The Nightmare Is Real

In the No Man's Land

Author | Boem1800

Publisher | Rose N

Submissions | RIDI New Work Discovery Lab
(ridibooks.com/go/creators)

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“Move! If you don't want your skull split open, move!”

“Fuck, Donovan's down!”

“Where the hell is the air support? Those goddamn wyvern units are swarming!”

“Poison magic! Mask—where's my mask!”

“Medic! Medic!”

Boom! A thunderous blast, a searing flash, and her vision flickered. Then came the high, tearing whine—beeeeeep—ripping through her ears.

In the overload of sensation, Ashlyn thought,

Am I having a nightmare right now?

Only moments ago she had been standing in the banquet hall.

Her father had looked her straight in the eyes and pulled her into his arms. He had told her he was proud of her, that she looked every inch the next head of the house.

Near the end of the evening she had danced two waltzes with Federin—one on the beat, one deliberately off. Everyone had watched and applauded, and her father had embraced her again.

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant, can you hear me? Snap out of it!”

One dance in strict time, one in broken time. The whole room had clapped for them, and her father had held her close.

“Lieutenant? No—wake up. Wake up, damn it!”

An unpleasant voice prodded her again. Rough, coarse. Ashlyn frowned and shook her head.

Shut up.

“If you keep this up, I have no choice!”

Shut up, I said shut up! Stop interfering and leave me alone!

Crack!

A sharp sound split the air and her vision flared white as lightning. Instantly a searing, burn-like pain raced across her cheek. In that agony Ashlyn understood: she had just been slapped.

The shock dragged her fully back to reality.

She was not dreaming. The place where Ashlyn stood was the middle of a battlefield. Her platoon and the entire company had been surrounded by Imperial forces.

Once her mind cleared, Ashlyn began rapidly sorting the situation. She was on a battlefield—more precisely, inside a trench that had just been hit by a surprise Imperial assault.

The enemy was pouring every kind of attack into the trench where she stood: magical strikes, artillery shells, and even a mounted wyvern unit. In short, it was a living hell.

“Damn it.”

A groan slipped through Ashlyn’s clenched teeth. The hopelessness made her want to faint all over again.

Behind her, a voice as low and hollow as a cave rumbled.

“Lieutenant.”

“……”

“Are you all right?”

Ah. Right. He was here.

Ashlyn lifted her head and saw the man standing over her—the same man who had just struck her cheek. Sergeant Gennady Vilev.

“……”

At the sight of him she flinched. No wonder. The sergeant looked utterly monstrous. He had always carried an intimidating air, but now he resembled a ghost—or a blood-starved yaksha.

Or perhaps that was no illusion. Gennady Vilev truly was a beast, at least in part. A werewolf. A creature wearing a human hide. That was what he was.

“Sergeant Vilev.”

When Ashlyn called his name like a sigh, the sergeant’s amber eyes flashed sharply from the black shadow of his face. He spoke again, moving his tightly sealed lips as little as possible.

“Lieutenant, are you with us? Are you all right?”

Just then a hot bead of blood trickled from the corner of Ashlyn’s mouth. The slap had split the soft flesh inside her cheek.

She watched the sergeant’s pitch-black pupils track the path of the blood, then quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and muttered,

“Do I look all right to you?”

“I’m glad. You’ve come to.”

The genuine relief in his voice somehow ignited her temper.

“Hitting your superior. Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m sorry. I’m uneducated.”

Despite the words, his face held not a scrap of apology. He simply nodded, shamelessly satisfied that he had achieved his purpose. She could not even work up real anger. No—she hated to admit it, but she felt safer. Still, Ashlyn forced a thoroughly furious tone.

“Haa. Uneducated or not, this is ridiculous. Do werewolves just hit each other without caring about parents, siblings, seniors or juniors?”

“Yes.”

“……”

Don’t just agree so readily… She wanted to say more, but she had a far more urgent problem to solve.

Surviving this mudhole. Ashlyn asked her subordinate,

“How many of the company are left?”

“Difficult to tell at the moment. Please order the withdrawal first.”

“The company commander? Is that his order?”

Gennady shook his head more firmly.

“The company commander’s status is unknown.”

It took her about a second to process what she had just heard.

“What? Captain Gordon…”

“He is most likely dead.”

“…And the battalion commander?”

The man answered at once.

“The battalion commander as well.”

“……”

Her mind threatened to slip away again. Clinging to the fraying thread of consciousness, Ashlyn reassessed her position.

If Gennady was right, the highest-ranking officer and sole authority left here was Ashlyn herself.

What she had to do was clear. Retreat.

A disordered flight would only get them picked off one by one. They needed a strategic withdrawal. Honestly, in their present state it was nearly impossible. Ashlyn muttered in pure resignation,

“Then… to the nearest high ground, Etal Pass…”

In that instant the sergeant, who had been listening with absolute focus, suddenly hurled his massive body toward her. The speed was lightning itself.

Ashlyn could not even react. She toppled backward.

When she recovered her senses, Sergeant Vilev was above her. Arms and legs braced, he covered her as if shielding her with his own body. Yes—protectively. Ashlyn stared up at him through dazed eyes. Nothing readable showed on his expressionless face.

Suddenly a childhood memory surfaced. The dog she had raised more than ten years ago. She could not even remember its name, yet one thing remained vivid: its eyes.

Eyes filled with the resolve to protect her from every threat that existed in the world. She could not understand why that foolish gaze had chosen this exact moment to return.

There was no time for nostalgia. The moment Ashlyn began to struggle free, the sergeant’s pupils flared wide. His rough hand clamped over her mouth.

“……!”

“Just a moment—stay still…”

A palm as coarse as sandpaper sealed her soft lips; she could not draw a single breath.

And over the two of them, pressed together and silent, a bone-chilling shriek tore past.

Shiiiiiiik.

Even amid the chaos of the battlefield the sound cut through clearly—the noise of a wyvern loosing its acid breath.

Only then did Ashlyn understand the sergeant’s sudden action. If he had not thrown himself over her, she would have become a puddle of slime like the other soldiers. She would have died.

“……”

The wyvern’s hissing gradually faded into the distance. Judging the danger past, Gennady swiftly pulled his thick hand from her face. The trapped breath rushed free.

“Haa. Ha…a. Damn. Dam…n.”

Looking down at Ashlyn as she struggled to steady her breathing, the sergeant’s amber eyes rippled like disturbed water. Then the light sharpened again and he spoke.

“Platoon Leader, please order the withdrawal.”

Ashlyn let out a hollow laugh.

“…Right. That’s what I was about to do earlier. Retreat. The problem is how.”

“……”

With a pained expression she looked up at her subordinate.

“Say I give the order to withdraw right now. Is it even possible? Nothing will change anyway.”

“……”

Dozens of wyverns wheeled overhead. A choking sense of powerlessness crushed her. In that despair Ashlyn fully accepted one fact.

“We’re going to die here.”

Yes. They would die. In this filthy mire. Their bodies never even recovered…

What a miserable, shabby end.

She felt no regret. She could not even manage a bitter smile of self-mockery. Everything was simply empty—empty and empty again.

Still, at least she was not dying alone. She had never wanted to walk the final stretch in solitary loneliness.

In this state, the thing I fear most is being left alone.

Only at the last moment of her life did she realize how weak she was, how damnably lonely. Her tear ducts stung. Ashlyn quickly lowered her lids and somehow held back the tears. She wanted to die with at least a scrap of dignity in front of Sergeant Vilev.

She murmured softly,

“Sergeant Vilev, short as our time was, it was an honor to serve with you. Still… I’m glad that the one beside me at the end is you…”

Just as Ashlyn was solemnly leaving her last words, a rough, coarse voice cut straight through them.

“Just a moment. I have an idea.”