A Soldier For All Seasons Ch. 24

"I'm sorry, Nate." Bastian told him softly. "If you weren't such a fucking storybook hero, maybe we could have been brothers in arms. You're fucking smart." He shook his head. "Figuring that dumb ape out, using the flare, the drone? Fuck, if you weren't such a pain in the ass..." He trailed off.

"You kill my monkey buddy?" Nate gasped out, his grasp failing, strength fading. He'd fought so hard just to fail at the end.

I'm sorry, Ana. I tried. I swear, I fucking tried.

"No killing that thing. I figured out what you did, eventually. Stupid ape stopped to try and punch that exploding snowmobile, burnt himself." Bastian's voice was soothing. Sympathetic. Did he know the thoughts that ran through his head?

The man laughed suddenly. "Honestly, Nate, you should see it, its buried its fists in the snow. It looks so sad!" Bastian stepped harder on his fingers, putting his whole weight on them. He sighed, looking torn. "Nate, just fall already." He pulled his bow and arrow. "I don't want to use this shitty crate weapon — I don't want to put an arrow through your brain, brother."

Nate was at his end. But he wasn't going to die crying. He burrowed his hand into the dusty rock, pulling out a clump of rock, not even sharp enough to cut skin. Useless.

"Tell me," Nate wheezed out. "Is it fun being a traitor Judge's little bitch? Does he make you lick his boots? Suck his dick?" He tried to taunt the man. It wouldn't work, he knew. That wasn't Bastian's style. Bastian wasn't Xavier, wasn't Blessing.

True enough, the man laughed, his gaze darting off to check Lunar wasn't any closer. He crouched down, face so close Nate could almost reach him up and punch him, could run his blunt rock across his throat pointlessly.

Almost.

But not quite. Because Bastian was smarter than that.

On his waist belt, knives that Nate couldn't reach, couldn't unsheathe, and an old dusty flare — the one everyone had been provided with. He imagined a gun on his belt, imagined grabbing it and firing into Bastian as he fell to his death far below — at least he'd take the bastard with him.

"Tell me, Nate, because I can't understand it. I get that you look okay, one man to another. Decent jawline. I get the whole hero thing. And honestly, I even admire your balls of fucking steel." He rubbed his chin. "But how did you get the Lunari Princess herself to look at you like that?" He shook his head in admiration.

Nate gasped out a laugh. "Honestly, you want to know?" His voice low, a whisper.

Bastian leaned close. Not close enough to punch. Not close enough to pull down. They both knew it.

"The way you get a girl like that..." Nate summoned everything he had, his last dregs of strength, his last breath. "You gotta keep it light!"

And then he reached up, and with his rock in his hands, he flicked the cap off the flare on Bastian's waist belt and struck his rock against the striking surface. Bastian's eyes widened in alarm as he lit up in sparks, the flare igniting. He pulled at his waist but the sheer heat burnt his hands, hands red. He stumbled back, trying to rip off his belt.

The ape roared.

The ground shook.

Nate hung on, eyes shut, listening. He saw it in his mind and it was fucking glorious.

"No, fuck, come on—" Panic. The belt wouldn't shift.

"No, wait, hold—" The ape bounded forth.

A high-pitched scream.

The splatter of blood.

The crunch of bones.

Something spilled to the ground. Several somethings.

Nate opened his eyes. The flare flung off over the cliff, along with what remained of Bastian.

The beast grunted in satisfaction, wandered away.

He pulled himself up, gasping with the exertion, his heart beating too fast. He collapsed on his back, watched the stars. They glittered in admiration — but he wasn't fooled. They didn't care if he lived or died. Blood pooled. He felt faint, worse when the adrenaline faded.

The stars were replaced by Lunar, by those enchanting eyes, by those soft lips, that long hair that tickled his face.

He wanted to bat it away, wanted to complain, but he didn't have the strength to even raise his hands. So he just stared up, watched her, watched her cry, watched her fuss.

Don't panic, sweetheart. The words he couldn't say. His throat was dry.

She was bandaging him, talking constantly. She put something in her mouth.

He wanted to put something in her mouth. Would she find that funny? A joke, discarded. He couldn't tell it anyway.

And when she levered him up to a sitting position, it hurt a lot. But it hurt less. And when she put her arms underneath him and put him on his feet, leaning against her, he felt like he was going to faint.

But she kissed him, clasped his cheeks with both hands and like a radio tuned in, her voice came back to him.

"—you're going to be just fine, Nate. I promise."

"Okay." He croaked. The one word hurt like a knife in his throat.

Her smile was bright and worth all the pain. She let him take a breather, shifted him around so he could see the view from the cliff.

The dark stars were being beaten back by the rising sun, hues of oranges and pinks. A breathtaking vista, mountain ranges and forests, as far as the eye could see, lit up in glorious sunlight. A stream of birds broke away from the tree-tops — Nate could almost imagine he could hear the beat of their wings and their song.

"Can I tell you something funny? I have been practicing humor." Lunar asked, her lips already twitching.

"Sure."

She pointed through a thicket of trees in front of them. "I believe the the North Pole is roughly five minutes walk that way."

Nate laughed, his chest shaking, eyes wet. He wiped them clean. "You're right, that is pretty funny."