Immortal Tales #Wattys2020

Chapter Seven

Helen

Andre had turned into a man for the task.

Helen knew that he hated doing so in the days he felt like a female, but sometimes certain measures were necessary. Helen undressed the soldier quickly, willing her hands not to be curious about his muscled body and tossed the clothes to her friend.

The soldier was left in his underwear. Everytime he tried to wake up, Helen magically slowed down his pulse again.

That was one of the few tricks up her sleeve.

Andre grunted as he tried to fit the pants over his wider hips. - The dude needs to eat less. - he muttered, his voice still female sounding. Whilst his body could change instantaneously, it took a few hour for the testosterone to kick in and change his tone.

-Bold words from someone who was looking at his abs a moment ago - argued her, making her friend blush bright red.

Helen wrapped one of the soldier arms around her shoulder and Andre held the other. Together they carried the man towards the exit of the bunker.

As soon as they stepped on the stairs, the stench of war burned Helen's nostrils. It was a combination of rust, blood and dirt. It made her eyes water instantly.

The stairs had been sculpted in the rocks, and were trembling dangerously at each explosion. The two friends almost dropped the soldier corpse two or three times.

When they reached the end of the stairs, Helen had to fight every instinct to crawl back in.

Smoke and fire ruled the landscape. Soldiers of the British Army were running around, some screaming orders other simply trying to escape death. Their faces full of wild emotions so confused no immortal could have understood them. Planes with the German logo hovered over their heads, dropping more deadly packages.

Helen willed herself to focus, her path-changer training coming in handy for once. Immortals saw the world differently from mortals. They had to think as if they had all the time in the world, even when it wasn't the case.

The attack to the British force was nothing like she had seen before, and she had seen way too many wars than she would have liked. Coventry had been bombarded before, the 25th of August 1940. Nurses had worked day and night to fix up the wounded soldiers, but they survived without many losses. The Germans were there to get rid of their aviation, they didn't care about the human lives lost in the process.

But this time ... it was different. Helen looked up at the sky and saw the full moon filtering through clouds and smoke. Its rays offered little light to guide them.

-Save yourself! Get to the crypt of the Church! - a man in a priest clothes was screaming. A deep cut was bleeding from his forehead.

The countryside was not far from the field of battle. They just had to reach that and hide in their barrack.

Flashes of light were now falling from the sky. They seemed like falling stars in a sea of darkness and pain. Some of the soldier were like her hypnotised by their ondulating movement, but Andre urged her to keep moving faster.

-Phosphorus- she muttered coughing. Helen smelled it too and fastened her pace.

They were around 500 meters from the airport and the hospital, the centre of the British force, when parachutes were dropped from the planes. They were too small to be people and too large to be simple explosives. Helen followed one with her eyes, the metal box approaching slowly the ground.

Just before touching the soil, the box exploded in a blast of pure energy. The soldiers realised what was happening and run from the parachutes. Some made it safely to the bunkers, others did not. Their screams louder in Helen's hears than the bombs themselves.

-We need to go back! - screamed her.

Andre's face was full of tears. -And do what? - she asked hastily. -We have a plan remember? Move! -

Andre was right.

They were immortal souls of nature. They were the proof that true magic in this world existed. But they could do nothing against this level human cruelty. She was an empty shell wearing a changeable mask. The only true desire she had ever head was revenge against the mist people who pushed her away from the only home she ever had. She should not deviate from the mission.

A blast hit them closer than they were expecting, the power of the explosions burning their backs and pushing them forward. Helen lost her grip on the soldier's harm and hit her head on the back of a tree.

-Andre! - she screamed. The pain at the back of her head was nothing compared to the idea of loosing her friend. For once, revenge wasn't even in her thoughts.

Her hands were lined with blood, the bones in her wrist felt broken. The full moon looked down on them, like a solid rock in the middle of a stormy sea. The bombs kept falling, but they were now far enough for it to not be the only sound she could hear. The animals were quite, in hiding, but the wind howled though the few trees on the hills.

The blast must have pushed them away from the bombardment, into the countryside. They were still far from their house, but not in imminent danger of death. Helen spotted two figures laying a couple of meters from her.

-Andre! - she screamed.

The immortal of black eyes had woken up. His naked back was full of fresh cuts. He was kneeling next to an unconscious Andre, checking his pulse.

-What have you done to him! - she raged and pushed him away from her friends. He winced at the pain from his wounds but did not complain. Andre's pulse was there, his breathing feeble. The girl let out a breath she did not know she was holding. All of a sudden the pain at the back of her head felt more real. She touched it with her hand and it came out redder than before. The pungent smell of blood was overwhelming.

-Let me -said the boy offering his hand. He was offering magic.

She should have refused him, but she was so tired and so in pain. She could not trust another immortal. But when his eyes moved from her to Andre, she felt it, as bright as the moon, a flicker of recognition. An ancient emotion, something hidden far far below.

Did the immortal know Andre? Maybe from before he joined the mortal world? What could she remember from the mist people. Everything was so confused, her thoughts unclear.

But maybe she could trust the boy enough to be healed.

She gave him her hand and sudden relieved joilted her awake.

The pain at the back of her head was duller, yet still present. Curative magic was only as strong as the wielder and the boy was hurt.

-Can you help me carry him to our house? - she asked tentatively. She had no strength to carry Andre all by herself and the boy had no reason to agree. They just sabotaged his only access to being a path-maker, made him unconscious and dragged him away from his mission. He owed them nothing, but if she was right and he knew her friend ...

The boy nodded and grabbed half of Andre's weight on his already wounded shoulders, waiting for directions.

The girl smiled genuinely, maybe for the first time in gratitude.

Together, the walked to their safe house.