The Life I'll Give

The battle is fierce; it is only a matter of time before I will be called to join the bloodbath.  We wait on a hill above the fighting, the trees and the landscape shielding us from the sight of death, but I can still hear the screams of the dying, I can still smell the smoke belching from the war machines, I can still feel the rumblings of the ground that should be still.  I quickly check my weapons, though I know they are in perfect working order.  I count my ammunition and calculate the relative speed and accuracy of each.  After all that, I have nothing to do but stand and wait for my call to arms.

It was not supposed to be like this.  The king kept peace with the countries around us.  After he died and the regent took control there had been some skirmishes, but nothing to warn us of the war to come!  Our precious nation is falling.  Simple trade, once so popular to our surrounding nations, has lost its attraction since the regent has taken control.  I hate him.  He brought us to this, and now he has left us leaderless, escaping across the sea, carrying riches much needed by our people, and secrets with the potential to kill.

A bell rings loud over the battlefield and the soldier beside me whispers, “They need us to come.”  As one, we kneel and kiss the ground, asking it to receive us well if we fall on the battlefield.  It is an old tradition, completely obsolete, but, as my heart starts beating faster, I understand it.  I whisper a prayer as we stand again and ready my rifle.  We shout our motto and go.

Out from under the trees we march and we meet the enemy almost immediately.  Each of us ducks for his own shelter, behind rocks and logs and trees, and we put our weapons to work.  For a while, we push them back.  Are we winning?  No.  They are regrouping, and so many more are joining them.  They surge forward like a wave, ready to drown us.  I am out of ammunition, so I reach for my dagger and ready to defend myself.  A cry goes up, and we charge to meet them, showing our courage perhaps for the last time.

The first man I meet falls victim to my knife, and I step over his body to reach the next.  I kill a few, but there are so many!  The blood thumps in my ears.  Then there is a man on the ground, bleeding from the stomach but somehow alive.  He grabs my legs as I sprint past and pulls me down beside him. “For my people!!!” he shouts, as he drives a knife into my chest. The last thought floods my mind in a starburtst of pain; the heir has been lost and the country with me.   My vow has been fulfilled.