by Josh

The war had begun mere days ago. Maybe earlier, but Ganjon put the date of the begin of the war as to when he knew of it. The order had come three days ago. Ganjon had been picked one of the vanguard. They'd gone to meet the enemy in an open battle. Eiria had to be saved from harm. Every battle about it, in it would harm the people of Eiria, the old, the women and the children. So the vanguard had marched out of town, to the north.
At sunrise Ganjon had said goodbye. It felt like a lifetime ago. Some twenty minutes ago a scout had returned to the vanguard, informing the captain about the Balu force. Ganjon didn't know what exactly the scout had to say, but they stopped marching then and had started the waiting.

The battle was to be held in the dale before them. This was how Ganjon thought it had come for him to be in this place of all places. But he would need to focus better. He could not start daydreaming about the past and the world of would-have-been, now could he?

Standing in line. Ganjon was watching the back of his fellow soldier right in front of him. He was so close he should have been able to feel the breath on his neck, if it hadn't been covered by a helmet. The sun reflected on the shoulder pieces, blinding him. Turning his head to the left he saw a nose and chin peeking out behind a metal helmet. There was a cloud of breath rising from beneath the nose every time his companion exhaled. To his right the same picture. But another dozen of helmets behind the first. He couldn't turn to look behind him but guessed there would be nothing else to see, but the expression on the soldiers face. Would it be stern? At ease? Dawning with anticipation, maybe? Or scared, as his own expression must be.

Ganjon was scared, alright. Shitscared. This would be his first time in battle. It was mere hours ahead. Soon he would know if he stood a chance. Talk had been that their enemy had already surrendered. Talk had been this fight could not be won. Talk... had been very confusing. Ganjon did not know what to believe. But here he was, standing in line, waiting to be sent forward. The review of the legion had been similar to this. Standing in line waiting to happen. But this was different. More... serious. The captain stood in front, looking down on the dale before them.

The wind blew frantically, dashing at one's eyes, tearing them shut. It was oddly cold for this time of the year. It was much too cool. His joints felt immobile and put, they would not budge when the time came to move.

The soldier to Ganjon's right said something. Ganjon jumped. "What?" He said without turning his head. He had sunk into his own thoughts.

"Here they come..."

Ganjon looked. A group of people was entering the dale from over the opposite hill. They came into sight and marched down into the dale untill they were halfway down. A rocket went off in Ganjon's head. This was great! Those were less than half of our soldiers! But this gladness vanished quickly as a much bigger group of people came up down the dale. A group three times as big as the first one. And behind that large group, another little group turned up. The last group stayed behind, on top of the hill.

Ganjon's knees started trembling.

A loud voice, that of their captain, killed the silence with a vast booming voice. "This is the day we fulfill our duty, soldiers! Let's show them where they truly belong!"

A moment of silence.

"Move!"

And they moved. They marched down towards their enemy.
Halfway down the dale they halted again, due to the command. The bloke to Ganjon's right was breathing loudly, gasping for air, hyperventilating. Thin clouds of breath rising from beneath his helmet. His shoulders were moving up and down with his breath. His chest would be heaving against the chest plate. But Ganjon couldn't see his face. He couldn't comfort him. Tell him everything would turn out alright.
Ganjon himself felt like hyperventilating.

Opposite of them their enemies were holding their swords in their bare hands. They were all in brown. A furry brown cap on their heads. A studded brown leather armor covering their chest and torso. Ganjon couldn't see their faces. Not one of them. They were too far away. The skin on their hands was exposed to the cold and chilly wind. If they'd not get down to business soon they would start freezing, Ganjon thought to himself.
But of course both parties were already freezing.

Ganjon's sword sang to the wind as he pulled it out of it's sheath along with his fellow soldiers.

"Attack!!!"

They were moving towards the bottom of the dale. As were their counterparts. They started rushing. Rushing down the dale, down into the pit to meet fate. The enemy soldiers had abandoned their formation. They were running at them as a bunch, spreading to the sides. Ganjon saw one of them breaking out to the left, running for it.
A loud warcry had evolved around him. It was deafening. The sound penetrated through his helmet and into his ears, down the depths and into his brain, becoming one with his thoughts. And he suddenly realised he himself was shouting, his shield infront of him against the back of the soldier infront of him, his right hand leading his sword outstretched to the sky. A loud clattering noise started, barely heared over the warcries. Ganjon was able to notice the scared expression in the face of one of their foes, the psychopatic anticipating look in the eyes of the next. And then they were in reach.

Time stopped. Ganjon could have stretched his arm over the man in front and touched the other. But time never stopped.

They clashed into each other. The man in front of Ganjon crashed into an enemy shield, slashed down onto the man next to his opposer, yelling. A gush of blood sprayed from the man's shoulder and back as the sword teared through the leather, through the skin and into the flesh. Ganjon watched the blooddrops fly towards him in slow motion, hitting the armour of the man infront of him, some drops flying past him, into the movement of the battle. The blooddrops flying towards Ganjon vanished from sight as they hit the metal of his helmet.

Ganjon had ran right into the man in front, pushing him forwards. The soldier behind Ganjon was pushing against him, and the soldier behind that soldier was also pushing. Ganjon found himself pushing the man infront forward into the enemy, pushing the shield of the foe alongside with him backwards. The enemy maimed by Ganjon's man in front fell to his knees. Before his knees reached the floor he was bashed by a metal shield. His head flew to the ground, biting grass. Ganjon found himself standing right on top of him an instant later, having been pushed forwards.

He was so absorbed by this piece of information he hardly noticed the man in front being slain. His head was dashed to the left as the blade cut into his helmet from the right. The head stood in an odd angle for a moment as if he had seen something written on the armour of his opponent view rotated by 90�. Then the helmet flew off out of vision. The rest of the armour fell to the left onto a studded leather tunica.

The slayer advanced on Ganjon, his sword pulled back as to stab him. Ganjon was being pushed at him. Unable to prevent anything Ganjon stumbled right into the foe, pushing him away. He fell against another enemy but balanced after the collision and stood while the unlucky fell to the floor, being trampled to death. A sword swung against Ganjon's shield, surprising Ganjon. He had not seen the sword nor the soldier, but felt the force knock his shield right around. Ganjon pulled the shield up and to the left, not thinking about it, but hitting his enemy hard, throwing him away.

Then Ganjon turned, swinging his sword in a low arc in height of his hip. He hit an enemy advancing onto a fellow soldier, slicing through flesh. The force of the blow made the sword slice right through the hip, entering the leather on the back and exiting through the stomach. The advancing enemy made another step and bumped right into his prey, bouncing off the soldier and falling to the ground. The blood and bowel covered Ganjon's sword. In amazement Ganjon noticed the sword steaming from the heat in awe.

Something hit him in the back, piercing through the metal plate but loosing force doing so. It dug itself into his skin centimeter deep, then was pulled out again in a sudden angular movement. Ganjon felt the pain, but didn't scream. He stopped breathing for a second, while he turned to face whatever lay in his back.

The pain inside didn't blind him or harm him as he had thought it would. The pain was his friend, telling him to look out and beware, telling him to not let anything like that happen again.
The enemy sword came down on him just as he had turned enough to see it coming. It hit his left shoulder plate, the force of it bringing him to his knees. The sword had not cut through his armour and harmed him, but Ganjon knelt before his enemy while he was lifting his sword for a third, and final strike. As he was still lifting the sword another sword appeared from above Ganjon's head, cutting into his vision from above. The head of the sword slashed into the chest and was pulled out again hurriedly. The soldier before Ganjon lost his balance and stepped backwards to try and hold it, his left hand grabbing for something to hang onto. But before he could fall the sword hit him in the chest again, diggin into it with it's side, throwing him over. There was not that much blood as he fell to the floor. Ganjon's saviour vanished into the battle before Ganjon had stood up properly.
When Ganjon stood he could only make out metal armours and metal helmets around him. No more brown caps to be seen. Ganjon couldn't believe it. They had won the battle.

The booming voice of his captain cut through the gasping and hard breathing sounds around Ganjon.
"Lookout! Shields high above your heads!"

Ganjon wanted to obey but his shield lay useless on the ground next to his feet. He bent down as fast as he could, grabbed it and held it up. But before it was covering him a sharp stinging pain rose in his chest, stealing his air. With the shield above his head, he looked down at his chest only noticing a long brown shaft of something sticking out of his chestplate. "Of course", Ganjon said, without making as much as a tone, his knees already bending under the weight of his dead body. "An arrow."

Lightly his body flew towards the green grass. With soft ease the ground seemed to welcome Ganjon, as his nose dug itself into earth. There was a calm little snapping noise as the shaft broke, crushed under the weight. Ganjon was looking to his left, looking to the west, towards the sun. Soon it would redden with the horizon. Ganjon's mouth stood slightly open, a few blades of grass sticking up into the cave of his mouth.
Ganjon would never know about the fate of the vanguard, or Eiria.

THE END