Woes of War

The war had been raging not for a day, and yet I stood from my vantage point devastated at the carnage below. Silver donned in bright colored cloth of opposing sides glinting into my eyes, from metal and blood. Both the heart in my chest and the stone beneath my feet seemed to tremor in response to every clang and clash of metal emanating from deep within the valley; a makeshift battlefield was made on soft grass and delicate flowers.

Men. My men are lying dead in its beds. I seldom thought I could think of a better place to be laid to rest, but now? To be cast aside in the walls of the valley could only be comparable to hell itself as the blood catching the glimmering sun behind my back had the battlefield look ablaze; a hell adorned by the beauty of heaven, and I hoped, pleaded, that they only saw the beauty, and not the flames.

I felt my entire body shaking, my knees beginning to crumble under the weight of ten thousand dead bodies. Water as strong as the sea stinging in my eyes, waiting to crash on the shore that were my cheeks. I wanted more than anything to hug myself, to curl into a ball. To sob. To succumb to my weakness, but I could not. Not out loud, not where I could be seen.

Instead, I could feel my voice continuing to bark orders at the people around me, questioning: inventory, ammunition, death tolls on both sides, reinforcements arriving? Yes, no. Numbers upon numbers swirled in my head along with battle strategies passed from a bygone era, passing roughly up my well worn, stinging, and tired throat, through equally tiring lips.

My body was moving on its own too: quickly checking maps, pointing, checking one item, then another, then another. Though all the while, my eyes stretched thin from looking at whatever necessary, seemed only truly focused on the destruction not even two thousand feet away.

It seemed as if me and I were separated. The body, the mind. The logical, the emotional. The strong, the weak. The calm, the screaming. I stood beside me, a ghastly spectre sobbing uncontrollably, doubled over in agony, screaming at God as the sounds around me seemed to get quieter as the sounds below became deafening. Why?

Why was this happening? Why, when I struggled so much, I was strong for so long, I swear I did everything right! So, why?

Somehow, through all of it, I heard the unmistakable sound of very familiar hooves coming from behind me, followed by an insufferably recognizable dismount. Boot covered feet trodding the ground, approaching me at a slightly hastened pace. I felt myself scoff and began to realign with myself and I's shared disgust for the man behind us, the orders to leave us reaching the ears of those around me. Those, except for his.

As he completed his approach to my turned back, he began to clear his throat, placing a gloved hand on my left shoulder. In less than an instant, I felt all of my anguish begin to boil into anger. My body became as still and as hard as the stone he was now standing on, seething with a calm fury. 

I stayed with my back turned to him, sharply shrugging the hand off of my shoulder. In my periphery his hand recoiled and reached out for a second time, the revulsion for the man behind me shook my spine like an earthquake, the place where he'd laid his hand feeling like a stab wound.

"Whatever you need to say to me you can say without touching me, brother." I said this with much poison.

I heard him sigh behind me, making the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end. How dare he of all people be allowed to sigh at this, this mess he inevitably caused? I struggled to keep my composure, every inch of my body beginning to emanate that much more rage at the idea he would speak. Still, he took that deep breath and spoke anyway.

"I'm so sorry, I never intended for this to happen," It was low, groveling, begging sympathetic. My eyes stayed glued to the land below, not wanting him even in my periphery, "You should know better than anyone that I never wanted our people to fight."