Ranger's Roundhouse

[Ranger of the North]

Well.... that was....unprecedented

I... think that's what I was going for?? 😂

[Ranger of the North]

Historical-fiction/action mashup between 1k and 1.2k words. Completed 27/04/18

xxxxxxThe renewed thunder of guns shattered the night.
xxxxxxRed snapped from a fitful doze, trembling, forehead dripping with sweat. Something clawed at his memory... Something that had happened, something he didn’t want to remember. He wanted sleep. A rock ground into his shoulder, and the wind carried with it the stench of bodies rotting in the night.
xxxxxxGallipoli, 1915.
xxxxxxRed coughed haggardly, and faint footsteps sent blood pounding to his ears. Cautiously, he flicked his eyes open. The cold butt of a rifle chilled his fingertips.
xxxxxx“Red.” A hand gripped his arm, and with a muffled exclamation he whipped the gun around, safety snapping off, finger hovering only a hairsbreadth above the trigger.
xxxxxx“Bloody hell,” he snapped. “I’ll kill you one of these — days...”
xxxxxxKill.
xxxxxxA rushing, gurgling torrent of bloody memories flushed angrily through his mind.
xxxxxxThe Wellington Battalion had at last taken Chunuk Bair: the first success of the Allies’ August Offensive. But overwhelming casualties made for a bitter victory. Red’s fingers trembled, unable to forget the vibration of shot after shot after life-ravaging shot.
xxxxxxLieutenant-Colonel William Malone was dead, life snatched away quicker than it had come. His own country — the home he had given everything to protect — had unwittingly killed him. And Frank — Frankie, Red’s best mate since childhood — was gone. Just another nameless body.
xxxxxx“Sorry, buddy.” Richie raised his hands placatingly, face pale beneath the dust and the filth and the blood. “You good?”
xxxxxxJared gave him a long look, unable to respond. Richie sucked his teeth.
xxxxxx“Look, you’re not meant to be asleep, mate,” he said finally. “On ya feet; you’re needed up top.”
xxxxxxOf course. The hill. The Turks could not retake Chunuk Bair. Almost robotically, Red got to his feet, joints creaking like an old man in his seventies. Richie thumped his shoulder reassuringly. It said I’m sorry, and I understand, and if I don’t see you again, goodbye. He clasped his arm in response.
xxxxxx“You’re relieving Lenny.” Rich collapsed in Jared’s spot, helmet falling unheeded across his face, and his sweat-soaked hair sprang free in the wind.
xxxxxxNumb, Red set off up the treacherous incline. One thought, and one thought only, ground at his mind with every trudging step. They could not lose Chunuk Bair. Last night they had finally taken the hill, but now the Turks wanted it back. Too many broken bodies littered the smashed earth.
xxxxxxAn explosion rocked the hill, and he stumbled, ground shivering beneath his feet. Hunger clawed at his belly and exhaustion clawed at his heels. Sleep was scarce where death reigned.
xxxxxxRed dropped to his stomach as he neared the crest, flinching away from a puddle of glittering liquid. Squirming through the dark, he reached the crest and dropped into a trench, boots sinking into something soft. Probably a body.
xxxxxx“G’day,” he remarked quietly, crouching down and releasing a tight breath. He could just make out two huddled shapes on either side of the loophole, guns at the ready, heads vague outlines of helmet below the sandbags.
xxxxxx“Took your time, Red.” Len’s voice, so venomous at home, was flat and dull with exhaustion.
xxxxxx“Get outta here.” Red flicked the safety off, cuffed Lenny’s helmet, and sank down beside Jerry. Len squirmed down the hill on his stomach and quickly vanished.
xxxxxx“How ya goin’?” he whispered. He didn’t mean really, and Jerry knew it.
xxxxxx“Good. The bloody Turks’re snorin’. Heavier for Georgie and Alf to the right though, poor buggers.” He laughed darkly, a little too loud, and Red instinctively clapped a hand over his friend’s mouth. “Aw, s**t.”
xxxxxxA flash of light — Red ducked without thinking, head low, flinching away from the pain — and a bullet slammed into the sandbag above their heads an instant before the gun’s report. Breath hissed hard and fast between his teeth, carrying the stench of sweat and blood and fear.
xxxxxx“Got ‘em,” Jerry snarled. He was low in the trench, back tight against the wall, moonlight flashing from the white of his eyes and barrel of his gun. “To your left.”
xxxxxxRed nodded the slightest amount, breathing hard, blood pounding hot and loud.
xxxxxxCautiously, he inserted the muzzle of his rifle through the loophole once more; every movement begged to stay hidden, every muscle pulled tight with adrenaline. They could not lose Chunuk Bair.
xxxxxxLight gleamed dully from below, and Red’s finger dragged back against the trigger. The gun shuddered in his hands, an explosion hammered his ears, and then he was ducking down and away, trembling with energy as returning shots peppered the walls. He shoved the bolt, flipped it over, then Jerry was up and firing once — twice — and dancing away again.
xxxxxxRed waited for the return-fire to calm slightly, and spun back to the loophole. Anger burned like hot coal; anger on behalf of his dead mates and the dead Turks. Anger at himself. He slammed the trigger, the gun roared, he shoved the bolt down and forward, and he fired again.
xxxxxxFive shots echoed like thunder through the valley. It wasn’t enough to hide a blood-curdling scream of agony from the Turkish lines.
xxxxxxRed swallowed hard, throat aching, but there was no time to think. Bullets littered the trench; one burst through only centimetres above his helmet, and he flinched, breath snagging painfully.
xxxxxxWith fumbling fingers, he drew a second clip of bullets from his pocket and thumbed it down into the magazine. Muscles seizing as shots streaked through the night, Red slammed the bolt down and forward. He didn’t dare flick the safety.
xxxxxxA horrible wail sliced through the air, throbbing down the trenchline, worming into his ears, forever haunting his dreams.
xxxxxx“Medic!” someone screamed, throat strung raw with grief and pain and terror. Red squeezed his eyes shut, heart lurching painfully.
xxxxxxThen Jerry dropped back to the ground, panting, eyes wild, and there was no time to think.
xxxxxxGrim thunder ruled the night. Minutes passed by like hours, and hours like days, in a never-ending cycle of kill and kill and kill, until his fingers ached with regret.
xxxxxxAt 2230 hours, after what seemed an eternity, the Otago battalion arrived to relieve the Wellingtons. Red trembled with frantic relief and adrenaline. Chunuk Bair was still theirs, and Otago was strong; maybe the Allied army could push forward again, knock the Turks further, gain more ground. For the first time in three desperate, bloody months, Red felt that maybe — just maybe — the war could have an end. Maybe — just maybe — everyone could go home.
xxxxxxSomething just too weak to be a spring in his step, Red slogged and wriggled back down the hill with his mates. They were stunned and exhausted, trembling in the dark.
xxxxxxRed slept that night better than he had in weeks, flinching in time with the steady crack of gunfire. Maybe, just maybe, they had reason to hope.
xxxxxxThe Otago battalion held Chunuk Bair for the next twenty-four hours, repelling the Turks’ desperate attacks as the Wellingtons made their weary way back down to Anzac Cove. Seventy men of the 760-strong battalion remained. A day later, on the tenth of August, British troops relieved the remaining New Zealanders.
xxxxxxRed heard the news a few hours later. The Brits were greenies. Overwhelmed by the Turks’ experience, they had retreated and fled. Chunuk Bair was once again in Turkish hands. All they’d fought to accomplish — all William Malone and Frank Cardiff and so, so many thousands of others had traded their lives for — what he had killed for — was nothing. Red crumbled to the ground.

~ ~ ~

In The End — Linkin Park

xxxxxxSo!! I've done an excessive amount of research on Gallipoli in the past, so when I saw 'historical-fiction' I was like hECK YEAH!!! XD I've actually written with Red before, too; here's a link for anyone interested :.)
xxxxxxGallipoli is a little Peninsula in Turkey, where New Zealand's soldiers first joined World War One; and, like all battles, it was hell — on — earth. But it was also very important, and helped to define New Zealand as her own country (I can try to elaborate if you're interested XD).
xxxxxxBut anyway, I hope I did our boys justice with these: mere characters.
xxxxxxLet us remember, lest we forget.

[TheSongOfTheStars]

oh my DX

[Ranger of the North]

oh my DX

Ikr!! D':

[Yubel Fated]

I just..... Poor Red. That poor tired boy.

Also DARN IT JERRY.

[Ranger of the North]

I just..... Poor Red. That poor tired boy.

Also DARN IT JERRY.

I knooow. Someone needs to give him a hug

Yes
#DarnItJerry2018 XD

[Ranger of the North]

xxxxxRound 7/9 of Write to Rank. 1893 words. Completed 04/05/18. Had to include a damsel (in distress or not), an explosion, and the words, “There is no stopping this madness.”

xxxxxShadows whispered down the corridor on wings of wind, setting Ian’s hair on end. If they were caught, it would be the end of everything. His feet pounded dully against the stone, beating a rhythm in time with Sandy’s. Ginger hair flickered at the edge of his vision.
xxxxx“Where — are you taking me?” the girl queried, and he slowed to a walk, breathing heavily. “I know this castle inside and out, yet I’ve never seen this passage.” She eyed him cautiously, eyes gleaming in the near dark.
xxxxx“You — need to get — to — the egg before Bert,” Ian gasped. Sandy flinched, tugging her hand from his.
xxxxx“What? No! Ian, I can’t do that.”
xxxxx“And why not?” he demanded. His heart beat like a pounding drum in his chest, and he clenched a fist, pleading silently for her to understand — she had to understand. “The dragon hatches, you’ll be queen, it won’t matter. Or it won’t hatch and no one will have to know.”
xxxxxHe was breaking the law, but he knew in his bones that it was the right thing to do.
xxxxx“And if it doesn’t like me? You said they hatch whether someone they admire is present or not,” Sandy countered quietly. Of course she remembered that. “What then? There’s nowhere to hide. If it rejects me, you’ll have to get Bert, and if it doesn’t, the people will be incensed.”
xxxxx“Except no one has to know! There are hidden passages all throughout the castle for you to slip through if you fail, and if you succeed, we can say you were simply visiting me; that befriending the dragon was an accident.”
xxxxxSandy looked stubbornly unconvinced.
xxxxx“Look.” Ian stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes. “This is Aeorl’s last chance: our whole world. If that dragon hatches for Bert —” He turned away, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, and shook his head.
xxxxxSince Bert was closer in lineage to the previous rulers, it was technically his right to meet the little creature first. Ian wasn’t going to stand by and give the wrong person a head-start.
xxxxx“You don’t know that it will,” Sandy pointed out calmly, leaning against the wall to cross her arms. “Dragons are smart by all accounts. If Bert’s not fit to be king, it will know.”
xxxxx“And if it doesn’t? It’s a child, Sandy.” He knew he must be the first keeper in history to doubt a dragon’s judgement, and the thought stung like sour bile.
xxxxxSandy’s face tightened. “This is wrong. I won’t —”
xxxxx“Don’t fight me,” Ian pleaded, shaking his clasped hands. “Please, Sandy. You’re —” He swallowed, remembering that he ranked higher than the ginger-haired heir. “You’re not queen yet. By the power vested in me, I Detrian, last of the Dragonkeepers, command you to approach the egg before your time.
xxxxx“There,” he added softly, “it’s all on me.”
xxxxx“Ian.” She glared at him, eyes glistening. “You could be hung for this.”
xxxxx“Only if you fail. And if Bert succeeds I’d rather die anyway,” he stated simply. “Now come.” He took her hand and began to lead her through the castle walls once more.
xxxxxBut Sandy was little more than a child. Was this the right decision? He prayed that she could bear the pressure, that she truly would be the ruler Aeorl needed. If she showed weakness in front of the dragon —
xxxxxIan clenched his teeth and squeezed her wrist lightly, forcing back the tide of dark thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking this way, he should be unbiased.
xxxxx“As I’m sure you know,” he began, the pre-rehearsed words falling easily from his lips, “dragons are impressed by strength — as are we all, in a way. Now, since they’re individuals, some appreciate other qualities more, but in reality they’re not so very different from us.
xxxxx“However, everyone sees strength in different places; everyone interprets it differently. One sees... generosity, and calls it true strength — denying yourself for others — while another looks at someone in the fighting ring and sees true strength: the ability to cave someone’s head in.” It was his duty to remain unbiased, but he couldn’t stop a hint of distaste from creeping into his words. “So — so just be yourself, Sandy.”
xxxxxThere, he had done it! No ‘bottle your emotions’, or ‘be strong, stronger than you’ve ever been before’, like he longed so desperately to say.
xxxxxIan exhaled in an attempt to drive the tension from his body, then jumped as Sandy responded.
xxxxx“Yeah... yeah, you’ve said that before; several times,” she grinned. He couldn’t smile back.
xxxxxWhen the corridor came to an end, he drew them left, down a passage that was soon blocked by a heavy tapestry. He touched a finger to his lips, sinking into a crouch.
xxxxx“Two guards down that way,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. “Far enough away that they won’t notice us. I hope.” His throat tightened. “Make for the painting of Long-nosed Grey, there’s another tunnel behind him.”
xxxxxSandy nodded, eyes bright with excitement, heart pulsing strong and hard through her arm and into his fingertips.
xxxxxCautiously, Ian drew the edge of the tapestry aside and peered out at the soldiers stationed down the hall. Neither noticed him.
xxxxxTime seemed to slow as he slipped out of hiding and inched along the wall, barely daring to breathe. Step by careful step, blood pounding in his ears, Ian crept down the hall.
xxxxxCloser... closer...
xxxxxQuiet as a mouse, Sandy followed behind.
xxxxxSo close... nearly there!
xxxxx“Oi!” a guard yelled suddenly, and Ian’s heart leapt into his throat.
xxxxxHe darted forward, gasp strangling itself in his throat, feet slamming against the cobble, and dove through the shadow of Sir Grey’s nose, Sandy only an instant behind. The canvas snapped tight after them, and they lay sprawled where they’d fallen, barely daring to breathe in the cramped, narrow passage as footsteps approached.
xxxxx“Odd —” Ian’s heart jumped as someone spoke; she was just outside, right outside! If they made even a single sound — “could’ve sworn I saw somethin’ moving down here.”
xxxxx“There is no stopping this madness. Are you prone to hallucinating off-duty, as well?” her companion snarled icily.
xxxxxIan felt a twinge of guilt, mixed with uneasy curiosity: it sounded like she had a habit of ‘hallucinating’; no one else had passed through, had they?
xxxxxSomething — likely the butt of a spear — twisted on the stony floor with a grinding shriek, and he flinched, teeth jangling painfully.
xxxxx“Apologies, sir,” the guard growled sullenly.
xxxxxFootsteps faded in the direction they’d come, and Sandy quickly scrambled to her feet, extending a hand to Ian. As he reached to grasp it, however, a sudden surge of electricity flashed through his body. He gasped.
xxxxx“The egg! It — it’s about to hatch!”
xxxxxThey flew down the hall at lightning speed, feet drumming a steady rhythm; down a flight of stairs, heart leaping with terror as he tripped and just barely caught himself, and into a new corridor. His legs burned and trembled with exertion, and his lungs ached, as they flew at breakneck speed through the hidden tunnels of the castle.
xxxxxAt last, after what seemed an eternity, they reached the door to the Dragonchambers. Ian doubled over, trembling uncontrollably, and Sandy watched, concern bright in her eyes.
xxxxx“Are you alright?” she asked quietly, and he nodded, head pounding.
xxxxx“Not used — running. Come — little time,” he gasped, and shoved the door aside.
xxxxxA crowd milled where all should have been empty. Raised voices broke what should have been silence. Feet trod where none should dare — centimetres from the dragon egg. Ian’s heart plummeted to the toes of his boots.
xxxxx“No — no, stop!” he gasped, and plunged into the crowd. If the egg was harmed — if anything happened — he couldn’t stand himself. He should have been here, not everyone else.
xxxxxIan fought his way through the bodies, crushing toes and butting bellies, clawing at arms and climbing across shoulders, squeezing between body after body. His muscles burned with fury, and his heart beat a rapid tempo in his chest, refusing to calm until he finally clawed his way through to the precious egg.
xxxxxIt was unharmed. Wisps of smoky, healthily-bright flame curled across the luminous shell, warding off too-curious fingers. Ian clutched it tight to his chest, ignoring the pain, and straightened, against the crowd.
xxxxx“What are you doing here?” he demanded, voice rolling through the room like thunder. “No one enters without the Dragonkeeper’s leave.”
xxxxx“We heard you was gonna let Sandy try the egg,” a toothless old lady volunteered.
xxxxx“W-what? No — no!” Ian’s face burned hot with shame, and he hastily returned the scalding egg to its place.
xxxxx“Eh? That’s what you told me,” another voice interrupted. Ian’s heart sank to the toes of his boots. Slowly, he pivoted to meet Ralph’s puzzled gaze.
xxxxx“That was supposed to be a secret,” he hissed pointedly.
xxxxx“It is! Or was, until you told me — and I only told Bev, I swear it.” Ralph took a step back as Ian’s forehead pulsed, and raised his hands placatingly.
xxxxx“And I only told Igor!” Bev volunteered hastily.
xxxxx“And I only told Reese.”
xxxxxIan groaned, burying his face in his hands as the calls increased, flying through the room at an uncontrollable rate. They all knew, everyone knew. If the egg didn’t hatch —
xxxxxNo, if the egg didn’t hatch for Sandy, it would hatch for Bert, and a life under Bert’s rule wouldn’t be a life at all.
xxxxx“Move back,” he commanded at last. “Give us a ten-metre circumference.
xxxxx“She needs room, people, move!” He swiped an arm through the air, and people stumbled back in alarm, creating a clumsy ring around the girl, the egg, and the Dragonkeeper.
xxxxxSandy, free of the crowd, took in her surroundings with eager eyes. Ian let a flicker of hope light his heart. The dragon was due to hatch at any second; surely it would like her. It had to! Who didn’t like Sandy?
xxxxxOh, gods above, he prayed that it admired her strength.
xxxxxThe egg wobbled suddenly, and Ian hissed through his teeth, dropping into a crouch. The room hushed as Sandy sank down beside him.
xxxxx“Stay here,” he murmured. “Stay close. Be you.” With a squeeze of her shoulder, he hopped to his feet and danced back to join the crowd, hands trembling with adrenaline. Dragons were affected by emotion; it had to get to know Sandy’s first. It had to like her. The kingdom needed it. Had to like her.
xxxxxIan ground his teeth as the egg wobbled again, bit his lip, clenched and unclenched his sweaty palms. The faintest of cracks spider-webbed delicately across its shell, and Sandy raised her head for a moment, eyes glowing with wonder and amazement.
xxxxxThen a rolling wave of thunder rocked the air and everything fell apart. Ian staggered as an overwhelming blast of heat and sound sent him toppling into the crowd.
xxxxxThen it was over as quickly as it had started.
xxxxxEars ringing, he hauled himself upright, heart bleeding terror. A stunned, horrified silence pervaded the cavern and trickled into his veins, flooding every sense with terror and grief.
xxxxxThe egg had exploded. The dragon itself was still alive, squirming and squeaking in its egg-sac, but Sandy lay unmoving on the ground. Blood pooled from the fragment of eggshell embedded in her — in —
xxxxxIan’s stomach twisted. He wanted to be sick. He didn’t want to look. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hurt someone, because his world was crumbling at his feet and it was his fault, and there was no one else to blame.
xxxxxHe swallowed hard, jerked out of his own shock as someone sobbed suddenly. He needed to check her. Sandy needed help. Was she even alive?
xxxxxStomach twisting itself in knots, bile rising in his throat, head whirling, heart aching, Ian took a shrinking step toward the motionless form.

xxxxxOh, yes. And a cliff-hanger was required~

[TheSongOfTheStars]

Ahhhhhk..... You have a terrible flair for the wildly unexpected

[Ranger of the North]

Ahhhhhk..... You have a terrible flair for the wildly unexpected

Hahaha, thanks! XD Half the credit for this idea has to go to Mum, though; we were having heaps of fun, giggling over this and expanding it to be crazier and crazier XD

[TheSongOfTheStars]

Death... so much fun