Call to Fight

Now I couldn't just hear the calls of battle. But I could feel them, smell them, see them. The feel of the ground vibrating as people ran, jumped, and fell. It had been like the ground was coming to life. It felt like it was moving. It felt like it was being torn apart, and about to split in half. It had felt like if it did break open it would have swallowed me whole. I could recall the smell of sweat, dirt, and blood. I could recall the smell the grass that was being torn under thousands of feet and hooves. And in some areas, I swore i could still smell bile as someone had sicked up. And I could see everything in slow motion scenes. The sight of men falling to their deaths. Men getting knocked off their horses and dragged. I could even vividly remember the sight of a man that had fallen and before he could stand up a horse running away ran over him. I had never seen a horse stomped on a man's face before that day. Then there were the images of bows sticking out of people, sword wounds so deep that the severed limps from bodies, or parted muscle from bone. And then there was the one image I would never forget. 

I could see the crazed look of anger in that man's eyes as he charged toward me. His chain mails was torn in areas, and he was bleeding through it. He was making a terrible inhumanely scream as he came at me with a great bloodied ax raised above his head. 

The way my body was turned I would not be able to block his attack effectively with me sword. I knew I would have to face m death, but I was still not going to try and make it an easy kill for him. I readied to curl out of the way, and get a stab in before he got me, but just as i was about to my attacker was blocked.

John jumped in front of me, taking the ax to the shoulder. He barely let out a groan as he took the hit, and he only stagger for a second before he spun and drove his great sword into my attacks expose chain mail, and into the soft underside of his belly. My attack was so stunned from John's block and attack that he let go of his ax, and fell backwards dead.

The John fell to his knees too, with the ax still embedded in his shoulder, and he had stabbed his sword into the ground and leaned against it with all his weight. It was the only thing holding him up. 

I got up out of my curled position, and keeled before my older brother. There was blood running out of the side of his mouth, and basing on the ragged sound his breathing was making I knew the ax had struck his lung. It would be only a matter of time before he too fell to the groan like the other fallen soldiers of this fight. 

I placed my hands on his shoulder, and tried to fight the moisture that was coming to my eyes. "John, why did you do that? It was suppose to be me that died not you!" I tried not to yell, but I was anger at everything. 

He gave me a weak smile, "I'm your older brother. I had to. I made a promise to mom to get you home alive." 

"But surely she wanted you alive too!" I wanted to shake him, but I could already feel his blood running down my hand and seeping into the cracks of my own armor. 

His blue eyes were glazing over, "She knew she wouldn't get us both back, but I promised her that she wouldn't lose her baby. Now get up and fight before she loses us both." And then he started a cough that shook his whole body, and then his head dropped, and he started to tip to the side.

I grabbed him, and gently rested him down. I placed my hands over his eyes to close them, and rested my head on his chest for a moment with my eyes closed. I said a pray, and then got up. The cries of battle had seemed to mute at that time, and everything was in slow motion, but I knew if I stayed I would surly die too. So I took John's great sword out of the ground, took his sheath off his back, and slid the heavy sword into place on my back.

"I'm sorry, brother." I said one more time, and then I ran off into the battle.

I couldn't place where exactly on the field my brother had fallen, but I kept walking hoping I would get close. In a daze I probably walked around for twenty minutes, and then I stopped close to where I could see the mountain peaks just to the right of my vision. This was as close to where I had last seen John. I squatted down to brush some of the flowers out of the way, and got down on my knee. I didn't care if my trousers got dirt, mud, or even remnants of blood on them. Far worse had happened to these men, and I could man up and take the stain.

I then took my own sword out of it's sheath at my hip's side, and held it in front of my face looking at it's long gleaming blade. This was my first sword. I had foraged this sword myself, with the help of John. It was the sword that John had helped me learn to spare, and fight with. It's name was Canthe. John and I had named it together. It meant quick wind, strength, cold. It had seemed appropriate at the time.

I held Canthe in front of me, and slowly slide my right palm down it's side. I felt the sharp sting and tug as it cut me, and made blood appear along it's rim. I got my wound and spread my blood along the shaft of the sword until there was a good amount painted on it. Then I took hold of the swords hilt, and drove it deep into the ground. Now my blood was on the battle field along with my brother's, and the sword would forever stay there with him, a reminder of him and what he was: a fighter, strong, a brother, loyal, and a believer.

Then I took clothe out of my cloak pocket, and wrapped it tightly around my wounded hand. It stung and I knew if I didn't give it stitches later that it would leave a scar. But part of me wanted a scar to remind me of what my brother did for me.

I stayed there kneeling on the ground for awhile, with my head bowed and eyes closed. 

I heard her voice before I saw her. Her voice was level and flat, "I knew I would find you out here." 

I turned around to see Greta standing behind me. She was wearing dark black trousers, and a red cloak that flared out on her hips and fell down past her knees. Her pale blonds hair was behind her shoulder and waving in the wind. She had a thin black ribbon tied around her head and pulled back to hold hair out of her face. She had high ankled black boots tied up around her feet. And the base of the boots were caked in mud. She stood straight and stiffed backed like a statue. And she wore a tired expression on her face. I knew my fiancé was worried, but she just simple couldn't understand what I had been through...what I had seen.

She stepped closer as if she had just read my mind, "I know what you went through wasn't easy. I know losing John wasn't easy. But everyone went through it. Everyone has lost someone." She carefully lifted a hand and put it on my shoulder. It sat there so lightly it almost didn't feel like it was there at all. But her deep blue eyes were heavy. I felt them watching me, studying me with a deep intensity. It was as if they were made out of lead.

I slowly began to stand up, and turned around to face her. I took hold of her hands, and they were cold in mine. I tried to hold her eyes, but it was too hard so I looked away unable to look at her. "You don't understand. I didn't just lose John. I lost everything. I lost the battle. I lost all these good men. I lost my honor. And I am going to lose it all." I let go of her hands and gestured around the open field. "It will just be a matter of time before they attack again, and take what they came for last night. But now we have no defense. They know that. Once they are healed, they will come back and win." I made a fist at my side.

"Stop that!" Greta's voice was loud and stern, and when I looked at her there was fury on her face. She stepped up to me and hit me on the chest with a firm flat hand. "YOU didn't lose all of that. WE all did! It wasn't just you. So stop acting like you were the only one affected." She stepped closer and hit me again. That hit was harder than the last, but it still didn't hurt. "I know you were leading the battle. I know you were the one with the plan. But we all signed up for it. We all fought hard. And we are not giving up. So stop disrespecting all these lost lives by acting like it is over. Stop making their sacrifice worth nothing!" Then she hit me one more time on the chest, that time it was more of a push and I actually had to step back to not trip. "We all still want to fight, and we will come back from this. We have come back from worse before. And if you don't think that is possible then maybe you should step down. Because I still want to fight. And I will still with or without you." Then she stopped talking and just watched with an intense look. it was the kind of look that could move mountains.

I just looked at her for a moment, and admired her. It was this kind of determination and passion that made me fall in love with her. She was the kind of women that would not back down from conflict or a fight. She was the kind of women that would start a fight if necessary. Taking on the motherly, sweet, caring, role of a women was not for my Gretta. She was the women that barked at you to stop wallowing in your own self pity, and got you up and moving. She was a women of action. She did not know the meaning of coddling a man. And I loved her for that.

Carefully I looked down at her, which wasn't by much because she was almost as tall as me. "I know. I know you are right, like you are on most things." I hope the added part would ease her, but her face was still stern. "It's just hard to believe these things when stuff like this happens. I still feel as if I let everyone down. We tried plan A and failed. This was plan B, and we still failed. I don't have a plan C right now, and it feels too hard to plan one. And losing John didn't help...he always helped me make my plans." I made a fist realizing I was making excuses, and I could see Gretta was about to call me out on that. So I took a slow deep breath before adding. "So I just need time. I know I don't have a lot of it, because odds are they will come back in just a span of days. But I need at least today to think. To recover." Then I placed a hand on her shoulder, "And then I will be ready to fight. Ready to win."

She lifted he chin slightly with a serious look, "Good. That is what we need." Then her expression softened ever so slightly, and she took a step toward me. "And remember you are not in this alone. We still have some good men, and women that can help: Russel, Nekirk, Gretchen." She placed her small hand on my cheek for a moment, and she made a caring smile. "And most importantly you have me." 

I took her hand from my cheek and kissed the back of her hand. I kept my head bowed and looked up at her carefully. I whispered onto the back of her hand, "You are my great hawk that guides me in battle." It had to do something with a nickname she had been given years ago. She never missed a thing. No one could hid anything from her. And she was always a leader never a follower. She was like a hawk. 

Now she had a pleased smile. And she stepped closer, and with a hidden laugh in her voice she said, "Alright, lets get you back home. You are filthy." 

When she walked me back home there were a series of candles laid out and lit all in front of my house. In the darkening sky the flames danced and cast shadows all around. It gave a ghostly effect. They were put out by neighbors, friends, and family. It was something we did when someone passed. It was supposed to add a lit path for the deceased to find their way to heaven. Several on the small houses had candles lit in front of them tonight. It was a wonder that my town couldn't feel the warmth from them, or that a fire didn't start and burn the whole place down. But it was said that magic was put into these candles, so that fires would not happen. Because what would make a loss of a loved one worse, would be to end up having you home burned down too. I didn't believe in magic, wizards, and warlocks.

But then I found a message written a left by one of the candles, the words on it were simple, but they nearly knocked the wind out of me. I recognized that hand writing:

"In order for us to win. Meet me in the woods tomorrow. Magic is real and it's the only way to win. John"

My brother was alive, and he was bringing new light to something I never thought was real. Magic.