* * *

Smoke hung over the battlefield as Viktor and Lars walked back toward their base. Bodies were scattered on the ground, and the smell left behind by magic stormed into Viktor’s nose. It was a long battle, and they were lucky to have survived it. The mages were getting tired, and without them they had stood no chance at winning. 

They stepped over countless bodies, both enemy and their own. Fighting was becoming so constant in the lowlands; Viktor didn’t bother getting close with any of the troops in his company. It only made it harder to move on to the next battle. 

Although Lars was an exception. They had been in the same company since the beginning of the war, when the fighting was less common, and it was mostly political. They would spend their nights getting drunk and playing games at the bar, and when the fighting started, they were always side by side, dealing damage as a pair. After what Viktor thought must be over twenty bloodthirsty battles between the lowlanders and the highlanders, him and Lars were the only ones still alive from their first lowlander company. 

“We should be good for a couple of months now. We damaged them good today. If the mages don’t decide to force our way into their land early while they’re weak, we might actually get some time to rest.” Lars said, slightly panting from the fatigue. 

“I hope you’re right. I’m tired of fighting.” Viktor sighed as they kept walking. “Maybe the highlander magic is finally effecting me.” 

“It’s always like that after the battles. Your just lucky your emotions are solid enough to resist it. Most of our company gets defeated within the first few hours of fighting.” 

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Viktor winced. 

“You alright, Vik?”

“I’ll be fine. Got a nasty cut above my knee, though.” Viktor stopped walking for a moment, showing Lars the open cut slashed into his trousers. Blood oozed out of the wound as Viktor flexed his leg. 

Lars whistled at the sight. “Let’s stop here for a moment and tie that up. The medic won’t be happy to hear you walked all the way back without tying up the wound.” 

Viktor sighed in response, but he stopped and sat down so they could tie the wound. The land was clear of bodies now, and the smoke was nothing more than a smell in the breeze. Lars kneeled next to him, ripped off a piece of fabric from his cloak, which he then looped around Viktor’s leg, wrapping the wound tightly to try and stop blood loss. Viktor groaned as the pressure increased, the pain taking over for a short moment.  

“Good enough for now. We’ll get drunk when we get back to base. That’ll cure the pain,” Lars said as he finished tying the fabric into a knot. He then stood and reached down a hand to help Viktor back up to his feet. Viktor accepted the help, using his friend as support. 

Just as Viktor was getting to his feet, he saw a quick flash of blue behind Lars. The blue seemed to appear out of nowhere, spiraling into existence for a moment before disappearing again, leaving a man behind. Viktor blinked rapidly, trying to refocus as he was sure his wound was causing hallucinations. But every blink refreshed the same image of a man dressed in an alarmingly blue suit, the colour of which moved as if it were filled with lightning. The strange man was holding a long, odd, shaped object that had a thin tube with a whole pointing towards Viktor and Lars. The man frantically looked at his surroundings, unfamiliar and confused. 

“Lars, behind you,” Viktor whispered. Lars turned his head to look at the man behind them, then he looked back at Viktor. 

‘I’m sorry, I’m still not used to the skipping machine. I’ll be gone in a second,” the strange man in blue said to Viktor and Lars. He seemed to be preoccupied, not worried about the presence of two muscular soldiers armed with swords and shields. 

Lars noticed and decided to attack.

“Don’t!” The man in blue shouted as Lars approached him with his sword in the air. An explosion rang through the air a moment later, causing Viktor to plug his ears and hit the ground. Ears ringing, Viktor looked up to see Lars on his back, unmoving in front of the man in blue. 

“I… I didn’t mean…” Viktor heard the man in blue as the ringing in his ears lessened. ‘I’m not even supposed to be here! My skip went haywire!” The man in blue yelled before he started pressing at his arm in panic. Small blue images floated over his forearm, which he began moving around and selecting. 

Viktor stood, looking at Lars on the ground, blood piling underneath of him. He then took a step forward, limping. 

“Don’t move!” The man in blue pointed the narrow tube at Viktor. “Why did he attack?” 

“We are soldiers. We are trained to attack,” Viktor said, his voice disconnected from his thoughts. 

“Your swords… this land… I have made a terrible mistake,” the man in blue said, his voice breaking. He shivered at his realization.  

“I have never seen such magic before,” Viktor said. He knew he was in no position to attack. He was wounded, and he had no knowledge of the unique magic the man was using. “Are you from the highlands?”

“Highlands? Magic? There is no magic,” the man in blue responded, a worried look on his face as he continued working on the weird magic coming from his arm. 

“Your suit. The explosion. The hovering light above your arm. We have been fighting for so long and have never faced magic such as this. Where are you from? That is not highlander magic.” Viktor’s words were as cold and sharp as a sword made of ice. The man in blue stopped and looked up at Viktor. For a moment, nothing was said. Viktor stared down the man in blue, trying to think of a way to attack. But there was no chance; all he could do was watch as a single tear fell from the man in blue’s eye. 

“I’m sorry…” The man in blue then pressed a large sphere that hovered above his arm, and he spiraled out of existence in a flash of blue. 

Viktor was left alone, confused. The scourged land around him was empty, except for the body of his only friend. He walked over to Lars, knelt, and placed a hand on his friend’s heart. He was still bleeding, but the body was still. Knowing Lars was no longer with him, Viktor lifted his hand to inspect the wound.

“Forgive me, friend.” Viktor put his hand into the wound, searching for the source of the injury. He felt a small, hard substance, and used his fingers to pry it out. The hard object was almost circular, and he cleaned the blood off on his cloak before examining it closer. It was metal. He had never seen an object like it before, and he had no idea where it came from. He stuffed the mysterious metal into his pocket. 

Viktor then took off his cloak and laid it beside him. Humming a low tune, he then closed Lar’s eyes, touched Lar’s forehead and heart, and put Lar’s left hand on his chest, with his right hand on top. Still humming, Viktor grabbed his cloak from beside him and carefully laid it overtop of Lars, covering everything but his head. 

Viktor stopped humming his tune, stood up and looked at his fallen brother. “Until the next life, my friend.” The sky darkened, clouds rushing in to cover the land where Viktor stood over Lars. A single raindrop fell on the cloak that covered Lars, then more followed as a rainstorm started. Viktor took a step back as the rain increased. He watched Lars as the soil around the body began to move, until he could see his friend slowly sinking into the land. 

The rain stopped as the lowlander burial ended, replaced by the brilliant light of the sun. It was shining directly on the patch of land that now held Lars. Viktor walked over to the patch of land and knelt, squeezed his eyes shut and forced his own tear to fall to the ground. From the spot where the tear landed, sprouted a small oak sapling. 

Viktor left the grave without a word, his tears overflowing as he started walking back to base. He felt a breeze and looked back to see the oak sapling waving from side to side.