Tales From Aszuralia

From Upon the Hill of Vigil (1-part Short Story)

It was dark, cold, damp, and uncomfortable; like most dungeons. However, Rasputaren was not sitting in an average dungeon. No, dear reader, he was sitting in the one dungeon that all criminals feared; Grahdish Vog'tul, Orkish for the Gate of Vile.

Vile was not only a horrendous adjective, but also the name given to one of the most vile villains Aszuralia had ever seen. At one point in history, Orkish hordes swept through even the mightiest of warriors, pillaging cities, looting treasure stores, and destroying the land as they went. Vile, their leader, was personally responsible for the deaths of many heroes. Eventually he was caught and imprisoned in the very same dungeon.

However, that is another tale. We are much more concerned with Rasputaren.

Outside his cell, Rasputaren could hear the sound of fireworks, music, cheering, and other general kinds of merriment as the city of Vigil celebrated a victory well fought for. Sadly, Rasputaren was on the side of the opposition of Vigil. Hence why he was now in the cell.

Completely resigned to his fate, Rasputaren stared at the wet, gray stone wall across from him. What more was there for him to do? Every living thing that was brought to this place had been executed the next day. There was no doubt in his mind that his end was the same.

Just as he began to close his eyes to sleep, the space became bright with the light of a high-flying firework. As the wall he stared so intently at lit up, he saw that words had been scrawled on its surface. Not just a few words, he noted, but an entire poem. Slowly, he got up to inspect the literary work before him.

From atop the Hill of Vigil,

I promise the view is nice,

Despite the city burning,

And warriors cold as ice.

They'll soon be home, With broken bone,

Still tears will shed that day.

For a valiant fight,

Opposed to flight,

Is death a soldier's way.

Rasputaren was confused. There wasn't a hill in sight near the city of Vigil. Vigil was surrounded by a massive plain. But then, Grahdish Vog'tul was a 'hill' on the plain, was it not? The rest of the poem was about the loss of lives that people cared about, as well as a soldier's mentality of death on the field as opposed to deserting his fellow fighters.

As the night crept away, Rasputaren continued to read and re-read the words upon the wall. At last, he heard the wooden door to the hall creak open and the jailor approach his cell with heavy footsteps. Without a single word, his gate was opened and Rasputaren led out and up the winding steps to the top of the ever-chilly structure. The nearer they got to the roof, the louder the cry of the mob of Vigil citizens below got, until the jailor finally threw open the door to the outside.

Rasputaren stopped, blinded by the brilliance of the sun. It was short-lived as he was shoved outward from behind. Although, at the moment, he could not see, Rasputaren could hear a crier shouting out his list of 'crimes'.

Over time, Rasputaren began to tune him out as the poem upon his wall came back to his mind.

From upon the Hill of Vigil,

I promise the view is nice,

No father, son returning,

Despair is wept now twice.

They do not yield, With sword nor shield,

Sadly with blood they pay.

Clashing all night,

And for the 'light',

'Twas death a soldier's way.

That's what war is all about, isn't it? Fighting no matter what the cost, Rasputaren thought to himself.

The rest of the world moved in slow-motion as he was directed from behind with shoves to kneel on his cloth covered knees.

From beneath the Hill of Vigil,

I promise the view is nice,

'Cause all the lives I've taken,

I, too, have payed the price.

I killed with code, Was caught and stowed,

Will die without a say.

I fought with might,

I know it's right,

'Tis death a soldier's way.

Or maybe it's about something more...Standing up for what you believe in.

The crowd below roared with excitement as Rasputaren was sentenced to death publicly.

High above the Hill of Vigil,

I see the view is nice,

In life there's things worth risking,

But never with the dice.

Take and learn, And you'll discern,

Both sides with 'pure' blood bleed.

In face of plight,

You'll see my sight,

Through life a soldier's way.

Everyone has something to believe in...The men I killed, the blood that soaks my hands is innocent blood in their eyes, while mine is righteous to my people. Rasputaren understood it all now. The poem was about how all sides will risk it all. War will never end. But at least I can make these people see.

Eventually, the rest of the world caught up with him.

"Do you have any last words?" he was asked.

Rasputaren scanned the mass before him with tears in his eyes, realizing now the pain he caused. There were men and women present in the group who had not been shouting for his death. They, too, understood. But for those who didn't, Rasputaren opened his mouth and spoke aloud his own addition,

"Beside the Hill of Vigil,

You know the view is nice,

I'm sorry for homes I've shaken,

Being met with sacrifice.

You know they say, Both knelt to pray,

To not take lives away.

Now in twilight,

And without fright,

I die a soldier's way."

And with silence shared by the crowd and he, Rasputaren set his head upon the block.