A Battle Hymn for the Pure of Heart

Two men approached us. One was small and skinny and the other one was tall. They both wore black jackets and had a small handgun and a small knife. We were cornered in the small ally. The small one approached us slowly, swinging his knife as he walked.
“Well,” he sneered, “ I’m so sorry it has come to this.” He smiled sickly. “We only want the money… either that or the plans for the invasion.”
I was about to tell him off when Cath grabbed my shoulder. He said nothing, but his eyes spoke enough for both of us.
“ Fine then,” the small man snapped, “Have it your way.” He paused for a second and them smiled again. “ Bruno,” he called with his sing song voice, “Please teach these young ones a lesson they won’t forget.” He paused, “ Or maybe one they won’t have to remember.” He then dropped his gun on the ground and sauntered out of the ally.
I was enraged. I broke apart from Cath’s grasp and ran after the small man. I jumped on his back and tried to hook my fingers underneath his collar in order to try to choke him. Needless to say, I failed and the large man dragged me back to Cath.
We were unarmed and incredibly vulnerable. We lacked anything that could give us a strategic advantage. We were stuck. Cath’s eyes blazed with dark fire. He was not giving up without a fight and neither was I noticed a discarded metal bar lying in the corner.  I lunged to try to pick it up.
“Dryston, no.” he yelled. I ignored him. With the heavy pole in my hand I tried to attack the large man. I could not lift the pole. The man took it out of my hands as easily as if it had been made of wood. I expected him to hit me with it, but he did not. Instead, he set it down by his feet and he walked to me. He grabbed my arm and he dragged me back over to Cath. He was glaring at me.
“Turn around,” the man said. His voice was deep and rumbley.  I didn’t want to but Cath forced me. I could hear metallic clicking behind my back. At the last second Cath spun around and so did I. There were two loud gunshots.
Afterwards, all I could hear was ringing. I looked at Cath. He slowly sunk to his knees.
“Traitor.” He whispered.
“I’m sorry,” the large man growled. He was silent for a moment and then he yelled with the voice of a victorious god, “Long live the rebellion.”
My clothes felt heavy and damp. I reached under my jacket to feel what was wet and my hand came out from under my coat covered in my blood. It was strange. I felt no pain. I dug my fingers into my wound and pulled out the small bit of metal. I glowed red in my hands.
         My attackers were nowhere to be found. The large one lacked any sort of fine movement skills. He blundered around like an elephant with broken legs.  I was amazed he could even use a gun. 
         My companion rested his arm on my shoulder. His face was covered in blood and his shirt was soaked with red. He looked incredibly ill. Did I look like that? His arm slipped off my shoulder and rested on the filthy ground. His back arched and he started coughing. Small droplets of blood tainted the dusty cobblestone.
         Little by little I began to feel pain again; however, not by my wound. I hurt me to see him in pain. The powerful man who I looked up to since forever was frail and vulnerable. It hurt more than any wound could. I got to my knees and braced my arms around Cath’s waist. I started o panic. Cath couldn’t die. I would have nowhere to live and no company. I would lose half my heart in a moment. I don’t want to be alone.
          Tears started to stream down my face. Where they hit the ground rust colored dots appeared. I could hear the laughter of two men in the distance. I knew, statistically, it could be anyone. I also knew that, statistically, they were rebels.
         “Show your faces, cowards!” I screamed at the laughter.
“Dryston,” Cath whispered to me. His voice was so weak. I positioned him so his head lay on my knees. He looked up at me. His eyes were calm even though his hands were all but clawing at the ground.
          “Liston Dryst,” he gasped, “I’m sorry I dragged you into this whole charade. You were only human and you trusted me. However, I’m glad I got the chance to meet you and to see you flourish,” I took his hand lightly in my own. “Nothing lasts forever. Not even memory. At the end of the day we are alone. But, don’t be afraid. I’ll see you again. Don’t worry about me. Just spread your arms and go. Remember, though, I am honored to be your…” his voice failed.
         I took my other hand and placed it against his cheek. He looked up at me with his fear clouded eyes. Then he looked at the knife lying mere feet away from us. Scarlet blood was leaking from the corner of his mouth and his chest was heaving violently.
         “Please,” he choked through the blood in his throat. I thought for a moment before I realized what he meant.
         “No,” I whispered. “ No, no, no, no, no!” I said with a growing intensity. “ I can’t do it, not to you!” I shouted.
         “It’s ok,” he said, “ I’ll be okay. Just, please.” He grabbed the knife and slowly pressed it into my hand. He held my other hand tighter.
         Against my better judgment asked, “ Are you ready?” he nodded and squeezed my hand. He closed his eyes and I thrust the knife into his heart.
         My ands slid down the handle and I wrapped my fingers in his damp shirt. I placed my forehead against his and I screamed like a lion who had seen his cubs slaughtered.
         The rest of the day was a blur. I remember a woman screaming and the paramedics trying to help me. I remember the goddamn doctors pronouncing Cath dead. I remember nurses crowding around me at the hospital threading tubes into my arm and exclaiming how I was lucky the wound had not been any deeper. I was not lucky. I mostly remember the night. In dream after dream I saw Cath die again. Each time it was more gruesome than the last. Every time I was the one to kill him.
         One of the nurses woke me around midnight. I was sweating and my eyes were bloodshot from crying. The nurses tried to comfort me but it was all in vain.
         The days passed on like hours and the hours felt like years. Cath’s parents visited me some days later. They asked me question after question. I wonder what they knew. After an eternity of talking they asked me to speak at Cath’s funeral. I didn’t want to, but I agreed.
         The funeral was a day later. The night before I made notes and notes about what I was going to say. I was going to talk about his squadron and how being a part of that affected me. I was going to talk about what he meant to me, but now as I am sitting in the car with a nurse sitting to my right and my father to the left, I don’t think that’s what I’m going to say at all.
         When we got to the funeral home the first thing I saw was Cath’s coffin wrapped in a blue, green and gold flag with the emblem of a tiger’s eye glaring back at me. My father set his hand on my shoulder, but he didn’t say a word. I sat in the front row with Cath’s mother and sisters. I was wearing a dark tux with the tiger-eye pin he gave me when he recruited me into the squadron. It seemed to radiate warmth and happiness. Oh, what a fool I have been.
         I sat as stoically as I could throughout the funeral. I listened to his mother and sisters speak and the other surviving member of our squadron.  There were five of us to start with in Cath’s elite squadron. Now there are only two.
         His speech disgusted me. He talked about Cath and the loyalty of the group and about Cath was the most skilled and the most powerful out of all of us. The way he described Cath was awful. He was powerful, strong, fearless, stoic, and ruthless. This was all true, but Cath was so much more. He was also brave and kind, artistic and loving. Cath was also sensitive and sweet.
          After that speech, the rest of the funeral went y in a blur. Then it was my turn to speak. I carried my notes with my up to the podium next to Cath’s coffin. The room looked hazy and I felt sick to my stomach.
         “Hello,” I said, my voice shaking, “ I am Dryson Handford. I lived with Cath after an unfortunate event within my family occurred. I was recruited to be part of his squadron when I was eighteen years old, but this isn’t about me.” I took one last look at my notes before I decided to completely ignore them. “ Cath was the best man I had ever met. He was kind and caring, but most of all he was brave. In this day and age we considered our country a land of peace, when in reality it is the home of the sword and Cath’s blood, and the blood of countless others, have stained this land to the core.
         Cath was one of the few men who fought while peace and liberty lie bleeding. He fought against a rebellion only to find that what they were fighting for was the just thing and he saw the errors of his previous ways. I say this only because I know everyone here knew  about Cath; however, Cath also saw error in the rebel’s way of thinking. Cath and his squadron tried to create a place where freedom could ring and everyone could be free. There is error in almost every path, but Cath tried to eliminate that possibility. We, as humans, swear by the lightning that destroys. Cath was different. If he swore by anything, it was the life giving rain or the sun.
As you probably know, Cath was killed by a mercenary soldier.  Mercenary swords are feeble reeds. Cath should have never died in the first place, but I am not here to argue battle plans. The mercenary wanted plans for an invasion. I know that there are no such plans. Cath died in vain.” I was on the brink of tears. “Cath was a martyr, may his blood serve some use to future generations. Please don’t let him go to waste.
Cath was in many ways like the ancient king, Alexander. He was ahead of his time. He believed in peace more than war, but he would be ruthless if his ideals were questioned. So answer me this now, please, is evil born in the heart or in the head. Cath was my last desperate hope and now I speak with his voice. Nothing lasts forever, not even memories. There is nothing to be afraid of. The darkest night will pass and the sun will eventually rise. Cath tried to help the sun rise.” I started to cry, “ Now he is lost and gone forever.”
My eyes burned and so did my throat. I was the last to speak so I waited for everyone else to leave the room. With tears still in my eyes, I dropped to my knees and I grabbed the soft fabric of the cursed flag and I set my forehead against the tiger-eye emblem. “I’m sorry,” I whispered and I began to cry.