Dream Journal - Kiss of Judas
December 28, 2009
We had no other choice, he said, pale eyes sharp against his dark hair and darker cloak. They had been whittling down our numbers for far too long, and now it had come to this. Only so many of us could remain unnoticed down in the city where their eyes were numerous, and therefore only those who were invaluable to the mission at hand could be allowed off the mountains-no matter how unprotected it would leave those staying behind in our so-called stronghold, or how likely it would be that when I returned she would be dead or simply gone like so many before her. He explained this to me as though I were a child, piercing eyes deflecting my own defiant glare with little more emotion than a rock; but he was right, as much as I hated him for it. We had no other choice, so I must leave her.
I didn't say goodbye. With fake enthusiasm I reassured her that we would be done with our task and back long before winter could trap them here. I held her hand as she touched her lips to mine, her flyaway blonde hair whipping about both our faces in the summer breeze, but I knew she could sense the lie. Before I could think of any solacing words, though, he was calling for me, and in the rushed chaos of last preparations she managed to slip away. The faces of the several dozen remaining behind were discouraged and drawn as we left; as much as I tried to ignore it, our small procession out of the fort felt more like a funeral march than anything else.
I saw her once more, watching from high above as we rounded the last bend before the forest swallowed us, but her face was distorted in the shadows cast by dusk's last light.
Once we had reached our destination at the foot of the mountains, we quickly settled ourselves into our confidante's home in the inner city. Our leader's earlier ventures had paid off with a web of informants, with whom he conversed nightly; ignoring their warnings of growing danger and whispers of betrayal, he pressed us further out of our safe zone each day. He read the growing restless worry within me, but made certain I had no time to dwell upon it. The days, fraught with enough scares and scuffles to keep my adrenaline pumping, passed swiftly.
I hadn't realized just how quickly time was passing until I woke one day and felt the bone-chilling cold. The mountains, just visible on the city's horizon, would soon be blocked for the winter. Panic crippled whatever sense of duty I had left. I cornered him after breakfast, but what started as a calm discussion escalated into a shouting match. I spat acid words that had been stewing inside me for months, and somehow convinced him to let me take a small escort back up into the mountains.
Although we made good time, the mountains were soon blanketed in thick snow that hindered our progress. As we neared the mountaintop I sent a scout ahead, but in the morning his trail had ended abruptly in a pool of blood... but no body. Full of dread, I pressed on. We ascended the rest of the way up the mountain to the fortress, which looked as though it had been abandoned for weeks. We were just about to enter the fort when I caught sight of someone in the woods: blonde hair and a grey cloak.
Relief washed over me. Leaving my men, I struggled my way through the snow to her. I vaguely noticed how much shorter her hair was as I took her into my arms-but instead of returning my embrace she drew back, pulling her cloak closer about herself. I had just enough time to register her gaze as it fixated somewhere beyond me before I heard the gunshot.
Before I could turn, the bullet had already torn through my shoulder. We had been surrounded. I shouted for the others to scatter, but they were each taken down in succession by men in white uniforms. As I reached for my own weapon, though, she lay a pale hand on my arm, and before I knew what was happening she had slipped my pistol from my belt and tossed it away into the snow. Paralyzed with disbelief, I stared blankly into her eyes. She stood on her toes to place a light kiss on my forehead, then moved away without so much as a glance as the men closed around me.
I broke out of my stupor long enough to launch myself at my nearest assailant, but there were simply too many of them. Something hard and sharp collided with the back of my head, dropping me to my knees in the bloody snow. A shot rang out-point-blank range-and my vision went black.
We had no other choice, he said, pale eyes sharp against his dark hair and darker cloak. They had been whittling down our numbers for far too long, and now it had come to this. Only so many of us could remain unnoticed down in the city where their eyes were numerous, and therefore only those who were invaluable to the mission at hand could be allowed off the mountains-no matter how unprotected it would leave those staying behind in our so-called stronghold, or how likely it would be that when I returned she would be dead or simply gone like so many before her. He explained this to me as though I were a child, piercing eyes deflecting my own defiant glare with little more emotion than a rock; but he was right, as much as I hated him for it. We had no other choice, so I must leave her.
I didn't say goodbye. With fake enthusiasm I reassured her that we would be done with our task and back long before winter could trap them here. I held her hand as she touched her lips to mine, her flyaway blonde hair whipping about both our faces in the summer breeze, but I knew she could sense the lie. Before I could think of any solacing words, though, he was calling for me, and in the rushed chaos of last preparations she managed to slip away. The faces of the several dozen remaining behind were discouraged and drawn as we left; as much as I tried to ignore it, our small procession out of the fort felt more like a funeral march than anything else.
I saw her once more, watching from high above as we rounded the last bend before the forest swallowed us, but her face was distorted in the shadows cast by dusk's last light.
Once we had reached our destination at the foot of the mountains, we quickly settled ourselves into our confidante's home in the inner city. Our leader's earlier ventures had paid off with a web of informants, with whom he conversed nightly; ignoring their warnings of growing danger and whispers of betrayal, he pressed us further out of our safe zone each day. He read the growing restless worry within me, but made certain I had no time to dwell upon it. The days, fraught with enough scares and scuffles to keep my adrenaline pumping, passed swiftly.
I hadn't realized just how quickly time was passing until I woke one day and felt the bone-chilling cold. The mountains, just visible on the city's horizon, would soon be blocked for the winter. Panic crippled whatever sense of duty I had left. I cornered him after breakfast, but what started as a calm discussion escalated into a shouting match. I spat acid words that had been stewing inside me for months, and somehow convinced him to let me take a small escort back up into the mountains.
Although we made good time, the mountains were soon blanketed in thick snow that hindered our progress. As we neared the mountaintop I sent a scout ahead, but in the morning his trail had ended abruptly in a pool of blood... but no body. Full of dread, I pressed on. We ascended the rest of the way up the mountain to the fortress, which looked as though it had been abandoned for weeks. We were just about to enter the fort when I caught sight of someone in the woods: blonde hair and a grey cloak.
Relief washed over me. Leaving my men, I struggled my way through the snow to her. I vaguely noticed how much shorter her hair was as I took her into my arms-but instead of returning my embrace she drew back, pulling her cloak closer about herself. I had just enough time to register her gaze as it fixated somewhere beyond me before I heard the gunshot.
Before I could turn, the bullet had already torn through my shoulder. We had been surrounded. I shouted for the others to scatter, but they were each taken down in succession by men in white uniforms. As I reached for my own weapon, though, she lay a pale hand on my arm, and before I knew what was happening she had slipped my pistol from my belt and tossed it away into the snow. Paralyzed with disbelief, I stared blankly into her eyes. She stood on her toes to place a light kiss on my forehead, then moved away without so much as a glance as the men closed around me.
I broke out of my stupor long enough to launch myself at my nearest assailant, but there were simply too many of them. Something hard and sharp collided with the back of my head, dropping me to my knees in the bloody snow. A shot rang out-point-blank range-and my vision went black.