and looked back at the unballing parchment now beginning to burn and he knew he would remember for the rest of his life, the two words in the letter:

  “Replaceable,

  Eloquent?”

  Part II: Ides of War

  Month Seven: Day 22, 13:22 Zulu

  “Chow time boys, we recommence our patrol at 1345. Find yourself a seat, plant your ass, and eat. We won’t stop again until 1500 at which time we will radio to the FOB with our updates and hopefully rotate out.”

  Aaron found a spot only a few feet from some of the others and placed his rifle against what use to be a concrete support of some kind. Silently, he swung his pack from one shoulder and let it fall on the ground. Dusting off an old flowerpot, to no avail, he sat with the rest of his patrol on the outskirts of Anderhill. It was one of the greatest cities of Vanahei and was nicknamed the Door of Civilization as it sat on the Straight of Light. In its former life, the city was an active metropolis with millions of people scat
tered along its shores. It had one central highway, eight lanes wide which split the city in half and was referred to the locals as the great north pillar. This pillar provided the most direct route to travel between the two worlds of Vanahei and Mispellem, two worlds only a shadow of their former selves.

  After the first few hours of the war, all Vanahei retreated from beyond the banks and waited in Anderhill until the shelling had started Aaron’s unit, nicknamed Seeker 2, originally been created as a search and evac team for civilians to ensure the greatest preservation of life. However, only about one-third of the civilian population made it out unscathed, and now it had been given a low priority recon mission to assess the damage and any troop moment across the pillar onto the western shores. In the few months since the initial attack, troops from the Mispellem Liberation Movement, had progressed aggressively along the coastlines setting up artillery to fire across the straight on the city, and any possible force that attempted to cross. However the most recent Intel stated that they had not yet attempted to cross along the pillar themselvs, as they were unsure of any movement by the new National Vanahei Army in the city. Seeker Two had approached the city from the south heading in the direction of the pillar and now were tasked with recon, every grunts favorite mission: go into a previously demolished area and see if it has been occupied. So far, there hadn’t been any resistance.

  Opening his pack Aaron started fishing for a MRE, he missed his mothers cooking. The aromas that use to come from the kitchen excited all the senses but never could prepare him for the joy once the meal was actually being consumed. Now, he sat with a prepackaged dehydrated version of some pasta and chicken that had probably been mass-produced with as little calories as possible to keep the coast per unit cheap. Lest face it, after all, it had been a while since any time of military conflict had been even joked about. Both sides had been at a state of relative peace both in the Senate and in the cities for generations.