This chapter needed work, and that's what it got. Can anyone see anything else wrong with it?
The crude wooden cross blurred as tears welled up in Arthur’s eyes. He blinked, and they dribbled down his cheek, forming a droplet on his chin. Sue tossed a rose onto the mound of freshly shovelled dirt. A breath of wind caught some autumn leaves from the oak tree overhanging the cemetery. They came to rest at the foot of the grave, as if to cover up the past.
Arthur knelt down, clasping his hands in prayer. Sibo let out a loud weep. Sue put her arms around her, letting the shoulder of her jumper soak up her daughter’s tears. Arthur felt Black’s warm hand on his shoulder. He turned to see him, hand held over his heart. His beard shone with wetness, which could have been caused by the gently drizzle, but Arthur knew it was tears.
Black looked into Arthur’s sad green eyes. “He was a good man.” His voice broke, and he let out a few sobs. He looked down at the dead grass, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I let him die.”
“You didn’t let him die,” said Sue. “It was fate that took him from us.” There was a moment of silence, before she added, “no one is to blame.”
Despite both his mother and Black’s assurance that it wasn’t his fault, Arthur couldn’t help but feel guilty. He knelt down, clasping his hands beneath his chin, looking into his father’s gravestone and prayed for forgiveness.
A few minutes later Black spoke. “Come on,” he said, sniffing his runny nose, “we have to get out of here.”
Arthur tore himself away, wanting nothing more than to let his mental inertia hold him in place. They walked through the shady cemetery and onto the crowded street. Every cluster of people seemed to have different emotions. There were people huddled together, crying over lost loved ones, as they had been. Elsewhere there were roaring celebrations of victory and freedom, from those naive enough to think their triumph was final. There were also people sharpening their blades, ready to die defending against the inevitable counterattack, and a scant few packing their belongings to flee.
“We need to get supplies,” said Black.
“Come to our house,” said Sue, “We’ve got some food stored away.”
“You guys go and get food,” said Black, “I’ll go to my place and get water skins and some other stuff.”
“Okay,” said Sue, leading Arthur and Sibo away by the hands.
“I’ll meet you at your house,” Black called.
Arthur stared at the wet road as he walked, taking no effort to avoid the puddles; he didn’t care. All three of them were quietly sobbing by the time they reached the house.
The door was knocked off its hinges, and some of the wood was smashed in where a soldier had kicked it. Arthur followed his mother up the steps. She stopped in front of him and gasped. He squeezed around beside her and saw the house. The table and chairs were tipped over, there was smashed glass and china littered all across the room.
They stepped in and the smell of dead people beginning to decompose greeted them. The soldiers that they had killed were still there where they had been before. The first one was leaned against the wall in the entrance way. His dead eyes stared up at them.
Arthur hurried past the soldier, not wanting to be too close to a rotting corpse. They walked into the kitchen.
“Stay there you two,” said Sue. “I don’t want you cutting your feet on the glass.”
Arthur watched as his mother navigated her way between the broken shards. On the far side of the kitchen there was a large cupboard, of which the doors were broken. In front of it there was food spilt out onto the floor, and some of the shelves had been broken off their support brackets.
“You two go and get some other clothes,” said Sue as she begun searching through the pantry.
Arthur stepped over a broken vase, following Sibo down the hall past another stiff corpse. He turned into his room, not needing to open the door; it already being broken down. The bed in the corner was turned on its side, and the blankets had all fallen on the floor. Some of the drawers hung open, and a few had been pulled out and deposited on the floor.
He walked over and randomly picked out a bunch of clothes, not being one to care about fashion. He stripped off his sweaty, bloodstained clothes from the previous day. Looking down he saw the cut in his chest had scabbed over. It was itchy, but he knew better than to scratch it.
He reached into the pile and withdrew a pair of faded black trousers and a brown shirt. He put them on and grabbed another pair of clothes to change into, before shutting the drawer.
Turning around he saw his grimy mirror, which hadn’t been broken. He strode over to it and looked at himself. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks flushed pink enough to mask most of his pimples. Some sparse hair the same dark colour as that on his head had started creeping down his cheeks, which he hadn’t noticed before. His round chin was still free of hair, but it was dark blue from bruising. He rubbed it, and the slight pressure caused pain.
“Have you got your stuff?” said his mother’s voice from behind.
He turned his head to face her. “yeah, that pile there,” he said, pointing to the clothes he’d taken out of his dresser.
“Put them in this,” she said, handing him an old calico bag which smelt like rats had been living in it.
Arthur strode back to the dresser as his mother left the room. He picked up the pile and stuffed it in the bag, before slinging it over his shoulder.
Sibo emerged from her room just as Arthur emerged from his, and they walked back to the kitchen together.
“I’m going to miss the place,” said Sibo.
Arthur glanced around at the wreckage. “I’m not,” he said. He couldn't think of many good times they’d had. Sure it was a decent house, but he couldn't think of anywhere in that desolate town as a home.
Footsteps came through the front door. Arthur turned to see Black entering, carrying a bag of equipment.
“Where’s your mother?” he said.
“I think she’s getting some clothes,” said Arthur.
He expected Black to make some sort of sexist comment as he usually would given such an opportunity, but it seemed even he had some sense of occasion.
The three of them waited in silence, taking in the wreckage before them.
A few moments later Sue walked out of her bedroom with a bag slung over her shoulder. “There’s the food,” she said, pointing to a sack next to the entrance way.
Black picked up the sack and peered into it. “Good,” he said, “This stuff should keep well. I’ve got some hunting gear as well so we can replenish our food stocks on the way.”
“Do we need anything else?” said Sue, “We’ve got clothes and food.”
“That’ll do,” said Black, “We’re travelling light so bring as little as possible. I’ve got enough water to last us a few days, as long as we ration it responsibly.”
Sue nodded.
Arthur followed Black as he walked back out the door and down the garden path. They followed the street until they reached the main road.
They came to a hill overlooking the front gate, stopping for a moment to look back on what they left behind. The dirty, grey streets; The cold unwelcoming houses; The dead and dying gardens. And Arthur came to realise that the only thing that he liked about the place was his family. Now that had an unfillable void with the death of his father. The thought brought tears to his eyes.
When he turned around however, the first thing that caught his eye was not the desolate plain, but the green forest beyond, with the sun in the sky above it, the promise of a new beginning.
“Time’s a wasting,” said Black, setting off down the hill. “We’ve got a long way to go.”
They walked out the crowded front gate past a mass grave where men dragged the dead soldiers. Black set a cracking pace. Arthur felt the long dry grass brushing against his shins and knees. It was almost as if they were wading.
“That’s our goal for today,” said Black, pointing at the nearest spur of the distant forest.
The air had cooled, and the wind had started blowing cold against Arthur’s skin. He held his goose bumped arms across his chest, rubbing his hands on his forearms to generate heat. They were downwind from the town, so the fiery smell of the battle lingered for most of the trek. The only sound was the forlorn whistling of the wind through the grass, which drowned out their soft footfalls.
As the afternoon wore on, Arthur’s legs began to tire, and he felt aches in his back from sleeping awkwardly. Above all, his mind had decided to shut off, from lack of sleep and overstimulation. Time passed without him realising, as though he was doing everything automatically while his brain slept.
“Come on Arthur,” said Black, turning around “we’re almost there.”
“I need a rest,” said Arthur. “I feel faint.”
Black glanced at the town, then the forest, then the setting sun. “Alright,“ he said at last. “I guess we’ve got time for a short break.”
Arthur half sat, half collapsed on the ground, feeling the prickly grass crush beneath him. Looking up into the sky, he saw the few clouds that had formed during the day turning slightly pink as the sun lowered further. The tall grass rose above him, forming a narrow tunnel of vision.
“Are you thirsty Arthur?” said Sue.
”Yes,” said Arthur. He hadn’t realised it until she spoke, but he hadn’t had anything to drink al day. No wonder he was so light headed.
“Black,” said Sue, “he needs water.”
Black fished around in his bag, and withdrew a dirty water skin and handed it to Arthur.
Arthur held it to his mouth and squeezed the cool refreshing water into his dry mouth.
“Be careful,” said Black, “we don’t have much, and I don’t know when we’ll come across a stream.”
Arthur continued squeezing, his thirst more powerful than Black’s words.
”Hey,” said Black, snatching the water skin from Arthur, spraying some of the precious liquid onto the grass. “I said be careful. The rest of us need to drink too.” He took a small sip from it, and then handed it to Sibo.
“You’ve got to think of others as well Arthur,” said Black, “if we all drank like that there’d be none left for tomorrow.”
“Sorry,” said Arthur, turning away. He heard Black muttering something but he didn’t care. He stared through the waving grass, fighting to keep himself from crying.
He heard rustling behind him, and a moment later he felt a jumper being placed on top of him. “You looked cold,” said Sue.
“Thanks,” said Arthur, pulling it on. She looked at him, smiling, and the bad feelings inside him drifted away. She lay down on the grass beside him and put a warm arm around his shoulder. He felt himself drifting off when Black spoke.
”Up you get, break’s over.”
Sue took her arm out from beneath Arthur’s shoulder and got up. She extended an arm to Arthur. He took it, and she lifted him to his feet. As he was pulled up he felt the blood draining from his head, and he staggered, leaning on his mother for support.
“Deep breaths,“ said Black.
Arthur breathed in and out, hanging his head towards the ground. The dizzy spell passed. Black walked past him in the direction of the forest. He let go of his mother and followed, feeling slightly more energetic after the rest and water.
The sun was now partly below the treetops, blinding them with glare as they walked towards it. Arthur didn’t bother trying to watch where they were going, instead watching the monotonous ground and following the sound of Black’s footsteps. He was surprised when he stepped on a fern. Looking up, he saw that they were right on the border of the forest. The trees where now black outlines in the fading light, with a few patches of orange where the sun’s last rays penetrated gaps in the leaves.
”Who’s there?” said a voice from the undergrowth.
Black turned his head in the direction of the voice. “I’m armed,” he said. “Show yourself.”
A man in white priest’s robes emerged from the scrub. Black lowered his crossbow.
“Thank god you’re not soldiers,” said the priest when he saw them.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” said Black.
“I am father Wolfgang. I fled the town after the revolution,” said the priest. “I arrived here and went to sleep, and woke up hearing your footsteps.”
“We mean you no harm,” said Black, “We’re on our way to Arbadraz, we fled the town too.”
“Then god has smiled upon you,” said Wolfgang. “I pray he smiles on everyone else and gives them the sense to flee before they die by the sword.”
“Something tells me most of them are going to try and hold the town,” said Black.
“If only they listened to me. I tried to convince some people to flee with me but they were adamant to hold the town.”
“Well we can’t hide a whole town of people, and I’d be a hypocrite to agree with you,” said Black. “If I wasn’t responsible for these children I’d be staying there with them. They know what’s at stake.”
“May god guide them in the right direction,” said Wolfgang.
The town was now a mere speck, a slight bump on the otherwise smooth, dark horizon. Arthur wondered whether he would ever see it again.
“We’ll head further in to sleep,” said Black.
Arthur complied grudgingly, wishing he could fall asleep there and then. He dragged his feet through the understorey, following Black at a long distance. Fortunately it was only another five minutes before he was allowed to crash.
Arthur fell onto the forest floor, lacking the energy to lie down gently. He caught himself on his hands, and spread his body out on the damp soil. Finally letting his body relax, he let out a deep breath and stared up at the sky through the sparse canopy. The pinks and oranges of sunset had faded, and now the sky was dark blue, almost black. The stars were now shining brightly, tiny specks of light in the dark void.
“Let us give thanks to God for delivering us today,” said Wolfgang.
”Too exhausted,” said Arthur, his voice an almost incomprehensible slur.
“Poor boy,” said Wolfgamg. “I’ll pray on your behalf. You need rest."
“Whatever,” said Arthur, his eyelids drooping shut. He heard the sound of sticks crunching under the priest’s knees, and Sibo’s voice saying something about food as he fell asleep.
Arthur woke suddenly, hearing Wolfgang’s voice. He shot up; surprised at the extra energy a night’s sleep had given him.
“Come quickly,” said Wolfgang, “you must see this.”
Arthur pushed himself to his feet as Black raced past. He scrambled through the brush, pushing branches away and guarding his face from ones that flicked back towards him from Black who was a few metres in front. The edges of his vision became a blur as he weaved along the path Black carved. Black stopped and Arthur almost crashed into him. Wolfgang was crouching behind a shrub, looking out over the plain. Arthur squeezed around behind Black to see what all the commotion was about. He couldn’t see anything.
“What is it?” he asked, frowning into the distance slightly.
“Look just below the town,” said Wolfgang.
Arthur squinted. He could make out a dark patch outside the town, but from this distance he couldn’t discern what it was.
“It must be the Cajun counterattack,” said Black. “I wouldn’t have expected them to make one so early.”
The dark mass moved slowly towards the town, marching to attack it.
“Come, we’ve lingered here too long,” said Black, ”There’s nothing we can do to help. They chose this fate,” and he pushed his way back through the undergrowth. The other two followed him back to the camp.
Arthur lay down where he had slept. His stomach growled, reminding him of his hunger. He listened to the sounds of birds going about their business, and Black arranging one thing or another. The day was already warm, meaning it would be stifling later on, but for now he enjoyed it, pushing thoughts of food and water out of his mind. The forest floor had a musty, earthy odour that he hadn’t noticed the previous night due to fatigue.
“We’ll eat now,” said Black.
Arthur heard his mother rummaging in a bag. At the promise of food he sat up and saw her withdraw some bread and fruit. She lay the food down on a jumper she’d slept on. Arthur immediately snatched up the biggest apple and bit into it.
“Hold up,” said Wolfgang. “First we must give thanks for this.”
“I don’t believe in god,” said Arthur, taking another huge bite.
Wolfgang glared at Arthur. “Then you condemn yourself to hell.”
“Piss off mate,” said Sibo.
“Father,” said Wolfgang. “If nothing else you will refer to me as father.”
“No man is father to me except my real father,” said Sibo. “And he’s dead.”
Arthur stared at the ground, a mixture of sadness and anger coursing through his body.
“Come on,” said Sue, putting a hand on Arthur and Sibo’s shoulders. She looked up to Wolfgang and said, “I’m sorry, they aren’t usually like this, please forgive them.”
“I’m still not calling him father,” said Arthur, folding his arms.
“Drop it,” said Black. “I can see where this is going.”
Arthur focused on the food, letting out a purposely audible breath from his nostrils to show his frustration. He chewed the bland piece of bread which seemed to take minutes to be ready to swallow.
Black was the first to finish. He stood up and walked into the bushes to pee while the others finished eating.
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