Cipher Code {complete}

Chapter Forty Three: Soldiers And Survivors

October, Year 483
Town of Lacau
State of Nicia
North

"Wake up!"

Philip woke up with a start, his mind pounding and heart racing as his body slowly adjusted, recovering from the effects of the dream he had just now forgotten. It was a nightmare. He was sure.

"Hey, you okay?"

His eyes instantly strayed to the direction of the sound and immediately he was confronted with the blurry haze of Issac's concerned expression.

"I'm fine." The words left him before he could think of something more convincing to say, his hands reaching up to clear moisture away from his eyes.

Now he could see Issac clearly, a dash of pale skin against the wooden wall behind him as he stood, shirtless, with his arms crossed and lips pressed tightly into indifference.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Philip drew his gaze away, now aware of the countless trickles of sweat that ran down his spine. It was like a bucket of water had been thrown on him in his sleep.

What exactly did I dream about? He had no clue what to start guessing at but the fear still lingering in his heart prompted him to think harder.

Still, his gaze wandered about the small house he was seated in. Philip was half-convinced that there was someone carrying an empty bucket around here.

"No one is here," Issac said, almost in reply to his comrade's thoughts. He rubbed at his wrists and extended a hand to Philip, "at least for now."

The messenger stared at Issac's hand for a moment before reaching to take it, his damp fingers closing tightly over the captain's in a firm, dependent grip.

"What happened?" he asked as his friend pulled him off the ground, his tone edging towards inquisitive as his eyes darted around the messy and dimly lit room.

Before Issac could reply, the door beside them burst open, coating both shirtless men in a gust of icy wind.

Philip shivered from the sudden exposure and Issac pushed him back, using his body to shield the younger man from whatever was attacking.

"You're awake," the intruder announced and kicked the door closed, his arms wrapped tightly around a large wicker basket, "finally."

Philip stared at the child for a moment, his expression shifting between one of awkwardness and interest as he thought of what to say in reply.

"Who are you?"

It seemed like the most obvious question to ask but he wasn't the one who asked it. Philip was still staring at the golden haired boy in front of him, quite sure that he had seen him somewhere before.

The tinge of familiarity filled him with a sense of déjà vu.

The boy laughed and set down the basket, untying the cloth he had used to tie back his long hair and tossing it on the counter behind him. "Shouldn't I be the one asking that?"

"I asked first." Isaac easily countered.

"Yes, you did," the child replied airily, weaving his fingers through his hair as he glowered at the two men, "but you are the stranger that barged into my house, and I'm the one that nursed you both back to full health."

Those words made Philip shift his gaze back to Issac, his mind slowly piecing together the scattered shards of memory he had been too distracted to remember.

When the captain's blue eyes met his, Philip suddenly knew.

How are you alive? he wondered, numb as the faint vision of Issac's corpse flitted through his mind.

"What exactly happened?" Philip couldn't help but blurt out, making Issac's cool expression drop for a moment.

"Not now," Issac hissed under his breath, keeping his eyes trained on the amused boy in front of them.

"I can tell you what happened," the blonde child said, his blues eyes bright but unusually steady. "You," he pointed at Philip, "got hit with a poisoned arrow and your friend carried you all the way here—to my home—from the forest."

The captain let out a snort and crossed his arms. "Not even close."

Philip just looked between Issac and the boy, wondering how he was ever going to fill in the blanks in his memory if no one was really talking.

"We are soldiers from the capital, sent here to. . . rescue survivors," he ended the sentence with an air of awkwardness as both the boy and Issac turned to look at him with a scowl.

"Funny," the blue eyed boy snickered, "and ironic."

"Now it's your turn to answer the question." Philip shot back weakly, his eyes shifting past Issac's glare and falling to the floor.

The boy shrugged and knelt by the basket. "Call me E."

"E?" Issac and Philip echoed after him.

"Is there a problem?" he asked them with a tone that dared them to complain.

The two soldiers shared a look before simultaneously shaking their heads. "No."

"Good," he flashed them a wide smile, "I would ask you to leave but that's really not an option for me right now."

"Where are our clothes?" Issac asked, not really paying attention to what the boy, E, was saying.

"You don't need those right now, they've been poisoned with fog." Esau dug his hands into the basket and pulled out two large linen shirts. "Wear these. . . for now."

Philip reacted in time to catch the shirts as they were thrown his way, the coarse material already making his skin itch. "And these aren't poisoned?"

The messenger was a bit skeptical, quite sure that he was already developing a rash.

"Please," Esau scoffed. "Why did I bother looking after you if all I wanted was to kill you?"

Hearing those words, Issac scowled, grabbed the shirts from Philip then stuffed them back into the basket. "We're leaving."

The blonde boy didn't try to stop them, instead he flung the clothes into the air once then neatly folded them. "And here I thought you were one to keep your promises."

The captain's steps halted, his hand already curled around the door's handle with his foot already halfway outside.

"Issac?" Philip reached to touch his friend's shoulder, not quite able to ignore his tense posture. "What's going on?"

Issac paid no attention to Philip and shrugged off his hand. His eyes narrowed and focused on Esau. "What exactly is it you want?"

"Take us with you. . . to the capital." Esau said simply, his tone neither servile nor overbearing. "But if you feel confident in your ability to keep him alive, then fine, go."

It was now, as Issac's sharp gaze reached him, that Philip noticed the strips of bandage running across his torso to his shoulder.

As the messenger looked down at his injured chest he suddenly felt a burst of pain explode within him. His vision clouded with black dots and he fought to keep still as the room started to spin.

"Iza. . ." Something sweet bubbled up his throat and spilled out his mouth, dripping in steady drops onto the hardwood floor beneath him.

"Oh, just in time." The bang of a shutting door followed the cool voice that spoke up from behind the two men. "It looks like his time his up."

Philip felt the frigid air pierce into his bones all over again, not managing to catch the face of the person who spoke before everything started to swim.

†