Fantasy contest entry, describe battle, must be told by someone not in fight itself. |
A BIRD'S EYE VIEW Two large black crows sat side by side on the highest branch of the tunagra tree. At times they were obscured by the thick smoke which traveled skyward clinging to the leaves of the tree as it passed. Without blinking the pair watched the battle unfold below their perch. Often one would jerk its neck to look to its companion. “Do you see what I see?” “Yes. I wonder why it is only two who fight when the field is full of soldiers.” “A new kind of battle do you think?” “It would appear to be just that.” “Look, look at the way they circle each other. Looks more like a dance of sorts, don’t you think?” “Indeed.” “Centuries ago many would die in battle.” “Yes, I do recall hearing that to be true.” “Now it seems that only two will risk death in this war.” ”That is certainly the way it looks from here. This must be a new way for man to settle their differences.” “This year of 3010, man has come a far distance.” ”One would certainly hope so.” As the fist of one warrior connected with the gut of his opponent a loud ‘oomph’ reached the birds. “Oooh, that must have hurt.” “Yes, I would say that it did. But look, the other seeks his revenge.” “Ah, revenge is sweet as nectar.” “Mmmm, so true.” “What do you suppose these humans are fighting about this time?” “Who could possibly know the answer to that? They fight about everything, so much so that nothing remains worthy of fighting for.” “Have you heard any chatter about this battle before today?” “No, I cannot say that I have.” As the two quieted down to observe the men beneath them they could hear the witnesses to this fight urge their favorite to win. Fires were set around the meadow of deep green grass and the acrid smell of smoke hung heavy over the men as they all circled the pair in the middle. Soon two weapons were tossed into the man-made ring of fire. Each opponent grasped the blade closest to his feet. “Now that I think on it, I did hear something. I heard a long time ago of a war that was brewing in this world. It would seem that there are only two kinds of men, rich or poor. Ordinarily the rich would enslave the poor to battle for them against their enemy, but now the battle is between the rich and poor.” “Well, would you care to make a wager here?” “I would. Who do you think will win?” “I believe the rich. You see, he has finer clothes, stronger weapons and better education as his tools to win. So I cast my wager on the rich.” “I will play devil’s advocate here, and take up for the poor.” “You will lose for certain. The poor man has only his torn robe, his fists and the strategy of a farmer. You most certainly will lose.” “I do not believe so. My poor farmer has heart, physical strength from his life of farming, and faith, his faith in this world.” “Bah! What good is faith? This world has turned against the poor, has ignored them, trod upon them, taken what few possessions they had. Why would he have faith in this world?” “Because with faith comes hope. That is what the poor man barters with. His hope that the world will be knocked to its knees and wake up.” “We shall see.” The rich man, his finery barely ruffled, stood, feet apart, sun glinting off his blade. He began to circle once again. The poor man, his robe torn, filthy with soot from the flames and dirt from the ground. The blade made for him by his twelve year old son held proudly at his side. “Look how my rich man swings his sword. He slices through the sleeve of your poor man’s robe like a hot knife through a pat of butter. Your poor farmer bleeds from more cuts than mown grass.” “True, so true. But have you looked into his eyes?” “I cannot see his eyes.” “Go closer to look.” The bird hopped down to a lower branch, but still could not see. Hopping once more he found himself at eye level to the combatants. He looked deeply into the poor man’s eyes and shuddered. Flying up to the high branch he settled in to continue watching the scene below. “Well, did you see?” “Yes.” “Be honest now, and tell me precisely what you saw.” “I saw heart, like you said.” “What else? Surely there was more.” “I saw conviction. I saw strength in belief, I saw a man of honor.” “Ah, so now you see what I see in my poor man.” “Yes.” “Do you still think your rich man will win?” “I no longer know.” The fight continued on the ground. Both opponents have now scored blood points. The soldiers surrounding the warriors shouted over the clash of steel. “Do you hear the men shouting?” “I do, but I don’t understand what they say.” “I can hardly believe my own hearing. They said that the one who wins this battle will lay claim to all that the other owns. His lands, title, family and life.” “What does all that mean?” “Simply that one will delete the other. That life and the life of all their kind will be eradicated from existence.” “How horrible!” “I agree.” The men began to tire from hours on their feet and the hot sun. As the sun began to set in the west, the two faced off. The circle of witnesses to this battle to the death held their collective breath. The rich man turned a full circle, his blade glinting in the waning light, struck the poor man’s sword with a resounding clash, shearing off 1/4 of the tip of the thin steel. With lightning speed the poor man responded with a dash forward, his blunted blade pressed squarely in the middle of the rich man’s chest, pushing him back on his heels. Before the rich man could retaliate, the farmer forced him off balance, sending him crashing into the line of soldiers behind him. “Well, that was quite a surprise, don’t you think?” “Most certainly. It would appear that your poor man grows weary of the sport, and wants to end it quickly.” “Well, I do believe they have been at this long enough. Whatever the end will be, will be.” “True. I think I would like to perch lower so that we might witness the valiant winner to this debacle clearly.” “Right you are.” The two hopped down to the same limb one had set upon earlier in the day. Comfortable on their new perch they watched intently. Now the farmer backed away letting the rich man regain his feet. “Now I wonder why he did not deliver the death blow when he had the chance just now.” “I don’t know, I, too, thought that was coming.” Once again the pair stood just a few feet apart, their blades held at waist level. The energy leaving both quickly. The supporters of each side began to yell at the pair to finish this, end the battle to declare a winner. The poor man stared into the eyes of the rich man. He could see his own weariness and uncertainty mirrored in the eyes of his opponent. Looking to the ring of screaming men surrounding them, he lowered his blade to let it hang by his side. He turned a circle to address each soldier, rich and poor alike, as he spoke in a soft clear voice. “I no longer know the why of this battle. It appears to me that we all need and rely on each other for our existence in this world. This is all so simple, you need the food which we grow and we need the coin you pay for the food in order to grow more. I do not hate you. I do not wish to kill you.” The many poor who stood behind him began to yell for him to pick up his sword. “Kill him! Kill him now!” They shouted over again. The rich began to shout at their own warrior. “End this! Run him through with your blade!” The two in the center stared into each other’s eyes. Each could see the others soul reflected in the dimming light. With a slight nod to each other, both raised their blades moving forward in a final burst of energy. The crowd began to applaud, sing a song of victory as each claimed his side to win. The rich man’s blade buried to the hilt in the poor man’s heart. The two crows flapped their wings, squawked loudly at the scene below. “How could my poor man sacrifice himself like that? What was he thinking?” “Sacrifice? Look at my rich man! Look what your poor man had done with his blunted sword!” The blade of the poor man sliced cleanly across the throat of the rich man. Both combatants sunk to their knees. Their blood soaked the dirt around their still bodies. The wind rustled the leaves in the tunagra tree as the birds stared at the ground in horror. Both sides of this war stood to face off. None had weapons but all were prepared to beat to death their opponent with their fists. They stood on opposite sides of the field, hands clenched in anger. No one moved. Not a word spoken.There was no first strike. The smoke dissipated as the fires burned low. The silence hovered over the men like a widows black veil. The words of the poor man seemed to waft on the gentle breeze. “Do you understand what just happened?” “I do believe that I do.” “Well, explain it to me." “We have just witnessed the ultimate sacrifice. Each man gave his life to the cause of the other. In doing so they have preserved the people of this world throughout the generations, past and future.” “So their tragic deaths declares both sides to coexist for eternity?” “That would be the world as it should be. But it will be up to the survivors of this war to see that they did not die in vain.” The soldiers relaxed their stance, looked to one another, unsure of what to do next. The farmers opened their circle to allow the wife of the poor man to enter. She knelt in the blood and wept. The soldiers from both sides began to lay the warriors prone. They came together to honor both men. A soldier from the rich man’s army aided the woman to her feet. “I am sorry for your loss.” he murmured. Each soldier passed by her giving her and her husband the respect due. Both crows looked down to the valiant warriors who lie still in well earned peace and now rest with the justified. |