-Captain Hourig Eideann-

There will be no hiding, no; not as long as the wind knows my name. There will be no running, no; not as long as the earth and sky embrace me as their own. Tonight I shall die, I know that now, truth be told I had no doubt from the beginning, but it’s difficult to forsake life until you reach the line.

And many have crossed that line today, yet I am just now standing in front of it. Shame is not something you feel when you're about to die, no. Some would say it would be fear, and I could argue that point, but I am not too inclined to at this time. What I feel now is euphoria, I feel free, unchained, real.

The control we all strive to is elusive is it not? Just when we're about to reach a steady point it changes its pace and leaves us behind, chasing after it. Yet now, when all sort of control is taken, no; stripped from me, do I feel lighter than I ever felt before, as if I could soar if I would just wish it, I feel truly alive. And don't get me wrong now, I knew I was, and still am very much alive, but it just feels so different now, so much... more.

Closing my eyes I face the skies and inhale through my nose, the air is filled with an assortment of smells, first and most noticeable is the rain, the slight fragrance of ash in every drop that hits my face, then comes the smell of earth, the mud and dirt, following that enters the smell of feces and vomit, with a slight tang of metal.

I exhale, didn't realize how long I held that breath, yes tonight I shall perish. My fathers` sword is long lost and buried in the mud of this graveyard. What I have left is a battered shield I picked up along the way up here, my armor discarded long ago to save what little stamina I had left.

I stand here in the rain, puddles of diluted blood all around me, decorated by what were once people, my people. Beneath my feet lies the last of my men, gasping for air with an arrowhead sticking from his back, this poor soul is the last of what makes me who I am, and soon to be who I was; a commander, a leader of men, a symbol. All of that matters little if you have no men to lead, to inspire, to die with. Tonight I shall die alone, and I will lie alone, unlike my men, who had me by their side, yes... tonight I shall die alone.

I take a knee and put my hand on a blood stained cheek of a hero, his eyes are unfocused but I still see some life in them, the misty marbles meet my gaze and I see a spark of resolution in them, his hand reaching for mine. We had a code of sorts once, seems like a life time ago, if a man or woman from the unit were to perish the others, the living would take their signet and place it on the family's porch, no words were needed. By now it’s no longer relevant, as I am the last, and it doesn't seem like I have much more in me.

I refocus on what's in front of me, on -who's- in front of me, and squeeze his hand. "You've been through enough my friend... I will join you shortly" with the words spoken I unsheathe his belt dagger and plunge it into his heart. His lips move as a silent last breath escapes them, now I am truly alone. The rain that seemingly stopped when our eyes met has resumed its fall, hopelessly trying to wash away the sins of men from its dear mother.

I stand, taking the dagger with me in my ascent, around me echo the screams and cries of the fallen, it feels as though the world will never again know silence.

The enemies are closing in on me yet again; I have lost count of the number of warm bodies that have slipped from my blade, not to stay warm for long. Soon more shall fall, my flame will not be extinguished in the rain, I strengthen my resolve and prepare to bathe it in the blood oil of my enemies before it’s whispered away from me.

They approach slowly, they feel the danger that I embody, no greater respect is given to a warrior. One more breath leaves my lungs, not alone though, it accompanies my voice, furiously following in its wake, my last battle cry; "LET US JOIN OUR BRETHREN IN GLORY!"

My heart pounds at my chest, my veins bulge, my eyes sting as sweat slowly rolls down from my forehead. Memories long forgotten stream into my mind, reminding me how I became who I am now. The long walks, the cold nights, the bitter laughter, light whispers of love, heavy curses of remorse and hate. My life was not perfect, no life is, the weeds of happiness grow in between the anguish and the sorrow, do they not?

I blink away the past and return to the present, my shield the unbreakable mountain and my dagger an unrelenting vortex of death. This hill is mine, and every inch of ground that is taken from me I return with death, an equal exchange.

The wind howls its displeasure as metal meets metal and steel meets flesh, disturbing what would be a quiet night below the moon, the giant ever watching eye of the sky. Legends whisper of the lingering gaze of the eye on fields of great battle, where the fallen rise to fight once more, forever forbidden from release. My thoughts race to a time long forgotten and the desire to live once again sprouts roots within my mind. For a moment, a mere moment I am a man again, not a wolf amongst sheep, the flow of battle still guides my body yet I feel my sword struggle against my commands, I feel my shield crack in protest of my design.

My flesh is pierced and my skin torn, being a man is being weak, one needs to ascend to a higher being in order to thrive; a man is fragile, a man is soft, a man can die. To be a force of nature in the flesh is to be a wolf amongst sheep, a god amongst men.

My feet find balance in the mud, my shield swatting away a spearhead and my dagger finds cheap purchase in the offenders’ neck. Mud parts way with my every step, raindrops fail to meet the ground as my blade leads them in its wake. More blood is spilled with every breath, and more shall follow, my departure will be with a grand following. No man of battle is to step across the line alone.

Men of battle… an honor to be amongst bearers of such a name, all nations have them but none are the same, some bred to lead, others born to fight, a man’s worth will always be equal to how many lives he took. I was raised to lead, so I was taught diplomacy and strategy instead of war, logistics matter as much as the battle itself I was told. No war is won on an empty stomach and no man is a soldier without guidance.

I have always thought that I was special, that both ways are mine to take and forge, ever the fool, only now do I understand that I was born to fight, my “leadership” worth piss and shit in comparison, well now I was set free, now I become what I was born to be… death to my enemies.

I stand, letting the rain touch my face, it’s warm. I struggle to remain on my feet, exhaustion set its sails towards my weary mind, yet I live. The battle is broken but not yet over. The enemy still strong in its advance, the first wave was stopped, yet the second remains, so does the third and fourth if the rear guard have failed to regroup.

What will I be worth at the end of this I wonder, will I be hailed as a hero or scorned as incompetent. Will my father be proud or will he hate me for failing to return. I sigh, it matters little, my gaze wanders to the hastily advancing wave of steel and flesh. Soon more shall join their brethren in death, more shall decorate this land, and more shall accompany me in the crossing.

The wave threatens to wash me away yet I am firm, the wave tries to drown me in steel yet I am strong. My body is slowly chipped as they come at me four at a time, I know I cannot win this, but this is how I will be remembered, a mountain amidst the wave, a legend to be known.

A horn is blown twice, and then thrice in quick succession, the rear guard broke the third wave and reinforcements approach the second, information I value little, for there is only me and the enemy now, no time for false hope, my mind racing with keen purpose to remain alive just a second longer, one more breath and one more life, yes one more, always one more.

Their stance shaken, their will broken, their blows are swatted away like flies, yes fear me, imprint my visage upon your minds, those who survive this day will not forget me... Their faces shift, blur, change. Their bodies fluid like water, my body not my own, orders are not followed through, my flame an ember in the wind, vision forsakes me and my knees meet the ground, the still warm blood greets me as I fall.

I stand in a pool of water, no reflection is held in its surface. A sound is heard, a voice is sung, floating lightly across. It sings no words, but the melody holds meaning, a lost embrace, a sad departure, reason uncertain. The voice grows bolder, ambitious and with clear purpose, no hesitation present amongst the noise of resolution. The melody draws me in, and I long to find its source, for what could produce such intent?

My steps do not break the water’s surface, its face undisturbed and clear, I feel myself ever so closer to the target of my curiosity. Moments pass and so do my thoughts, soon there is little of me left. The voice overpowering my being, how can it be so sure, so set upon what it desires, how can It know, as I search for reason I find my gaze at my feet, set upon the waters yet again, only now I see a reflection. Where there was no semblance to my existence in this place before I now see it, staring back at me, with lips moving in song, in a wordless song of guidance.

My eyelids separate only to once again return to their embrace, the sun is just above the horizon, greedily spreading its light on all below it, present company included.

I sigh, some would find it comforting to yet remain alive after facing certain death, I do not account myself amongst those men. My ending was my own, my choice was set, my resolve did not waver! I was to meet my men in glory and honor, not lie on this… plank and slowly die from a battle long passed, where is the honor in that?! Will I now be remembered as a fool who lost his unit and died from infection on a rotting plank?!

No, need to calm down; breathe… the Lady just gave me another chance at glory, there must be a reason for me to live, the dead know no time, they can wait. I will build upon this disgrace and see it never happen again, a man who set foot at the line must be allowed to cross it, it is only just, it is birth right to all warriors, to have that taken is to be toyed with, an insult I would not bear again. A groan escapes my throat as I try to move, the pain flares like wild fire and dyes my vision white.

My eyes open in hurry, as if the white tang of pain will latch its fangs at me again, a moment passes and all that remains of my weariness is discomfort and anxiety, this bloody plank is ever the welcoming presence. I take my time to look around the place that holds me, the sun long set and torches light the surroundings. There are only empty beds as far to the right as my eyes can turn with no assistance of my head, white clean and spotless; to the left I find the same scene, a medical tent then? My eyes return to the comforting position of staring at the ceiling, there are multiple escape shafts for the smoke to leave. This would prove a disadvantage… unless I was moved to a safer camp, far behind the enemy lines, if this would be the case then how long was in the land of dreams? A long sigh escapes me as I return to the place my mind is so used to by now.

Opening my eyes I see the same ceiling as before, it seems the times of day I awake are random, as the sun is in a different position yet again, now the final rays of its light fade, and threaten to leave the world in darkness until its heroic ascent once more in the next morn. My body unmoving, my scenery ever the same, madness is surely soon to set roots, just so my mind can indulge itself in interest. We are meant to move, to discover, to remain a prisoner in your own body is torture in the purest of forms.

I have not seen faces or heard speech in the time I have spent here, maybe this is torture, what reason would my people have to shackle me to this FUCKING PLANK AND LEAVE ME TO THE SHACKLES OF MADDNESS?!

The bloody bastards know not of honor, their fear worth piss if they dare to leave me alive, the battle lost and they believe themselves above MY GLORY?! They took away my great entrance to the company of my brothers and sisters, my warriors… JUST TO LEAVE ME ON THIS… plank… No I shall not give them what they want, I shall not scream, I shall not beg or make false threats, I shall bide my time, yes… remain still; focus on the line, the freedom I felt at its borders. Yes, freedom, I shall not be chained again, not like this; I will be free to choose how to live or die. Let the bastards believe me beneath them, let them believe me to have slipped from my mind, let them believe me weak.

And once my ember feeds off of the wild flames of pain and returns to its former glory, so too shall I.