A jet shrieked by and the air exploded in its wake, shaking the few unbroken windows and knocking a pitcher off a shelf. It fell to the ground and the shattered pieces skidded across the floor of the abandoned cafe kitchen. Joster, our new sergeant nearly hit the ceiling when a piece of glass hit the back of his boot. Vogard and Lethia both had to hold their mouths to suppress their amusement at the rookie's jumpiness. I couldn't help smiling either; their laughter was a welcome relief.

“What the hell's so funny!” Joster grunted at them through clenched teeth before scuffing his boot on the floor and sending the glass shard skidding Vogard's way. The pair just laughed outright at him. He blushed and seethed and shouted at them both to stop, all the while fighting the bitter grin that tugged at his lips in reaction to his teammates’ contagious laughter made even more infectious by the days spent hiding in this abandoned restaurant in the wake of an ambush when we wandered into the town.

“Do you think that was one of ours?”

I turned at the weak, raspy voice and saw Sheritha, our medic, shifting on the makeshift bed we'd set up for her. Her eyes were focused on the ceiling and seemed to be following a path from one end of the room to the other, a path mimicking how the jet had come and gone a minute ago.

“Doesn't matter, we're not expecting a fighter plain.” I said as I gently leaned over and pushed the private's head back down onto the field pack that was her pillow. She didn't resist and I was glad for that. I knew she had to have been suffering from terrible restlessness just lying still for the last three days, but her injury was serious and even she agreed that the best thing for her to do while we all waited for an evacuation team, was to lie still.

“What a way to start off my military career,” she sighed as she settled back down. “Made a medic because I wasn't fit to fight and not smart enough to be given a desk job, and then when someone needs medical attention it turns out to be me!” Sheritha bit down on her bottom lip hard and I could see her twitching with frustration. It was probably the only thing she could do right to keep from screaming.

I sat near her with my back to the wall and watched her for a while, the spat between my officers forgotten as our injured medic's eyes began to harden. Her whole body started trembling and her hand clenched weakly. Something was eating her from the inside, hurting her more than her wounds.

“Dammit...” she choked when that hard stare softened and tears began to well in her eyes. Her hand lifted up and, shaking visibly, she reached across her chest toward her shoulder. “Dammit!” she said again, the word unsteady as her fingers groped at her side frantically, clutching at the arm that was no longer there. “Dammit!” she cried out again as her fingers dug into her side after she gave up searching for the phantom limb.

Quick as I could my arm shot out and I took firm hold of her wrist and pulled it back. She fought me this time as her frustrated, angry cries erupted into uncontrolled sobs. Tears flowed down her cheeks and her face began turning red. She didn't stop fighting, but her resolve weakened as I pulled the angry hand further away from her side where she had inadvertently been trying to rip into herself with her fingernails. I clasped her hand with mine and held tight, giving her contact as she rode this out.

I looked up briefly when I saw Lethia coming over. Vogard and Joster were standing on the other end of the room; our sergeant's face bore a look of confusion and fear while my lieutenant looked on with pity in his eyes. He wasn't surprised, nor was Lethia or myself. We'd all seen it many times, but it never got any easier.

Lethia dropped to her knees beside Sheritha's bed and began stroking the woman's forehead in a soothing manner while I held tight to her hand. Her entire arm was tense as she clung to me like her life depended on not letting go. Beneath the private's ragged, quavering breaths and screaming cries of sad, frustrated loss I could hear Lethia's whispered assurances to Sheritha. I wanted to do the same, wanted to comfort this woman whose life I was responsible for, but all I could do was hold her hand as tight while she rode out this wave of emotional pain, alone. In the end it was all up to her to get herself through what happened.

We wandered into the deserted little town in an attempt to find some life that would give us direction on how to get back to our own people at the outpost where we were all stationed. We were separated from the rest of our regiment in the chaotic aftermath of a large battle when the order to retreat had been given. We found ourselves on a road we couldn't identify on our map, with only the smoldering battlefield at our backs and the enemy rushing across it. So we did the only thing we could under the circumstances, we radioed Regimental Command of our situation and proceeded to walk in hopes of finding civilians that would help us find our way.

Empty, collapsed buildings and a faded road sign bearing the name Fensalir was what we found instead. I didn't like the look of the place at first, and the name that was so clearly Aesir made me nervous. I was startled at the sudden click of my thumb taking the safety off my rifle in reaction. We should have turned back then, but we were hopelessly lost and my troops and I would surely be walking into the lion's den by going back the way we came. On top of that, nightfall was fast approaching. We had to find a place to hold up in until daylight and a deserted town was a far sight better than an enemy prison camp.

We approached the village in a tight formation with Sheritha bringing up the rear. We were all on edge as we inched deeper and deeper into the small grouping of buildings. After the battle we were low on ammo and I'd lost my side-arm in the retreat, leaving me with only the knife strapped to my leg in the event that I ran out of ammo. Not a good position to be in when an ambush hit.

Near what I took to be the town center stood a clock tower that shot a good hundred feet into the sky. Its four faces would have told time from each direction, but like the village around it the great spire stood silent in a state of gradual decay. Gazing upon that crumbling edifice I felt uneasy as a feeling of dread washed over me. I signaled for the others to follow me and hurried into an alley between two buildings where the clock tower was out of sight.

“What's up, Boss?” Vogard asked. I waited until everyone was in the alley then crept back the way I came, cautiously peering around the corner of one of the buildings. Vogard followed me and soon he and Lethia were crouched near me as I looked up the deserted street.

“Did you see the tower near the center of town?” I asked when I pulled my head back once I was confident the street was indeed deserted.

“Kinda hard not to, Boss.” Lethia answered. She turned to Vogard who nodded at her, and then they both looked to me. “What are you thinking?”

“Sniper?” Vogard guessed, I nodded and their faces turned dark to mirror my dread. Vogard shook his head. “Wouldn't one of us be dead by now if there was?”

“Hard to tell,” Lethia said, “there's a lot of factors that would explain it. If there's someone up there they could be waiting to pick us off for a number of reasons.”

“Near the end of the last war there was a city called Vimur, it was split in half, built literally on both banks of the river it was named after with a large bridge over the water that connected the two sides.” my lieutenants gave me puzzled looks, but I went on. “The west bank was supposed to be completely deserted after an assault and it certainly looked that way to me and the battalion I was marching with into the city to use the bridge to cross into the Aesir's territory.

“Unfortunately for us the only thing the city was devoid of was civilians. There wasn't an army waiting for us there, but a lot of the high buildings were inhabited by sharpshooters left behind after the evacuation to keep our people back until reinforcements could return to fortify the place. We didn't know until it was too late to turn back, they opened fire on us from both sides of the shore as we were crossing the bridge.”

Vogard hissed through clenched teeth. Lethia looked at him, then to me, then to the two rookies standing in the alley behind us.

“So what, they're just waiting for a chance to take us out before we have the chance to retreat?” Joster asked, incredulous as if he couldn't believe the idea.

“That's assuming there's a sniper up in that tower.” Lethia assured the sergeant.

Joster wasn't wrong, that's what troubled me. If it were me, I would do the same. There was still too much cover for us amongst these buildings. A smart soldier, especially an experienced one would wait until we were closer to the center of town, so that no matter where we ran they would still have a chance to hunt us down from that cozy perch.

“If there's somebody up there we'll need to either secure them or take them out before we did anything else.” I said, I didn't want to take this risk, I would rather go back and not find out if this place was deserted or not, but we didn't have a choice. Turning back was already out of the question.

“I'm taking you with me,” I said to Vogard, he nodded. I then pointed to Joster and told him to pull out the radio and call for help. We had the name of the town and if it was on a map they would come for us. Next I turned to Lethia and told her to take Joster and Sheritha into one of the buildings we were standing between and take shelter there until further notice.

“So tell me something, Boss,” Vogard began as he and I dropped our packs and readied ourselves to make the run to that tower. “You obviously lived through that infamous massacre, right?”

“Oh yeah,” I replied with a grin as I slid an extra ammo clip borrowed from Joster into my belt. “They shot me in the leg and I laid there as still as I could until they sent a team out to check for survivors. I was shot in my other leg so I couldn't run away, beaten for information and thrown into a prison camp for fourteen months until the next truce was agreed on and I got to go home.”

“Peachy.”

I slipped around the corner of the building and broke into a run with Vogard trailing close behind me. We kept close to the buildings on one side of the street where the shade awnings in front of many of the structures would hopefully obscure the view of us and provide some semblance of protection as we rushed toward the town center. Several minutes passed and we drew ever closer to the clock tower without incident.

I dared to hope I was wrong and we would find nothing within the decrepit time piece, but then I remembered Vimur and my heart pounded with nervous anticipation. I could have been leading my lieutenant to his death if I was right and that knowledge made every step, every yard we covered seem like a mile.

At first I thought it was thunder, the sound bounced off the abandoned buildings and exploded the air like the wake of a sonic boom. The bullet came so close that I felt it scrape over the top of my helmet as it soared passed. I stumbled several steps before finally losing my footing and hitting the dirt on my side. As fast as I could I rolled back to my feet, threw myself against the nearest door and broke it in so I could take shelter.

It was not until after crashing into that building that I realized I was alone and the sounds of the world came back to me as my panic subsided. Vogard was not with me and I feared the worst. I rushed back to the door, but didn't go out. I leaned against the frame and peered back down the way we'd come and saw, to my horror, a trail of blood in the dirt. But that was all I saw, the body of my lieutenant did not lay motionless in the dust like I feared. I heaved a sigh of relief, then called out to him.

“Still with me over there?”

Silence.

“Lieutenant!” I hollered so loud that my voice echoed off the hollowed out buildings and rang through the air.

“I'm here...”

His voice was a low, raspy hiss of words muttered through clenched teeth, but he was alive. At the sound I released a breath I hadn't known I was holding and dared to steal a look out the door at the menacing clock tower. At this distance I could see the face of the time piece better. Near its base, beneath the arch of the Aesir number for six was what appeared to be a small, open door. The door itself was not what caught my eye so much as its placing on the face of the clock. There were many windows lining the tower, one for each level and at the top where that small door stood was the best possible vantage point. There was no doubt in my mind, our attacker was there.

“Commander! What happened!?” Lethia's voice blasted from the walkie clipped to my shoulder. I reached for it and began to speak when the blaring of my Second's voice rang in my ears both from the tiny radio and from the other side of the wall that separated us.

“Our ever intuitive leader just had to be right this time, that's what!” he growled bitterly. The sound made a relieved smile tug at my lips and caused much of my tension to be released. Vogard often said that if he had strength enough to complain then it was a sure sign that he would survive. Serving with him these many years, I had come to learn to trust those words whenever it came to the gruff, irascible soldier.

“Lethia, the three of you drop your packs and bolt over here as fast as you can.” I said into my end of the radio. “I'm taking Vogard out of the game until we know how bad he's hurt so I'll nee-”

“The hell you are!” Vogard yelled at me directly from the other side of the wall. “I want to return the damn favor!”

“Too bad, lieutenant.” I returned as calm as I could, making a point to emphasize his rank to make it perfectly clear whose choice it was, then once again raised the walkie to my lips. “Only take what you need right now, our packs will be safe where they are if our only problem is the sniper.”

I slid out of my hiding place and ran quickly as I could around the corner to where my second sat against the wall, clutching at his side. I knelt beside him and he leveled a glare at me.

“You owe me so many drinks for this.” he said and after a long moment of staring at him I finally burst into a brief fit of laughter.

Vogard was a man who held a high sense of honor when it came to warfare. He considered snipers to be cowards and relished taking one out himself, especially when they had harmed one of his own. He considered it a type of karma to return unto these hidden gunmen what they delivered to he and his allies, a karma that had to be settled before death so that it would not follow the offender to another life as was the popular belief among we of the Vanir. It did not hurt his zeal either that he considered it an honor and even his right to return the favor to those who attacked him directly. I knew I'd insulted my old friend by making him sit this one out, but better to bruise his pride than see him dead.

“My tab at the O. club when we get back, I promise.” I said with a smile, holding a hand to my heart. Vogard rolled his eyes at me once, then shifted slightly and pulled from its holster his side-arm, then handed it to me.

“It's gonna be cramped in there, this is better if you have to shoot and run.”

I took the weapon with little hesitation, knowing he was right. There was a pause when I slid the piece into the holster where my own should have been and a dozen or so different scenarios ran through my mind involving Vogard being too weak to lift his rifle when a sudden ambush hit them while I was away, but the man was right. Close quarters combat was all about speed and I could aim and shoot a pistol at close range a lot faster than I could lift my rifle.

“Man, we're not having a good day.” said Joster from behind me. I rose and pressed against the wall best I could so he, and then Lethia followed by Sheritha could slip into the safety of the small alleyway. I nodded to Lethia and let her in on what I saw after the shooting. She and Vogard agreed that our quarry must be there.

“After this building it's almost fifty yards of open space to run before the base of the tower.” Joster pointed out, his expression creased with worry. “That sounds like ambush country to me.”

“They would have closed in already if there was an ambush waiting for us, kid.” Vogard grunted as Sheritha pressed a wad of gauze into his wound to help stop the bleeding before wrapping it. “There...uhng! There's not much point in a sniper trying to pick off five people if a larger group was waiting further up.”

I nodded my agreement. He was right. Shooting at us just then had given them away and would have nulled any surprise attack waiting further in. Briefly I considered our options at his point. More scenarios ran through my mind, some of holding ourselves up in a building out of sight until help arrived, others involving the consequences of letting our enemy live. Many of the latter involved more people dying and most of them my allies. In the end I came to the same conclusion I had when I first suspected the secret held within the clock tower. The matter had to be settled before any of us could entertain delusions about being safe.

“Let's get everyone under cover, then we will resume the assault.” I said to Lethia who nodded her understanding. I turned to Joster then and explained to him that he was to keep Vogard and Sheritha safe while I was gone. I saw the weight of that burden weighing on the young soldier even as I spoke and laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

“You are young, but I have seen you in battle. I have faith in you.” I said to the man, he smiled at me and threw a salute which I returned.

The first ones to slip out were Lethia and Vogard, who leaned on his comrade's shoulder for support. Quick as they could the two made for the door and slipped inside. I waited, my heart still as if I were dead until the confirmation knock on the wall caused me to release a breath I was not aware I was holding. Another minute of waiting and I sent the next two, first Sheritha and then Joster to cover her.

Among the Vanir there are tales of warriors in ancient times who would be pushed to the point of a momentary madness by the suffering of their loved ones and comrades on the field of battle. In the midst of this fury a warrior's senses would be heightened and those who recounted such experiences all spoke of how time would slow, but it came with the price of losing oneself to the anger, fear and remorse of the suffering of friends. Many would run headlong into the points of spears or knives just to get close to their quarry, or push their bodies beyond its limits to save the life of one and then simply fall over dead when the rage subsided. In these modern times a soldier in such a state was no longer venerated as they were in days long gone, but the fear they induced was no less potent.

I still don't remember much of what happened then, only the before and after are clear to me. I remember the shot that I heard and the tortured, horrified scream of our medic. Vaguely I recall her falling back into Joster's arms and a spray of blood turning the world a grizzly shade of red before my eyes. Many thoughts raced through my mind then, much as with Vogard when I feared for his life, but even now with all my wits about me I remember only vague images while I recall clearly Sheritha's screams, the blood and the resounding thunderlike echo of a gunshot fired from afar.

I did not hear Lethia's calling after me, but I remember it. I do not remember running for the clock tower with all the speed my legs could generate, but I know that I did. I remember when I closed in on the structure that there was a figure waiting for me, I remember his gun poised to shoot me, and I remember the smell of spent gunpowder from my own rifle after he fell. I do not remember firing, but I know that I did.

More screams filled the air; frantic cries followed by the rattling sound of rapid gunfire as I ran through the interior of the clock tower and climbed the stairs that would take me higher. I remember stopping before the next level, another soldier staring me down with a pistol aimed at me. I raised my rifle as fast as I could, I remember staring down the sight at him, and then a hand on my shoulder jerking me away as a bullet spiraled toward me. More shots, more screams, then he fell. I do not remember firing, but I know he fell.

Thinking on it now I remember tales about anger, hatred and malice fueling the legendary rage. I knew men way back when who bore the scars of wounds they never even felt, wounds from bullets they themselves watched spiral toward them and bury into their bodies, pain they never felt until after the rage subsided.

Of all the stories I had heard, the one thing that remained a constant in the minds of the tellers was that all they could feel was the rage, the hate for those they charged against, the feeling of loss for the comrade or loved one that strengthened that hate. I felt none of that. Looking back now, all I knew in my heart was that my people were suffering and that it had to end. No hate, I felt no satisfaction in my enemies falling, not even relief that they were one less threat to those under my command. No, only the single thought rang again and again in my mind, this had to stop.

When my vision cleared I beheld Lethia standing over me with a worried look in her eyes. I do not know when, but I must have fallen when that hand pulled me out of the path of that bullet for I was lying on my side against a wall. My head spun and throbbed painfully at first. I managed to push myself up to a sitting position and reached for my rifle to use as a cane of sorts.

“What...happened?” I muttered as I slowly rose to my feet to keep the sudden nausea at bay. To my relief it was slight and growing weaker as my thoughts became my own again. The memories however, they returned slowly and I still had only on vague idea of what I'd done.

“You lost your damn mind, that's what!” Lethia admonished me in a hushed voice. I didn't need to ask why. If nothing else I knew where I was. “What happened?” her tone made me look away, the worry in her lovely voice making me ashamed of myself for reasons I could not understand. “I've never seen you act so rashly in all the years I've served with you, Commander!”

“I don't know, I can't remember much of it.” I said, truthfully. I raised my gun arm and tested its strength by holding my rifle. Thankfully my strength was returning, but I was still exhausted after that ordeal.

“All I remember...is thinking that we had to stop this.” I said after a short silence, forcing myself to look into the eyes of the lieutenant. “And we must, I'm not waiting around on my ass while you or Joster get hurt as well, or worse, one of you are killed!” a thought struck me then and I asked, eyes wide, “Sheritha?”

“She's alive,” Lethia said at length, then hesitantly she added, “But she's not in good shape. Bastard took her arm clean off.”

She's alive, at least, I thought bitterly, for the moment anyway.

Vogard's not so bad I think, he and Joster got to wrapping Sheritha's shoulder to stop the bleeding soon as we dragged her inside.”

“I don't want him coming up here.” I muttered out in a gentle commanding tone as I began to creep back to the stairs, then away once I saw the coast was clear.

“What do you think?” Lethia asked me once I was back in whispering range.

“They're probably waiting for us to come up after them.” I answered, still looking up.

“About the sniper.” she confirmed.

I paused to consider it, ran the events of the afternoon through my mind in as much detail as I could. Unfortunately my head was still a little fuzzy and I had trouble recalling more than just my little rampage.

“I think he's either screwing with us or has no idea what he's doing.” I said after gathering all the information that I could from memory. “Snipers are trained to kill, not mutilate. Unless there's some sick sh-”

The clopping of boots on the floorboards above us silenced me. I looked up, followed the sound and clenched my teeth as the source began descending the stairs. I raised my rifle and Lethia did the same. We both got as close to the far wall as we could and kept our weapons aimed and ready.

The figure froze as soon as he saw us. The weapon he carried surprised me, for in the hands of this young soldier who was probably barely old enough to enlist was a specialized long rifle designed for use by snipers. I knew that weapon well and visions of Vimur streaked through my mind as I watched this man-child hoist the gun and stare down at us down the sight at the muzzle of the too-long barrel.

“Down!” I yelled as I dove out of the way, dragging Lethia with me by the sleeve of her jacket. The sound was deafening inside the small space and the passing round sent wood and concrete fragments flying.

Lethia and I tumbled down the flight of stairs we'd just climbed and settled in a heap at the bottom. Above the ringing in my ears I could hear the familiar clop of boots and tried to scramble away from the stairs where he would have a clear shot. Lethia scrambled to her feet shortly after me and as the sliding metallic sound of a gun bolt filled the air she took her stance at the base of the stairs and readied herself.

“Three seconds.” I said to her as I dropped my rifle, drew my knife in one hand and Vogard's pistol in the other. Lethia nodded without looking at me and I set myself for a run.

It was only by seniority that Vogard was my second, but it was Lethia who I trusted most and who understood my strategies. Only she would know what I meant by those two simple words, which was good because we had no time for me to elaborate.

I didn't want to do this because of how dangerous it was, but still the urgency to end this ordeal was foremost in my mind. I resolved to do just that, for the sake of my team, for Vogard and Sheritha who had suffered enough for one day.

As soon as the end of that too-long gun barrel was visible at the top of the stairs Lethia pulled the trigger on her rifle, letting loose a hail of bullets that shot through the air and sent shards of wood flying everywhere. It felt as though my heart was in my throat as I counted down the seconds in my mind.

...3...2...1...

Before Lethia's firing stopped I bolted past her and up the steps as fast as I could. When I reached the top I dove to the ground and rolled forward. After regaining my footing I shot off again, this time in the direction of that young man. He had already begun to lift his gun, but I swerved and twisted about in my run to keep myself out of the crosshairs. When at last I was in range I pushed the gun barrel aside with the flat of my survival knife and ran along the length of the weapon until the blade connected with the metal gun stock with an audible metal tchink sound.

“Gefstu upp?” I said to the youth in between panting breaths, asking him in his own tongue to surrender, Vogard's pistol pressed between the young man's eyes.

For once, no thoughts raced through my mind, no scenarios of what I would do with this boy if he surrendered and I took him prisoner. A part of me felt like a hypocrite then, for I did not wish to kill this one person, yet I had killed his comrades, and I had no qualms about killing him either if he forced me to.

Many tense moments passed with me staring into my young enemy's fear stricken eyes, even with his rifle pinned above my head as it was and with a pistol point blank in his face I could still feel him struggling against me to lower his weapon.

“Gefstu upp?” I repeatedly as calmly as I could, which was difficult with my heart pounding as it was.

Then something occurred that caused me pause and widened my tired eyes. All the shock and fear melted from that boy's eyes, and he actually smiled at me. Though it lasted only a moment, I caught a glimpse of something in those dark brown eyes. I couldn't understand it then, but I know it now for what it was, a fierce determination of one far beyond his years.

“Enginn skaði skeður,” and with that, that horrid weapon fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

I don't remember firing, but I know I did.

I stood there for a long time, just staring. The pistol had just slid out of its holster when I fired. He was quick for a kid, bold, if not stupid. I sighed, clicked the safety on my second's pistol and holstered it. Lethia came up shortly after, but I paid her no mind. Too much was running through my head then, so much that I wished for that brief moment when I could think of nothing at all. The emptiness seemed appealing right then.

A short climb up the next flight of stairs at last brought me to the lair of the dragon that had maimed my comrades. I could see from where I stood the tiny door and the sniper rifle's stand nestled up near it. No doubt the kid had a perfect view if indeed he was the shooter. I stopped just short of the door, tensing up as I looked down at the streets below. A sharp pain like cold steel piercing my skull from one end to the other shot through me and blurred my vision. I stepped back and turned away from the grizzly sight, I didn't want to see it, Sheritha's arm still lying in the street in a pool of blood.

I thought of Vogard then and his unique philosophy about killing in war, then the last words of that young man echoed like a ghost in my mind.

“Yeah, no hard feelings, kid.” I said more to myself than to the child I had slain. “We're even.”

To my relief, Vogard's injury was largely superficial. The bullet tore into his side, but only cut through muscle tissue before ricocheting off a rib. It looked worse than it was.

Sheritha was not so lucky; nothing in the world could have made her injury look worse than it was. In what was either a horrifying display of skill or a stroke of luck the bullet had hit our medic dead in her shoulder joint, tearing her arm off from there while doing little more damage that we could see at the time. It was hard for Joster and Vogard to dress the wound and staunch the bleeding with Sheritha thrashing about as she was. To me it was a miracle in itself that the shock alone did not kill her.

I updated Regimental on our situation after the battle and was shocked to learn from them just where we were. Taking the name of the town that Joster provided them earlier we learned that we were right in the middle of a long abandoned part of Aesir territory. No known units occupied the area, but it would take an evacuation team several days to travel around enemy territory to get to us. Our orders, as if we had an alternative, were to stay put and keep the private stabilized until our rescue.

We were also ordered to search the bodies of the dead men for clues about where they came from. In the end we found nothing of importance, only the odd letter in plain format that I took to be notes from their loved ones, a few supplies in their packs, but little in the way of food. This and the lack of a radio anywhere in the tower suggested that they had been lost like us, but for a much longer time. What I remembered most vividly, however, was a photo in the breast pocket of the young man I killed-who I have taken to assuming was our sniper.

The picture was a plain, black and white photo of a lovely young woman holding a toddler, a girl, in her arms while both waved and smiled at the camera. On the back something was written that I couldn't understand, and a red lipstick print. For a long time I could do nothing but think of the girls in that photo, and who they were waiting for, who they would cry for when they heard the news if these poor souls were ever found. Briefly a surge of guilt welled up in me, my eyes tearing up in mourning for that young man's family, but the soldier in me pushed away that guilt with cold rationale. I tucked the picture back where I had found it, then helped Lethia to gather up the corpses.

And so, here we sat. I had everyone move from the residence to the restaurant within the square because the rendezvous point was the clock tower itself and I wanted to be close when help came. Our supplies held up well enough, with the exception of Sheritha who needed to build up her strength. Luckily, the town water supply appeared to still be running so we had a reasonably clean source of water from one of the faucets in the kitchen we occupied. We were as safe as we could be under the circumstances.

“Bastards!” Joster growled through clenched teeth as he turned away from the scene. Lethia had soothed the medic and she was drifting off to sleep again, but the memory of her episode would be sure to linger.

I eyed Joster for a moment, concerned.

“Sadistic bastards.”

“Come again, son?” Vogard asked the sergeant, an eyebrow raised.

“It's just...” Joster began with a sigh, then slammed a fist down on a nearby counter and let out a frustrated cry. “They were just screwing with us!”

“Hey, knock that off,” I cut in, giving the soldier a stern look. “We don't know anything about their motives aside from what we learned from the things they left behind. Don't obsess over something if you don't have anything to prove it with.”

“But-”

“It doesn't matter!” Vogard roared at the kid, choking out the last bit and clutching his side in pain. “They're dead and we're alive, let it go.” he growled under his breath, pressing a palm to his side in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain.

“Hating dead men without reason is unhealthy.” Lethia put in, her voice gentle as she continued to caress Sheritha's forehead to calm the injured woman. “I wouldn't recommend it.”

“Withou-...are you kidding!?” Joster asked, sounding near frantic in his disbelief. “Just look at what they did to Sheritha, the reason is lying in your lap! You said it yourself, how perfect that shot was! How can you say they weren't just messing with us!?”

Lethia shook her head gently, appearing calm, but I could see my old friend's clenched fist shaking. She was getting frustrated with Joster; I didn't blame her at all. The kid's tunnel vision idealism was an annoying trait of most rookies who hadn't seen as much as she or Vogard, or I for that matter.

“I said it was perfect in that her arm was the only thing we had to worry about. That bullet could have ripped her collar bone to shreds if it had been off by less than a centimeter.” Lethia said finally.

Joster looked as though he wanted to say more, his slightly agape, but Vogard's raised foot in the sergeant's bent kneecap ended it.

“Ugh...fine, but I'm going to return the favor first chance I get!” Joster said as he turned away. “Shooting a medic is just straight cowardice and I'm going to pay them back.”

Vogard began to rise, still clutching his side but with his free hand clenched in a fist as if ready to beat some sense into Joster. Lucky for him I halted my second by holding up a hand and gestured for him to get back on his butt where he belonged.

“Well, that's not a very healthy attitude for a soldier to have.” I said.

“Not to mention a downright stupid thing to say in front of your C.O..” Vogard added with an admonishing look at the younger man. He just ignored Vogard's glare and stared out the kitchen window as he'd been doing for most of the day, a hand always resting on his rifle.

“Enginn skaði skeður.” I said out loud. Joster turned, surprised to hear the enemy tongue being spoken. “Do you know what that means?” I asked him. His puzzled expression said it all, and he looked first to Vogard and then Lethia for help, but neither would meet his eyes.

“Not a clue.”

I began to tell him about my time in the prison camp all those years ago. The memories were somewhat faded by time and newer, more recent recollections, but the experience was something I could never forget.

“I had an attitude a lot like yours when I was first captured. For a long time the only thing on my mind were all the men and women who'd died in the ambush and the others still alive there with me. I wanted to pay back the bastards who had killed so many people in such a cowardly way and it came to the point that all I could think of was killing just one of them as payment for the lives of my comrades and friends. However, since the unit that caught me and the others were long gone by the time I was released from interrogations the revenge that I had fantasized over was taken away from me.”

I paused there and looked to see if Joster was listening. He was still at the window but facing me with a look of confusion and curiosity. That was good enough, I had his attention.

My head lowered then and my left hand clenched into a loose fist as I spoke, “It was then that I, like you, plotted to take my anger out on the enemy around me instead of the ones who actually killed my comrades. I figured the blood of one filthy Aesir was a good as another for my purposes, and spent much of my first six months figuring which one of the guards I would target and how I'd do the deed.” I paused and looked to the young face of my sergeant. “I never went through with it.”

“Why not?” Joster asked, intrigued.

“Funny thing about living among the enemy for over a year, I picked up a lot of their language in a short time. Many were the times I'd be out in the yard with the other prisoners and I would overhear the guards telling each other stories about their families and how none of them could wait for the fighting to stop so they could go home. After a time I started thinking about those families, and realized what the consequences would have been if I'd done what I was planning to do.”

“But what about the families of the men and women you served with who were shot down at Vimur?” Joster asked angrily, I didn't answer him; my story was not yet done.

“More than a year after my capture, the short-lived cease fire was agreed upon and I was released. To my amazement, the C.O. of the camp came out to personally see the prisoners off. When I walked beyond those barbed-wire gates the man himself bent down and handed me my pack, rifle and personal items that had been kept intact the whole time. He shook my hand and as I walked by he slapped me on the back and said the words to me.

“Enginn skaði skeður”

“That kid whose brains I blew out said the same thing before he tried to pull his gun on me. The meaning of those words is still fresh in my mind even after these many years.”

“So, what's it mean?” Joster said impatiently.

“No damage done.” Lethia spoke up, I nodded in confirmation. “It's their way of saying no hard feelings.”

Again I looked to the sergeant to find him looking confused and a bit angry.

The chopper arrived then and the radio blared the voice of our allies who had come to pick us up. The three of us jumped to our feet, I to meet the evac team and Lethia and Joster to prepare the injured for travel. I rushed the medics into the building where Sheritha lay awaiting them. She and Vogard both were carried out on stretchers and two other men helped us gather the extra supplies our teammates couldn't take care of themselves.

As we walked the short distance to the chopper I noticed Joster's eyes where directed to the base of the clock tower where, stuck into the ground and the firing pin removed was the sniper rifle. Dog tags of the slain Aesir soldiers buried in the soft earth around the tower hung from the trigger guard, a grizzly grave marker but the best Lethia and I could do. We only hoped it would tell their countrymen who lay beneath the retired weapon so their families would know and take some solace that they received the last rights granted a human being.

“What was the point of your story?” he asked as we walked side-by-side behind the others.

“There are many sides of the story when it comes to war.” I began. “But for us, the soldiers, the front line fighters, there are no politics. The line between good and evil is not blurred, it simply does not exist. Whatever reasons you may have had for enlisting, the truth is that you fight to survive each battle as it comes. The Aesir are the same.

If I'd gone through with my plan back in the prison camp I know now that I would have hated myself in the end, and that I would have to live with it for the rest of my life. I wanted to turn my anger for those who killed my people and nearly crippled me on people who had nothing to do with it. I would have murdered them.”

Joster and I handed our packs to the crew to load into the chopper, then I lead him over to the makeshift grave and spoke to him in as soft a voice as I could over the noise of the aircraft.

“They're dead, Joster, the men who hurt Sheritha and Vogard have been punished, the karma is closed.” I turned him toward me then, clasped both of his shoulders and made him look me in the eyes. “Feel the anger you have for them, feel all the hate you want, but let it go here. The ones you are angry with are dead; it's time to drop the matter. There is no right and wrong for soldiers, who fight to live and not for politics or idealisms. Those men were not unlike us and only wanted to survive! Don't punish those who had nothing to do with this because you couldn't let go of your hatred for three dead men! Do you understand?”

“I think so...” he said hesitantly, his eyes on the grave. His fists clenched and he took a deep breath. I thought he would scream, but instead he breathed a heavy sigh and said to me in a sad, but relieved voice, “Let's go home.”

“Let's.” I said with a smile and walked to the chopper with the young man. I had faith in Joster, but as the chopper rose into the air and I saw him staring down at the ground where that makeshift grave stood I said a silent prayer, begging the gods to let him leave his hate behind.

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