Marching Order

A/N: 902 words of Will Anderson, a minor character from my book series. I really like writing him for some reason....Meh. Here is Marching Orders, my entry for The Writer's Cramp. Rated 18+ for one big swear word. :P



         The sun burnt unrelentingly on the back of the marching teenagers. The beat of their booted feet pounded the grassy countryside as they drew closer to war and closer to death. A grim, heavy-spirited drumroll played out beneath them, bleeding, rumbling into the very bones of the earth. From the front, a lithe, elf-like boy raised his hand, bringing the company to a halt.

         “Stand at ease.” the boy called, his dark eyes scanning the nearly-400 strong group. “We have reached Wisconsin. Within a week we shall have reached our destination and we can expect the enemy to be ready for us. Ares,” his eyes found the steady, mature eyes of William Anderson, the leader of the Ares squad. “will be on watch. Aphrodite-” his eyes shifted to meet the nervous eyes of Maria Glick. “will lead cleaning up and fixing the building along with the Apollo platoon. Do you understand?”

         “Yes, sir!” the designated squads barked. The boy nodded.

         “Take a break. You have one hour. Squad leaders, go over your duties with your squad.” The boy turned away and quickly was drawn into a circle of high ranking teens.

         The Ares squad leader, Will turned to his group. “Stand easy.” he ordered, eying his soldiers. Immediately, the twenty-three teenagers shifted into a slightly more relaxed form, the youngest of them with no little bit of relief. “You heard what Iaen said. When we reach the abandoned Roman base we will be on guard. We cannot be lax in our duties, do you understand?”

         “Yes sir!” Will's underlings shouted. Will held back a wince at the immature sound of the youngest, a nine year old named John.

         “ICE is dangerous.” Will continued, pacing back and forth slightly. “They manipulated the Romans into war with us two years ago. They kidnapped two of our strongest and killed one of them. And now we are at war, whether we chose to or not. Some of you will die.” Will paused, the image of a beautiful girl with hard eyes rising up in his memory. He swallowed and pushed it away. There would be time for grief later. “This is inevitable. But I want you- all of you- to promise me to never give up. To never fear and hopelessness overcome you. These are your marching orders and I demand that you follow them.” His eyes hardened as he slowly scanned every face. “There will be loss. There has already been loss. In the war with the Romans we lost 50 of our comrades....Some of those people may have been your friends, your loved ones.” Again, the girl rose in Will's mind and he again brushed it ruthlessly to the side. “You may hate our allies for killing them. But if we are to survive and win, we must trust the Romans now. We cannot not afford fighting amongst ourselves.”

         Will came to a stop in front of John. He knelt down beside the child and placed one large, callused hand on his holly berry-red t-shirt, overlaid by the leather armor he had been issued. “I am proud of every single one of you. Some of you,” he looked into the determined eyes of the nine-year old, the child desperately trying to overcome the nerves that only seemed to get worse as they neared war. “will not be allowed to fight. You are too young.” John bit his lip and looked away from Will in shame. The twenty year old gently turned the child's chin forward again. “That doesn't mean that I am not proud of you.” He stood, picking out the three under-elevens he had. “You could have chosen to go with the Scouts to their base and be protected there. Instead you chose to march with us, leaving behind the closest thing to a home some of you had.”

         Will walked over to the second oldest soldier, a girl his age. “Others of you will fight.” He looked into the darkened eyes of the girl, Eliza. Reflected within them were the pain and grief that he knew festered in his own blue orbs.  “You are risking death in war, most of you for the second time. I cannot say how proud I am of you for that, for having the courage to return to the battlefield, knowing what lays there and knowing how it tears you apart. I am so fucking proud.”

         The entire squads eyes widened. Never, in all the years any of them had known the unusually mild-mannered Ares boy, had they seen him swear beyond the typical 'damn' or 'gods'. Suddenly, as one, the squad straightened into attention and saluted.

         “Sir,” Alissa, a fifteen year old said. “Only one man should have the honor of leading us, of giving us marching orders...and that is you.”

         Will stared into the girl's black currant eyes for one brief moment, his face expressionless. Then, as if the clouds were breaking, his mouth split into a brilliant smile that had been lost since the death of his beloved. His shoulders straightened and a hand raised to his forehead in salute. Pride seemed to fill his entire being as he stared at his once-chaotic group, now seeing an unflinching, unwavering, and iron-willed team.

         Looking around, smiling at the wonderful, courageous, and powerful people in front of him, Will finally felt his broken heart begin to heal and the ghost of the girl he loved begin to fade.