Death before Dawn

Blood, Sweat, and Tears. No one ever warned me of how strong those three things loomed even before a battle. I was always taught those were what ruled during the battle, not the night before.

Across the valley sat an army almost twice the size of mine. They were defending their land, and protecting their corrupted kingdom. 70,000 men versus my 10,000. They were nearly guaranteed this win. Yet, my men had something not a single one of those across the way did. Determination.

My men knew they were fighting for freedom. A freedom they were willing to lay down their lives for so that their children may live in a free land.

That’s where most of the tears came from, the children. Behind the encampment were many of the soldier’s families.

Sure, most of the kids hardly knew what was about to happen, but somehow every baby did. The youngest child could feel death lingering in the air even now. Perhaps that’s where the faint smell of blood came from, lady death came to bless us with her presence early.

Taking my leave from the outlook, I retreated into my own tent. A letter with my dear lover’s handwriting still sat on the bed. She herself knew I very well may not come back, but promised she would never let freedom die in her heart.

My hands already were sticky with sweat as I tenderly picked up the letter. I could hear her soft voice like a flowing melody in my mind, her perfect handwriting making a song of its own. It grieved me to know I may very well never see her again, yet should I die for freedom it would be worth it.

Despite the salty smell that lingered around me, I laid my head down, getting a small amount of sleep before freedom would be decided.

— 🗡 —

All through my camp, there was only one thing that echoed deep within the men’s mind. Fear, that was what fueled each thought in every mind. Including my own.

I had led hundreds of battles, thousands had fallen under my command, but I’d conquered hundreds for our great country. Across the valley sat men under a leader with no experience.

They demanded freedom, a freedom that if they only looked close enough they already had. Our just leaders give freedom of speech, so long it doesn’t raise treason or aggression. Their meetings, their talks of how the country should be ruled had brought forth violence. The actions led to uprising, and innocent people getting killed. Like my own daughter.

She had nothing to do with them, yet their protests escalated out of hand, swords were drawn, arrows fired. When the dust settled, her blood flowed among the guilty.

As I polished my sword, I thought only of the innocent lives I was saving. If these traitors went about their opinions in a calm, humane manner, she would be alive.

The sound of steel upon steel was a comfort, silencing the fear within my own mind. I was out for revenge. What had been done at the hands of these rebels was evil, and I intended to make it right. But I have seen what revenge does to good men.

Many of my men feared for their own lives, if not the lives of their loved ones. But I feared for the destruction I may cause on both my country and my life.

Revenge has driven many men mad, and I was determined to not let it do the same to me.

Standing and admiring my sword, I could smell the flickering sweetness of death. Many agreed death would smell like blood. Salty, bitter, and undoubtedly unwanted. But anyone who knew lady death knew she smelled of a sweetness only death carries.

She offers freedom and reward to all she takes. We are not told to pray to her, but we acknowledge her deity. I have always been one to respect her work.

She may have been early to the battle, but I could foresee the death that would happen upon this land. I could only pray that she would take me before I became a monster I swore to never become.

— 🗡 —

I usually don’t visit battles before they happen. Yet, I can still remember that night like it was yesterday.

I am death, or a girl with the maturity of a eighteen year old with all the snark of one. But, nevertheless, I am death.

The night before a battle is almost always calm. It’s as if the earth knows blood will be spilled upon it. Sometimes I think nature grieves for the lives not even taken.

Whatever the case, I can remember the two generals from that night. One thinking freedom was worth dying for. The other thinking revenge was a cause of death. Turns out, even their last thoughts were of the very things they thought of in that night.

The rebel, he was funny. Scared to death inside, but summoning up every ounce of courage within him. He held to his truth that freedom was worth everything. Even in death, he prayed that his men would fight, that the freedom he died for would not go in vain.

The other guy is something I don’t see often. A monster on the battlefield, made only by bloodthirsty revenge. Yet, he got what he wished for the night before. That should he become a monster, that I would take him.

His own last thoughts were filled with grief, the realization he’d become a monster, a man even his own men feared.

As I paused in the battle before it happened, I could hear the cries of children who were the only ones brave enough to admit fear of me. The soldiers on both sides distracted themselves from me. Others prayed that I would stay away from them the next day. Yet, I have no control over when I take anyone.

Ironic, that both men so different from each other, yet both prayed for what would happen the next day. It comes to show that every battle is truly the same thing being repeated. The same people fighting for different reasons.