The Pawn soldier

The brave agile warrior sprints through the field of battle. His company, close to annihilation. He keeps fighting. At this point its just survival. He's no general, no commander, just a pawn moved around by the planners of war. They flick their fingers, they wave their flags, blow their horns, signaling an attack, a flank, the release of arrows to the sky.

Whether they blunder, whether they triumph, the pawn warrior follows. He's train to follow. Trained to be submissive no matter what the cost. In his mind is planted the idea that retreat is for cowards. Retreat deserves severe punishment, the slash of a whip. He's seen it before his eyes. His fellow comrades being made examples of. He saw their skin crack as the leather soaked whip slashes their skin.

The pawn warrior charges to a point of no return. His shield strikes a cheek. The sound of a cracked bone is enlightens his ear. His enemy lays helpless. He drives his blade through his spine while he lays on all fours. Through the corner of his eye he senses a strike heading for his back. He rolls to his left while the assailant strikes forward to no avail.

With one swift motion he rolls back to his right and strikes and strikes the hip. The damage is not enough but his company seems to be dwindling even more. What now. To his right come charging two other enemy soldiers. In front of him one of his comrade loses a head. The cut was not as clean. His head still clings to his body with help of a few strands of nerves and skin.

His emotions pause but it doesn't last a second. He immediately blocks a blow from one of the two charging soldiers and speedily trips him on his heels and dives to plant his sword into the others calf. He's instinct are so heightened because of his will to survive he pulls a sword out of a dead soldiers scabbard and thrust it into the lungs of the remaining soldier.

What now, who's next. He's never felt this barbaric. He feels no lost, he wants to be vicious, tormented and mad. He keeps swinging his sword. It slashes and tears skin of a few more of his adversaries. Now his adrenaline rises even more.

He glances to his back and sees the tents at the top of the hill where he started his charge have disappeared. Cowards and cunts. He's infuriated. Yes sir, no sir. Thank you sir. My loyalty is to you general. All those words and the discipline and loyalty he showed them has come to nothing.
He knew they were corrupt fiends. Only going to war for the idea of glory and conquest at the expense of the commoners who do most of the fighting. Commoners like him.

He always knew that some deserved wealth. Wealth creates prosperity but it also creates more wants. Wants at the expense of others. Wants at the expense of him. He was not born in the position of power. But he sure wished he was now. So he could run away just like those cowards. Even if he gets out of here alive. There would be no reward for him. No glory and no sympathy.

Fuck them. And fuck all you around me who want my head. He says to himself.

"If there is a greater being out there. A greater being that sees all. Remember my pain. Remember my sorrowful life. My shitty life. I don't ask for much. I don't ask for power , not the riches of kings. Just grant me peace and a beautiful death. "

The pawn warrior continues his rampage severing a few heads and thrusting into an eye. His end, he never saw coming. A spear plunged from the back of his head and bursts through his forehead. A complete shutoff, his brain and memory collapses. Not a chance for a flashback of his life's past. A swift death. Somewhat close to beautiful. A barbarian's death. A death fit for a soldier.

He wakes up in a beam of bliss that surges through his soul. Where he is, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. Finally he's not a pawn anymore. He knows he's finally free. He gazes upon the place of his death. He looks at his lifeless body. Its face painted with his blood, or what used to be his blood. He sees the victorious. They celebrate with a fury of brutality. His former head, staked on a branch and paraded in through the celebrations. He remembers being victorious. He remembers those sensations. But he remembers being a slave of war. A human weapon. He vows to seek redemption in his current state of being. To redeem himself from the destruction he has caused in his past life. His life as a pawn soldier.