Broken Soldier by Orin Drake
A Novel In Progress.

        Chapter 12

        Rakashi stayed sitting at the desk, staring out the window at the rain. She made no further sound, no motion, lost in her own thoughts or maybe trying desperately to keep her mind blank.
        Rean was too exhausted for too many reasons. He took the bed again out of necessity, gaining anything but the restful part of sleep. It was nice to hide from consciousness for a while, but every few minutes it seemed he'd wake with a bit of a start, seeing the general at the window... reminding him all over again. Maybe she wasn't a general anymore, but it was hard to think of her otherwise. Hard to think of... anything else...
        The same thing must have kept happening over a couple of hours at least, no memorable nightmares plaguing him; but no decent dreams of better times, either. He was finally woken fully by a light hand on his shoulder, causing a startled gasp before he realized what was going on.
        "We've got to get going soon." She informed quietly.
        He caught himself staring sleepily into her eyes, blinking when he realized she was gazing back. There were still flecks of gold in those eyes, but... they weren't anything like they'd been before. That glow... "I thought... you might try to leave without me..." he admittedly, honestly not sure if that should have been kept to himself.
        "The thought had crossed my mind." She countered with just as much honesty, backing away to give him room to get out of bed. "But you don't have anywhere else to go, either."
        A reminder that he could have done without, regardless of the truth behind it. Rean sat up with a yawn that he hadn't seen coming, wincing a little as he stretched. At least he felt a lot better than he had, and a lot stronger despite the nausea remaining. "Is there time to take a shower first?" He couldn't fathom how long it had been since he'd bathed, nor did he want to figure it out.
        "A quick one." She agreed calmly. "There are some fresh clothes in the linen closet. Still a little big, but they'll do."
        He nodded, standing... then very nearly sat back down again. Getting up quickly had rarely ever left him feeling dizzy, the sensation surprisingly him.
        Rakashi watched, making sure he gained his footing, first. She was already at the door, seeming intent upon leaving the room. "Wait here." It was an order, stated softly but firmly.
        He believed that he knew exactly where she was going, and there was an all too familiar sinking feeling about it. "Shouldn't I follow you at least..?"
        "Wait here." She repeated, tone unchanged. "I won't be long."
        Rean failed to be reassured.



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        The knock didn't surprise Andrew in the least. It was how his guest seemed to patiently wait until he answered the door that made him nervous. "Rakashi."
        She stepped past him in a very business-like manner, letting him close and lock the door before she began. "Captain Dulce. Where is he?"
        "I don't know. He didn't tell me where he was going, but..." he turned and took a few steps to the dresser, rummaging through the top drawer. "He left some money for you."
        "Money?" Her coldness fell straight to confusion at the idea.
        Andrew's only reply was to drop an unwrapped, unbound pile of every assortment of paper money known the world over onto the dresser's polished top. Gold would not do for a pair of innocent travelers, and the captain certainly knew that... but having quite so much money from so very many locations seemed just a touch extreme. Overdone. Quite legitimately from the captain.
        "Weapons, too." The man pointed over to the bed.
        Looking over, she spotted two distinctive lumps beneath the comforter. "What is this?"
        "I believe that he wants you to find him." Andrew shrugged. "He didn't tell me anything. There was actually quite a verbal battle between us because of that, but no matter. I'm sure he did it for my 'safety.'" He'd have laughed if he could have grasped humor in that moment.
        "Where are we?" her curiosity continued. She was used to answers being few and far between, but this was just a little different.
        "Just over the hill from Feres."
        Well, that explained the rain. Feres was not an ideal tourist spot when several months of flooding were expected every year. "Not a single clue as to where he went?"
        "Not even a direction." Andrew confirmed. "But the main town isn't far away. I'm willing to bet he left something for you."
        Rakashi abandoned the conversation for a moment, walking over to the bed and pulling the comforter away. She was surprised to find two pistols of a smaller variety than what the military generally used. These would travel better of course, but it might provide a disadvantage in terms of ammunition and distance for someone like Rean, who hadn't gotten any training.
        "He wouldn't tell me where those came from, either." The man spoke up, tone a bit frustrated. "I wonder if anyone was actually open with one another."
        That certainly summed up her thoughts quite well, and a damn lot more politely. Quietly, she picked up each pistol and inspected them, finding them fully loaded and well oiled. Taking one in each hand to feel their weight, their balance, they were just different enough to take note of. Not part of a production line. Probably built from bits and pieces of other guns.
        "I don't fear this." He repeated himself from earlier, calmly and certainly. "I'm sure I deserve everything that I get."
        It was a... strange sentiment. One that she wasn't really sure how to respond to. "Why would you say that?"
        He looked a bit shocked by her question. "This... what you are right now... it's now what you were meant to be. I don't pretend to know what that was, but I know it's not this. Even if one could set aside the people who died, the species that were eradicated or affected by the Rush... it's my fault. My theory, my help." He laughed a little, the sound hollow. "I've never been spiritual by any stretch, but that was... sin."
        So... odd. Her throat was dry, her hands tightening around the pistols--but not in anger. It was... longing, all of a sudden. Of all the ridiculous things. Longing to know more. Things he couldn't offer her, it seemed. "You think I'd torture you."
        He shrugged one shoulder. "To be frank... your rage isn't exactly a secret." There was a little smile than managed to break through. He'd been witness to many of her "incidents"... as well as having been the one to clean a few of them up. "Nor your skill on the field."
        "My skill at killing, you mean." She countered quietly, looking down at the new weapons. It'd been some time since she'd really needed any, having been imprisoned in the Tower for so long. Ha, it was to laugh. Deadly little princess.
        "Those are your words." Andrew corrected.
        She could only shake her head, trying to bind together too many thoughts that she didn't quite understand. Not that she was sure if she wanted to understand them in the first place. The urge to sit was strong, but ultimately ignored. "How can I trust anything that you've told me? That you're not just delusional?"
        "I don't know." He answered with a sigh. "There's no evidence anymore. I'm not sure if there ever was, but if so, it burned with the Tower."
        Well, she certainly didn't remember that part. "Burned..?"
        "I don't know anything about that, either. I only looked back once, and there was fire."
        A long moment of silence followed. Maybe they'd both been betrayed in some way or another... or just not allowed to know the whole truth. Maybe he was a damn good liar and she was letting imagined loyalty and emotion color her decision. "How much money do you need to stay here for a while?"
        His eyes widened, trying hard to not look as surprised as he felt. He failed miserably. "I have what I need for quite some time."
        "Stay alive." She came close to outright ordering. Maybe she just suggested it strongly, instead. With that much said, she turned and walked to the door.
        "Just so I know..." he called after her, "Why are you letting me live?"
        It was a good question. One that probably deserved proper thought and time put into a response for, but at the moment she had neither of those things. "Because I've got a damn good sense of humor." She decided on, closing the door behind her.
        She heard Andrew laughing as she walked away. That seemed as good a sign as any.



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        Rean heard the door open just as he was drying off. He stood stock still at first, wondering if it was her, if something had gone wrong...
        "Am I to assume that you actually might know how to shoot?" Came from the other side of the bathroom door.
        He thought he'd be a little more at ease to discover her still alive. "I, well... a gun?"
        "Yes." She sounded slightly amused. "A pistol, in particular."
        What an odd and unwelcome question to greet him after his pleasantly hot shower. "I never learned... but I think I could. If I had to, yeah."
        "Good to hear." The former general called over her shoulder, already walking away to gather up their things and get going.



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        They'd left with very little in terms of supplies. Rakashi knew that the larger town ahead would likely have deals for travelers if the right language was used; after all, no need to spend that money if they didn't have to. It had been a bit of a surprise to find full-cover rain coats had been left for them, but at that point they both supposed that they ought to start getting used to being surprised.
        The coats were necessary, the rain heavy and unrelenting. At the very least it wasn't a cold rain, and the lack of wind saved them from being soaked through. Save their boots, unfortunately, a fact that Rakashi quietly cursed about every so often. It really was a little difficult not to laugh.
        Rean tried to focus instead on what he could see. The cobblestone street beneath was impressive, worn by time but still very much intact. After a while, he marveled instead on the knowledge that they seemed to be the only people moving in the rain. There weren't cars or even carriages going along the same road. The locals were a good deal smarter, he guessed.
        It was during one of those long silences between curses that he started to wonder how she kept going. How she'd ever kept going, even before... but most certainly now. And how could she stand to have him tag along? He'd have questioned the same about anyone, but specifically himself, a reminder of the Tower, someone who wasn't even really all that much a part of her life. It wasn't comfortable. Like the weapon she'd given him.
        Thought blurred like the landscape in the rain. Another hill, then another. The sound of rain, water, everywhere. Even the woman's cursing had stopped, concentration settled elsewhere. Another hill. Again and again until finally they crested a hill with a steeper drop--and down below them was civilization.
        It was a storybook town, or at least that's exactly how it appeared. Small, quaint, and yet still full of buildings, shops, everything painted in soft colors and somehow still holding up to the rain.
        Of course, there was also a pub. That Rakashi headed straight for, ushering Rean in to shake off the water and take in the smell of old, wet wood, smoke and alcohol. It might well have been more uncomfortable than the pistol. "What are we doing here?" he whispered, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.
        "Getting what we need." She answered simply. As a soldier, she knew that the pub was the first place one went to find anything. Supporters, dissenters, weapons, sex, safe passage, spies, and of course the all-important booze. "Just follow me. Everywhere."
        That was not a problem. He walked directly behind her as she approached the bar, unable to help but notice all eyes on them. Rakashi, however, didn't so much as glance back at any of them, taking an empty stool and waiting. Well, that was good. He hoped.
        Without a word, she placed a single bill on the counter and tapped the printed value with her ring finger twice. Some signal that he didn't know, clearly, but it got her a small cup of amber liquid from a very... practiced woman serving as barmaid.
        With the slightest hint of a grin, she offered the drink to her traveling companion. Rean shook his head, somewhat vigorously. He could smell it from there, and it was... unpleasant. She gave a smirk before she threw it back, swallowing the awful concoction in one go. Sure it was bad, but it was a bit of a psychological game with whoever was waiting behind closed doors, watching. And there was always someone. This was all part of the dance.
        And then came that unexpected tap on her shoulder. Easily she turned, regarding the slightly grizzled man with a blank look.
        The man really had no idea what he was in for. "I see that you must be new here." He started off, voice some warped version of an attempt at being suave. "I'm certain you might need a guide, someone who knows the area. You're certain to need that to keep you out of danger, aren't you?"
        "No." Rakashi answered simply, turning back to the bar.
        When the man turned the former general back around, Rean braced himself for the impact. This was not going to end well, and yet turning away seemed like it would have been a mistake.
        "Hey, now." The man continued, voice tight and showing anger. "You one of those military brats who thinks you can cut it outside?" When she didn't answer, he simply continued. "Well let me tell you something, sweetheart: your pretty little ass isn't too old to get sold off. Neither is the boy's frankly."
        It happened a little too fast to really get the gist of everything. Rean saw movement, heard glass break, and then the side of the man's face was slammed into the top of the bar's counter. It was with a sick feeling in his stomach that he realized Rakashi had broken the glass first... and the shards were most certainly embedded in the man's cheek.

        "I'm going to lay it all out for you, nice and clear." She assured, tone just short of friendly. "You're going to listen to me, and you are going to mark my words or they will be the last you will ever hear." The man struggled. His face was again slammed against the counter, hard enough to hear something crack as he cried out. Neither of those things seemed to interrupt her. "You're going to turn around and walk the fuck out of here right now. And you are never going to come back. Because you don't want to die, do you?"
        There was a whimper. Then a hushed, wounded, "No, ma'am."
        "'No sir.'" She corrected. "You are going to call me 'sir' and you are going to leave and forget this ever happened. Because if you don't," that smile got tighter, more sinister, "Then I am going to thoroughly enjoy widening those cuts. I'm going to carve you up with a smile on my face, because you're going to realize how truly worthless you are." The pretense fell. Her voice was nothing but cold, hand clenching around the back of his neck. "I'm going to find joy in the sound of your fingers breaking before I slice them off and feed them to you. That might be before or after I dig those pretty blue eyes out of your head with whatever I manage to find in your pockets; I'm sure you understand that I'm been trained to be exceedingly resourceful. I'm going to make sure that you wish you were never born, that you're in so much fucking pain that all you can think of is the end... and then I'm going to make sure that you know, that you are completely aware that you are calling out to a god who wouldn't touch your filthy fucking soul for anything. That even your creator despises you as much as I do. And I will bathe in your blood as I laugh and leave your last breath to be one of abject misery." After a long, intense silence, the smile came up again like it had never vanished to begin with. "Now. How about you go on outside now?"
        He did. Faster than he may have ever moved, the side of his face dripping with blood. The same blood that the counter was smeared with.
        The woman remained impassive even when an older gentleman emerged from the door at the side of the bar, clearly from a back room. Without a word he merely poured her a shot of something far better than what she'd gotten before, sliding it through a bit of that blood to rest in front of her.
        "Rakashi..." Actually saying her name was a complete accident, but Rean was grasping for something. Of course he knew those rumors, but he'd never experienced the truth behind them until that moment. Even so, that seemed a bit... extreme, to put matters lightly...
        "I'm having a bad day, Rean." She responded easily, taking that shot.
        "So you are Rakashi." The man behind the counter confirmed. "I was told that I'd probably know you when I saw you. I've got a few things that've been waiting."
        Yes, the captain had been here, alright. "Understood." She responded simply before standing, waiting for her former assistant to follow her lead. "How much do I owe?"
        "Not a thing." The man responded, lifting the end of the counter for them to come through. "That useless jackass has been harassing my customers for years."
        She allowed herself to grin. Maybe it wasn't quite serendipity, but it was close enough. Making certain that Rean remained close, she followed the man through the door and up the stairs to the left, apparently to the apartments above. He merely opened the door to the right, prepared to let them enter. "Everything you need until morning is in there. When you leave, there will be horses waiting for you."
        Convenient, to say the least. "Who paid you?"
        Shaking his head, the man answered, "No names, no purpose. If there's no trouble here then I never saw any of you."
        Rakashi had hoped for a better answer... but that wasn't a bad one, either. "Understood. Thank you." Ushering Rean in ahead of her, she turned back and offered, "Sorry about the mess."



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        There were many good things about that room. An ice box with wrapped sandwiches in it, for instance. Water in the tap that wasn't brown. The fact that they had transportation out. But there were a lot of things that Rean wasn't necessarily happy about. The single and rather thin bed, for instance. At least he could mention the other thing. "Why horses?"
        "The rain." Rakashi responded without even taking a moment to figure out what he was asking, in the process of seemingly inspecting every inch of the area. Anything out of place would need to be inspected. "It completely destroys metal after a while. People still travel here with wooden carts, but... those wear out too after a while."
        It wasn't that he didn't like horses. It was just that he'd never ridden one. Like shooting a gun, those had just never been in his range of experience. Sitting heavily on that bed with a sigh, he suddenly went very still as he realized there was something beneath him. Standing to dig it out from under the sheets, it seemed safer to just hand the envelope over.
        With a raised eyebrow, she accepted and immediately went about inspecting the contents. Inside, there was only the single front page of a newspaper. After giving it a long look, reading it over twice, she handed it back to Rean. "Read."
        He actually didn't want to. Not when her expression hadn't changed. Taking a deep breath first, he started to read aloud, "'Secretary Sarah Katspur among the... dead at the Unit 183 disaster... no one survived the bombing'..?" His hands were absolutely cold all of sudden.
        "Keep reading." She pressed softly.
        Rean considered outright refusing until he noticed a rather unusual name in the next line. Something... familiar. "'Tirmedi LeNalldeuc also killed, sighted under Project Ecsret Essmage.'"
        Rakashi smiled, though it was slight. "That's the most horrifically blatant 'secret message' I've ever seen."
        He looked back at the words, then honestly wondered how he hadn't noticed right away. Once he'd seen it, "Ecsret Essmage" became "Secret Message" right away. That definitely seemed like Demi.
        "And the name." She urged him forward. "Look at 'Tirmedi LeNalldeuc .'"
        That one took him a bit longer due to the letters he needed to work out. Once he got the first word, though, double-checking it in his mind... "Demitri Allen Dulce." Demi's full name. And no one ever called him Demitri. "So... what does this mean?"
        "I'm not sure." She admitted, moving to take a look at the page again. "I might just need to... let it rest for a while. 'Unit 138' is entirely too suspicious. 1-3-8 was the unlock code of Sarah's field files. All of this suggests that she and the captain are actually alive and well, but as for where..."
        He sincerely hoped so. Particularly after that little incident at the bar moments ago. Reading over the rest of the page along with her, he pointed out the obvious in hopes that it might be considered helpful. "Nova is mentioned. So are Pavelin, Jant and Serafem."
        "Could be four corners." Rakashi theorized. "The meeting point between the four. I'm sure we'll be provided with a map before we leave, and we'll know then." Those towns were just too small for her to actually know where they were.
        Rean hoped a lot for that, too. They had a few too many complications to be dealing with any more. Sighing quietly, he looked out the window and noted that despite how heavy the rain was, it appeared that the sun was just starting to go down. It was too early to be so tired, but...
        "Take the bed." She invited easily, taking the page and sliding it back in the envelope to bring with them.
        He blinked. Not that he didn't appreciate that, but... the only other places to sleep were a threadbare rug or a much too small bath tub. It wasn't some show of "maleness"--he was actually concerned about Rakashi getting rest herself. Just remembering how long it seemed she'd been staring out the window at the inn... "You ought to sleep too, though."
        "I've gotten by on less." She defended just a little too easily. "There's always the floor. I've managed to sleep just fine on solid rock."
        But she didn't have to here, was the thing. He shook his head. "There's a bed and we should... both use it." Dammit, he hoped he'd just started running a fever and not a blush.
        She did look just a bit too amused by the idea, then gazed out the window for a moment as if debating. The sandwiches would keep, and they'd need a big breakfast. Not to mention that sleeping now would assure it would be easier to start off early in the morning... "I'd expect you to be a gentleman, Mr. Coi."
        He honestly didn't know if she was teasing him. Either answer seemed mildly cruel. "That... that goes without saying, general."
        As tempted as she was to remind him that the title was no longer valid, it was best to let it drop for the moment. Removing her boots and leaving them in front of the door, she checked the locks and then slid under the top blanket, managing to look entirely too relaxed almost immediately.
        There was a little hesitation, but... dammit, he was tired and they were adults. More or less. Sliding off his own boots, he was trying not to focus on how insanely surreal this entire situation was. He stalled a bit by drawing the curtains over the window, finding them just as threadbare as the rug but still mostly capable of blocking out light. Turning off the lamp, he moved unnaturally slowly as he got under all of those blankets, providing an extra barrier between them. How to lay, though... he supposed it was best to get as close to the edge of the bed as possible, facing away. Except that he usually got a leg cramp on that side. Sleeping on his back would be best, but that was just a little bit too close. But maybe if he moved his arms so he could do something between the two and then bend that leg slightly...
        "Rean."
        He swallowed. "Yes, sir?"
        The chuckle was quiet. "Go to sleep."
        A quiet sound of amusement escaped before he had any idea that he was going to be making it. He didn't care what she was or where she was from. This was enough.


Content copyright Orin Drake 2011.
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