An Eternal Battle
She knelt upon the small rise on the edge of the world. Drawing her sword from her last enemy, she stood slowly, wearily. A sigh was barely held in check. The long blade was well worn, edge long gone. The steel was still strong, the sword unbent. It would not fail her. The weapon was held loosely, fingers barely gripped the sweat-stained leather wrapped hilt. Her shield was shattered, cast aside an age ago. The remnants of it left behind on the blasted landscape on which she now stood. Her armor was in tatters, mail rent in hundreds of places, her chest plate was heavily scratched and dented from the blows of enemies long defeated her helm laid at her feet the visor and crest damaged to the point of uselessness.
She stared out into the distance. She had come a long way in a short time, though to her it seemed an eternity. An eternity filled with darkness, at each turn in her road she was beset by yet another enemy, another battle. In the distance behind her, the trail of fallen went on seemingly without end, though she dared not look back. To look back was to admit defeat and she would endure all possible ends save that one.
She had yet to be defeated, though at times it was a close thing. She was tired, her body battered and broken, yet her eyes still flashed brightly. Those bright, blazing orbs turned at the noise that came from behind her. A sigh escaped dry lips, yet another beast clawed its way toward her. Its body was a twisted horror of hair and flesh. Limbs that dragged its bulk forward ended in wicked looking claws of bone. Its eyes glowed a putrid green and the fetid odor that clung to its form assaulted the senses, though the warrior took no notice. This was just another like the countless others.
She raised her head and her eyes blazed with fury. Now was not the time for weariness. Her body reluctantly responded to the threat. Muscles tensed, adrenaline flowed, and she waited for the inevitable attack. Her sword was now gripped tight, though the blade remained pointed toward the blasted landscape, feigning a lack of readiness. The horror made its move, bringing its clawed limbs to bear and slashing at the warrior’s chest. Her blade swept up and pushed the claws away. The beast screamed, rearing its bulk onto its back legs and struck from on high, claws flashing viciously. She dropped to her knee and pushed forward, her sword flashed up and forward, striking the monstrosity. The claws found nothing but air. Foul blood flooded from the wound as she pushed the steel deep into the hairy flesh, twisting the blade and withdrawing the battered blade. The beast shrieked in pain and fell toward, almost crushing her with its bulk. She stepped aside almost contemptuously and slashed the blade down, taking the foul head from its shoulders. An armored boot kicked the head aside and as the fight ended, she fell to her knees with exhaustion.
Patently unconcerned with the horror laying dead next to her, she knelt upon the gore-soaked ground, her sword clattered down from suddenly nerveless fingers. She raised gauntleted hands to her face and tears streamed down her face, leaving streaks on her sweat and gore-stained cheeks. Soft brown hair framed her face as she quietly sobbed. She was a warrior, yet her battles seemed endless and she saw no future. Her body could not go on much longer, and her mind filled with dark thoughts of the next battle, for she knew one would surely come. She worried about what these battles were doing. She barely recognized herself, she knew only her sword and the enemy in front of her. She knew nothing and no one else. She thought of perhaps not picking up her sword, of letting whatever horror came next end her suffering. It would be a release, a release from the pain and exhaustion. The end of the battles, and end to the world, her world at least. A part of her wanted it, wanted it more than anything she could remember.
She stayed bent, hands covering her face, sitting somewhere between despair and apathy. She’d spent what seemed like forever in battle after battle. Seeking peace and finding only pain and death. She pulled heavy hands away from her face and stared at them through tear soaked eyes. Were these even her hands? They must be, yet she could not recall what her skin looked like beneath the armor. She barely remembered the day she had encased herself in steel. She’d had no choice. The armor was now as much a part of her as her skin or hair. The armor was once perfect and new. Now, it hung off of her in tatters. She’d made the best of it strapping broken pieces back on as best she could. Soon, however, it would finally fail her.
She now knew only battle and death. She turned her hands over staring at the battered joints of the gauntlets. Gore from some monster was stuck in the joints, her fingers moved slowly, the joints flexed in response. That simple movement was the first conscious move she’d made in a long time. For so long she seemed to survive solely on reflex and muscle memory.
Yet she knew, somewhere in her heart of hearts, that she can win. The tide will turn, she knew it, and from the depths of her strife-ridden soul, laughter erupted. And suddenly the tears that streamed down her face were not ones of loss or despair, but those of pure joy. She knew then that she would have the strength to continue. She knew then that there would be an end, and she would survive.
She cast about for a stone, seeking to sharpen battered steel. Finding nothing suitable she stared down at the blade. Her distorted reflection in the roughen steel stared back at her. She saw only her eyes and the fire behind them. She knew then that she would never again lose heart. Never again would failure haunt her thoughts and weaken her limbs.
She stood then, quickly, her weariness forgotten. She drew her sword from the sodden ground and raised it to the sky. She looked out across the landscape that fell away beneath her feet. On the horizon, a storm brewed in a chaos of darkness. Lightning rent the sky in the distance, and beneath the rain lashed ground, a horde of enemies scrambled their way toward her.
Her eyes filled with fury and blazed with the fire of her unbroken spirit. Her armor may have been shredded, her sword all but useless, but she would fight on. She smiled then and whispered one word. The only word she’d spoken in an eternity, “Come.”
