Part Two

In which war is overcome.

Sometime later we were barked awake. I felt partially better, but only just so. It was still mostly dark. My eyelids drooped heavily, and my yawn was echoed by many of the others. She and I pulled ourselves to our feet, where the captain announced that we would march, and then rest, every few hours in order to keep up with the battalion movements. The others griped, but at least it was better than nothing.

At our next rest stop we didn’t bother setting up camp again, this time knowing for sure that we’d be on the move again so shortly. Some rations were passed around, but everyone just tried to get some sleep for the most part.

She slept next to me again. As I lay there, eyelids getting heavier, I couldn’t help but notice drab strands of hair haphazardly askew every which way on her head. I gently reached over to pat them down when her hand suddenly shot out and grabbed mine. I jerked away instinctively, but she just wiggled closer and brought our arms down. She had mine like a vice, and she wasn’t letting go.

When we next awoke the pale sun above was already encroaching upon the dusty night sky, and we resumed our march. This time everyone walked just a bit straighter, with eyes just a bit sharper, and the captain spoke just a bit louder. With every awakening we felt more rejuvenated, and as we made our way forward we ate.

The ground here was no longer sooty dark, but a more lively slate, and the subdued metallic hue of the clouds above actually made for a peaceful ambiance. From here on out it was standby, each battalion rotating within the column until it was their turn to take to the frontlines. There was some trepidation, as there always was, but this wasn’t like the first time. Nothing ever feels like before the first battle.

Watching the rows of soldiers coming and going to the front felt surreal, then boring. So many different faces beneath those leaden helms and suits that eventually all their individuality blurred into one big chalky lump. The grizzled ones from the front hobbled by with quicksilvery streaks of bloodshed. But aside from the ones severely hurt, the most generalized expression of the soldiers was…optimistic. Though the captain wasn’t saying anything, by all unofficial hearsay accounts progress was going increasingly well. Small rumors, more like wistful dreams tentatively toeing the line of hope, was that surrender would come even before we had to fight again. It was a nice thought, but probably not likely. Probably. I leaned against a tree, oddly enough the only tree in the immediate area, and tried to clear my mind. Its charcoal-hued leaves were wide and fragile, crumbling in my hand as I absently plucked at one.

The only thought I couldn’t help but permit was why a tree was here of all places. It was nowhere near any others, nor did it even look any indigenous to the area. I wondered why it was here and how it possibly managed to survive for that matter. My thoughts didn’t reach any veritable conclusion, and all things being considered I was anything but an expert on trees. The only thing I could settle on was that the thing was here, because it obviously wanted to, otherwise it wouldn’t. I smirked at the thought.

The call of my name banished any further thoughts on the matter. I looked up the road and saw her, beckoning me over for rations.

The arc of the sun dipped into afternoon, and our company was inexorably making its way to the front. The sounds of battle were heard ahead, and standby was now winding into a tense readiness. Back in formation, I could see the metallic spires of the city ahead. At one point they must have been a proud and stern iron, perhaps even full of polished sheen. It was, after all the Shining City, the enemy’s capital. Now though the Shining City rusted, the luster replaced with dark corrosion and jagged, eaten-away edges.

She was sharpening her blades with a whetstone, body gracefully in rhythm with the back and forth motion. The others were tightening their mail and padding, and within the hour the captain reported our taking the next slot up. We moved, and the somber walls of the city came into view beyond the din of helms and pointed pikes. Just before the walls was the frontline. A tangled mess of waving blades and dull, wet impacts. Shadows danced and weaved on the ground in choreography too chaotic and orchestrated to be anything but real-life.

The lines were relatively narrow, but deep. No artillery was screaming through the air this day, the enemy must not have had any left and we were reluctant to destroy what was sure to be an annexed metropolis. This was going to be decided with blades and muscle. It was strangely and proudly civil.

Our company moved up to just behind the front. We stood in rigid formation, ready to rush in at a moment’s notice. The war of fatigue, not attrition, had been taking its toll upon the enemy forces, as their ranks re-shuffled less and less. It was plain to see that the weapons being brought to bear against us were in increasingly poor recycled conditions; it was as if they were literally running out of material to continue the war. Our commanders had corps of bowmen, but there were hardly any arrows in the air. It was as if the generals wanted to savor this moment. After all, it was only a matter of time. Perhaps they would surrender by the time our group took the front, after all.

At the front, the soldiers danced and died, and as time crawled forward, so too did the sun and the shadows it cast. Two battles were being fought there: one physical, real, and in all its depth and dimension, and the other of a single hue and shade, confined to a singular, dark and smoky plane. Had I not been standing there, blade at the ready, waiting for the call to charge, it would have been fascinating to watch the shadows in their melee.

I looked up the silvery sky, then to the slate-drab earth. I glanced to my dusted comrades, and then into her ashen face. I was ready.

The captain cried. We charged, rushing forward beside our comrades, swinging at the enemy soldiers just as our brothers and sisters ducked out. I blocked an incoming strike, recoiled back, and then surged forward with my shield at the forefront. The blow knocked my attacker back, and in his vulnerability I lunged out with my sword, catching him across the chest. Pain instantly overtook his face and he tumbled to the ground, too injured, too tired, and too content to fight further. Nimble, quick legs refreshed by those precious hours of sleep carried me over to my brethren. They had joined ranks against the onrush of pikes, so I attacked from the pikemen’s flank. Distracted, the others broke through, shattering the pike shafts and pouncing upon the enemy combatants. With them subdued, we split up, two of them joining me as we fought our way towards the gates. The city’s defenders rushed towards us swinging greatswords, hoping to break our shields. We charged into their swords’ arcs, catching them off-guard and knocking them back. One of them dropped his weapon to pull out a dirk, and he leapt at me. He yelled out in pain as a short sword sliced into his arm, and she spun around to drive her dagger into the man’s chest. We exchanged looks, and threw ourselves back into the fray.

The enemy soldiers fought with resilience, and with valor, and time felt like it crawled across the most vast of deserts. But the position of the sun betrayed otherwise, and already the company behind ours was running forward to relieve us. But the city’s forces were huddled in a crowd before their gates, surrounding and cornered. The expressions on their faces were determined, but grim.

Fight to the death? I doubted it. This was a war for land and property, hardly worth dying more than what had already been spilled. As we pulled back, I let out a breath for the inevitable conclusion, and the thought of going back home. Possibly even with her. I looked for those platinum eyes among the moving faces and caught them. I rushed over, and her stern gaze softened when she glimpsed me. Our lips just about smiled. The city’s defenders weren’t bound to hold against this latest wave of troops, much less a whole other rotation. As far as the both of us were concerned, our fighting was done here. Despite the war still technically going on around us, I was so pleased with myself that I wanted to give a little laugh.

The air suddenly cracked with a thunder unlike anything my ears had ever heard. She and I both crouched, clutching our ears in pain. There was a slight ringing sensation, and then another terrible crack. It was like a focused thunderbolt had struck within arm’s length, and my head spun. I struggled to get my bearings together, and as I looked up I saw two dead bodies on the sullen ground, different than the rest. These were not maimed, injured, or even dying. They were dead, instantly, with not a single slash or cut on them. Only two holes, neatly on either end of their skulls, pouring blo-

My eyes, I needed to claw them out! I couldn’t, there was, the blood, it was, it was this, what was it? So…so bright, this hue, this shade, I couldn’t comprehend it. The tissue of my eyes, rods and cones bashing each other in chaos, it pained myself to even look at this…color. Was it even that? Nothing on this world, nothing in this reality, could have this appearance, but here it pooled out in a sickly puddle. I’d seen too many head wounds, and far too much blood, but nothing….nothing like this. It wrenched my soul, seeing it deadened my own pulse. The word, I know not where it came from, but this, this was red.

Author's Note

I usually proofread my works, however as always I'm sure there are typos and syntax errors. I appreciate any and all notices of that, and will work to correct those. If I haven't do know that I did acknowledge your notice and try implementing it, but found that it detracted from the effect I wanted and so omitted it.