by Gold Baron
The robed figure's words still echoed in my mind. He spoke of a war between the state and wizards, of how the tide had been turning against the government ever since the wizards began breeding dragons, and how our group had been founded to combat these beasts.
Oddly enough, it was a wizard who led our group. He claimed that he and other wizards like him saw the turning tides of the future, that magick was being replaced, and wanted a firm foothold in the new world. His words were like ambrosia and convinced me of their truth, yet the passage of days became weeks, until weeks became months, months became years, and all the while the doubt grew in my mind.
It was difficult to tell exactly how much time had passed, deep within the mountain lair, but I was sick of the lies, the propaganda being fed to us, we were like prisoners. This so-called wizard had a greater scheme than falling in favor with the new government, and I was his puppet. I was afraid, though; I was so confused. This alien world was so foreign to me; it was like a bad dream that you couldn't awake from. It would come to blows, though, and to that fateful day so long ago.
The stone walls shook violently as I was tossed from my bed. I had no idea what was going on. I heard the general alarm then. We were under attack. My mind struggled to comprehend what this meant; who would dare to attack us in our very stronghold?
I strapped on my breastplate, the dragon coiled about it shimmered in the low lighting, and I hoisted the wicked blade over my shoulder and went out. It was as if all hell had broken loose. Fire rained from the sky, and the troubled squadrons of lancers struggled against overwhelming odds. It was my place at the front, and the spear formations spread before me like Moses through the Red Sea.
Dusk was already settling, or was it just the smoke and destruction in the air that gave it the pall? The sun, once high in the sky was now blotted out, a sickening red ensemble of clouds overhead. I saw the dragons circling above, hundreds, maybe even thousands, spewing forth their poison on the mountain.
I saw lights through the rising dust, spotlights atop vehicles that tore across the barren wasteland. They paused in neat rows before our ranks, and all at once the backs opened and troops poured out, soldiers of the state. Obsolete echoed somewhere in the back of my mind. Our so-called wizard ally had abandoned us, his machinations putting him in command.
It was over as quickly as it had begun. The guns lighted up the growing darkness like little stars twinkling in the night sky, and their teeth bit into our ranks and decimated them. I saw the armored soldiers come forward, hydraulics whirring and wicked weapons in hand, swathing a path through anyone that remained standing.
I felt the rage building inside of me as I became more and more alone, and then I heard the actions click, the magazines being changed, and the voices calling out for surrender. I pushed one foot forward and the other back and raised my sword defiantly before me, and the air soon grew heavy with lead.
The fog grew so thick then with smoke, and like an extension of my mind, the wind cleared it all away, and there I was before an army of millions, my cape torn to tatters like a rag, wafts of smoke pouring from my body like steam from breath, but I was unscathed. I lowered the sword and eyed the scene readily, looks of astonishment and horror on the soldier's faces, concealed behind kevlar helmets and face shields.
And so began my fight for survival, one man against hell itself.
The wind snapped around me and tugged at the tattered remains of my cape, like the destroyed hopes on which I had depended, the lies that I pulled close around me.
We had been steadily losing the battle, falling back until our backs were against the stone walls of the mountain. We dared not ascend to its aerie peaks, the dragons like vultures circling overhead, masters of the sky. But as our ranks thinned, we were forced onto the narrow path, a crevice for some distance that provided some protection from the sky until it opened out over a wide falls that crashed to the plain below. It was like the Egyptians versus the Assyrians; we never stood a chance.
How could we have been betrayed so? I supposed that was the life of a heartless mercenary. I grew bitter. I felt resigned, hopeless. Was this my fate? Had God abandoned me? Even the wind at that moment seemed to mock me with its moans through the crevices in the rock, a sinister cackle that sent chills down my spine.
I thought, for a moment, that I saw the robed wizard that had charmed me so, his wicked sorcery playing my mind like a lyre, and now the strings were broken. A rage welled up inside of me and escaped like the roar of a wild beast as I lunged forward, and with a violent deathblow, rent one of the mechanized soldiers in twain.
But all the while, I continued to fall back, slowly ascending toward a wicked fate, until I was alone upon the rope bridge, the water rushing below me from a dizzying height. And the dragons were there: red, green, blue, and yellow, and all the colors of the rainbow. I saw the first dive in and gave it a run for its money, the rickety bridge protesting my weight, and with a slice the boiling blood ran wide, and the dragon retreated in horror over the loss of its foot.
The acid burned in my face, and I closed my eyes, perhaps for the better, but I never saw the red come in low. Even in the sweet bliss of blackness with my lids closed, I saw it just as I felt it, the cut across the face. It flashed before the blackness like the pop for a firework, and I felt myself reeling, falling, the sting of blood in my eyes, my own blood as it ran down my face. And I felt the mist, and the rocks passing close, and felt the water envelop me like the lid of a coffin closing around me.
Drowning wasn't so bad; it's not like people think. It's rather quick. Your mind falls into slumber as your breath runs short, your lungs scream, and your muscles burn, but it's only temporary. You roll with the current and become one with reality, your own reality. Darkness is bliss.