Chapter Twenty
Mud and Blood
Ancient screams tore through the darkness. A person’s last wail before a sword ran them through. A surprised outcry as their opponent hacked into them. A low growl of giving their enemy the final blow to finally end them. A mournful howl of finding a loved one’s lifeless body or head.
They were all were screams of death, and she knew them well.
Steel clashing against steel joined the battle.
Her senses were further assaulted by the smell of burning flesh and the coppery tang of blood merging with the petrichor from the thick red mud surrounding her.
Unintentional fires lit the battlefield against the dark night to reveal their enemy.
She was tired. Her muscles ached, and her body was weary.
She didn’t want to be here.
She wanted it all to stop.
She didn’t want to kill anymore.
A wail of fight came from a helmless woman rushing towards her. The woman’s dented and dirty armour reflected in her own armour. The warrior held the determination of death in her eyes.
She tried to halt her sword arm, but her arms kept moving through the deadly movements that she knew so well. It was as easy as breathing for her.
She knew she had to. If she didn’t, she was as good as dead, but that didn’t mean she liked it. That knowledge kept the tears at bay as her arms relentlessly hacked, slashed, moved as if it wasn’t instinct for her to do so.
All she wanted to do was yell, shout, and scream at them to stop, to just stop.
She couldn’t.
She could only grit her teeth and deal the death blow.
She’d never wanted to be here, but it was too late. She was here fighting amongst her people and fighting against her people.
She fought anyone and everyone that came at her with their weapon raised. Those that did found themselves face down, adding their blood to the mud.
Opponent after opponent rushed her. Some had been on her side of the battlefield when this battle had started, but they’d either turned in the midst of the battle or they’d taken their chances to kill her.
She would have liked to believe that type of deceit hurt, but it would have been a lie. She was used to it.
Her only hope was herself. The only person she could rely on.
It was her fighting to protect herself, as it always was and as it always would be.
She had to endure this nightmare, make it off the battlefield, and only then could she stop.
All she had to do was to endure.