Battle Strong by Elizabeth McCready (have you read this book TXT) 📕

Once they were a safe distance, they dropped to the ground. Coughing and heaving, trying to allow clean air to enter their lungs. They rested on the damp ground, elbows propping their tired bodies, and watched the flames engulf the base. Ander started to laugh, brushing a hand through his hair. 

“We did it.” He said, his voice breaking just enough to notice. “We did it, Beth.”

He raised his voice and tackled her to the ground kissing her all over her face, and finally kissing her lips. They laid in that damp grass as the sun started to rise. Relief and fear washed over her like the waterfall out on the lake, everything had changed.

The sun had been up a few hours. They should have been back. Something must’ve gone wrong, something had to have gone wrong. Quinn paced at the end of the path, the cruel beams of the sun burning his bare shoulders. Neither him, Pietre, or Stievan got any sleep. They couldn’t stop thinking of what Beth and Ander were doing. They didn’t know if they would get caught or even survive. He heard rustling, it was only a rabbit. He wanted to kill it. 

“We should go look for them.” Quinn said, using his hands as emphasis, something he didn’t usually do.

“They are soldiers, Quinn, they can handle themselves. It’s a long trek, they could be on their way back.” Pietre offered, trying to diffuse Quinn’s neurotic behavior.

“Or they could be dead.” Stievan said simply from the low hanging branch he was casually laying on as he bit into a yellowish apple. 

“They probably aren’t, how hard is it to escape an explosion you created? Right?” Quinn asked.

“Look, they are probably fine, there is no sense in us sitting here waiting. We have no clue when they’ll even be back.” Pietre replied, two dirty t-shirts up from the ground tossing one to Quinn.

“If at all.” Stievan mumbled, Quinn wasn’t sure why he was so adamant on insisting they didn’t make it.

Quinn slid the t-shirt over his now sweaty head and fumbled his arms through the shrinking holes. He had hardly any clothes that fit him, no matter how many new sets he received from Command, they always ended up being to small after a few weeks. 

“Quinn! Stievan!” Pietre shouted and started running down the path into the woods where two very rough looking soldiers were walking fiercely. Quinn ran to meet them, followed less enthusiastically by Stievan.

“Well?” Stievan finally asked through all of the hand shaking and hugging reunions.

Ander and Beth smiled at each other, and back to the others, “We did it.”

*~*

“Attention soldiers. This is Command Squadron CS-47-602. Contact is requested with Anderson Rockwell, status year five, Ellyzibeth Donaway, status year four, Quinn Fletcher, status year five, Pietre Ceans, status year six, and Stievan Muster, status year six.”

“Anderson Rockwell, identification number 66101-T5-T9-A1. Contact accepted on behalf of all parties.”

“Redirecting to Command CS-47-801.” The intercom beeped, “This is Lewisse Isherwood code CS894621 of CS-47-801. Anderson and Ellyzibeth, you have made a remarkable turning point in this war. Sixty-percent of the entire Dumarian army has been depleted, twenty-six percent injured. In response to this invasion, the Dumarian army has advanced all their remaining soldiers to your battle point. At which point they will be greatly outnumbered. You have altered the course of this war. We will be setting up five temporary bases surrounding A1, we expect each of you to lead your sectors with dignity and formulate strategies to end this war once and for all. Anderson Rockwell.” She addressed Ander directly.

“Yes, Commander Isherwood, I am here.” 

“Rockwell, you will lead sector one. Your mission is to lead invasions on the three remaining Dumarian headquarters just over the border, you will have 10,000 men at your disposal. You may meet with them immediately following their arrival. They will be in your vicinity within two days. Ellyzibeth Donaway, you will lead the second sector. You and your 5,000 soldiers will have the sole mission of defending the Royal Village as some Dumarians have begun making attempts at King Mansford and Prince Caimon,” Caimon, Beth’s mind ached at the thought of facing her father and brother, even if they hadn’t a clue who she was. “You are not to contact the King or the Prince as the Royal Guard has them safely hidden.” 

Of course, the assignment she was to have was the one that put her within feet of her father. Hidden safely in the secret cellar below my father’s bedroom, Yes, she knew all about it. All of their different hiding places for all of the different threats, because she had hidden from them herself. 

“Quinn Fletcher, you will lead the third sector. You will lead an army of 6,000 soldiers on the battlefield, maintaining a normal battle routine to stifle any suspicions the Dumarians may have of our next move. Pietre Ceans and Stievan Muster, you will lead sectors four and five. Your mission is to protect the east and west perimeters and assist with battlefield combat. You will each have 5,000 men in your respective sectors. Soldiers, I urge you, be vigilant and merciless. This war has been a thorn in our country’s side for fifteen years, and if you are to end it, you will be rewarded beyond measure. Lewisse Isherwood code CS894621 of CS-47-801. Contact terminated.”

No one could speak. No one knew what to say. When they arrived, no one would have thought this war could’ve been ended. Not even in the slightest. Beth and Ander turned the war around. This team of five warriors could forever end this war. They could be famous for the rest of their lives because of the triumph of defeating their enemy. Fifteen years of death, hatred, hopelessness. Fifteen years of blood. Fifteen years of fighting. Fifteen years. Beth thought about what this could mean. Without a war to fight, would her father be more of a father? Would her mother return home? Or would nothing change? What could this mean?

*~*

Ander’s team of ten thousand men arrived the very next day. Their camp was set up just outside of the south-east end of A1. He wasn’t scared of the war, he wasn’t scared of the fighting. But he was scared, he would have to leave her. He didn’t even want to walk into the stables’ office where Beth was so beautifully writing instructions for her sector to make the journey to the castle at her will. She was born to be a leader. He knocked softly. Her eyes brightened at the sight of him, he would never get tired of her eyes. Her small, yet incredibly strong hand gestured for him to enter. He admired her. He walked slowly to her back where she sat to the desk and layed two hands on her tensed shoulders that quickly relaxed at his touch. He bent down to her, placed his lips gently on her cheek, her neck. She shivered, he smiled. Carefully, she stood, soft kisses following her up. Kisses so impossibly soft that in those sweet moments they could truly forget the devastation they endure. She turned to face him her hands traveling up his arms and around his neck. A single hand lifted her chin, steadily he guided her lips to his. Gentle, loving, beats of hearts making a rhythm for their lips embracing. Slowly, their faces parted, small unnoticeable distances at a time. Her eyes opened to meet his, he admired the millions shades of the ocean rushing in them, and the small ring of gold that perfectly embellished the center. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

“Is it time?” She said softly, and with a dull pain.

“It’s time, Donoway.” He said with another delicate kiss.

“Goodbyes have never been my thing.” Her eyes saddened as she looked to the ground.

“It’s a damned good thing then,” He pulled her attention back to him, “That this isn’t one of those.” He kissed her again. “I will see you soon. So soon.”

“Go kick some ass, Rockwell. And come back to me.”

“Only if you do the same, Donoway. It’s just us.” He smiled.

“You and me.” She smiled lightly up at him.

“Me and you.” One final kiss, and he walked out the door.

 His heart burned, he didn’t know if he’d see her soon. The thought terrified him. He grabbed his already tacked Achilles and pulled him outside started for the camp where ten thousand men waited for him to lead them. Ten thousand men, some of which may not live to see the sun the next morning. They are trusting him to lead them to their pending death. That’s nice. Meanwhile, the woman he loved would be at their childhood home where who knows what would happen if someone figured out who she was. Achilles seemed more confident than usual, Ander wondered if power got to his horse’s head as it did his own. They had only just reached the camp when the men started to gather around him, he supposed it was obvious who he was, as he was the only one on a horse. Only important people rode horses. 

“My name is Anderson Rockwell.” He called confidently over the men, though he wasn’t sure how many of them could actually hear him. “And we are going to destroy Dumar.”

Seven simple words had the ten thousand men roaring and cheering, he sat upon Achilles like stone, his horse excited by the shouting. This was all new to Ander, so many people were looking to him, and he had no idea what to say. He simply nodded and turned Achilles to the path before him. He had marked out several maps where the Dumarian camps would be. His army slowly started to creep out of their tents and follow him, weapons and supplies in tow. They would not return between battles. Or maybe at all. Ander couldn’t help his mind from wandering back to that thought. He may lose most of these men, or may lose hardly any. He didn’t know. And that was hard for him.

The soldiers marched obediently behind Achilles, who was enjoying every second of this leadership. Ander found it a little funny how the horse reacted to the different elements of being before the men. He wondered if he’d been a war horse already.  The first leg of the journey lasted hours, but eventually they reached the first camp. Using only hand and arm signals, Ander sent different numbers of men to different sides of the camp. At the sound of his call, chaos erupted. The sunk arrows into tents, thrashed swords into bodies, threw knives into unprotected skulls. Most of the Dumarians didn’t have enough time to even find a tool to defend themselves. Within an hour, the entire camp was wiped clean of any Dumarian life. He’d lost only about a hundred men, too many in his opinion. On they rode, to the next destination of slaughter.

*~*

A full day of battle on the same field he’d been fighting on since day one. Except one little difference, instead of being a member