Chapter 72: Loss

  Mathisen led her infantry forces through the forest brush, following in the wake of Angela’s party’s vehicle after it turned off the road. The black smoke rising from the area past the trees was visible all the way back to camp, but they wouldn’t have known where to turn off the road if not for their tracks.

  As the forest eased, the car stood as a solitary landmark next to a hill overlooking a scorched, grassy area. Already the smell was out of this world, but the infantry soldiered on.

  Nearing the car, several pairs spread out from the main troop as they spotted bodies that warranted attention. As Mathisen herself closed in on the vehicle, she saw legs sticking out from the side of the car. Rounding the vehicle, she found Emma, her brown hair darkened by blood from a head wound, and the radio started lighting up.

  “Warhead 2 identified, unconscious but breathing. Requesting medical,” one voice said, immediately followed by another.

  “Miss Ashleigh identified. She’s conscious. Requesting medical.”

  “Medical is on the way, stay with the wounded.”

  “Visual is compromised because of smoke; all teams requesting medical are to flare up.”

  Mathisen herself got on the radio after this and said, “This is General Mathisen. Miss Svensson is critically wounded. Head injury and her pulse is weak. Requesting medical, and fast!” She saw red flares light up to her side as she lit her own flare. A fourth flare lit up not a second later.

  “Officer Dunham identified. Conscious and breathing, but unable to move. Requesting medical.”

  Several moments went by as half the initial force stood by the wounded whilst the rest continued to scour the area. There were still two people missing, and the air was silent except for twigs crackling in the smouldering small fires on the field downhill.

  Two officers stood observing the fire and would’ve radioed if anything needed to be done about it. As it was, the fire seemed inert, unwilling to spread, only still burning because it couldn’t quench itself.

  Medical officers started coming out of the woods behind them with stretchers and medical bags. Mathisen stepped away from Emma to give them room to work. Only a minute later, one officer looked up at the general, shifting his head from side to side.

  “She won’t make it, sir,” he said.

  The general slammed her fist into the car, a loud clang drawing attention to her. While heads from other soldiers nearby turned, they got back to work only a second later, realising what was happening and striving to keep the rest of them alive.

  Once Mathisen had calmed down enough to think, she ordered over the radio, “Get War—Miss Callum awake. She can heal all of them! Her body is strong. If she’s still alive by now, she’ll live!”

  In the distance, Mathisen heard soldiers bickering among themselves following her order, though she didn’t quite hear what they were saying.

  “We’re still missing two people, what the hell are you doing out there?” Mathisen yelled through the radio again, deciding to focus on what she could: the search.

  “No sign of them, ma’am. They aren’t in the immediate area. It’ll take time to search through the battlefield,” a voice responded.

  “East,” said a male voice with a breathy tone. “It took her…east. He followed,” Dunham continued.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Search team, move out! East. Find any tracks heading in that direction you can and mark them!”

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  “Yes, ma’am!”

  General Mathisen joined the search party once more, unwilling to watch her ex-Major die in front of her with nothing she could do to stop it. She was tired of death. The battlefield below was silent, meaning there were no enemies. Had they won the war, or had the battle moved to another battlefield? Only finding Erik and the missing Callum sister would provide answers.

  The search party inched forward, each holding their weapons aloft and ready. The smoke thinned deeper into the forest, increasing visibility somewhat. It improved little, though, because of the trees and the brush in the dark night.

  “There! North-east, about 40 metres in,” a voice boomed on the radio, and everyone in the party turned towards the stated direction.

  Just visible through the forest was an additional source of smoke at the foot of a cliff. The slow going turned to half-sprinting and caution turned to haste when the body of a hitherto unseen sized hound lay still by the mouth of a cave—larger than even the big Hellhounds. The general pushed the size of the thing to the back of her mind when she saw the large cyst-like pouch it had attached to its hind. An unfinished corpse, that of a normal Hellhound, now seeming just like a young pup, lay dead from the mound of flesh. A breeder?

  “Warhead 1 spotted!” an officer shouted, not through the radio, but from right next to Mathisen as the officer headed left. There, Mathisen recognised Erik sitting on his knees, his clothes torn to shreds, his skin burnt black. Below him lay the unmoving body of the younger Miss Callum.

  As the officer that spotted them approached, Erik, like a violent predator protecting its young, pounced onto the man with large claws for hands. He recognised the man as friendly, and his eyes opened wide before he climbed off the man, leaving him with no marks or bruises. The officer took a relieved breath and got back up, assisted by another officer’s outstretched arm.

  “Warhead 1 identified, conscious and breathing. Requesting medical ASAP, three hundred metres past the primary field of battle, direction east, north-east…Sophie Callum is…DOA.”

  Erik slumped back down to his knees beside Sophie’s body, her chest scorched and melted by the black sword that had long since vanished, leaving an open, bloodless wound. He had failed. He had failed Jessie, and he had failed Sophie. Time slowed as his mind spiralled. He snapped back when a familiar voice screamed an angry, despairing scream, the sound audible throughout the entire forest.

  Jessie landed mere moments later, her wounded body hitting the ground harder than she could take, tossing her into a roll through the loose dirt towards her sister’s still form.

  “No!” she screamed at the top of her lungs as her body stopped tumbling and she crawled towards her sister. “Please, no! Sophie!” she cried, grabbing hold of her sister and pumping magic through her hands, doing all she could to heal her.

  Jessie must’ve had some energy to spare, unlike Erik, but her body was broken in more than one location—one of her feet pointed the opposite direction than it should. She healed and healed for several minutes before she, too, slumped down like a puppet with its strings cut off.

  “Jessie, I—” Erik tried, his voice wavering and his throat dry like a desert.

  “Did he pay for this?” she growled, her aura hostile, almost murderous.

  Erik felt her powdery aura crushing down on him, quite the opposite of its otherwise flighty nature. He turned his head towards the demonic pile of red skin, black horns, and bubbling ooze behind him. Jessie followed his gaze.

  Her aura lifted, the pressure subsiding somewhat, though not entirely. Erik got the feeling it was still applying some pressure on him rather than the entire area, though he was far too tired for aura senses.

  “Miss Callum,” the general tried, but had to try again after not getting any response whatsoever. “Miss Callum!”

  Jessie turned to look up at the general beside her, saying nothing as she barely acknowledged her.

  “Jessie…Emma is severely wounded. She’ll die too, unless…” the general said, Jessie turning her head back to her sister. “It isn’t too late for Emma!” the general continued, her voice harsher now.

  Jessie stood, with great difficulty, ignoring all around her as she burst back up into the sky, moving through the air back toward the previous battlefield. Mathisen could only hope Jessie would heal her friend, or the girl would end up regretting it for the rest of her life. The shock she was in right now would abate, but ignoring the chance to save the life of a dear friend would leave scars that would never heal.

  The general assessed Erik’s mental state, finding him in a similar shock, but judging by his previous actions, at least present enough to answer simple questions.

  “Erik! Erik!” she tried, his eyes tracing moving away from Sophie’s body, slowly meeting hers. “What happened? Did. We. Win?” she asked. “Is that him?” She pointed at the horrendous pile several metres behind them. Erik nodded in response, turning his eyes back to look at Sophie’s pale skin.

  “Ma’am. A single, plus-size enemy combatant has been spotted crawling away from the secondary site, about 90 metres further east. It’s visibly wounded. Orders?” said the radio. Mathisen’s instincts forced her to turn eastwards to see if she could see it, but all she could see were more trees looming in the darkness.

  “Tag it. Nothing we can do about it, except track it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The radio was silent for about ten seconds before the same man spoke again. “Target painted.”