Post by Luna on Aug 31, 2006 3:51:23 GMT -8
This is one I like a fair bit so I tend to leave it up for longer hehe. It was a failed attempt at an assignment last year but a pretty good story nonetheless. Just a warning, it can have fairly graphical gore, especially at the begining. I used the name Kamui again, but what can I say, I like the name.
--~~--
Death and destruction. What’s the point? I suppose one could always believe that the point of such mindless desecration could be to protect the lands and country, and yet that is a conceited notion. Violence begets violence; death begets death. There is no two ways around it. I was part of this war, though looking over the battlefield I regret it. Finally it is over; people can live in peace now. And yet, if there was no war to begin with the people would still be living in peace.
Bodies litter the battlefield. I trip over people I knew and didn’t know in my search. There, a boy probably no more than fifteen. Killed by a sword stroke severing his head in half. There an old man, probably died early on in the final battle, a slice across his stomach spilling his innards onto the already bloody ground. Another kin of mine, three arrows in his chest. All this death. Mothers who never again see their sons, daughters who will never again see their fathers or brothers. All in the name of an invisible line. The earth cares not who rules, nor where they live and yet it is the earth which suffers for humans inability to live peacefully among each other. Surely so much blood, so much salt, leaking into the soil cannot be good for it, surely there will be some ill affects. And yet at graveyards the grass grows most green. The priests all say it is God’s favour which allows the ground to flourish so, but in truth I have never been a God faring man. He has never helped me in my time of need. We humans are merely meat after all. When it comes down to it, we are not unlike the animals we kill to fill our stomach. Just as the flesh of animals fertilizes the earth, so too, I believe, do we humans.
The forest nearby marks the edge of the battlefield. No one dared go in there for it would mean certain death. The enemy were terrific archers and could hide in the trees out of sight and sniper any fool enough to come into their domain. Most of the deaths in this area were of arrows. Not suprising.
“Patrick!”
I turn. My commander strides up to me. Thankfully he doesn’t stand for being formal after a battle. Just as well. I didn’t feel like licking his boots right now.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Looking,” I answer. With that out of the way I continue on with my trudging of the field, avoiding the rivulets of blood where I could. I suppose it didn’t really matter. I mean, I was already bloody from the battle itself, and most of it wasn’t mine. What did a little bit extra on my boots matter? But then it did matter. The battle was over, and I was not supposed to get any more blood on me, unless it was my own, in which case I should be seeing a healer.
“Looking for what?” He wont give up, will he?
“For reason,” I answer. It is at least partly true.
“Patrick, stop.” I stopped. “You know the reason we do this,” he said, quietly. “We hire ourselves to the highest bidder to feed our families. You know this, you have always known this.”
“Yeah, I know.” I kept walking. This time he left me alone. Alone with my thoughts. I wasn’t really sure that was where I wanted to be, yet here I am, me, myself and I once more.
Mercenaries. That’s all our unit were. Were. There aren’t many of us left now, twenty I think. Twenty from ninety. Most of them had reasons for their fighting. It seemed that I alone did not. At least, not any more. War has taken everything from me, my family, my home, my whole life, everything that made my life worth living. My brother was dead. He was not just my brother, but my twin brother. There was not a thing we didn’t share, nothing we kept from each other. It felt now as if there was an enormous hole in my chest where he has been ripped out, torn away from me like… like nothing petty words can describe. Even the part of my mind that he occupied is now silent and it is that which scares me the most I think. My whole life he has been there, though I never really noticed. Until now that is. It is like they say: you never realize what you have until it’s gone. And now he is gone, my brother, Kamui. That was the only difference that anyone could find, our names. I was named for my father’s people and Kamui was named for my mother’s family. Now I am the sole heir to our family, and I must find Kamui’s necklace to prove that.
I slowly wandered, from one end of the battlefield to the other, not finding him. If I get nothing else out of this damn war, I have to find him, have to claim the necklace and give him a proper burial, as befits a prince of my mother’s people. What they would say to me now, the new prince of the people, fighting as a lowly foot soldier for my father’s people. Well, damn them all. I was named for my father after all, so I may as well make my living from them. But not any more, however, as there he is, my beloved brother. As I see him, tears well up in my eyes. I can almost feel him there as I kneal down beside him, but I know it is just my imagination willing me to believe he is not really gone. I felt the slice that slit his throat as soon as it happened. It was always like that, whenever one of us was injured the other could tell and would often get a red welt where the injury was; just as I now have across my neck. The necklace is still there, thankfully, though the leather thong the stone sits upon is severed. I take it off and tie it around my own neck, ignoring the still warm and sticky blood on it. Sighing, I continue to do what must be done and pick up my brother’s body. As I walk away from the battlefield for the last time, tears falling down my face, I notice the small smile on Kamui’s face and I smile despite myself. I know then what his last thoughts were, I hear them echo inside my head as if he were standing right there next to me.
‘At least now I can have a proper sleep and leave myself in the care of you, my dear brother.’
--~~--
Death and destruction. What’s the point? I suppose one could always believe that the point of such mindless desecration could be to protect the lands and country, and yet that is a conceited notion. Violence begets violence; death begets death. There is no two ways around it. I was part of this war, though looking over the battlefield I regret it. Finally it is over; people can live in peace now. And yet, if there was no war to begin with the people would still be living in peace.
Bodies litter the battlefield. I trip over people I knew and didn’t know in my search. There, a boy probably no more than fifteen. Killed by a sword stroke severing his head in half. There an old man, probably died early on in the final battle, a slice across his stomach spilling his innards onto the already bloody ground. Another kin of mine, three arrows in his chest. All this death. Mothers who never again see their sons, daughters who will never again see their fathers or brothers. All in the name of an invisible line. The earth cares not who rules, nor where they live and yet it is the earth which suffers for humans inability to live peacefully among each other. Surely so much blood, so much salt, leaking into the soil cannot be good for it, surely there will be some ill affects. And yet at graveyards the grass grows most green. The priests all say it is God’s favour which allows the ground to flourish so, but in truth I have never been a God faring man. He has never helped me in my time of need. We humans are merely meat after all. When it comes down to it, we are not unlike the animals we kill to fill our stomach. Just as the flesh of animals fertilizes the earth, so too, I believe, do we humans.
The forest nearby marks the edge of the battlefield. No one dared go in there for it would mean certain death. The enemy were terrific archers and could hide in the trees out of sight and sniper any fool enough to come into their domain. Most of the deaths in this area were of arrows. Not suprising.
“Patrick!”
I turn. My commander strides up to me. Thankfully he doesn’t stand for being formal after a battle. Just as well. I didn’t feel like licking his boots right now.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Looking,” I answer. With that out of the way I continue on with my trudging of the field, avoiding the rivulets of blood where I could. I suppose it didn’t really matter. I mean, I was already bloody from the battle itself, and most of it wasn’t mine. What did a little bit extra on my boots matter? But then it did matter. The battle was over, and I was not supposed to get any more blood on me, unless it was my own, in which case I should be seeing a healer.
“Looking for what?” He wont give up, will he?
“For reason,” I answer. It is at least partly true.
“Patrick, stop.” I stopped. “You know the reason we do this,” he said, quietly. “We hire ourselves to the highest bidder to feed our families. You know this, you have always known this.”
“Yeah, I know.” I kept walking. This time he left me alone. Alone with my thoughts. I wasn’t really sure that was where I wanted to be, yet here I am, me, myself and I once more.
Mercenaries. That’s all our unit were. Were. There aren’t many of us left now, twenty I think. Twenty from ninety. Most of them had reasons for their fighting. It seemed that I alone did not. At least, not any more. War has taken everything from me, my family, my home, my whole life, everything that made my life worth living. My brother was dead. He was not just my brother, but my twin brother. There was not a thing we didn’t share, nothing we kept from each other. It felt now as if there was an enormous hole in my chest where he has been ripped out, torn away from me like… like nothing petty words can describe. Even the part of my mind that he occupied is now silent and it is that which scares me the most I think. My whole life he has been there, though I never really noticed. Until now that is. It is like they say: you never realize what you have until it’s gone. And now he is gone, my brother, Kamui. That was the only difference that anyone could find, our names. I was named for my father’s people and Kamui was named for my mother’s family. Now I am the sole heir to our family, and I must find Kamui’s necklace to prove that.
I slowly wandered, from one end of the battlefield to the other, not finding him. If I get nothing else out of this damn war, I have to find him, have to claim the necklace and give him a proper burial, as befits a prince of my mother’s people. What they would say to me now, the new prince of the people, fighting as a lowly foot soldier for my father’s people. Well, damn them all. I was named for my father after all, so I may as well make my living from them. But not any more, however, as there he is, my beloved brother. As I see him, tears well up in my eyes. I can almost feel him there as I kneal down beside him, but I know it is just my imagination willing me to believe he is not really gone. I felt the slice that slit his throat as soon as it happened. It was always like that, whenever one of us was injured the other could tell and would often get a red welt where the injury was; just as I now have across my neck. The necklace is still there, thankfully, though the leather thong the stone sits upon is severed. I take it off and tie it around my own neck, ignoring the still warm and sticky blood on it. Sighing, I continue to do what must be done and pick up my brother’s body. As I walk away from the battlefield for the last time, tears falling down my face, I notice the small smile on Kamui’s face and I smile despite myself. I know then what his last thoughts were, I hear them echo inside my head as if he were standing right there next to me.
‘At least now I can have a proper sleep and leave myself in the care of you, my dear brother.’
