The Will of the Wind, Part 3

The barracks were full of women. Tall, short, middle-aged down to teen and back up to seventy. Women, all dressed identically in long, thick tunics, black, white, or grey, depending on your rank. Bronze tier wore grey; silver wore black; gold wore white, and everyone, regardless of rank, was adorned the same thick, black cloaks. Tanya, Jax's good friend amongst the congregation, and a Bronze tier Guardian, found her staring into space by the weaponry. 

"Jax!" she said. "You're back!"

Jax, still deciding betwixt a long, thin broadsword and a Daab, a traditional Thai sword used in the martial art of Krabi-krabong, didn't register her words, and conclued her search with the Daab, which she then sheathed. 

"Jax," said Tanya quietly. "You're back."

Jax looked up at her, smiled tiredly, and nodded, making note of the new lines around her eyes, the crinkles at her lips. She wasn't old enough for these blemishes, but the war had aged her. The war, raging on and on for ten horrible, exhausting years, had continued to drain their resources and killed their women—women, whose usefulness became apparent after hundreds of thousands of men had died, and those who hadn't were crippled and useless. Women, who now held rank in the city based upon three very important things—their intelligence, their talent in combat, and their resourcefulness. Women, who had been available and willing to defend the world forever, and had only just gotten the chance. Women, who had finally managed to make a breakthrough in what seemed like a losing battle. Women, who did not allow the men to enter the battlefield, who did not trust men and their useless, heavy brains. 

Women, as they were made to be. 

But the food really sucked, so Jax was pretty unenthusiastic about going back. 

"You didn't say anything about leaving," said Tanya, surprising Jax out of her reverie. "I woke up one morning and one of the Silvers told me you were gone."

Jax shrugged. She hadn't really been expecting to leave when she did—it had just happened. She had just... died. 

Jax's heart skipped a beat inside of her chest.

Tanya adjusted the circlet adorning her head and sighed, watching her friend as she regained her composure. Both women were seperated by the system—Tanya's obvious beauty and intellect, and Jax's whip-quick mind and reflexes—but their friendship had stayed strong through the years as they had been Sorted by strength, Claimed by a tier, and Taken, Silver for Jax, Bronze for Tanya, respectively. The world had turned, long ago, but they had managed to love each other through the years—but there was, and always had been, a setback. Tanya did not get along with Jax's other friend, Sage. He was terribly cold toward her and the other Guardians—as a male, he was considerably less important, but in his part society, he was power. His father and mother were the King and Queen of Earth, or, as the Guardian women called it, Hell. If the princeling's parents were the center of society, Sage was the uncut edge—jagged and mysterious,elegant and bitter. Tanya and the rest of her barrack called him a prick—Jax called him the boy she loved. 

Tanya wondered how much longer it would be until she recognized him as a man. 

----

The fighter ship was almost full when Jax touched down on Earth, and Gold tier women on either side of her jostled against her as they made contact with the ground, making her ponytail swing. The gunshots started before the doors opened, and they all raced out, bullets like rain as they spilled into the field they had docked in, bogged down by rain, sloshing around as Jax ran. 

A bullet whizzed past her ear and hit a Bronze woman in the back, sending her down into the earth with a soft grunt. Jax's eyes widened, but she continued to run on down the field, never losing her footing, letting the flow of the rain send her sprawling against the ground as she fell, shielding her from view as the enemy came barreling past, doing her best to shower them with bullets. 

A familiar high-pitched scream sent her blood running cold. Tanya, about six yards to her left, had been struck down, her weapons cast aside, laying with her chest sliced open and bleeding onto the ground. Jax, who had never made it far enough to find herself in hand-to-hand combat, was decidedly nervous as she crept behind the both of them, but attacked with ease, unsheathing her Daab and plunging it into the woman's chest with vigour, sliding off and scrambling toward her friend, who had curled up against the rain and was crying into her palms. 

"Tanya! Tanya, it's Jax, look at me, Ya-Ya, you have to look at me."

Tanya's face tilted upwards, her eyes closed, though Jax could see them brimming with tears that threatened to spill. One strike, and her hand connected with Jax's face, sending her sprawling. 

"What--"

Tanya jumped up and ran, staggering to the side. Jax followed her, leaping in her path to calm her down. They grappled for a moment, Jax's hands on Tanya's shoulders, and fell down on the ground once more. 

"Tanya, damn it, look at me! Stop kicking me, stop--ah!" 

Tanya's eyes had gone a horrid shade of slick, oily black--the mark of possession. 

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," Jax chanted. "No no no no no." 

For a moment, both women stared at each other, as if confused, and then Tanya was slumping sideways, gagging up thick, oozing liquid as she went. Jax, though sympathetic, merely pulled her friend's hair back and rubbed against her back in soothing circles, letting it all pass. Once it did, her eyes were once again a kind grey. 

Though, what with the looming figure toward Jax's right, and the slaughter of her women on what she could see of the battlefield, there were more important things to worry about. 

 

infinitelyinfinite3

MT

17 years old

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