Guilty Heart (Alex)

The house burns throughout the night, its red flames lighting up the night sky, and the smoke, with the scents of burning flesh, poisoning the air. The crackle and snap of wood and the sizzling of moisture shifts and cracks the stone beams, causing the building to collapse before me.
The screams. Oh, by all that is good in the world, the screams carry on and on. As the woman holds onto her child, she tries to comfort her, shielding her from the raging flames.
I want to cry, to scream for having to watch them suffer. But I just stand there, watching helplessly as they perished.
They died like us! The guards would sometimes do the same to us back in the mine. Yet, we do what we despised. We murdered a child. I murdered her. Are we no better than the guards?
The last remnants of the building crumbles apart. The screams silenced as the pillars finally fall. Only for it to come back together to repeat the cycle of torment. To repeat the sin I have committed.
My heart aches in shame, for I was the first to throw the torch into the house under my father’s orders.
I place a hand on my chest to feel for a heartbeat. Anything! But I only feel the cold void of nothingness.
Dad stands beside me, tall and proud, smiling at the suffering of the Cinari, and the child inside. To watch the building come back together, for it to burn again.
‘Get up!’ A Dog kicks my foot, jolting me awake to the blinding morning sun.
‘We are leaving in thirty minutes,’ he walks off.
I put my stuff together while I don my armour. A thin sheet of black iron with leather straps to go around my body. Even though this metal is thin, it’s way too heavy for me.
Near the camp is a small mountain of Cinari bodies, stacked on top of each other with their limbs cut off. The crows peck and feed from the dead, fattening themselves from our efforts.
Further ahead lays’ the ruins of the house we burned down, smoke still emanating from the wooden corpse. I head over there to see what might be left. I doubt there’s anything but ash and bone. The skeleton of the house still stands, its stone beams stands strong against the tired flames. In the middle is the charred corpse of the woman and her child. The woman with her wide despairing face holds onto her charred child. Her screams echoes through my mind.
They weren’t the guards. They were like us, with children and fears.
The deeper I stare at her empty eye sockets, the more of a resemblance I see as what we have become.
‘Hey kid, you okay?’ Dust pats his hand on my shoulder.
I look away, giving no reply.
Dust faces corpses and sighs. ‘You were there, weren’t you?’
I nod.
‘Do-‘ Dust steps in front of me, blocking my view of the bodies. ‘Do you think they deserved it?’ He whispers.
I pause, avoiding eye contact with Dust out of shame.
‘No,’ I sombrely reply to him.
Dust glances around, checking there are no prying eyes listening in. ‘We all make mistakes, done things we are not proud of.’ He takes a deep breath while he holds my arms. ‘What we have done last night will be the last time we commit such a crime. Well, I darn hope it’s the last.’
‘How can we? I killed them, we all killed them! How can we change for the better if we will do something like this?’
Dust sighs, ‘I don’t know, but if we want a better world, we’ll have to be the change. Marak will listen to you, and ever since May... you know. He doesn’t need a son, right now he needs a chief by his side.’ He steps aside, letting my gaze return to the bodies. ‘I hated what we have done, every darn minute of it. We can be better than this. But someone has to lead by example.’
‘I’m no leader, I’m just a kid.’
‘You are not a kid anymore. From memory you are old enough to work in the mines.’
He pats my back as he walks off, marching with my father and his Dogs.
He is right, we can be better than this. We shouldn’t stoop as low as the guards at mines. We will fight for our freedom, but we must never be like them.
I grip my bow as hurry off to catch up with the Dogs. This is our war, but a war that we should win as righteous victors.

My father leads us as he follows the setting sun, with his right hand resting on his sword.
Behind me the others are talking about last night, bragging about how many Cinari they killed, even joking about how they begged for mercy.
I don’t speak during the march, nor do I want to. The house and its charred smell haunts me as we walk, even when we are hours away. The smell of burnt flesh lingers, to remind me of my wrongs, and what I need to do to not repeat it.
My father raises his hand, halting us in front of a steep incline, a rocky wall full of cracks and vines that dangle down. The rest of the Dogs stand in silence, facing outward, ready to attack. Dad turns and gestures for me to come to him.
I silently shuffle to him with my bow at the ready, an arrow resting on the string.
‘What’s the plan?’ I ask him.
Dad points at the top of the incline. ‘You and I will get to the top to overlook the area. We should be close by now.’
He rubs his hand along the rocky surface, eventually landing on something to grip onto to help him climb to the top.
I follow suit, almost slipping off because of the moss.
Upon reaching the top, I can see the mine in the distance. The defences rest on the side of a steep rocky hill, with stone walls as tall as the trees of this forest. The land around the mine lays bare, stripped of anything green and lively.
Guards patrol the walls, facing inside their walls. There are four towers, each having four archers on top, and is a single wooden gate at the centre of the structure with two guards standing by its side.
This isn’t like our mine. This is a fort, and are doing everything to keep whatever is inside.
My father stares at the mine intensely, figuring out a plan of attack that could win him the mine. Scratching his head, he growls at the stronghold in frustration.
‘This is going to be too costly,’ he sighs. ‘We could try to surround them and climb the walls, but that would leave us open. Maybe we can jump down from the hill? No. That can’t work!’ Dad continues, speaking his plan aloud, trying to think of a way to take the mine.
The rocky hill can help us overlook the mine and its defenders, but it has no way to get down. The only way into the mine is to climb over the walls or break down the wooden gate.
I turn to the Dogs to see what could be of use. I notice a Dog sleeping on a pile of logs on a cart. Logs that we used to make firewood and to bring life to our portable forge. Gotcha!
‘I have a plan!’ I tell Dad.
He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. ‘Okay, what is it?’
‘We can overlook the mine by being on the top of that hill. We can have archers there to pick them off and distract them.’
‘Distract them from what?’ He replies.
‘From you! You and some Dogs can take one of the big logs and try to break down the gate with it. I’ll be on that hill and distract them. From there we can rush in and take the mine. No need to climb the walls or jump down from the ledge!’
My dad rubs his chin as he faces the mine, glaring at the defenders. ‘Get your men ready, I will organise the rest.’
‘When do we attack?’ I ask.
‘Whenever you feel is the best time.’ He remarks as he climbs back down.
This won’t be easy. So much can go wrong and so many could die. But I can’t fail them now, not after we’ve come this far. Let’s just hope it works out.