A Single Tear

Horns sounded to the west, desperate and hopeless. The clash of steel rang dully, just inside of hearing. The fearful whinnies of horses filled the night, and the restless rustling of men who did not know what lay beyond them, ahead of them. Men that were veterans of many battles, but were not sure of what they would face, what they could face, in the next hours. Their burnished armor glimmered in the morning light, and their lances were polished so that they reflected the light of the new day’s sun. Swords hung in sheaths from the pommel of the heavy leather saddles, and the horses that carried them were groomed such that their glossy fur seemed shine gently.
Farnan studied the looks on his men’s faces. Lines of worry creased their foreheads, and their eyes were filled with fear, but with determination as well. They watched him with certainty that, whatever they faced, he would lead them through it. Farnan hoped he could meet their standards.
Turning his horse, Farnan reflected on what had brought him here, so far from his home in the mountains to the north. His life had been perfect, filled with happiness and joy. He was the king’s right hand man, despite the fact that he lived far to the north of his liege lord and friend. He was the general of the most sophisticated and highly trained cavalry in the land, and he had a beautiful wife and two young children. But that had been before a half-dead messenger had ridden a starved horse through his fortress gates, bearing a desperate message of help from his greatest friend, the king. His castle had been besieged by strange, half-men with human heads and wolf-like bodies from the parched lands to the south, and he had no strength or supplies to resist for long. Farnan had had no choice but to leave his home and travel for seven long days to his king’s castle.
Farnan had long since lain out his plan to free the king, and the moment he had waited for had come. He wheeled his horse around, and drew his shining sword. Raising it so that it gleamed in the sun’s rays, he shouted loud enough to be heard by all eight thousand of his legendary cavalry. “Men of the mountains! You have been called forth to defend your king, and you have answered the call with confidence and joy to be able to help your leader in his hour of need!” The men raised a cheer, waving their lances, but when Farnan raised his other hand, they fell quiet enough for his words to be heard. “You rode here to defend our king, but when you saw what it was that you faced, you became afraid. Even now, I see fear in your eyes, and worry etched into your faces.” They had become completely silent now, and Farnan’s voice became softer. “Why do you fear, men of the mountains? A chance has been lain out in front of you, a chance for honor and glory, a chance that other men dream of for all their lives, and you shy back. Why? This is your opportunity to take your place among the legends of the world, to have your name remembered to the end of time! Why do you fear?” Farnan’s voice had now risen to a shout again. “I beg you now, fear not! Some of you will die, but what is there to fear in death? It is only a release of the burdens of this world, and the entrance to the happiness of the next life. You have followed my command since the first day I knew you, but how many will follow me now?” Farnan took a deep breath. “If you are willing to die for our king, then ride now. Ride now to death and blood, to honor and glory, to the rising sun!”
The men let out a cry so great that the ground seemed to rumble, and they raised their swords to catch the light of the morning. Farnan urged his horse forward at a slow walk, and the army moved behind him in three great sections. Their lances were now all pointed at the exact same angle, and the fear was gone from their eyes. Farnan’s horse advanced to a trot, and they began to climb a tall hill.
When Farnan reached the peak, he looked down, and saw the king’s castle. Tall, gray walls rose high, but the towers and turrets that advanced through them soared to the skies. Men poured out of the gates, and enormous half-men rushed to meet them. Farnan looked on in horror as the men were cut down by the half-men’s enormous axes. The stream of men that came out of the gate began to falter, and before long, the gates had closed, and there was less than two hundred men facing the thousands of beasts from the south.
Motioning to his men, he pushed his horse to a quick trot, then to a gallop. He charged down the hill towards the unsuspecting half-men, his cavalry thundering behind him. He waved his sword above his head, and shouted battle cries. The beasts looked up in surprise, and the king’s men in wonder. Before the wretched creatures could do anything more, Farnan was on them, and he lost thought in whirl of battle.
His sword fell, and a beast screamed. His sword fell, and a half-man crumpled. His sword fell, and a creature’s head rolled on the ground. Again and again, he rained down blows upon the fearsome animals that sought to rip him to shreds, and again and again, the black blood of the half-men showered him. His sword dealt out death, and he saw out of the corner of his eye his men slicing deep into the enemy’s ranks.
But suddenly one of the men fell, and then another, and another. The half-men screamed barbarically as they tore men from their saddles, and killed their so finely groomed horses. They began to push forward, and Farnan was forced to call back his men.
He shouted as loud as he could, but no one heard him over the ferocious din of the battle. He raised his sword, but no one looked up. Groaning, Farnan fought his way towards the nearest group of horsemen. A score of men fought side to side, always moving, but their number continued to fall.
Before he could reach them, the last of the men fell, and Farnan desperately tried to free himself from the group of invaders that had circled around him. He killed the first, and the second, and the third, but more came. One grabbed his booted foot, and began to yank him from the saddle. Farnan kicked, but the monster maintained a steady grip. Just as he was about to be pulled down, the half-man fell, and a lone rider raised a bloody sword. The rest saw him and scattered, but the rider cut them down one by one, until he and Farnan had broken out of the fray.
Farnan looked in wonder at this single man who had driven the half-men from him, and his wonder only doubled when the rider removed his helmet.
It was the king.
“My lord!” shouted Farnan in surprise. “What are you doing out here? You could be killed.”
The king smiled. “So could you.”
“B-but, I…” Farnan spluttered.
“I have every right to fight alongside my men.”
“But you are the king. If you are killed-…”
The king cut him off. “If I am killed, then the men will only fight harder to avenge me. Besides, I am far from helpless.”
Farnan nodded slowly. “As you wish, but stay with me. We stand no chance if we do not gather the men soon.”
The king smiled and put on his full helm. “Then let’s be about it.” Farnan laughed and spurred his horse onward into the fray, followed by the king.
The battle raged on, and with the king at his side, Farnan slowly began to gather his troops to him. They fought their way from one group to another, each time with more men at their back. By the time the sun had reached its peak, the men’s armor was no longer shining and their swords were no longer gleaming, but they were alive, and gathered behind Farnan.
Turning his horse, Farnan tried to put courage back into his men. “Men of the mountains!” he shouted again. “Look at those beasts. We are only half their number, but does that matter to us? No! We are the lords of this land, and we will not let half-civilized animals take it from us! I call you now to one, final charge, to free us of these creatures forever!”
The king took off his helmet, showing his face to the men, who gasped in surprise. “Men of the mountains, whose courage is far beyond anything I can think of, will you follow me to destroy these half-men, these evil monsters? I ask you, no, I beg you to come with me now, and vanquish evil from this land!”
The men raised their broken lances and chipped swords in a clear roar, so loud that the monsters, who had fallen back when the cavalry retreated, reached for their jagged swords and dark, half moon axes expectantly.
The men surged forward to meet the half-men, with Farnan leading the way. His sword sang, and he slashed and chopped down everything that got in his way. But before he was two minutes into the battle, something crashed into his head, he toppled off his horse, and the world went black.

When Farnan woke, he heard no sounds of battle, only a strange sound to the west, near the castle. He tried to rise, but his head throbbed so painfully that he rolled over, trying to clear his mind. He slowly rose to his knees, and then his feet, trying to ignore the blinding agony that seared through his head. He looked about and saw the bodies of dead men and still thrashing monsters. Black and red blood ran through the field like a horrible stream, and the slashed up bodies of the dead soldiers were pangs of loss to him. He had loved each of his men dearly, and to see them lying spread out on the ground with ravens and vultures swarming over them was a terrible blow to him. But then he saw a group of men and women standing around something, and it was from them that the strange noise came.
As he came nearer, Farnan realized that the sound was a song of mourning. Tears ran down the faces of many of the women, and he quickened his step. When he neared them, the few soldiers stepped aside, and Farnan gasped.
His greatest friend, the king, lay dead on the ground, a bloody wound in his side. His armor was dented, and his sword was shattered. His horse lay dead outside of the women, and his helmet was gone.
“He died defending you,” whispered one of the soldiers.
Grief washed over Farnan. He had not come all this way for his king to die, especially guarding his life.
One of the women stopped singing suddenly, and then the rest. They looked up in surprise, and so did the soldiers, for they saw something that they had never seen before, that no one had ever seen before.
A single tear rolled down the cheek of the greatest general and horseman of the age, a man renowned for his prowess in battle and his courage on the field. A single tear rolled down the cheek of Farnan, the king’s friend.