The year was… I don’t think anyone could say when this thing started indefinitely. Some say it was when he first laid eyes on her, some say it was the day he committed what is said to be the worst crime known to man. Others, admittedly the more passionate of us would say it started the day a war involving the deaths of hundreds of innocents started, but that’s not for me to say. I am here to enlighten you with the events that sparked the passion between two young people and nearly sparked a fire that could have destroyed them.

20^th of October

He could feel the flames at his back as he ran away from the now burning settlement. He could hear the shouting voices of his regiment calling after him “Murray!”, “Soldier you get back here!”.

He trudged doggedly onwards, the wound in his right arm from where a bullet had grazed and nearly imbedded his flesh when he’d first turned and run. As he moved onward he listened to the voices of the officers getting quieter the further away he got. He remembered how once, it seemed like a life time ago now, he’d respected those men, he’d admired those men. As a young boy his dream had been to become a general, like his father had, and lead many armies into victorious battles, but all that had been a lie. He now saw them for what they were, vicious, blood hungry, animals merely following orders, with the scent of blood in their noses, and the need to kill in their soul. He remembered what they’d all been like when they first arrived, so long ago, he couldn’t tell you how long now. They’d been new fresh blood, eager to get involved in fighting a battle for their country. Slowly they’d changed, their need to kill had increased, everyone was an enemy now. He knew it had to stop. He wasn’t sure why he’d chosen tonight to make a stand, why that settlement had been any different from any of the others they’d raided. He’d seen the change in the others just as he’d felt it in himself. He wondered now, as he stumbled along in the darkness how many women he’d widowed, how many children he’d orphaned. As he looked up into the darkness he saw, not 30 yards from him, the chard remains of a tree stump, no taller than a wagon wheel but wide enough to hide a fully grown man behind. He struggled onwards towards it, he couldn’t give up, not now. He could here his regiment chasing after him, the sounds of shouting but he couldn’t go back. Go back to what he’d been, what he was ashamed to have become, a killer, a murderer. He remembered, as he struggled on, the agony in his arm increasing with each step he took.

They’d arrived at the settlement only half an hour ago, though it seemed like years now. The officer’s, who’d been riding in front slowed to a stop, he didn’t need to ask what they were there for. He knew well enough that they were going to search for enemies, if only he’d known then how far it would go. The leading officer, Sergeant Grant dismounted and walked over to the nearest house. The other officers quickly followed. He’d watched and tried to listened but could make out nothing. After a few minuets of muffled conversation the other officers turned from the rest of the troupes. Then five of the group of eight officers walked over towards the regiment, each towards an individual man. He’d seen the officer who’d approached him, Sergeant Riley, a smug son-of- a-bitch if ever he’d seen one. Riley and he had joined the regiment at about the same time and over the months had bought himself a promotion, something about his father owning an oil company. Riley wouldn’t know a hard day’s work if he’d walked in on it. Riley stopped and took a lit torch from another soldier and a plank of wood from supplies.

Steven watched as Riley approached him, there was a sign of anger and madness he’d never seen before as Riley handed him the torch. “Barricade them in” he said firmly “then burn it”. Steven just stood there, completely taken aback, not able to move or say anything, he must have misheard him, he must have. He’d never questioned the raids before but this, this must surely be murder. They weren’t even sure if enemies were here, they’d not even searched the place. He opened his mouth to say something, but Riley cut him off. “Now soldier” he said. There was coldness in his voice that made Steven sick to the stomach, surely he must understand that these were innocent people. Of course he understood that it was an order. Violence was understandable in a war like this but he would not, no, could not murder innocent people. “I’m waiting soldier” said Riley still holding the torch in his hand. He reached out slowly taking the torch from Riley, then after Riley had moved away he turned and without a word threw the torch into the long wet grass that lay not far away. The torch landed in the grass and went out. He turned back to face Riley whose face was frozen in shock. “I believe I gave you an order!” he said firmly.

“I’m well aware of that sir” said Steven looking Riley dead in the eye, he wasn’t going to back down, he wasn’t going to be walked over. “I’m sorry sir” he continued “but I will not agree to slaughter innocent people”.

Riley’s mouth went firm “you are a soldier” he said indignantly “you have been given an order and you will follow it through”. Steven was silent for a moment before saying firmly “no sir, I can’t”. Riley looked him up and down before that smug smile Steven knew so well filled his face. “So be it” he said, and he nodded at the soldiers on either side. Steven felt his arms being gripped painfully. These men, these friends he’d once held so dear to him, were they now going to be part of his execution? As Riley turned to fetch another torch for the next soldier Steven saw the other men as they began to light the back houses on fire. Not five seconds went by before the screaming started, it was harsh and high pitched, unbearable almost. As the screaming continued Steven looked at the faces of the other men. They were agitated, nervous almost. He saw the looks of worry and concern in their faces. Suddenly the realisation caught them, they were murdering people they didn’t even know. Suppose that was what they had been doing all along, but now they were beginning to question. As the man on his right listened to the screams of the victims as they echoed through the night air he felt him loosen his grip Steven saw his chance. With one vicious swing he’d pulled his arm away from the man on the right and punched the soldier on the left so he fell straight to the floor and without stopping for consideration he turned and ran.

He heard Riley calling after him and yelling at the other men to go after him. He’d cleared the field the settlement was in within minuets but still they were after him. All that had seemed like hours ago now, yet it could only have been a few minuetes. Suddenly he saw the tree stump and his legs gave way as he slumped down behind it. He leant back against the tree stump, his heart burning in his chest and breathing heavily. He felt like he couldn’t move but he knew he couldn’t stay here. He wouldn’t let his life end like this. He would not be shot as a mutineer, he would not die a traitor. He tried to gather his thoughts together but every time he closed his eyes all he could see was the flames of the burning settlement and all he could hear in his head was the ringing screams of the victims who’d perished. He knew he’d have to move on soon, his assailants weren’t that far behind him.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps reached his ears and he lifted his head. Any other man would be gripped by fear at the thought of being captured but not him. In his time out here, god knows he’d been here long enough his senses had adapted to his surroundings, he began to listen more, see more, think more. As he heard the footsteps approaching he could tell that they were not firm, authority like footsteps, not a man in charge. Nor were they silent and skilled footsteps, like those of a military man. The sort who could sneak up and kill you in an instant, no these steps were cautious, shuffled, almost clumsy. These were the steps of new blood, possibly a young boy no older than he’d been when he first joined. The stranger was no more than 10 yards from him now, he knew he’d have to face him if he had a chance of getting away. With no second thought or fear for his own personal safety he rose from behind the tree trunk turning to face the stranger. He recognised the stranger almost at once, it was young Frederick Thomson, a recent recruit. The military were having to recruit more and more men to replace the dead. Thomson was an innocent boy, baby face, blonde hair, blue eyes and he wrote home to his mother once a week. In a way Steven admired him, the fact that he still harboured innocence within him, not the brutishness you got with some soldiers. An eternity seemed to go by, neither man spoke or moved. Steven didn’t even pay attention to the lights of the torches belonging to his assailants that were coming closer. He didn’t care if it meant his death, this boy was the only good thing about this damn war, and if it took him forever he was going to convince him he was on his side. Then slowly out of the corner of his eye he saw the boys hand lift. Steven felt a twitch of fear, was the boy going for his gun? Was he going to shoot him or maybe signal for help? For the first time since he’d turned and run from his regiment Steven was actually worried. Looking up into the boys steady eyes Steven waited. Then slowly, almost reverently Frederick extended his hand for Steven to shake. Steven stared down at Frederick’s hand as though it was a new custom he’d not been used to. His pause was only momentary though, Steven didn’t wait long before lifting his hand to connect with Frederick’s. As their two hands connected Steven felt something, something bigger than a static shock and yet smaller than a religious epiphany. Frederick looked up into Steven’s eyes and, in a gentle voice, as though he were passing his eternal judgement he said “go”. Steven felt a great weight lift from his shoulders as Frederick spoke. He clinged to the boys hand that bit more firmly and with a voice filled with gratitude and relief he said “thank you”.

Suddenly just after he’d spoken there was a loud bang. Steven glanced over Frederick’s shoulder. About twenty yards from where they were standing was a soldier standing, his gun pointing up into the air. Frederick pushed Steven back towards the other side of the field and said in a rushed and panicky voice “go…now”. Without a word Steven turned and ran, he flew across the field like a bullet, not pausing even to look back. After what seemed an age he reached the fence on the other side. He could hear the shouting voices of the party of men the shot fired must have attracted. Steven placed his hands on the fence and quickly climbed over. However, as his feet touched the floor on the other side he looked up. As he did he heard a single shot and saw out of the shadows in the distance one of them fall to the floor. Steven could feel anger boiling through him. They’d killed him, they’d killed Frederick. Steven turned and carried on, he couldn’t afford to be caught, not now. However, as he trudged onwards across the fields towards the horizon he made a solemn vow that one day, maybe not soon but one day he would take revenge on those animals. Frederick was an innocent boy who’d been murdered because he knew what was right and, so help him god he would make sure that Frederick’s death had not been in vain.

End of chapter one