All or Nothing

So it is, hours before dusk, hours before the most prominent battle any soldier gathered here tonight will ever see, I sit here trying to find inspirational words for what, without a doubt will be our last night alive. How does one inspire or encourage when you know it’s a march to death. The best order would be to run, retreat, get out any way you can. It would be wise for me and everyone, but wisdom and each of us is trapped inside this castle that will become our coffin. We are surrounded; there will not be a retreat. No one will survive.

Our enemy, the undead hordes of the clerics of the moon, will arise when darkness comes. Their army has been added to each night as the armies, my armies, my people, that they’ve slayed rise up and fight for them. How can we defeat such power?

“Everyone, it is great we have tonight to gather again before we face our enemy once more.” Once more? Why did I choose those words? I want to inspire even though there is no hope, “I encourage all of you not to feel disheartened or disgraced when our enemy rises up from death.” Even though it will be our last living night. Last night they slayed too many of our numbers, and many of those bodies still lie where they fell inside our own walls. We don’t have enough people or enough hours to toss them all over the walls as we’ve done previous days. “We will fight tonight. We will fight with heart, we will fight with faith, and we will fight with all the will to win.” None of which will be enough.

“We stand with you lord,” Roberts calls out, my most trusted Lieutenant his mug thrust upwards. “You have led us this far and we follow you to victory. No enemy, no evil, can be a victor when we have the gods on our side. They will save us. We shall be the true victors.”

When he finishes the group yells out a mighty “hoorah,” and mugs crash into each other before taking a drink.

Maybe he should give this speech, he seems to have more confidence than I. Why would the gods let us repeatedly suffer just to grant a victory in the end. It’s too late, too far gone, and unfortunately tomorrow night we will all be part of the horde moving forward to the next stronghold. “Yes, certainly the gods will watch us tonight, they will honor us with helping us outlast or enemy.” Outlast, how? It has proven impossible night after night.

“I have foreseen it,” my most faithful priest Chancellor cries out, “the gods will honor us tonight. They will fill out hearts, they will make our blades true, and they will bless us from the first darkness until dawn and dawn will prove us victorious. We will find their weakness tonight. We will rise above and prevail!”

“Hoorah,” and mugs clash once again. At least they will have tonight. This last hour to feel part of something, this last time with all their brothers and sisters who have bleed with them.

“My lord, I wish to commend you!” my queen, my wife, my dearest speaks up. “You have led us true, you have bled with us, you haven’t asked any soldier to do what you aren’t willing to do.” Even she has fought on the field the last few nights. All the women and children that can lift a sword, a knife, a club, have fought.

“Mary, my precious wife, you have fought at my side and to me, that is sacred. Everyone who has never raised a sword before that did so these last few nights hoping to make a difference, you have,” though now the worst things has happened, those women we love, those children we raised, and the elderly we held dear who stood to fight have now been standing against us these last few nights. Losing your loved one is a terrible outcome in any battle, what could be worse? I always wondered, now I know the answer. There is nothing worse than to see the dead face, the dead body, the dead eyes or your child, your wife, your brother rise us to kill you, and you are left with no choice but to slay or be slayed. I killed my own brother yesterday. Yes, he was already dead, but I hadn’t even finished mourning him; I hadn’t even started. What is this horrible curse? “All of you have made a difference. It is with united arms and united swords that we shall see the light of day tomorrow.”

Harrod, my last surviving general says from a seated position, “By the light of day we shall see victory.” We nearly lost him two days earlier, he lost the ability to walk, but not the ability to lead. “My lord, I will be there at your side, I may not be able to fight as I once did, and it may be my last fight, but I will ensure that your men are led to victory. I will do all I can my lord.” There is hope and encouragement in his words, but I see through him. We’ve known each other and fought side by side too many times to not see the writing on the walls.

“Dearest Harrod, you need not worry, you and I both know the coming night will prove victorious,” for the enemy. “With your strategies guiding us and my steel on the front line, victory shall be had.” Harrod watches me, he also sees the lack of truth to my words, and he hears the honesty woven into them. He nods to me and raises his glass, his actions followed by everyone gathered.

“King Gerard will guide us to the end!” Harrod cries out.

“King Gerard will guide us!” the group chants and drinks again.

“I couldn’t ask for a better group here tonight. I couldn’t hope for a stronger army at my side. Now go forth and share our hope with your men,” the few we have left, “and we will prepare ourselves in a few short hours to confront these undead devils one more time on the walls of our home!”

Another cheer erupts, mugs are emptied and most everyone filters out to disseminate our words and hope; false words. What else can I give but hope in a hopeless situation.

I set myself back down onto my throne next to Mary on hers. Harrod approaches, “A word my lord.”

“Of course, dear friend.”

“Alone,” he says, referring to Mary.

“Dear Harrod, tonight, there is nothing to hide from Mary. What do you have to say?”

“Mary, I apologize for what might be said,” she nods back to him, a look of concern over her face, “My lord, my dear friend, I see your thoughts, I see your doubt, share them with me.”

“Harrod, we will fight tonight. We will fight to the end. Honestly, I would order a retreat to save all that still live but alas the living enemy still has us surrounded. And when they once again raise those that fell each night prior, as they have done each night before, we will be left no other choice but to fight toward that end.”

“My lord, our end or theirs?”

“I fear our death will come tonight,” Mary gasps at my words, “Sorry dear wife. It is with a heavy sadness in my heart that I see our end tonight.”

“Then you should tell everyone that!” she calls out.

“Keep your voice down dear queen. We lead with hope and guide with honor but live in a place of honesty. The masses need not hear the truth, this truth in no way would help. To speak of hopelessness and despair would crush souls before their own demise. Let us lead them into battle and let all die with honor. There is no other end.”

“My lord,” Roberts says from the doorway. “all my legion were killed on the field last night. I have no men to speak with.”

“Roberts you shall fight at my side, I could use a strong arm as yours to my right. We will see victory together.”

“Sir, I am sorry to have overheard your discussion as I entered the room just now,” he says approaching the dais. “Is all hope lost?”

“It seems so,” I admit with a glance toward my wife. “How can we overcome. Their numbers only grow each night through our losses.”

“I was talking with the priest Chancellor. He does have an idea my lord. It may provide hope,” Roberts says.

“A priest with plans of war? What new territory are we trotting into,” Harrod says always skeptical when the talk of gods enters into battle..

“Bring him in. I will hear his words. No idea can put us in more danger for sure,” I honestly say.

“Sir, yes sir, he’s waiting outside.” With that Roberts turns out to gather Chancellor.

“Is there hope my king?” Can there be hope?” Mary says.

Shaking my head in doubt I respond, “We will hear him out. Hope can spring from the darkest of places and there is none darker than now.”

“Certainly not,” Harrod says.

“Lord, Priest Chancellor is here to speak with you.”

“Chancellor, approach and tell me what's on your mind.”

He is a quiet man; he saves his words but those he shares are powerful and from his heart. He has always proven to be an honest man. “My lord, I couldn’t help but see the doubt and discouragement behind your words tonight.”

“Chancellor, I appreciate your honesty, and to you as I have with these three here I will share my torture. Tonight will be our last. We cannot expect to defend from the ever-increasing horde with our diminishing numbers.”

“Maybe not. However, I have watched from the walls. I have seen the truth behind the enemy lines,” he says. In the back of my thoughts lurks the doubt I place in a priest for war time decisions. “They are an evil horde indeed. The dead though are merely being asked and forced to rise and fight. The type of power that requires is immense and to do it night after night should be exhausting. Yet each night they duplicate it and double it, bringing even more up from death.”

“How do we stop an endless power as you mention?” Harrod asks.

“We find the source. This power comes from behind the central forces. There is one main cleric that leads them. The other clerics only assist. They are vessels to echo and increase the power of their leader out onto the fields of battle. If we can hunt down that one Cleric, that head cleric, we can drop their armies, or at least the undead ones to the ground.”

“I hear your thoughts, but we have so few and so little time left. Do you know where to find this man?”

“It is no man sir. It is a demon in the guise of a woman. I sensed her but couldn’t find her. Last night I prayed over it, I prayed with all my heart and soul. It wasn’t until dawn when the answer came. As the undead dropped to the ground she emerged. She was straight out from the gates, at the crest of the hill beyond. I then sent out my mind, swiftly travelled toward her, she resides there. They have brought a mobile temple with them and inside that place she does her work, her evil magic. My priests and I have kept eyes on her since. She is there now.”

“Unfortunately, the living beings out there have us outnumbered these last few days. Even they could crush us,” Roberts says.

“Yes, a hammer has a broad strike against a log, but an axe splits it with ease. We don’t engage the entire army, we ride as a spike through the enemy, ride with an urgency directly to this temple,” Harrod says.

“Yes, and we will need to leave before darkness, before they raise their armies. If this is to be our plan haste must drive us, we have only a couple hours before dusk. Do we even have time to make this happen?” I ask those gathered.

“We have no choice,” Mary correctly adds.

“We have no choice,” I echo.

The next hour is spent franticly awakening, arming, and giving out orders to all the men that remain standing.

Soon we are all gathered, most mounted, the horses have been spared from battle until now, the castle siege has left them stabled. At the head of the small army, I pace my black steed back and forth. “Men, we have one night left here. We will not survive the night if we battle as we have. Tonight we ride before they raise their undead masses, we ride to save all we love and all we know. We have one target, straight out from the gate, just over the rise where stands a temple. Our goal is held inside. We will not be distracted by anything in our path. We ride with haste!”

These men are hardened, most of them, and though tired, they are battle ready. I ask a lot from them tonight, “Death was undoubtedly lurking for us all, hope is now all lying in this single plan. We have but one goal, get to that temple and destroy the woman demon who raises the dead. She is the power, the source, the evil behind these horrid nights we have survived. Our continued existence is determined by this one mission. After we arrive at the temple, surround it, defend it from anyone outside so we, a small force, can get inside and slay the demon. If at any time you see that Cleric woman, the demon, pause not, attack. She is no woman, she must be destroyed.”

In my momentary pause Harrod jumps in, “Men, fight for your king, for the people we protect, and mostly fight to see tomorrow. I have trained many if not all of you, you are good men, ride like a spear, thrust through anything in our way to our target. To King and Kingdom!”

“Hoorah!” they cheer in unison, weapons thrusting upwards. “Hoorah!” they cheer even louder.

“Time is of the essence, we ride now!” I yell out and with that I lower my sword while looking to the gate master. Without pause he opens the gates, something he has been intent to keep intact and keep closed as per my orders. And now, on this last night, this final battle, this one-time push, he opens them only a crack as instructed. Those same orders also have him closing the gate behind us and sealing us outside. It’s a one-way mission. “All or nothing men, Ride with me!”

In a long line of armed and mounted men we gallop through the thin opening. At the lead, at the tip, I ride side by side with Roberts. We drive toward our target, drive to our fate with a small army faithfully behind. What we will find is our fate our destiny.

All or nothing.