I Died Alone

27 Sept. 97

I died alone on that field of honor. Her name half formed on my blood stained lips. Somehow I always knew that it would end like this. My enemies blood fresh upon my blade and mine upon his.

The war started as a crusade. The people wanted more. They wanted to be free from the oppression of the Overlords. Me, I was just a simple man with a sword and nothing left to live for. My want, however, was similar to theirs, my own form of freedom, from the pain of living.
My troops, if these former slaves could be called troops, spent their days in an endless struggle for their life and their sanity. I did not have such physical and psychological worries. My life meant nothing to me and I had lost my sanity years before, on the day that I lost my love. When I fought, I fought as if possessed. Nothing mattered but the sound and feel my sword made as I struck my enemies down. My days were filled with boredom interspersed with fleeting moments of ecstasy. Yes, I felt joy at watching my enemies die. Do I feel chagrined because of this. No . . . Yes. I guess I did. Deep down inside I felt guilty. Those who opposed me had no chance of victory. This shadow of guilt tinted what little satisfaction that I could find in life.
We fought every engagement as if it would be the last. We knew, however, that the final battle was yet to come. On that glorious day there would be no survivors. I breathed and lived only for this day, for today would be that final battle. What follows today will pale both in scope and affect of today. For today the two greatest armies in the world would clash. The sound of steel upon steel will be felt around the world. Standing on the bluff I looked down into the misty dale and knew that before the sun set the dry river bed running down the middle would run red with blood. On the opposing bluff the legions of despair gathered for a brief moment before descending into the dale.
Turning around I gazed on the millions of men and women that comprised the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Armies, and knew that none of them would live to see the sun set. In their eyes I saw anger, sadness, fear, and strongest of all I saw hope. Not for themselves, but hope for the ones left behind. My heart went out to their families, the loved ones that they’d never see again. For my soldiers, though, I felt no grief. They’d made their choice, to trade their lives for their loves.

The plan was really very simple. Today we would destroy the Army of the Overlords. Tomorrow the 4th and the 5th Armies of the Alliance would destroy the Counsel of Lords. Today we would cut off their hands and tomorrow our remaining forces would sever the head. Even if we did not destroy their army it would be so crippled that it would not be able to help the Counsel and my former command, the Scarlet Guards. I had made sure of that the day I left by killing all of their best warriors. Today we would be victorious.

I believe that my troops had craved this moment almost as much as I had. Now, poised on the threshold of victory and death, they waited only for my command. Turning briskly around I raised my battle scared claymore high into the air, so that all could see. Dropping my arm I sent my army into battle one last time.
The next few minuets turned into hours, but I did not notice. I was conscious only of the death, which I brought upon my enemies. Thousands had died by my hand alone by the time the sun’s light shone full upon the valley floor and still the battle raged on. My soldiers fell by the hundreds, yet we pressed onward never wavering. It was over, though, only a few hours later.
Standing on the bodies of the fallen, with the sun to my back, I faced the last of my enemies. Looking deep into his eyes I realized that in another time and in another place we would have still been enemies. No, there would be no guilt when I killed him. For hours we fought. Like quick silver we moved, both seeking to penetrate the other’s defenses. As the sun rode low in the western sky he got lucky, or perhaps my luck just ran out. With a cruel thrust he plunged his long sword into my midsection. Dropping my sword I fell to my knees waiting for the final blow, which never came. Looking up I saw the most amazing site I’ve ever seen. The poor dolt was just standing there leaning on his sword and gloating, as if he had all the time in the world. How could someone with such elegance and dexterity with a sword be such a complete idiot? As he surveyed the field of battle I reached down and unsheathed my dirk. With speed non would have expected from a dying man I plunged it into his chest and we both fell to the ground. The look of astonishment on his face was priceless. He had learned his lesson the hard way.
Lying beside him I looked into his eyes and he looked into mine as his life quickly left him. I hope that somehow he could see the joy that his death had brought me. With my last bit of strength I pulled my dirk from his chest and waited for death. As the darkness infringed on my consensus, I thought of her (my first joy and my reason for living).

I knew on the day she betrayed my trust, that it would end like this. With love for her still ingrained on my heart and her name upon my lips I died alone.

A childhood spent in blissful ignorance.
An adolescence spent loosing my innocence.
An adulthood spent in regretful silence,
Words never spoken,
Deeds left undone,
Promises broken.
A life that never was.