A Failure
The earth was black with soot. The sky was in a gray shroud. The men looked weak, their souls appearing to have left them. There was no hope for anyone on the mountain side. It was loss, loss of the fallen. The doom was in the air, so thick that you could almost grasp it between your fingers. There was no sound besides the wind whispering the side of the mountain ridge. Standing with his back to the others, a lone figure smiled. They had won the battlefield, the suffering of the others not bothering him. He had given everything for revenge. The soot was in his eyes, it made them fill with water. It gave the man a crazed expression, as if he had gone mad. Maybe, he had gone mad, with the lust for blood, against those who would stand against him.
He had lost what all others would consider everything, his family. His wife and two daughters were killed by barbarians, but not before they were ravaged. He had been there as witness, held in place by the defilers. What most would not realize, he still had more to lose. He gave what he had left to see those who came for his family to see their end. He gave up the land he had reaped for decades from his father and his father’s father. Sacrificing what mental peace he had for the fortitude to do the unspeakable. To seek out the men and those who allied themselves with them.
As he stood there gazing through the gray to the mountain ranges beyond someone broke the silence. “ Marcus” a figure yelled out to him from behind. Marcus shook his head releasing the smile he had. Turning to the man who had cried out to him, he locked eyes with him. It was Thomas, his right hand in his current endeavors. Thomas searched his eyes, “it is done” he said. “What is next for us sir?” Thomas asked. Marcus turned back to the mountain ranges in the distance and replied “there is nothing left”. He had completed his task. Recruiting those to his cause was easy, but their mission had been completed. There was nothing left to hold his men together. They had cut through all the known barbarian encampments. Marcus took out his dagger, still layered with the blood of his enemies. “This is the end, the end of my rage” he told Thomas. Thomas stood there waiting, watching his commander in turmoil. He did not know what to say to that.
Suddenly Marcus took the dagger to his own throat and with a swift motion let blood flow from his neck. Thomas Ran to him “what have you done” he said as he grabbed at Marcus in panic. “Healer, we need you!” Thomas cried out. He was trying to hold the wound closed, but no amount of pressure he could muster could stop the flow of blood. The blood gushed through his fingers in rhythmic spurts. “Healer” he cried again but there was no answer. Thomas looked at his leader that he had followed into battle after battle. “How could you do this?” he whispered to Marcus. Marcus let the smile return to his lips and eyes, then he closed his eyes. Marcus thought “the void is calling, I hope to see them again”.
Thomas looked behind him, the other would be soldiers looked their direction. No one moved towards them, battle still flashing before their eyes. The men knew what they had done, killing not just the men that had ravaged their pastures, but the women and children as well. Thomas had believed in what they were doing, Marcus had made it seem like the only thing to do. The right thing to do and it had been done. Now the men that stood before him, the deeds done, were as lost as he. Marcus’ blood stop spurting through his hand, it was only a trickle. “ The healer was probably dead” Thomas thought. He shook himself and released Marcus. He had left them to live with their sins, not being able to bare the weight of those and his lost.
Thomas stood, looking to the men and they looked to him. “ Gather yourselves” Thomas shouted at them. They stirred and began to converge together in front of him.