The horrors of battle (Another soldier story, and more) - Short Fantasy Story (Part 11)

The wind was blowing from the south, carrying on its wings the grain of sand that remained on our uniforms. I motionlessly watched what was happening on the expanse ahead of me. As our soldiers rode up, forming battle lines, and lining up in front of the walls, they were met by a whirlwind of dust hiding the desert warriors. Their onslaught was so fierce that the dust rose a few feet up, hiding them from our eyes. The sounds of horses was deafening. Only glimpses of the fabric of their unusual uniforms, in every conceivable color, could be seen. As they approached the scene of the collision, and the fighting, we could more clearly discern some details. They rode as if they were born on horseback, and none of them had a saddle. They were wielding weapons, and in harmony with their voices and song, it all made a strange cacophony. It sounded like we were attending some of the Shamanic rituals, which were told to children in night stories.

Within a few tens of seconds, as I admired the art of riding these alien warriors, a wall of dust covered our soldiers as well, and from that moment forward we could only see the contours of the warriors in the death battle. Their song fell silent to give way under a completely different tune. The sounds of steel, the screams, and the shrieks, the commandments that were uttered stretched that desolation for miles. And I looked at it all as if in some magnanimity, fascinated by what was going on. The air was getting heavy, kind of sticky and tangible. Fountains of blood have repainted this monotonous landscape in some brand new colors, the colors of death. The bodies of the dead and the dying were spread everywhere, unfortunately with quite a few of our soldiers. Horses left behind by their riders, mad with fear and injury, galloped away from the battlefield. Now many warriors have been fighting from the ground, even with so many losses in our defense, a glimmer of order that has been instilled in us during training.

Time passed slowly, and we motionlessly watched the stories of our childhood come true in their most terrible form right here before us. And as I thought about the cruelty of the scene before my eyes, the course of the fight changed, and now the desert warriors, the part left, tried to retreat. The mischievous maneuver, which my brothers saw through, and in the few bloodiest minutes since the start of the retreat, prevented it. None of the enemy soldiers remained alive. Their colorful uniforms were scattered next to their dying bodies, now in a dirt created by human extracts. The dust settled, and only then did I notice the absence of sounds. Just moans of the wounded. Soldiers ran out of the complex, and behind them were two horses puling a wagon for the wounded.

With the same efficiency, our dead and wounded were cared for and safe behind the walls of the fortress. I looked around, noticing that none of my comrades from the unit had even moved from their starting positions. Everyone is engrossed in their own thoughts.

Captain Bo was coming soon, with orders. Our task is to take the enemy dead soldiers not far from the barracks and burn their corpses. By the time we got out and started working, the stench that followed death was unbearable, and various pests were already beginning to attack the corpses. It took us a good part of the day to complete the task. None of us spoke, guided by the impression of reality about what the real battle was.

When we finally returned to the barracks with the first glow of stars in the clear night sky, there was a feast and cheer. Song and play. They celebrated victory, and life. At least those who have not lost it. And to me, it wasn't about the song or the drink, I just wanted to be alone so I could process and accept my reality. The hard part is, living with the hope that I will not end up on one of those death gates.

I didn't sleep that night. Nobody did. Many from the drinks and merriment that lasted until the early hours of the morning, and my unit from the horror of death that hung in the air.

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