by Sidney Wood
“Well, she’s a mama now, so her figure isn’t what it used to be I guess,” the old man said. He smiled as realization dawned on the girl’s face.
“Puppies?!” she squealed. She straightened up and her head swiveled back and forth looking for any sign of the litter.
The old man chuckled and pointed toward the door. “Out there,” he said. “They’re in the shed.”
Charity and the babies’ mama approached the shed, and she could hear the tell tale squeaks and whimpering of newborns. As she got closer to the squirming pile of fat little puppies, she beamed with joy. She sat down and watched them for a moment quietly. One of the pups didn’t seem as helpless as the others. Its eyes were open, and it looked at her with a puzzled expression as it sat sort of sideways, with its round belly sagging on the floor. The other puppies were all cream colored like their mother, but this one was nearly black except for patches of white on her toes, chest, and muzzle. There was also a small white diamond on her forehead, and an identical mark on the back of her head.
“Isn’t that something,” her dad said behind her. Charity turned excitedly and grinned at him, her eyes sparkling. “Seth thought you might take a liking to one of these pups, but it looks like that one has taken an interest in you as well.”
“Daddy, please,” she pleaded, still smiling. “Can we ask the Sergeant Major if I can have this one?”
He grinned right back at her and touched her shoulder as he said, “We spoke before you woke up. If you promise to take care of her, she’s yours.”
Charity beamed as she said she would, and turned back to her new puppy.
“She needs a name, Love. Her dad said with a smile. “What’s it going to be?”
Charity picked the fat little puppy up in her arms and gave her a soft hug. The puppy licked her face, making her giggle. “Cuddles! That’s her name. Cuddles.”
Lynn choked and coughed before saying anything. “Are you sure sweetie?” he managed to say. “She’s going to be a big tough dog someday, and the other dogs might make fun of her with a name like that.” He offered desperately.
“I think Cuddles is a perfect name.” She said with a smile.
Lynn sighed as he imagined having to say that name out loud, or even shout it someday. “Oh brother, I should have seen that coming.”
Chapter Three
(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)
In a coastal village a man who looked much younger than his 24 years opened his gray-green eyes with a start.
“Slap your sister!”
It was nearly dawn outside and Guy Martin was in trouble.
Quickly and silently he slid from beneath the heavy blankets and the arm of a woman he met the night before. He didn’t know her name and he didn’t care. It’s a pretty fair bet that she didn’t care either considering how quickly they ended up in bed. He wasn’t really surprised though. From what he had witnessed in the few hours he had been here, this town was experiencing hard times. People weren’t big on propriety or modesty when living to see the next day was unlikely. The poor poor dead bastard sitting on top of the pole in the village square was an effective reminder of that.
He swung his leg out of bed, touching his left foot down to the floor. With practiced movements, Guy immediately set to getting dressed. His trousers were cold as he pulled them up, and his left boot was still damp as he pulled it on. He pulled up the right leg of his trousers and quickly wrapped his stump with a long piece of cloth before setting it into the leather apparatus at the top of his wooden leg. He cinched and tied the strings, which constricted much like a corset around the stump, and fastened the leather straps with buckles tightly above the false leg. He was able to keep the leg attached without running straps up to his belt or over his shoulders because of the way the stump had healed. There was a narrowing above the flattened ball of his stump, which made attaching the wooden leg and keeping it there a cinch, literally.
Guy Stood up and tested the fit, then walked to his gear. He slipped his shirt over his head and grabbed his belt and saddle bag. He shouldered them as he hurried out the door.
Guy hurried along with a hitched gait through the pre-dawn streets of the village toward the river bank. He cursed himself for getting distracted by the “friendly” girl at the Inn. He had already paid for passage, and if he didn’t get aboard before they left, he’d be stuck on this side of the river when Curly and his new crew arrived. Undoubtedly that would be sometime today.
He had managed to stay ahead of him for the past week, but missing the boat would put an end to that. He picked up the pace.
Rounding the corner of the last building he stopped suddenly. He was breathing hard in the cold morning air and his breath was coming out in white clouds. He could see the entire near bank of the wide river.
It was bare.
No boats or river-men, just mud and muddy water. The far side was obscured by thick low-hanging fog.
“Slap your sister…”
Guy instinctively looked over his shoulder and saw no one. He looked up and down stream, weighing his options, and briefly considered trying the swim across…very briefly. Guy was not afraid, but he was not an idiot either. He knew that even with two legs he was not a strong swimmer, and this was a very wide river: the kind that looks slow and lazy, but hides powerful undercurrents. It was only a short hike downstream to the ocean where he could find passage on some other boat. That’s why he planned on hopping a ride on the boat across the river and continuing inland. It simply didn’t make sense to go anywhere but toward the open ocean, but Curly knew the ocean better than anyone and he’d look for him there. “Upstream then,” he thought. He put on his belt and let his right hand rest on the hilt of his knife as he pondered his decision.
“Screw it…”
One last look over his shoulder, a quick pat of his bag to make sure the flap was secure, and he stepped off upstream toward the Northern Mountains. He hoped Curly hadn’t hired a tracker. Even a bad one could follow a one legged man, and God knows he wouldn’t be able to outrun anybody.
As Guy made his way out of the village and through the forest along the river bank, he thought of a different girl. She was a beautiful girl, often sad, with blue eyes and pale skin. His resolve strengthened and he walked faster, putting more distance between himself and the men who had killed her. One day he would make sure they suffered the same fate. He would make them pay. But it would not be today. Today he would run.
Chapter Four
(Six years earlier: 231 Cycles into the Light)
Chase twisted away from the pain with a yelp, instantly furious at himself for showing weakness. Then, another stinging mark landed across his back, spiking his fury. It wasn’t that he was scrawny, or not athletic. Chase was quite exceptional for his age, but Kelly Turner, his teacher, was magnificent. Just ask Kelly.
“Enough!” Chase shouted.
“Enough? Hardly son,” said the sinewy man delivering his daily humiliation. “What would the old man say if I took it easy on his favorite pupil?” He suddenly swung his wooden practice sword at the boy’s knees with enough force to break them.
If it had not been for the widening of Kelly’s grey eyes and a telltale twitch to his brow just before he swung, the boy would not have had a chance. Without thinking, he launched himself backward into the air. He arched his back, tucked his arms in, and twisted as hard as he could. As his body inverted, he threw one leg into the spin, executing a perfect aerial. He landed facing Kelly, who stepped back to avoid a vicious kick to the jaw.
“You little…Ass!..errr, pup…Ass-pup!” said Kelly, incredulously. “I was fourteen before I mastered that move! You’re barely past your eleventh birthday, and haven’t had a tenth of the training I had at your age!”
“You were probably able to defend yourself without aerial tactics at my age. I can’t seem to do without them,” offered Chase.
“Well, I was pretty magnificent, even then,” admitted Kelly as he looked away dramatical
ly and smiled.
Chase rolled his eyes and tried smiling along with Kelly, who was only half joking, but managed more of a grimace. The bleeding welts were making his shirt stick to his back.
The moment was broken by the chime of a loud bell, signaling rotation to all of the academy students. Chase breathed a sigh of relief. He had made it through another session with the academy’s greatest fighter, greatest braggart, and greatest cause of injury to students. Before running on to the next lesson, Chase waited for Kelly to give him leave. It was expected here, and Chase always followed the rules…sort of.
Kelly made Chase wait an extra few seconds, as always, and then opened his mouth to impart a last bit of wisdom. Chase, who was waiting for the teacher’s nod, liberally interpreted the slight head movement associated with opening his mouth as the nod. He bolted before Kelly had uttered a word.
Chase could hear Kelly sputtering as he sped across campus to his next tutor. He would pay for that tomorrow, but like any 11 year old boy, he wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. He chuckled to himself and ran faster, proud of his act of defiance.
Kelly quickly regained his composure, and did not chase the boy. He could have caught him, probably, but he could just as easily deal with it in the ring tomorrow. He fumed quietly as he watched the academy’s brightest student, most promising fighter, and biggest pain in the backside running away.
“Are you kidding me?” thought Corvis. He eyed the remains of the chocolate desert angrily while the other students stuffed their skinny faces with it. He looked over at Chase, who gave a knowing smirk, and his scowl deepened. Chase raised his hands in supplication and quickly changed his expression to one of sympathy.
Chase and Corvis had been friends since Chase arrived. At first, Chase was an outsider like him. Corvis, who had always been large, took pride in standing up for the little guy. But in the years since his arrival, Chase had sprouted physically and socially, while Corvis had grown…out. Through it all, they had remained friends.
After the meal, they walked out of the hall together. Corvis was still stewing over the new prohibition levied on him against sweets. As they rounded the corner, Chase said “Here Corvis, I saved you a piece.” He took a folded napkin out of his pocket, and handed it to him. Corvis peeled it open and beamed.
“Awww, thanks Chase!” he said before gingerly nibbling a bit from the edge. “Mmmm! It’s as good as I imagined.” He smiled, and to Chase’s amazement, handed it back.
“What? Why are you…?” He stammered.
“Hey, I appreciate it, but I don’t want to be the fat kid anymore,” he explained. He grabbed a handful of stomach flab for emphasis and said, “It’s time to turn this…into muscle.”
Chase stared at him, dumbfounded. Amazement gave way to admiration, and smiling, Chase slapped his friend on the back. “Good on ya Corvis!”
Corvis grinned back.
Chapter Five
(234 Cycles into the Light)
Kelly winced and rubbed his aching forearm. He was not looking forward to his morning lesson with Chase. The boy was getting rather difficult to beat, and Kelly had begun receiving some of the pain he’d been dealing out all these years.
“Keep it together. The little pup is fast to be sure, and strong as an ox, but he’s got a thing or two to learn from this old fox,” Kelly reassured himself.
A moment later, Kelly was surprised to see Corvis walk stiffly into the training ring instead of Chase.
“Corvis?” he said. By all measures the boy had changed dramatically in the last 3 years. Where he had been a ball of soft baby fat, he was now bulging with muscle. Where he was withdrawn and defensive, he was now becoming forthright and kind. Kelly was unsure what had happened with the young man, but he was very impressed with the change. It was not common.
“Pardon the confusion Sir, but Chase has been re-directed to the headmaster’s office. I believe it has something to do with his birthday. I was hoping to get in an extra practice session today if you don’t mind giving instruction to one of Master Simanu’s students.”
“Corvis, if you are in need of a beating, you should just ask,” said Kelly. He stepped to the center of the ring and nodded. “This should be a fun morning after all,” he thought and allowed the corner of his mouth to rise in a slight smirk.
“Thank you Sir,” answered Corvis as he moved to meet Kelly in the center. He was masking his excitement as best he could, but he wasn’t sure he could keep from smiling much longer. He and Chase had been working on this plan for several weeks and the anticipation was killing him.
They started circling each other slowly, looking into each other’s eyes. This was the part that Corvis disliked. He felt sure Kelly would see that he was hiding something and stop the game before he could truly play his part. But his worry was misplaced, Kelly was thinking only of teaching a lesson to this big pup.
“This is going to hurt,” Corvis thought.
Corvis sucked in a deep breath and feinted toward Kelly’s left side, leaving his own left side exposed. Pain erupted from his ribs as Kelly took the opening. He spun around and blocked Kelly’s next swing, but missed his own thrust at Kelly’s chest, earning him a heavy bruise on his other side. By now, the bladders had burst and the blood was seeping through his clothing. He parried weakly, grabbing his side and ensuring his hand got wet.
Kelly was disappointed. This wasn’t going to be fun at all. Corvis was terrible! Master Simanu had obviously led him on. The two had often talked about their top students and Kelly was led to believe that Corvis was nearly as good as Chase. Apparently that was not the case…by a long shot.
“What the hell is the matter with him?” he thought as Corvis doubled over, barely raising his weapon to parry any more. “Is that blood?”
“Help me.” Corvis whispered as he sank to the ground in a heap. He pointed at Kelly with his bloody hand, as if accusing him, and then appeared to lose consciousness.
“Corvis!” He shouted, and dropped to the boy’s side. “Corvis!” He shouted as he shook the boy’s shoulders. He felt the blood and jerked his hand back. He looked down and saw it was on his own clothes. He jumped to his feet and leapt back as if Corvis were a poisonous snake.
Kelly stood there helpless. “It’s a stick!” he choked. “I barely touched him!”
“No!” shouted Chase as he ran into the ring. “What have you done? You killed him!” he screamed and he rushed at Kelly with practice weapon raised.
“No, Chase,” stammered Kelly as he backed away. “It was an accident. I would never…” But Chase came on too fast for him to finish. He parried and pushed Chase away, refusing to hit him. Chase bellowed and kept slashing and thrusting, some of them landing hard on exposed skin. Kelly became furious and struck back, hitting Chase solidly over the shoulder, bringing him to his knees. Grimacing, and holding his arm across his chest, Chase leapt up and swung wildly at Kelly’s head, leaving his own torso and legs open. Kelly moved without thinking; easily ducking the attack while stepping in and driving his shoulder into Chase’s torso.
Chase went down. Hard.
Lying in a twisted heap, with his back toward Kelly, Chase fought to ignore the very real pain he had just earned and to fight down the urge to laugh. He closed his eyes and lay perfectly still as he felt blood leaking out onto the ground from the burst sacks carefully hidden in his clothes.
Kelly didn’t dare to speak as he timidly approached the still form of Chase lying prone just a few feet away. As he rounded the boy’s feet he froze. Blood, lots of it, oozed from Chase’s midsection.
“But...How?” he reasoned aloud. “No!!” he protested hotly. Without another word he threw down his practice sword and ran as fast as he could toward the main hall to find help.
Chase lay still as the sound of Kelly’s feet quickly fell away. He heard Corvis begin to chuckle and he couldn’t help snorting and exploding in laughter along with him. The boys quickly clambered to their feet and looked to make sure the coast was clear befor
e placing the practice swords back in the arena’s weapon box. Corvis clapped Chase on the back, causing Chase to wince as they ran gleefully to change before their next class.
Chapter Six
(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)
“Damn it! This cowardly bastard is afraid to make a bloody decision!”
Lieutenant Corvis Brente, normally quite level headed and patient, turned beet red standing at attention in front of the acting Garrison Commander, Major Tisley. With every non-committal word and lame excuse as to why no-one could be spared to search for their captured comrade Lieutenant Martin, the veins on Corvis’s neck and forehead stood more pronounced. His lips pressed tightly together and his brow furrowed. The hulking Corvis looked positively menacing. Of course, the self-absorbed and much smaller Major was oblivious to how dangerous this predicament was becoming.
Minutes later Corvis stormed out of the Major’s office. He managed to exit without doing anything to end his career or the Major’s life, though it had been a toss-up until his boots actually crossed the threshold. Muttering to himself, Corvis strode determinedly to the stables to find his horse. Along the way several of his men, carrying gear and weapons, fell into step behind him. Six in all, Corvis and his men quickly loaded and mounted their horses. Within five minutes they were cantering past the garrison gates toward the northern mountains. Each of them knew they were disobeying a direct order, and none of them could care less. Corvis turned back toward the garrison for a moment, spit angrily, and sped north at a gallop.
High in the northern mountains, Lieutenant Chase Martin grinned fiercely and shifted his weight forward, lowering into a crouch. He was stripped to the waist, covered in mud, blood, and sweat, and his chest was heaving from adrenaline and exertion. Three rough men cautiously approached the seventeen year old Lieutenant with swords drawn, spreading out and trying to find a weakness as they closed with him. Chase had no sword, just the dagger he stole from one of the two guards he killed during his escape from the rebel camp that morning. Still, the men who sought to re-capture him were not fools. The rumors about men like him, men of the Royal Guard, were enough to make three sword carrying, battle hardened men nervous about getting too close.
