Cipher Code {complete}

Chapter Thirty Five: The Death Of A Soldier •EDITED•

October, Year 483
Forest of Lacau
State of Nicia
North

Maybe an increase in rank and status isn't the true secret to happiness. Maybe there is something more to life than lofty ideals and aspirations for greatness. . .

Philip almost snorted at the thought but his chest still filled with warmth at the possibility. He couldn't afford to be average, not anymore. He still had mouths to feed and bills to pay.

When he imagined all the credits he had worked had for rolling down the drain, the warmth was gone.

"Philip."

The messenger looked up to see Issac staring at him with a look of concentration, his brows drawn down in seriousness.

Startled, Philip shifted to the side and turned away. "Yeah?"

How did he forget that his friend. . .—the word made his head spin and his mind ache. He fought off his giddiness and pinched the inside of his thigh. How did he forget that Issac was sitting right next to him?

"I was thinking," Issac closed the gap that Philip had conveniently placed between the two of them. The warmth was back. "I'll quit the army after this."

"What?" Philip was too shocked to worry about how close Issac was to him. He could feel the heat of the captain's skin, the man's steamy breath by the his ear.

"I never wanted it—any of it, the fame, the fortune, the praise." Issac sighed. "If I can live a life in a quiet meadow outside the shields, in a little homey house swaddled in green reeds by a lake, I would be happy."

"Outside the shields?"

"With you."

Philip gawked at Issac, just noticing the captain's proximity to him. "Me? You'd be happy with me?"

Their noses almost touched and Philip saw the smugness in Issac's blue eyes as he spoke. "Very."

This time the eighteen year old was the one to blush. He coughed and move away again, only, there was no more space to run to. Before he knew what was happening, Philip was pinned to the tree behind him.

Slowly, he raised his eyes to Issac's and knew instinctively that the captain was smirking behind his mask.

"If you want to tease me, you should expect me to tease you right back," he whispered by Philip's ear, loosening his grip on the younger man's collar, "so don't look so surprised."

"Oh," Philip didn't know if his reply was an answer or a question, "is that what this is about."

He knew that it wasn't but he also knew how playful Isaac could be, or at least used to be. He had teased him about his blushing and yet he was the one beet-red under his mask.

"Do you feel that?" Issac's voice snapped Philip back to reality.

"What?"

But then he felt it, the prickly sensation that danced down his spine and its painful familiarity.

Someone was watching them.

The fact spread around Philip like a smokescreen and suddenly he couldn't see Issac anymore. All he could see was. . . death?

Death. Death. Death, a shaky, eerie voice chanted slowly at the back of his mind.

Death. His vision exploded with a burst of red. He could smell it. The taste lingered in his mouth—a mix of green and red, then a splash of blue; the taste of death, earth and iron.

Arrows. Blood. Issac. Suddenly Philip couldn't breathe, he saw it all too clearly. He knew how Issac was going to die and the quickly forming memory stung at his eyes.

"Phil!"

"Philip."

Now his vision was filled with blue and only blue. Filtered air rushed into his lungs and his eyes watered. One tear followed another until he was almost sobbing.

"Issac, I. . . you—"

He could feel the pain, pieces of hurt spread around his bones like he was the one that would be turned into a human porcupine in a couple of minutes. The images flashed through his mind—much like many of his unwanted memories.

One moment Issac was telling him to breathe and the next he was sprawled against the forest floor, a mutilated heap of bleeding flesh in a pool of freezing blood. None of them had seen it coming, and even if they did they wouldn't have been able to stop it. It all happened so fast. . . then it was over.

Issac was dead, and Philip was covered in his blood.

"Breathe through your nose and out your mouth, slowly," Issac leaned Philip against the tree, "relax and focus on the sound of my voice, okay?"

The messenger struggled to follow the captain's instructions but all he could see was blood, the blood that would soon be on his hands. He tried to tell Issac what had seen, what he had felt, but his vocal cords seemed frozen. His entire body was paralyzed. He ached to push Issac away from what he knew was coming.

"Philip, look at me." The captain held up Philip's chin and forced their gazes to meet. "Everything is alright, you're okay. Just breathe."

No. Philip coughed, choked by the air around him. Nothing is alright.

He needed to do something, he couldn't watch Issac die. He couldn't. The thought—his fear—gave him the strength he wanted, every ounce he'll ever need.

He shoved Issac away and immediately what he felt was condensed into one spot. Philip felt nothing but nausea. There was no pain, even when he recognized the horror on Issac's face—the horror that would have been his to bear.

Somehow the arrow had hit him instead.

Philip hadn't felt so happy in his life. He had been spared the dozen more arrows that would have pierced into Issac, yet he still had bills to pay. That fact made laughter bubble out his chest, despite his wheezing lungs and spilling blood.

Somehow, he had changed the future. Someone like him had made a difference. It had seemed impossible until the moment when it finally happened.

His mind darkened at the thought and soon everything was blank, there was no red, blue or green, just white. . . then nothing.

Philip stopped laughing.

†〰†

A chapter after my heart, again. Goodbye folks, I'll see you again sometime.

Fun fact: Every paragraph of the book of revelation is fifty words.

Happy New Year. I hope you had a swell celebration!