The Last Night

“Esrek!” A firm hand shook his dream-filled body. “Esrek, come on. They’re leaving.” The world was dark. The tent filled with shadows and rays of moonlight streaming through the entrance. A dark silhouette hunched over Esrek, hand extended. He stirred, coughed and attempted to waken his dormant soul.

A shadow passed by on the outside of the tent. A chilling breeze passed with it, dispelling all tiredness from Esrek’s frail body. He flinched as if someone had thrown something at him. Curled up in a ball on his blanket.

“What is it, sir Troeg?” his voice was muffled, chilled, and broken. He shivered in the breeze.

“It’s over. We’re leaving.” His face was illuminated for a brief second by the moonlight. He was serious. Neither a frown nor a smile. His crooked teeth gave the scene a gloomy feel.

“I don’t understand.” Esrek sat up rubbing his eyes with both hands, trying to eliminate his troubles and fears as well as the sleep from his eyes. “Is this retreat or a night mission?”

Troeg frowned and sharply turned away to exit the tent. He stood outside facing the bright yellow moon. He folded his arms. Tapped his foot rhythmically on the grass. Somehow he was the only patient one with Esrek. Troeg really was the only one who didn’t look down on him because of his class.

Esrek scrambled in the dark out into the night. He slipped his tattered brown tunic over his head and reached for his belt. Troeg unclipped the dark blue and green sash from his uniform. It was the military colors of Kanta that distinguished friend from foe. Allegiance. Esrek had one attached to his belt that would loop around his left shoulder.

“I never thought I’d do this.” Troeg's gaze turned to the sash in his hand. He held it for a moment, hesitating. Then without warning he threw the sash to the ground. A small cloud of dust rose and fell with Esrek’s breathing.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to. There’s no hope in victory let alone survival.” He was still looking at the defiled sash, now tattered with splotches of brown dirt. His right hand automatically glided to the hilt of his sword at his waist. He took a deep breath.

“No hope?” Esrek put a hand on his shoulder. “Come now, there’s always hope. ‘As long as you fight for your family, your nation, your pride and a few pints of ale.’ Remember?”

He laughed. A faint but weak smile. “I was ignorant then. So were they.” He waved his hand towards the camp. Shadows in the moonlight glided through the white tents, weaving their way to the east, away from the eminent battle. Like ghosts.

Another gust of ice-cold wind blew past.

“Well, what happened?”

Troeg finally lifted his gaze to face Esrek. “Only one scout returned. One out of twenty!” There was fear in his eyes. Dark and cold and empty.

Esrek tilted his head. “And...”

“Aghh! That’s bad.” He half grunted and half sighed. “That means the other nineteen are dead!” he tightly gripped Esrek’s shoulders and stared glaringly into his eyes. His hands were ice cold. They were shaking.

“Oh.”

“Do you even know who the enemy is?” Troeg shook him. He was breathing hard.

“I supposed we were fighting the Gourontin Empire.”

“That empire never existed. How can you still believe in those fairy tales?” He paused to let go of Esrek’s shoulders.

“The recruiter told me if I did not fight, our whole kingdom would be destroyed by endless fire. The Gourontin Empire is the only ...”

“The recruiter feared that no one would volunteer if they knew the truth.” He interrupted. He turned to face the countless individuals slowly weaving through the mass of tents. Their shadows stretched across the camp. A silent pilgrimage.

“What truth, Troeg?”

“The enemy is more than human. Their swords are of lightning, their bows scream thunder. Their horses are made of pure steel and yet they fly like the bluebird.” He took a deep breath. His hands continued to shake. “Against them, there is no victory. No life. No hope.”

“May the gods have mercy on us.” Esrek’s voice was faint and soft.

Troeg turned his head to face Esrek. He frowned. His chin appeared to twitch.

“I believe that they are the gods.” His jaw tightened. His hand tightly gripped his sword. “And their wrath has been kindled. It’s over. We’re running.”

Esrek stood in shock. His mouth carelessly hung open. His gaze shifted to the yellow moon. A dark cloud slowly made its way across the sky to block the moonlight and cast the world into shadow. Shadow and bitter cold.

“Are you coming or not?” Troeg waited for a moment, looking him up and down. Finally he turned and shouldered his small pack and joined the procession of shadows.

Esrek dropped his gaze from the now covered moon to the dark blue sash gripped tightly in his hands.