“To Death”

Author’s Note: This is a Take Ten to Write story and has not been proofread for errors. If I feel inspired or if there’s interest in the story, I’ll post a revised, edited, and extended version at a later date. Happy reading!

“Get down!”

I grab Nirtal’s arm and drag him out of the way. Seconds later, the giant foot smashes down beside us. A strangled scream erupts from Nirtal’s throat as the foot lifts and continues on its path.

“We need to get to the horses!” I shout, swinging my sword to deflect an incoming arrow.

“The horses are dead,” Nirtal says, his voice filled with fear. “Just like we’re about to be.”

“Not if I can help it,” I scowl, keeping a firm grip on his arm. “Come on.”

The creatures continue on their way, the shadows of their feet the only indicators of where they’re going to step. I zigzag through the chaos, deflecting arrows and spears and occasionally stabbing an unsuspecting enemy as we go.

Finally, we’re out of the thick of battle.

“Stay here,” I mutter to Nirtal. “When you see a clear path, head back to the fortress. You’ll be safe there.”

“But I’ll be named a coward,” he protests.

“At least you’ll be alive to be named something!” I retort, pushing him to the ground. “I’ll see you back at the fortress.”

Face white, all he can do is nod as I turn back to face the battlefield.

I take a deep breath. It’s absolute madness down there. Men running back and forth, seemingly lost or dazed. Neither side seems to be winning nor losing. They just… exist.

I know for a fact that reinforcements aren’t coming from our side. Briga told me earlier that it’s just us now. Maybe I should’ve told that to Nirtal to really scare him into staying put. Or maybe it’s best that the men stay hopeful.

Suddenly, a sharp sound rises over the ridge. My blood runs cold. That sound…

That sound means death.

The battlefield becomes still. My men group together, retreating to form a stronger defense. The sound again. The enemy raises their weapons and cheers.

The Horns of the Dark. Death itself is upon us.

The ground shakes as more creatures approach, even bigger than the others already present on the field. Coats of fur cover their entire bodies, rippling as they stride toward us. Two gleaming tusks sprout from each side of their head, sharpened and spiked for the purpose of bulldozing over whoever gets in their path. And those trunks… Each holds a weapon that would need ten men to be carried. Pure strength, enough to raze entire cities.

The enemy’s reinforcements are here.

Going down into that field means death. Certain death. But it’s my duty as a soldier to give my life for my homeland.

“Sir!”

I turn to see Nirtal saluting at me.

“May you find peace,” he says, with a small nod.

I salute back, giving him a small smile, before charging toward my death.

Final Comments: I had a lot of fun visualizing this one. The battle of Pelennor Fields (I think that’s how it’s spelt?) was the main inspiration behind this one, more specifically that scene when the bad guys are blowing their horns as they charge into battle. I wanted to change it a bit, though, and for some reason I pictured woolly mammoths as well as the elephants.

Overall Rating: 😊