Castle of Glass and the Unknown Soldier

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Shoot him!” the commander yelled.

Seven Oxford, a six-foot tall, red-haired youth, raised his rifle and took aim. Time seemed to stop in that moment, but his thoughts raced faster than light. His clear grey eyes watched as the man continued to run. Seven heard the shot that brought the criminal down, but it wasn’t his. He looked to the left with his weapon still poised. Oxford’s friend, Largo “Winchester” Pride, lowered his smoking rifle and nodded before heading back.

Later that night, Largo found Oxford in the sleeping barracks just before curfew.

“You had some trouble out there today, Seven. What happened?”

Sitting on the edge of his bunk, Oxford shrugged. “I froze up, old chap. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Aw, you were just nervous is all.” Largo climbed into the top bunk. “You’ll get ‘im next time. You have good enough aim.”

“When I’m shooting at stuffed targets… not humans.” Oxford shook his head. “No, I don’t think I can ever purposefully end the life of another.” His thoughts drifted over the scenario over and over again. With a sigh, he commented, “Perhaps I’m just weak. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like you.”

Winchester, whose longer blonde hair was normally kept in a small ponytail, lowered his shaggy head from the top bunk to look at Seven. “Don’t say that. You value life. Don’t look at that as weakness. If anything, it’s strength.”

“Perhaps… How do you do it?”

Largo didn’t answer right away. “Best get some sleep.” With that, he disappeared from Oxford’s view.

Seven stretched out on his back and stared into space, contemplating the decision he was faced with. “That was a man. He probably had a life, a family. A wife and children, perhaps. Even if he hadn’t, who am I to deprive a man of life? Did this man do a deed so terrible that it deserved death? I still can’t see how you shot him. How does one get used to something like that? …Largo? Are you listening?”

Muffled snores answered. Deciding to leave it for another day, Oxford rolled over and went to sleep.

~*~

The two-year training period now over, Oxford and the other recruits would soon be assigned to various regiments all over Thorae. With his performance in the last test, Seven wasn’t so sure where he was going to end up. He just hoped it was somewhere close to the sea. Winchester had received his assignment the day before: La'Creval, the capital of La’Esk.

“That will be a nice place,” Oxford commented when he got the news. “Right close to the ocean.”

“La’Esk is on the eastern coast, right?” Largo asked absently.

“Western,” Seven corrected. “Izlandia is across from La’Esk."

Remembering Oxford was from Izlandia and hoping they would be assigned together, he asked, “Where is your placement?”

The nineteen-year-old redhead handed Largo a folded paper.

“Tarish? Where’s that?”

“Somewhere north of the Gaea Rift, I believe. For all I know, it’s in the middle of a desert. ”

Largo handed the paper back. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s alright,” Seven replied with a smile. It would have been nice being close to home again though, he thought.

Winchester leaned his head back and thought for a moment. “Some day you’ll have to invite me to your island. I have yet to see the ocean, but it sounds nice. I’ve always fancied becoming a sea captain.”

Oxford genuinely laughed. “You, a sea captain?” Saying it out loud somehow made the notion even funnier to Seven and he continued to laugh.

“And why not?” asked an insulted Largo. He brushed dust off his military jacket and stood up straight.  “Just look at me! I suppose a brute fishmonger’s son wouldn’t recognize the makings of a real sea captain if he saw one!”

“Fisherman’s son,” Oxford corrected with a grin. “There’s a world of difference.”

“What difference?” Largo waved a dismissive hand. “You end up smelling like fish either way, don’t you? Now answer the question! You know I would make a splendid sea captain.”

Oxford had trouble keeping the chuckling to a minimum. “I don’t think your landlocked stomach could take the churning of the seas, my friend.”

“We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” Largo replied, happy to see Seven cheer up so quickly. “Captain Largo,” he muttered to himself, sounding rather pleased.

~*~

A week later, Oxford found himself staring up at the fortress of Tarish. Whether Tarish was initially the name of the actual castle structure or the town that surrounded it, no one knew. Seven, along with four other recruits, was led and handed off to the commander of the outpost.

“I am Second Lieutenant Tyrone Noble,” the commander stated. “Don’t get used to the title. Here, people call me Lord Tyrone. Learn to do the same.” He wore a dark purple bandana, gloves, and cape over otherwise simple clothes. Though he did not appear to be a military leader of any sort, he spoke with experience and authority. “Unfortunately, the weaponry you will be equipped with is less advanced than half of the weapons you trained with. I suggest you learn to use what you are given because that’s all we have. If you came here looking for a promotion, you can forget it. I’ve been told Tarish is last on the CS priority list. We get leftovers and hand-me-downs.”

Tyrone seemed annoyed from the get go. Oxford hoped he wasn’t always this aggravated. I supposed I would be irritated as well if I had to manage an outpost of such little concern to the Syndicate, Seven thought to himself.

Tyrone continued, “For the most part, you’ll be on guard duty. Believe me, the job is as boring as it sounds, but someone’s got to do it. I’m sure the other soldiers will help you find your way around. Quarters are downstairs and to the right. Kitchen’s on the left. You are dismissed.”

~*~

Oxford thought back on these moments in his life often. True to Tyrone’s word, patrol duty was one of the dullest ways to spent entire years. There was nothing to do but stand and keep a weather eye. It’s a good thing Largo didn’t come with me. He would be fast asleep two minutes into every shift, Seven thought with a sad smile. He often wondered how his friend was doing. More often than not, he thought about his family. It had been five years since his enlistment and this was now his third summer at Tarish. No matter how many times he petitioned, he was never given enough time off to make the long trip to Britannia. To quell his homesickness, Seven was often found playing jovial tunes on a tin whistle. It was the same whistle his sister, Elaine, gave him for his 15^th birthday, days before shipping out for training. His younger brother George would be turning 15 this week, he reminded himself. Syndicate’s probably sent him the draft note already, he thought. Maybe I’ll get to see him again. Tarish didn’t get many recruits, but there was still hope. “Always hope,” he said frequently.

In fact, just last month the fortress received two new recruits. Rather talkative, from what Oxford heard.

One evening at dinner, he happened to be sitting across from them. Seven added salt to his otherwise bland meal as he listened to the guards talking about the newest prisoners. Because they have nothing better to do, he thought silently.

“…and then he invited ‘er to dinner!” the first recruit explained. “Imagine that! A prisoner gets to eat from Tyrone’s table while his hardworking soldiers get this!” He motioned to his bowl of mush and poked it with a spoon. “What is this anyway?”

“You mean the big guy from cellblock B?” asked the second recruit seated on the left. One point Oxford found intriguing was that the two recruits looked identical. 

“Course not, 626!” replied the one directly across from Seven. “I mean the new girl from cellblock A.”

“The one that interrupted dinner the other night?”

“Aye. I heard she took out quite a few in the arena.”

“That wee little lass?” 626 whistled.

The first one nodded. “Dangerous things come in small packages.”

“Like hermit crabs!”

“Exactly, but I was talking along the lines of explosives, 626.”

“Haven’t you two got names instead of numbers?” Oxford asked between bites.

“Course we have,” started the first. “I’m Jimmy Jones, he’s Johnny Jones, and there are three more Joneses stationed in Tarish alone.”

“Confused yet?” said the one on the left, known as 626 or Johnny. “To top it off, there were times our own parents couldn’t tell us apart.”

Jimmy laughed. “Lots of fun that was.” He turned his attention back to Oxford. “What was your name then?”

“Oxford. Seven Oxford.” He shook hands with both recruits.

“Seven, eh? It’s a shame we weren’t all born already numbered, eh 626?” Both recruits laughed.

Oxford rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first time someone had made fun of his name. “It’s from the olden tongue. It means-”

“Yes, yes. We know it,” interrupted 626 with a grin. “We were just having a bit of fun, right 625?”

“At his expense, mind you,” inserted Jimmy. “But it’s all in good humor. Just like the time they tried sending 626 here without me.”

“We pulled the old switcheroo on them, didn’t we 625?”

“That we did 626… Now we’re both stuck here.” The laughter died and a more somber tone overtook the meal. Silence followed for a while as the guards either attempted to eat or pick at what was placed before them.

“I’ve got guard duty in an hour,” started 625, “but I don’t feel up to it. 626, would you mind it terribly if we traded?”

“Course not, 625. But keep count, that’s twice this month.”

Chuckling, Oxford stood to leave. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you both, but I must be off.”

“Where are you off to, Seven?” asked 625.

“Sentry duty. As if there’s anything else.”

~*~

Oxford was patrolling the south side of Tarish when he heard the alarm. Racing back to the fortress, he slammed into something and crashed to the cobblestone road. He bounced back up and saw a young girl sprawled on the ground.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, miss. I didn’t mean to run into you.” Seven helped the girl to her feet. In a somewhat panicky nature, the girl reached for a nearby satchel that was sitting near his feet.

“Let me get that for you,” he said as he grabbed the bag and handed it to her. “I’m terribly sorry for-” Before he could finish his sentence, the girl took off into the darkness toward the stables.

“Off you go then…” Oxford shrugged and continued making his way back to the fortress.

He caught who he assumed was 626 and asked what happened.

“A prisoner escaped,” was the reply. “It’s the arena girl. Tyrone’s offering a reward for her capture!”

Oxford looked to the stables just as they lit up in flames.

“…Oops…”

By the time he made it to the stables, most of the horses had been let out and were running all over the place. There was so much confusion that no one noticed the dark shadow bolting away from the city.

~*~

Twelve hours later, Oxford was in a group of about twenty men sent to retrieve the escapee. They followed the trail for close to four days. The party found an injured horse on the way.

“That’s a shame,” muttered 626 while inspecting the beast’s ragged legs and knees. “This is MY horse.” He stood up and rubbed the creature’s nose.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” chimed 625. “She’s exhausted. Won’t be doing any running for a while, but she looks in good shape otherwise.”

“Over here!” another soldier called from a distance. Drawing near, they found a hut and investigated it. It was dark and cluttered, but there was no sign of the girl until Seven noticed a cloaked figure sprint into a patch of trees behind the hut. “There she goes!”

“Get her!” the group’s leader yelled. The soldiers took off after the prisoner. The trees gave way to a steep cliff. Only a thin wooden bridge spanned the Gaea Rift. Oxford was the first to reach it, but looked back at his commander questioningly when he realized how rickety the rotting bridge looked.

“What are you waiting for? After her!”

The girl was almost halfway across, but Seven took a deep breath and plowed ahead. A number of men followed directly after him. The weight was an obvious strain to the bridge. After Oxford passed the halfway point, the ropes finally gave way and snapped under the weight of so many trying to cross at once. Losing his balance, Seven immediately grabbed the wooden panels in front of him as he fell. Holding on for dear life, he squeezed his eyes shut as he heard some of the men fall into the rift. The screams only faded into the distance. Even this far north, there was no known bottom. Oxford almost lost his grip when this side of the bridge crashed into the stone and dirt wall. He looked back and watched some of the men climb up the bridge like a ladder.

“Oh, that’s a good idea.”

~*~

Back on the other side of the rift, 626 and 625 watched as their friend clambered up the bridge.

“What’s he up to, 625?”

“Oh, I think he wants to be a hero, 626.”

They watched as almost every board the girl broke hit Oxford. “That lass isn’t making it easy for him, is she?”

“I don’t right think she knows he’s following, 626.”

“Well, she has good aim for not trying.” At that moment, a particularly large chunk of wood hit Oxford with such force that it knocked loose the grip on his rifle and the weapon fell into the gap.

“Very good aim.”

“Shame. That rifle would have served him well. Where’d he say he was from again?”

“Didn’t say. From the accent, I’d guess one of the western isles.”

“What are the lot of you doing?! Find another way across the rift!” The commander yelled.

625 glanced at his brother who had his rifle aimed. “What are you doing?”

“I figured it would be easier to see them through the scope.”

The fugitive finally made it up the bank and turned around. With a startled jump, she ran away.

“I think you scared her off, 626.”

“Oh, maybe I should have taken the scope off the gun.”

“Probably.” As Oxford finally crawled over the edge, 625 cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “We’re going to find another way across! Good luck, old chap!”

Oxford nodded before heading into the forest behind him. 

~*~

It was much harder to keep up with the girl once she was hidden in the trees. Oxford lost her trail not ten minutes in. He looked around at the thick dark trees and sighed.

“You’ve gone and done it now, Seven,” he muttered aloud. “That’s twice she’s escaped.” He sat on a large tree root and pulled off his helmet. Ruffling his sweaty red hair, Oxford was thankful for the forest breeze.

“I suppose there’s nothing left to do but wait for the others. No use going back empty-handed.”

A loud roar sounded through the trees. A nocturne stalker crept forth. Knowing he was no match for the giant striped cat without his rifle, Oxford leapt to his feet and climbed the nearest tree. Once he was safely settled in one of the branches, he realized he was not alone. In the next branch over sat the same girl he had been chasing.

Oxford grinned. “Oh, there you are.”

“What are you doing up here?!” she demanded. “Go find your own tree!” She immediately attempted to kick Oxford off his branch. Thankfully, an audible growl from the beasty below halted her abuse. Unfortunately, the creature started climbing.

“Time to go,” the girl mumbled. Oxford was about to agree with her when she left her branch. She hopped to lower branches until she was able to land on the ground unharmed. Seven glanced between her and the beast several times. The girl shrugged with a smirk and ran into the forest again. Apparently, she wasn’t planning to stay. Oxford watched the stalker as it continued ascending. Concentrating on his light magic, Seven raised a palm to the creature and fired. Planning a big blast of light, he was disappointed when the “blast” turned out to be nothing more than a small laser shot. It got the job done though. The shot hit the creature’s shoulder and it roared in pain. Making the most of his time, Seven descended as fast as he could manage. The creature pounced on him in an instant, knocking him to the ground. Struggling with the beast, Oxford squeezed his eyes shut, drew all of his magic into his hands, and blasted a beam of light. The creature yelped and ran off. Exhaling in relief, Oxford climbed to his feet and ventured in the same direction he thought the girl went.

Seven found her a few moments later lying on the ground. Hoping she wasn’t unconscious or injured, he knelt to check her pulse. This close, Oxford realized this girl with long dark hair couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen years old. She sat up and rubbed her head with a groan. She blinked her large blue eyes a few times then screamed in surprise when she saw Oxford.

“Are you all right, miss?” Seven extended a hand to help her stand.

The girl slapped his hand, jumped to her feet, and ran. Again. Oxford was sure to follow this time. “Wait!” He reached out and grabbed her cape. Stumbling over an ill-placed root, he accidentally yanked the cape back and fell down. He held up the cape, which was now free of its owner.

“Oops... Miss! Come back!” He bounced up and continued running. Watching her duck around a tree, Oxford was forced to slow down and catch his breath out of exhaustion. He took out a retractable spear and extended it. Holding it out and slowly stepping forward, he was surprised when the girl stepped out from behind a tree with her sword drawn. Had she done so any closer, Seven feared he might have impaled her by accident.

“Greetings again, miss,” Oxford said, still in the process of catching his breath. He stepped back and raised the spear, resting the end on the ground.

“I do hope you’re finished running,” Seven commented. “I am terribly exhausted.”

“You’re exhausted?!” she hollered. “How do you think I feel? Maybe if you’d stop following me, I’d quit running.”

Oxford recoiled in surprise when she stuck out her tongue. “How unladylike. If you would kindly sheathe that rather sharp-looking sword, I think this can all be settled in a civilized manner.”

“You mean, you throw down the spear, I throw down the sword and we duke it out like normal folk?”

“How vile! A gentleman would never hit a woman. In all good faith, I shall put away my weapon first.” Seven retracted his spear and put it away. “Satisfied?” He raised his hands innocently.

“Never hit a woman, huh?” The girl eyed Oxford suspiciously before shrugging. “That makes my job easier.” She raised her sword and jolted forward, prepared to deliver a devastating blow to the ribs. Reacting, Seven pulled out of the way. He grabbed the girl’s sword arm, pulled it behind her back, snatched her other arm, and pinned both down. The girl had dropped her sword after the first move and now it lay harmlessly out of the way.

“Let go! Let go!” she screamed and jammed her heel down on Seven’s foot. He let go immediately with a yelp and grabbed his injured foot. “That was rather ill-mannered of you!” He winced and tried to keep from hopping on one foot. “I was unarmed!”

“You have no one to blame but yourself,” she said with a smirk. Seven sat on the ground, trying not to let the pain get to him. He warily looked at the sword pointed at him.

“So nameless guard dude,” she continued. “When can I expect your buddies to show up?”

Oxford stopped to ponder this. In all honesty, he had been wondering the same thing. He rubbed his neck and glanced at the ground. “I’m afraid I haven’t a clue… I don’t think they found a way to cross the Gaea Rift yet.”

“You’re the only one? It’s just you?” she tilted her head.

Seven nodded with a grin. “Just me.”

The young girl looked annoyed. “Well, that settles it,” she muttered, sheathing her sword, and started walking in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” Oxford called and caught up to her, trying to keep from hobbling. Realizing he still had the girl’s cape in his hand, he nudged her and gave it back. She glared at the cape then at Oxford before she put it on. Seven wondered if she had facial expressions other than surprise, triumph, and distaste.

“Are you certain you are feeling well?” he asked, a bit concerned.

“What do you care? Stop following me!” she continued walking.

“It’s either follow you or go back empty handed,” Oxford answered. “Besides, I might be of some use if we come across any more unfriendly creatures in these woods.”

“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.”

“So I gathered when you left me to fend for myself,” he replied with a chuckle.

“For your information, I was rooting for you the whole time.” Through their trek in the forest, the girl let a pine branch snap back and hit Oxford in the nose.

“Ow!” Having enough of the girl’s attitude, Oxford decided to speak his mind. “Pardon my saying so, miss, but I think someone could use a slice of humble pie.”

“Tell you what, when we get out of this forest, I’ll come over to your place for a nice hot cup of tea and pie.”

“You mean it? That’s right decent of you, very decent indeed! I knew you could be reasonable.” Oxford cheered up instantly. The thought of a hot cup of tea sounded very pleasant. The girl stopped and stared at him with one eyebrow arched unusually high.

“Sarcasm is a foreign language to you, isn’t it?” she asked.

He blinked back in confusion. “I beg your pardon, was that a joke?”

“Of course, you nitwit!”

“That was not very pleasant nor was it very polite.” Seven felt rather disappointed.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m not a very pleasant person,” she said with a victorious smirk.

Oxford shrugged. “I’m sure you could be if you tried.”

“You obviously don’t know me very well.” She turned around and continued walking.

Seven thought for a moment before following. “True,” he replied. “We didn’t have the chance to exchange names when we met in Tarish.”

“That was you?” she asked. Glad to have been someone worthy of remembrance, Seven thought to himself.

“Tyrone’s going to have kittens when he realizes you were the one that let me go,” She laughed.

“He already knows,” Oxford said while stepping over a root. “That’s why I’m on this mission actually. Oh, my name is Seven, by the way. Seven Oxford. What’s yours?”

“Shard,” was the curt reply.  

What an odd name, he thought. “How do you do, miss Shard?” Oxford said trying to be pleasant.

Apparently still annoyed, the lass drew her sword and slashed through a gathering of foliage blocking her path. “Much better,” she answered and sheathed the sword.

The two finally entered a clearing. The sky was just taking on the cloak of night, with pink and purple reflecting on a few golden clouds.

Oxford admired the view longer than the fugitive did. Shard moved around the clearing gathering branches and dropping them off in the center.

“What are you doing?” Seven asked.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? Building a fire, of course.” Shard still sounded irritated. “Feel free to go hunt some dinner.”

Seven raised his eyebrows in an inadvertent “Why me?” look, but he nodded and left the clearing.

~*~

Oxford came back to the clearing a while later with a fresh catch. He found a river flowing with fish not far from the clearing and that brightened his spirit considerably. Shard was sitting next to a large fire, carving something. She glanced up and glared. “Where’s the food?”

“Right here.” Oxford proudly held up two fish. It wasn’t long before he had them roasting over the fire. Despite his cheery mood, he couldn’t escape Shard’s glare. Only this time it was accompanied with continual wrinkling of her nose. “Why such a sour face?”

“I don’t even LIKE fish!” she exploded, as though she had been waiting to declare that statement her whole life. Shard threw up her hands and loudly exhaled. “Now what am I supposed to eat?”

Oxford’s shoulders sagged as he shook his head. “You could at least try it, miss Shard. I apologize, but this was all I found.”

Shard grumbled her distaste and searched through her pack for something else to eat. She came out with fruit and munched on that in bitter silence. Seven was cut by her poor taste in food, to say nothing of her utter disregard for his fine fishing skill. He brushed it aside when the fish was ready to eat. Seven hadn’t had a proper meal of fish for a long time. Funny, he thought. There was a time I couldn’t stand the taste and smell. Now both bring me closer to home. Oxford settled against a tree with his double portion of food. It wasn’t long before he was picking the bones clean and tossing them into the fire. He rested his head against the tree trunk and stared at the stars through broad tree leaves. 

“If you do not mind my intrusion,” he started. “What sort of a name is Shard?”

The girl, who had been huddled in a ball near the fire, reacted with hostility. “You’re one to talk! What kind of a name is Seven? Did your parents run out of names or something?”

Seven smiled, eyes still locked on the stars overhead. “It means ‘seashore’ in the olden tongue.”

An awkward pause ensued until the girl shrugged and said, “I thought it was Seven… like the number.”

He chuckled. “It can be most confusing at times. Many call me Oxford. That is my surname.”

“Hmph, suits you better.”

“So I’ve been told. What about your name?”

“Call me Shard. That’s my name. Ask me again and I’ll tell you the same.”

Her childish answer indicated she didn’t want to press the matter any further. Oxford gave up and pulled out his penny whistle. The dreary forest was soon filled with a happy tune as Oxford played a melody of the sea. His thoughts drifted to the ocean, his father, sister, and brother. When the song was finished, Seven noticed Shard was fast asleep. Try as he might to stay awake, Oxford sunk into a more comfortable position and gave in to slumber’s call.

~*~

Oxford awoke with a jump. Whether the noises that startled him had come from his dreams or the forest, he couldn’t tell. Either way, he didn’t hear them now. Back sore from sleeping on the forest floor, he stretched and looked at the center of the clearing. The fire was down to mere embers and Shard was gone. “Where’d she run off to now?” Standing up with a yawn, Seven set out to find Shard again. He had only been wandering for about twenty minutes when he heard a high-pitched scream. “That can’t be good.” Taking off in the direction of the scream, Oxford soon found the source. Shard was wrapped in spider silk and suspended on a web between two trees. Seven stopped for a minute to take in the odd scene.

“GUARD! Oh, what’s your name?! GUARD!” Shard screamed and wiggled frantically in the web. A large spider was creeping closer to its prey. Quickly extending his spear, Oxford threw it at the spider with all his might. The creature batted the projectile away. As the spear helplessly stuck to the webbing, the spider made its way toward Seven.

“Not good.”

Out of weapons and out of time, Oxford once again turned to his poorly trained light abilities. This time, he managed a thin beam of concentrated light and slashed it downward through the web and spider simultaneously. Shard swung into one of the supporting trees with a loud thump, but was held in place by the web. Oxford retrieved his spear and set out to free Shard of the sticky web. She tumbled out of the trap, whole body shaking, and began rubbing her arms, legs, and face repeatedly.

“Where’s the nearest river?!” she asked frantically, unable to squelch the psychosomatic itching.

“I’m not entirely certain.”

“Well where’s camp?!” Shard crossed her arms, but had trouble staying still.

“I’m afraid I don’t know that either.”

“Oh what good are you?” Without waiting for an answer, Shard stomped away.

Not even so much as a simple “thank you” for saving her life, Seven thought. I’m starting to feel very underappreciated.

“I can’t believe you left me to be spider food!” Shard's voice already sounded distant. 

“I did no such thing!” Oxford caught up and walked beside her.

~*~