“Afton! Can I go too?” Alistair asked, pleadingly.
To Afton, Alistair was an innocent little brother. It wasn't exactly right to have favorites, but Afton had one, Alistair.
However, Afton was still in his mute mode. He went on packing clothes as if he hadn't heard.
“Afton....”
Afton stuffed a couple of switchblades into his little satchel.
“Afton...”
Afton pushed a new set of clothes into his bag.
“Afton...”
Though he was a favorite, he could get annoying. Afton soaked some tissue and stuffed it into his ears.
“Afton...”
Ah...it's much softer now.
Afton finished packing and left the room, Alistair trailing at his heels like a lost puppy.
As he crossed over the threshold of the main door, two more shadows accompanied him. (No one else had signed up to accompany him besides Alistair who's name was torn out and burned personally by Afton) Stopping short, Afton turned to Alistair.
“Do you want so badly to embrace death?” he asked quietly.
Alistair stared at him in shock. Yes, he was known as the mute, but recently the title didn't seem so befitting.
“Afton, I just want to go with you,” he replied in all his innocence.
Sighing, Afton just shook his head. The three orphans watched as Alistair reluctantly re-entered their abode.
You'd be safe there, Alistair. Right now, you don't know what's good for you. Next time...when you're older.
The door shut, creaking quite a bit on its way. The darkness enveloped them and Afton motioned for his two companions to follow.
On the way, Afton let his thoughts run. He honestly didn't expect to come back from this trip alive.
Might as well...
His thoughts flew back to when he could remember. He only ever knew the life in the Orphan Brigade. Back then, at fourteen, he had no memory of his childhood. Not even his name. He had made a name though (not literally). He was known as the mute who shouldn't be messed with. Listening every day with his mouth shut, he learned about all their pasts without giving a piece of information on his part. But because he never spoke, he never made friends with any of his roommates...or housemates for that matter.
He spent a few months in the dwelling. It had two levels, three rooms above, five below. The top three were generally occupied by the younger boys and newcomers. Later on, many of the older ones left, never came back. All they could guess was that it had something to do with the adult who called for them.
It was then that these imaginative orphan boys began having nightmares. Many a time, Afton would awaken to the scream (yes, scream) of one of the boys. Nightmares seem to appear to each of them...besides Afton. He never participated in their horror whisperings in the night.
More and more left, all according to age. Younger children took up the queue behind. Afton observed these regularities and came to a conclusion. He was sure that sooner or later, he would be at the front of the queue. He'd be closer to share the fate of his older housemates. The consistency of the times they were called differed greatly. Some were called two days after the previous. Others were summoned months after. But there was one regularity in them all....none ever returned.
During this time, a few days after Afton passed a lonely cold 15th birthday with no well-wishes, a little boy was thrust into the House of Doom. He was the smallest, though not the youngest. “My name's Alistair! I'm 12 this year!” was what he claimed. His cheerful personality brought a little bit of sunlight to the dreary house. None dared to break the youngster with a midnight horror story. But, to their extreme surprise, he went about narrating them, speaking their fears with great emphasis. Many kept away from the little boy, who was not the least discouraged.... And from the start, when the little boy first stepped through the door, Afton had watched with curiosity. He had observed things the others hadn't. Unbeknownst to the others, Alistair would kiss a little carved star and stare at the real ones every night before crying himself to sleep. He would bite his lip and clasp the little star ever tighter while he passed the night fitfully.
From whence came these stories? From whence came the child himself? He must have come from hell, was what Afton concluded.
He had taken more interest in this little brother but it hadn't gotten far when the time came.
Afton was called for. With trembling knees, he entered the old carriage which had already transported so many others to another fate. The carriage rattled on for what seemed like infinity. It did nothing to calm the boy's nerves as the carriage rattled on over potholes and rocks. Wherever he was being taken, it wasn't nearby.
When the carriage door finally opened, the poor boy was shivering and sweating in fear, his heart was beating all the way down to his stomach. He was introduced to Sir Silton who gave him a instructions, an old set of clothes, and a telescope.
He began his first mission with the shocking realization that he was wearing a set of clothes that had been stained with blood. From a stab to the heart too, judging from where it was sown.
His fingers shook, lips quivered as he traced the path he was to take through a map.
Arriving at the destination, he completed the simple mission of hiding a letter and was running out the door of the barn when he bumped into a man. Compared to his height, this man was a giant. He blocked out the very daylight.
Though horribly shaken up, he somehow managed to use his brain to cook up a story while surveying the interceptor. Then, espying a little rusty dagger thrown carelessly on the floor, ten steps to his right, the little boy found his hope. With the acting of a pro, the boy screamed at an invisible protagonist while 'jumping to safety'. He picked up the rusty dagger and slashed a few times at the enemy. Once at the backs of both knees, making the man fall with a thud, cursing as he went. Another at the back of his neck, and the last through his throat. Everything happened so quickly that Afton himself couldn't believe it
The weight of his actions only dawned upon him when he was catching his breath at least a kilometer from the scene. His hands were forever stained with blood, his mind, scarred with images of blood gushing out of his throat, blood bubbles popping in the exposed throat as life left that stranger. He would live with the guilt of murder. Tired, guilty, confused, he fell asleep in the bushes.... That's how his first mission went. He had completed a little more than ten since then, never needing to kill on any.
When he came back, Afton was greeted with the shocked wide-eyed faces of his housemates. He had made it back but with the telltale stains of blood open his hands. That wasn't all... his very skin reeked with the smell of blood, pure evidence of the crime he had commited. His thick-headed, insensitive roommates whispered rumors, loud enough for him to hear. Afton collapsed into a bed and hid himself under the quilt for the next three days.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Alistair was there, sleeping beside him, eating beside him, playing and chattering beside him the whole time. He only ran off for toilet breaks.
“Wake up, Afton, you should eat. I won't ask what happened but whatever you did, you had to do it, it's not wrong if you do it to survive,” he whispered into his ears on the fourth day.
And that's how the black-haired, wide-eyed, pink-cheeked, rabbit-teethed little boy came as an angel into Afton's life....
Afton's thoughts were interrupted to the sound of twigs snapping, in quick succession. Quickly, he motioned for his two wingmen to stop. Together, ears-strained, they listened to all the sounds of the forest. (They had no fear of wild beasts for they were only myths in the whole of planet Nexus) Sure enough, the unmistakable sound of human voices reached the ears of our Mute. Years of training his ears were meant for occasions such as these. He made out the direction the interlocutors were in and he stepped cautiously forward. The two companions followed after him, confused as to why he chose this path. They had heard the wood cracking under feet, but they had not picked up the sound of human voices. But they followed him for two reasons: because they were scared to be left behind, and because they had faith in the legendary Afton.
Soon, they came upon the camp. There was a big gathering of people, many of whom had already retired to their tents for the night. Upon further investigation, they saw a few soldiers patrolling. Some others were drinking water and chewing jerky at the fire. A few trucks made up the background. They had gathered at the bottom of a tall arched hill, apparently choosing this spot on the assumption that it could be a sort of defense. Oh.. that was too easy, he was lucky to have come from this angle.
He fell into a prone position comfortable and ready to capture any movements they make.
“Wison, Jazard, rest.”
“Did he just talk?” Wison whispered.
“Sleep!” Afton hissed.
At that, the two of them went to sleep upon the bed of grass.
Surprisingly fast too... these guys have no idea. They trust me too much. Then, let's get back to watching.
His watch continued ticking... The night seemed as if it would never end...
12:00 a.m....the guards haven't been replaced... I wonder. It can't be that they're totally messed up.
1 o'clock came and went... they still haven't moved from their posts. Heh, the guard hasn't even dozed off yet, not bad.
At two, Afton woke the two of them. Jazard was woken first. It was a good thing he chose the smaller kid first...
Jazard let out a howl of terror, upon his arousal. For, though he had never really gone on an actual mission alone, he had been terrified into believing in nonsense like ghosts, on top of legitimate fears of the Chrisanions.
Afton was forced to gag the poor boy until he realized he wasn't being hanged.
“Afton... you scared Hell out of me...” his comment came to an end under the glare of his short superior.
More like I scared Hell into him... heh! If I didn't know any better, we'd all be caught by now, all screaming at an illusionary executer.
Then came Wison's awakening... Let's say... this whole event ended without a squeak escaping from either of them but the little team ended up as three ghosts, frightened to the brink of death.
As pale as he looked, Afton swallowed as much fear as was possible (which wasn't a lot), and turned to the task at hand. At 2 o'clock, there were signs of movement within the trucks. Muffled coughs could be heard between the thin convas. Afton could even imagine them stretching...their fangs exposed as they yawned....
Ah! Curse this imagination!
Soon, the soldiers came out. Some from the seventh and eighth truck, others from the second and third truck.
Mental note to self: the second and third trucks hold 20 soldiers each. The seventh and eighth hold 20 soldiers in total. Hmm... there were ten guarding outside the whole time.... so it makes sense if there are ten behind... what puzzles me is that they're all coming out now? What the hell?
The soldiers gathered together by the fire in the middle, which Afton only noticed when they added wood.
Definitely from Chrision, they can't even stand a light breeze in the forest.
The soldiers tried to keep it down for the sake of the sleeping refugees, but they weren't used to the whole forest setting and were making enough noise to rouse the Orphan Brigade, no doubt. Fortunately for them, the Chrisianons were heavy sleepers or something, they didn't peak out of their tents.
At 2:10, the soldiers had not gotten up from 'round the fire except to collect firewood.
Oh, seriously, don't waste my time.... hurry up and come along already!
2:20 a.m., just when Afton finally got to the point of closing his eyes for rest (please note that he hasn't slept properly since two nights ago), the soldiers began standing up, patrolling in pairs around the perimeter, staring into the shadows of the night as if expecting some guest.
Damn... it just had to be now?
He had ducked his head in when he was sleeping and now he forced himself to peak out again.
Whatever you are... you'd better be worth my sleep.
At 2:22 p.m., the person came along.
A short hooded figure who kept his mouth shut as he strode through their midst with two bodyguards...Or is it two captors...? Heh, whichever way... totally not worth my sleep
The figure was escorted to the 5th truck with his bodyguards/jailers. As soon as the door closed, the soldiers all retired back to their trucks, leaving ten... again.
The heck? That's it?! Ok..now... calm down. Breathe in. Breathe out... there are few reasons they'd do that. 1. Because this person is really powerful in some way. 2. Because they're being overly cautious. 3. Because this person is important to Chrision. Meh, don't care anyway. I'm going to get some rest.
He woke a slightly more prepared, but terrified, Wison, and instructed him to keep watch.
“Ah... wake me up if you feel tired or something comes around.”
Sleep... oh-so-blissful... sleep...
****
Afton awoke with a splash to his face.
What?!?!
“Wake up now, you little thieves!” a soldier snarled.
Oh.... that's just great.
“Who are you calling thieves?! You took our hideout!”
The soldier looked slightly confused.
“Nason, move over, I'll handle this,” soldier #2 told soldier #1.
Nason grunted before walking off. Soldier #2 took over and untied the kid.
Wow... that was like... super easy.
“It's about time you untied me!”
“There, there, little kid, I'm sorry we just kidnapped you like that. I thought you were spies.”
Gosh... am I shivering? Damn... he's talking way too much... I'm getting scared.
“Very funny! Of course we were spies! We were spying on our own land!”
Ok... just play the part of little kid blasting on about how terrible his life's been. Wait... where are the other two?
“I'm sorry, kiddo, we're going to leave soon.”
“That's right, you'd better! A whole day without our hideout! Oh no, imagine what's done to the poor grass field where you parked your fat trucks!” and he broke down into a fake cry. Poking his eyes a little to cook up some tears.
“Kid... erm, kid... I'm very sorry. Erm, you see... I mean, don't cry,” soldier #2 said, awkwardly petting the little boy. (Afton is quite short for his age: he can pass for a thirteen-year-old.)
I hate it when these guys do that....!
“Hey... ehem... your clothes are pretty dirty. Where do you live?”
“I live... (sob)... in the... (sniff)... hideout.”
“I'm so sorry about that, kid. Well... I think I can make it up to you and your friends.”
“Where are they? What have you done to them?!” he almost screamed. (Let's just say... Afton knows how to protect his brothers, whether he likes them or not, regardless of how they've behaved.)
“I'm sorry we had to do it... I'll release them at once.”
Soldier #2 led him to the 5th truck where he unlocked and opened the door...
It was dark and needed a few seconds of getting used to.... but he saw them.
“Wison! Jazard!”
There was no reply... there had been shocked speechless.
“A... A.. Aft...?”
“Come on, guys, let's make the best of it. We're going to play in this truck until they leave, then we'll get out.”
Man! This is really working out!
The two of them didn't reply, they just turned a shade paler. He had better do something, and quick.
“Sir! Can you let these two go back? They're my friends, but they have parents who'll get worried if they stay long.”
“But... kid. Just let them play for awhile.”
Afton temper flared. “Who do you think you are to keep us here?!” he stormed.
“Ca.. Ca... Calm down, kid.”
“If you don't let them go this instant, I'll pray to my father in Heaven to send some lightning bolts upon this plot!”
Aish... what nonsense am I spewing?
“Kid... we'll release them... er... after we go. Ok?”
“You'd better,” he muttered, folding his arms and turning away from the soldier in mock protest.
The soldier took this chance to slam the door shut.
Oh no, what have I gotten myself into?
“Wison, Jazard! We'll be fine! The soldier said he'll give us back our hideout and he'll release us! You can go back home!” he whispered, feigning excitement.
There was still no reply. The two of them had apparently been spooked by the three (the person and his two bodyguards/jailers) across them.
Hem... I guess this is all working out for the best.
The silence in the air was very much welcomed. Afton took out a piece of paper and began writing a letter to the king of Isumton. His eyes had already adjusted to the dark, but he still couldn't see what he was writing.
Whatever... I just need to get the message to the king.Whew... Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Argh! It isn't helping this time!