ACT ONE | UNDONE
" And you would certainly see monsters
my little one,
along the path of saints long gone. "
CHAPTER ZERO | THE GUNSHOT
IF YOU stayed out in the snow for too long, all that white turned into a nightmare.
Milyana Lerovna felt the approaching snowstorm in her bones. It wasn’t that hard since they stuck out from her dry skin, gradually, with the lack of flesh on her body. Many joined the Imperial Army to be well fed, but that was a funny thought. Here you could only be well dressed. A thin protection against the cruelties of snow.
“You seem tired,” a voice said. Milya turned to her right and saw Rom walking straighter than she did, with a certain pride that came with serving in the Imperial Army. Even though he was her friend, she felt envious of the treatment he received as a soldier. They had bigger rations than nurses, hence the reason why he felt guilty and offered help whenever he could.
“No rations for me tonight.” Her voice came off careless, maybe more than her stomach wanted it to. “Suppose that might be the reason?”
Rom shook his head with a half smile. “Seems a bit far-fetched.” Milya watched him reach his fur coat’s pocket and pull out something covered in a napkin. He looked around discreetly, to the soldiers walking in front and behind, then passed the napkin to her. “Hide it in your basket, no one wants to touch your scary medical tools anyway.”
“Rom...” she began quietly, in full doubt, but he didn’t intend to listen.
“Once we camp, I’ll hunt us something too. After all of this ends, that is.” He fixed his eyes to the woods next to them, stretched far along and beyond their walking path. Milya didn’t know if it was going to end. Fifty soldiers and two nurses, walking through snow and wind to bear help didn’t sound hopeful. Though orders were orders; toward victory, or death.
“Don’t be dumb,” she scoffed. “Captain Aramovich won’t let you go anywhere. Have you seen how paranoid he looks around here?”
“Yeah, that means he’s not going to come out of that tent for the roll call.”
Milya rolled her eyes despite supporting him. If only he could do something for her sore legs too. Muddy snow made everything much harder. “How aren’t you punished yet?”
With a pretentious smile, Rom put one of his arms around her neck. “I try to be careful, for the best nurse in Ribinsk.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, and only Rom could make her laugh in a condition like this. It’s his manners, she thought. Growing up as the Count’s son had its perks, like charming words and realistic smiles. It was hard to imagine how that kind of a person could be friends with a person like her. A messy odd girl covered in mud most of the times and lived with a scary grandmother up in a hill. How had they grown up together, then joined the army?
“Do you think fifty’s going to be enough?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“Fifty soldiers. Will we be enough to help those in Inskaya?”
Inskaya Praire, their destination. It was supposed to be at the end of these woods, a vast land of snow ready to drown in blood.
“I don’t know,” she replied in all honesty. “We don’t even know what we’ll find there.”
“You think they’re dead?” he frowned. “We’ve been walking for hours. Surely they can hold off for a bit longer.”
Milya hoped so. The sound of boots crushing ice and snow into mud had started to become numbing. She couldn’t wait to rest, to eat whatever Rom had risked his life to give her.
“At least we won’t find the Deathless,” she joked. Rom looked unamazed.
“You shouldn’t joke about him."
“Ten years later, and you’re still scared of the stories?”
He didn’t look at her. “They’re not stories.”
The sound of a gunshot blew her thoughts away.
Before anyone could register anything, someone from the line on the back fell down with a whine. It was then chaos erupted among the crowd, with everyone raising their guns and getting into positions before more were fired towards them.
“Take cover!” Captain Aramovich roared. Milya didn’t know how, her mind had stopped working. Each shot carved itself on her head, she frantically looked around to see soldiers falling down. A woman screamed, Milya wasn’t sure if that was her own voice or not. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him. Rom. He was shaking her. Shaking and—
“... and stay behind, okay? Milya, I need you to listen to me.”
She saw him running towards them. He was small and fast, half of his dark face covered with a dirty cloth, carrying a long gun aimed at them. Rom was shouting. He kept getting closer.
“Behind you,” she cut his words with a higher voice. “Turn around!”
Oh Saints, she didn’t want him dead. She pushed Rom and he did turn behind, raised his gun and swiftly fired it. The man fell face down and didn’t move. More were coming from the woods. This is an ambush. Baadi warriors. Milya couldn’t believe it. Weren’t they supposed to be in Inskaya?
“Find Aramovich,” Rom shouted. “Leave!”
She shook her head before words found her lips. “No, no–” That wasn’t safe, he wouldn’t be safe.
“Milya!” Rom protested, but he had to turn back. They were everywhere.
A hand touched her shoulder.
She turned back in terror, just to see Piter, the young soldier who had picked winter daisies for her the other day, fall down and pant in pain. “Milya, help, please help–”
The basket felt heavy on her hand, her legs were trembling. Piter was holding his stomach, tears streaming down his face as he begged for help. “Go,” Rom shouted again, and she turned to look at him. Something with a buzzing sound passed too close to her, and Piter’s sobs disappeared with a thud. Milya gasped. There was a bleeding hole on his head, and his eyes were fixed on the hazy gray sky like he had forgotten to close them. Tears burned Milya’s cheeks.
“Come with me,” she said with a whimper. Rom shot another Baadi, whose war cry had inspired others before he fell back and died. Rom walked to her, and put his hand on her arm.
“All right. But you go first, okay?”
Milya nodded and wiped her eyes. Rom wouldn’t lie to her, he was the only one she’d ever trusted. She started running with all her might, moved around her comrades, ducked whenever her instincts whispered. Captain Aramovich was at the beginning of the line, standing straight on his horse and shouting orders. When he saw Milya struggle towards him, he raised his revolver to protect her.
“Milyana Lerovna, I was looking for you. Soldar, on your left!"
The soldier guarding him fired multiple shots to his left, and screamed with the rush. Milya patted Aramovich’s horse, but the animal was restless, scared of the noises his eyes couldn’t see. “We will take care of these bastards,” Aramovich began. “I want you to leave and get to Inskaya as fast as you can.”
“Rom— Rom should come with me,” Milya said quickly, feeling delighted to have a chance to escape death with him. “To protect me and find the way, and uh—”
“I shall certainly send him after you, soldier.” He leaned down to give his revolver to her. “Go now, I’ll hold them off.”
Carrying the basket one hand and gun on the other, Milya started running again. Soon they would kill the Baadis and follow her, and she would proudly boast to Rom about saving his life. He would deny that, she guessed. Rom wasn’t one to let others do something for him, he always felt comfortable doing things his way, just like her. They usually fought because of that, but Milya would never stop helping him and she knew he wouldn’t too. They had always looked after each other.
Milya looked back to see if Rom was coming after her, but the path was marked by her footprints and the soldiers appeared as playthings at distant. He’s not coming, you dumb girl. But he wouldn’t lie. You left him there to die. He won’t come and you’ll lose your only friend. He wouldn’t leave her out here, she’d get lost. Her heart wanted to turn back, to use the revolver Aramovich gave her to help them. She stumbled, but her feet didn’t stop. Orders were orders; toward victory or death.
She ran for what felt like forever. Her lungs were alight, her feet wet and frozen. The road was icy but rocks were what she tried to avoid. A slightly inclined hill stretched on her right, trees here and there, simple protection. She moved towards it. The lessons of her survival classes were coming back to her. If the enemy’s around, always use the advantage of height. The air smelled of gunpowder. She had to stop.
The basket got heavier with each heartbeat. She stopped at the top and tried to catch her breath, but there was another sound. Boots crushing the snow.
“Rom?”
She turned around and there he was, a filthy Baadi. His face wasn’t covered— Milya saw his burnt cheeks, thin lips, badly healed nose and his eyes; strange, crazy black eyes that didn’t forgive. They were too big, too threatening. The basket fell from her grip and tumbled once as she backed away. He only raised his gun and followed her.
"Roha khrabkha,” he bellowed. Milya didn’t understand. She remembered her revolver, still in her hand, and looked at it. Her hand was shaking, but didn’t move— couldn’t move.
“Please,” she said as tears streamed down her face, just like Piter. “Please let me live.”
The man said something, then spit on the ground. Milya wanted to pull the trigger but her hand was shaking, so badly that she wouldn’t be able to aim. Saints, she whispered. I don’t want to die.
Her stomach churned. The man aimed.
“Saints,” she wailed. “I don’t want to die.”
"Khrabkha,” the man swore in disgust. A gunshot echoed in the air.
Milya felt a pang in her chest. Her knees gave away, and she landed on top of them. She ceased to feel her body and found herself face down on the ground. There was only the immense pain on her chest, the burning, tearing apart. Her cheek went numb with cold, her breaths came out rough. What is this, she thought.
Then it stopped.
She forgot to close her eyes.
