Prisoner

Chapter 21

John Hansson

The Linbridge camp was much larger from up close. As we stepped through the gate, I immediately felt trapped, as if we were taking a one-way trip. Who knows? Maybe we were. As I glanced to the side, I saw Adaryn was equally, if not more, astonished than I was. Clev, however, kept his gaze locked straight ahead, a buldging vein visible in his forehead. I could tell that it was taking everything he had to not look back.

Due to the way Clev and I carried Adaryn between us, we quickly drew plenty of attention. The more tents we passed, the more and more uncomfortable I became. Young soldiers stopped or slowed whatever they were doing to watch us. I saw one man who came out of his tent in the middle of shaving, half his chin still coated in white foam.

It was easy to seperate the average soldier from the Captains and officers. Not only were they dressed in a distinguished red, gold, and grey complicated uniform, but they had an overall aura of power. Not once did I see a soldier who dared look one in the eye. Whenever we passed one, Clev would bow his head to stare at the ground until we were past. This made me wonder what they did here in the arm to make the soldiers, even one as tough as Clevius, so afraid of them.

Clev led us through countless rows of tents towards the larger one in the middle that was obviously Dumaine's. The closer we got, the more sparse the tents. At one point, we came to a clearing where I stopped and just stared in awe. Clev and Adaryn were jolted to a stop like I was an anchor.

"John! We must be going! Why have you stopped?" Clev half-whispered. I opened my eyes, but couldn't answer. I just stood and stared.

Hundreds of bodies, not even wrapped in sheets or cloth, lay in piles, one on top of the other. Flies and rats lingered about, mostly perched on top of a pile. The stench that came was almost unbearable. They were stripped down to undergarments, their emaciated forms pale and cold. One of the things I found most troubling was that only a few had wounds.

Clev glanced around at the bodies, then back to me.

"Battle is not the sole killer of soldiers, John. They get sick. Hungry. Angry. Some just decide they can't go any further and..." His voice trailed off. I could see the pain in his eyes.

"What's going to happen to them? Won't they be sent to their families or buried? Why just lay them here, like animals?" I asked.'

Clevius sighed. "Usually, in this case, the Captains turn to cremation. It is just too hard to identify one soldier from the next, let alone find out how to send them home."

I shut my eyes, wishing I had never even seen them, and started to walk. Clev and Adaryn followed, staying silent.

Before long, we reached Captain Dumaine's huge tent. Smoke billowed from a hole in the top of it. Hushed voices could be heard from within. Clev and I lowered Adaryn to his knees.

"Let's see how your acting skills are."

Clev repositioned his helmet on his head and stepped up to the tent flap.

"Captain!" Clev barked loudly. The voices stopped suddenly and, a few seconds later, a man stepped out from the tent. He wore a standard officer's uniform with multiple small medals pinned to it.

"Speak, soldier. I listen." He snapped.

"Is Captain Dumaine within?" Clev asked, his voice a little more shaky than it had been. The man smiled a little, which was about the last thing I had expected from an officer.

"I am him."

Captain Dumaine was maybe 30 years old and had smooth, chisled features. His dark brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his red eyes darted between the three of us. Frankly, he was not what I expected in the slightest bit. Clev stepped back and gestured to Adaryn.