War

A Crumbling Empire Story

It smelt of blood and storms, the battlefield. The thundering of horse hooves were deafening, and they could make an untrained man run mad. It was chaos. Whatever formation that had been adopted before the battle, dissolved into nothing but madness when the two great armies clashed.

Swords swung and found their marks: on flesh, digging past that to bone, or striking the metal armor that protected the most vulnerable places of the human body. Some swords didn’t find their marks, and instead, cut through the air. Their owners were punished for their failure, by death, fatal injuries, or lucky knock outs. Horses ran about the blood-mud mixed fields; some rider-less, some, their riders dead or dying. Others, their riders still sitting upright, waving morning stars and maces, battle axes and long swords, hungry for blood.

Some horses were dead, or dying. The dying were the ones to pity, neighing and screaming in pain, wanting the pain to end swiftly. Some got their wish, as other horses, alive, well and healthy, stomped their skulls to pulp, others did not get their wishes, but instead, were left to take the pain as they slowly died. . .

Men also screamed for the sweet mercy of death. They pleaded with those who rode past, for help, for mercy. Those who stopped to grant the mercy, were punished for their gifts, with an arrow through their skulls, or a battle axe splitting their heads.

Thunder boomed, and it began to drizzle. Lightning flashed, and the drizzle became cold, fat droplets of rain. Lightning flashed again, and the wind picked up, driving rain smack against those who rode against the it. Those who didn’t wear helms with visors down, were blinded, the rain pelting their naked faces. And as for those who did wear helms with visors, they were saved from this.

However, as the rain picked up, it began to narrow the visibility of both those who rode with, and against the wind. The rain took no sides. Soldiers swung their blades blindly, lucky if they struck home. The rain increased, and soon, people could no longer see any farther, than three feet after their faces, but they still fought blindly, because they couldn’t say; “Ey! No one can see squat here, and so this ain’t a fair fight! So why don’t we stop, reschedule this battle for another day?!”

No, they couldn’t, this was war, and neither side could afford to loose. And so they fought, killing and being killed. The rain washing off blood from the soldiers.

When it was finally over, when the rain died down, and visibility returned, it was seen that both sides had taken heavy death blows. It seemed that no side won, considering the supposed “victors” only had less than a hundred men remaining, after the thousand they had brought to the battle field.

Image Credit: https://www.pexels.com/photo/arid-clouds-cloudy-dark-531415/