Freedom Battle, a Fantasy fanfic

Freedom Battle

A careful embrace, her kisses on my skin

Betrays her fears, betraying what she may know

She bids me off, clinging to me

But I’m calm, prepared to accept my outcome

“We knew this would come,” I say.

She just nods, her eyes stinging with tears

Her hand rests on her stomach; she can’t meet my eyes

That one hand trying to sooth the unborn life moving within,

Her eyes watching the floor swimming before her.

On the field, grassy and wide

A ram’s horn is lifted, blown

Solemnly like a breath being drawn from tired lungs a clear deep note rings across the plain,

Filled with no sorrow but with strength and power.

In answer, there comes the calls of the angels horns, made of gold.

The note that floats over to us is plain and crisp

Several notes clash in harmony,

Filling their men with hope, defiance, and courage,

For a few stilled moments, as the notes slowly drag on, drown themselves into the atmosphere, I know they’d heard it—the cries of war.

They stand orderly like we stand, weapons held, and feet apart ready to charge

Beneath their sinful, simple flesh, their hearts beat strong but quiver with fear.

I hear the trepidation, feel it on their skin

Like a brand on their armor—shining in blood, on burning, clammy bodies.

A barking order, my heart is in my throat

Black things in the shape of wolves spring forward from the air,

Moving forward—skillfully evading the arrows, like ashes in the wind,

Fading in and out—in, out, in

Disappear.

Following both on ground and in the air, Cobrawings spread wide, their massive glass wings and lithe black bodies of cobras—signs of the devil,

Weaving into the field like dancers—spitting poison

“Fall back, fall back!” they call, screaming shouting

I smirk.

Angels take over

They stand, swords blazing with holy fire,

Sculpted faces held in anger, wings spread out like a wall of white

Pristine pale feathers, shielding all behind.

Black spirits rise up; their gurgling cries only more noise in the throng of wing beats, screams, hisses and swords.

They come slowly upon the soldiers like black mist,

Their bodies moving like near-drowned men dragging themselves to shore.

One touch—Darkness

Men—into black, mindless flesh.

We drive the forces of Light back bit by bit,

They yell for the archer’s arrows, for courage, for their men to keep fighting

I just laugh.

Clash again and again

Glorious roar of steel and flesh, screams and prayers all drowned

By the music and cadence of war

I spring into the battle, lost in the savagery of it all, in the darkness of war,

Forgetting myself, what I was, whom I was—blindly slashing, dodging, cutting down

I think I saw a familiar face, heard a familiar voice, but all is lost in the mass of this passion, this indifference, this flow of blood and tears.

I was a whirlwind—

Spellbound between true lies, crying with silent laughter

They fight with weak determination, failing nerve,

Against the almighty Darkness

They give into temptation, into human lusts and longings.

This is no challenge, I need something stronger, and something I could work at to kill Something animalistic, less then these humans—something steadfast, strange, heartless

I want to hear my sword pierce

Through something other then what it is known to pierce

Hearts are too common, too weak to withstand the Darkness—too often silenced before their time.

The shriek of arrows and the screams deafen me—

More men fall, arrows sticking out like pins,

Drawing more then a pinprick of blood

Breathing hard with the exhilaration of war, smelling the blood fresh in the air and the smell of Darkness, the blood roars in my veins.

Suddenly, the forces of Light are fighting back—

Stronger, fiercer

“Keep your positions!” I yell, trying to be heard over the din of battle

We are being driven back still, further and further from where the enemy stood.

In the thick of it all, my whole body fills with the shock, the adrenaline, of battle

I can feel myself fitting with its throb and growl like some beast on the hunt

I’m bloodthirsty, hungry for the flesh of men,

For their screams to drive me on,

For the dying breath to be a gasp of terror

But all that seems to dissipate as we fight on,

Purely on instinct, fighting for control

For a few moments, it seems as if I’m trapped in battle,

The next I’m on the edge of it, wondering how I’d gotten here.

The Devil stands over me, my master draped in vicious black, sadistic red

A snake coiled at his heels, scarlet eyes glinting

“They are overpowering us,” I say, imploring him for mercy

He stares down, his eyes callous, one eyebrow raised as if I’m telling lies

“Find the prince and kill him.” He says, his voice thick and with a twisted smile.

His order rings in my head

Like a great iron bell in my ear

It’s a mantra singing itself hoarse

Kill him, kill him…

And I will do as required

Though something in the back of my mind

Is telling me not to stoop so low—

I ignore it and Darkness consumes me

Killing mercilessly, with a wildness that only demons possess

My body moves in rhythm to their attacks, like a dance

Veer off, strike right, left, parry—kill

It all becomes a pattern of body and mind

But never the soul.

I have a brief vision of the prince, never a king,

Always a boy, never a man

Proud and humble upon a white mount,

The gold crown upon his head, sword held high

That changes—the prince hangs limply on the saddle, blood pours from his robes,

Pale hands grab at him, the cries of women and men, shouting, shouting to the gods, to their future king, praying

No, no, hold on, hold on—

Fingers clawing, reaching for the boy’s failing life,

Black silk whips in the air, they pull him off his mount.

His eyes are glazed, irises of sapphire foggy with pain

His mouth is twisted in a grimace, face gone white as alabaster

The crown made of gold falls to the dust, crumbles and in its place, a crown of brambles

And roses, delicately curving petals painted crudely in blood

Is it just one of those visions of a drunken mind or is it the truth, bared, fangs dripping with bitter sarcasm?

I seek out the boy, my eyes trailing over the carnage of war

I know he’s still alive, I can smell him in the putrid air

I feel his heart still pounding, his blood on my tongue

All of this soon becomes him,

I feel his bones crunching, his flesh ripped from his bones

Growing weeds and flowers

And whatever else will feed on human corpses

Then I see him—brave little prince

Shielded in the armor, in the semblance of a solider

Eighteen years on him and already struggling for his life—beautiful!

His mount is gone; he’s on foot, perfect opportunity

The sweat beading his brow, his breath is uneven

I’m sure his heart is seizing in his chest, a pounding red organ

Wrapped like a gift in veins, arteries, trapped in a cage of bone

He’s protecting his people, keeping their lives

While trying to watch his own back it's tense in anxiety

I can already feel the blood spill, warm and claret on my hands

The silver of the blade shining in the sunlight as the light in his eyes fade

Fading…fading…fading.

Gone.

But this isn’t true yet

As I stalk him, killing, yelling, the man I was lost

Replaced by Darkness

I come

But he’s ready

And before I can kill him, he attacks

I can barely jump back before the sword grazes my side

My anger grows and I lunge

He parries, I lunge again, again,

Attacking with all the vehemence

Of a slow poison

Splitting cries from raw lungs,

Blood from skin,

Skin from bone—he collapses

His helmet’s gone, blood staining his armor

The fight in him is finished; he bows his head in surrender

He’s giving up

I chuckle and bring my blade down

Kissing his throat with the cold kiss of a lover—

The kiss of a sword

His last.

I can feel his breath against the blade, think of how it’s to be snuffed

Out, out—like a candle

An instant end to a failed battle

I almost smile; press the blade a little harder

Not enough to kill, not enough to pierce

But just enough to draw out

A single pearl of blood

That red pearl trickles down his throat, mixes with the cold sweat

Marking him in some way, making a trail for the blade to follow

Down to his heart

I raise the blade—

Someone calls out—

I look up and glimpse white wings, a chiseled face

Blue eyes, white hair with silver at the roots

Zephyr—the angel trapped on earth, sent to guide

Once an ally; now my enemy.

I pull the prince’s face close

Look into his eyes, frightened, hesitant eyes

Like those of a child trapped in the body of a man

I pull back the blade, poise to destroy—

I stumble back

There, in the reflection of his eyes,

Is the queen:

Her pale hair flowing around her face, so clear and sharp

As it is still in my memory

Her eyes seem bluer in the lucidity of her skin, her lashes seem silver

Like tiny icicles had frozen there

She smiled—

Then was gone.

My master strode up

Cold, cruel

A blade in his hand

“If no one’s to kill him, I will.”

The words sound harsh in my ear

A silver flash, a mother’s scream—another angel falls

Another son lies to die.

I lunge

“No one touches him!” I cry

Demon fighting demon, sword against fist,

Magic and minds twining, twisting together, clawing for strength—dominance

Control, madness, sanity, chaos—all into one, one into all

A funeral pyre—a fitting place to die

Immediately faces surround me,

The beautiful faces of the angels,

Their pale searching eyes knowing sin

Their wings, hands, bring me down

Again, again, I cannot fight; their strength is too much

Too great.

I can hear the prince shout,

See him push and shove,

But they, the angels, push him back

Protect him, yes, protect him

Prince of my home, my motherland

The descendant of a lord and the queen—

My lover’s son, my son

Long lost heir.

A gushing river of holy fire

Roaring and snarling, crashing like liquid around me, on me—white, all I can see

I cry out, scream

The fire is scorching me, burning my blood

I breath in, breath out

Feeling weightless, tired

My body shudders in a way I cannot control—

A seizure of muscle, of heart, a seizure I see in sickened animals

Just before death.

My chest heaves with each breath

Listening for any movement, but the rage of battle

Is gone, the clash and cries dying on the wind

A final shudder and a scream—

Not a mortal scream, only a demon’s

I lay still.

The flames fade so I can see though them

Like living shards of glass

Muscles twitch, my mouth turns up in a kind smile

My son looks surprised, frightened

But I know he’s strong

Words—squeezing between failing vocal cords

“Be strong son…” Those simple words can’t define the grief I feel

And the truth they reveal

This boy was my child, the child I’d dreamt of finding ever since his mother died

And now that I had found him, I was to lose him

Strange that those eyes—his mother’s eyes—held so much fury and fear only a few moments before

Now hold nothing.

Locking my gaze with his, I watch as he fades slowly out of focus…

I heard my wife’s voice singing,

Singing a lullaby

Her skin is flushed, rosy with a mother’s glow

Our child lay in her arms, peacefully asleep,

A picture of pure innocence, untouched by the world

How could I have turned against my vows, to the Devil?

Had I really created this beautifully innocent little thing?

Had I already caused this child to pay the price?

So many questions unanswered

So many answers neglected

From the sky, on the wings of a mockingbird

I’ve fallen, wings broken, neck twisted

To land in a puddle, in the darkness of my dreams

Weak, soiled, and forgotten.

How could I not see?

From my very first breath of this stale, polluted air

That my life was breaking apart

That the paradise of long ago

Was burning in an inferno of hate, no longer mine to claim

No longer free.

The child’s eyes open

Golden as the sun

Let us mourn our dead, dry every tear

Let us toast to new life, new beginnings

Bless a new reign—

One I will miss.

Sickened by a world of others’ creation

I run to the world to which was never my own

Trying so desperately to fit in, to find myself within

I find that world; find myself, that man I was

Body still, face set in repose

As I slip away, slowly, slowly

Eyes fixed on the blood red sun—

All is finished; all is done.