Insanity (Short Story 2)

The war was taking its toll on everyone. Food and water were almost gone, and so were the men’s fighting spirits. Every blow they delivered was half assed, lacking the discipline that was ground into them. No more fighting they pleaded… no more. War does not end with a beggars plea, oh no. The war between two great empires was a war that needed total annihilation for a victor to be decided. This was a great and epic war, for when the two great nations of Illinor and Nagre decided to clash, history was made.





    “General Azre,” a man said, walking into a tent. He was a tall man, clad in steel plating to protect his supple flesh. “General, we need a status report!” He stood attention and held out his hand.


    “Be gone with you,” a black clad woman said. She had bandages covering her eyes, and a cloak was drawn tightly around her body. Next to her rested a steel claymore shining in the dim candlelight. 


    “General Azre, I need those reports now!” He was getting irritated, his face was turning red. The general just looked at him through her hood, a smile could be seen.


    “Not now, come back later Quil,” she said with a defiant tone. She arose from her seated position and walked towards a desk on the side of the tent. She picked up a quill and dipped it in black ink, she watched as the residue dripped back into the bottle.


    “General Azre, I need those reports… It’s crucial!” He hit his head with his palm, groaning.

“Why should I give you the reports… if we are winning this battle?” She let out a small laugh. She started to write something on some yellowed parchment.


    The soldier looked shocked to hear those words. “What do you mean we are winning?” He turned his head to look at her.


    “Didn’t you hear me you deaf fool, we are winning…” she stopped talking and continued to write something down.


    “How! How are we winning!? Our numbers are dwindling, while they just received reinforcements!” He was breathing heavily now, his face turning a particular shade of crimson.


    "It’s simple… but you do not need to know,” she laughed as she said this, still writing. “All that matters is in a few short hours, this battle will be ours… with little to no fighting.


    “How can this be? What do you have brewing in your mind?” he asked, looking as curious as ever.


    “Nothing that concerns you… it is better off if you do not know… I know how you feel about my tactics,” she stated, still writing, her quill scratching at the parchment.


    He sighed and said, “You are most likely right… but please, for the sake of my men and sanity… please tell me what you have planned.”

She continued to write, ignoring his words. Pen stroke after pen stroke she still wrote, never stopping.


    Quil looked impatient, he crossed his arms and started to tap is foot. It became quiet, the only sounds heard was the tapping of Quil’s foot, and the sound of Azre’s quill on the parchment.


    She scratched away noisily on the paper… and then suddenly stopped. Turning to the soldier she said, “If you really want to know… you must not interfere, this method will assure victory for Illinor.” Quil looked at the woman, his eyes filling to the brim with curiosity.


    “Then out with it Azre. What do you have planned in that twisted little mind of yours?” He brought his arms to his sides and clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.


    She gave a small chuckle and rolled up the parchment. “On this sheet of parchment I have written an incantation…,” she trailed off, tying the paper up with a white ribbon. “This incantation will summon something… something that will destroy everything that moves.” She grinned and looked towards Quil, waiting for his reaction.


    “Everything that moves? What about my men… your soldiers?! What happens with them?!” He flung his hands up in the air, and pointed towards Azre. “What the hell are you planning!”


    “See, I told you that knowing would only cause harm, heh. Yes this will kill some of our soldiers… but only a hundred or so, the rest we will pull back.” She then walked towards Quil slowly, like a saber lion does when he stalks his prey. “We will keep them thinking that we are still fighting, but we actually have most of our forces moved back! They will never expect such a plot, but the hundred that we do keep must have the appearance of a whole army!”

   

    He looked at her with anger and said, “So you will sacrifice a hundred of our men-“


    “To save a thousand,” she interjected. “It is the only way to win… otherwise we will lose all of our men.” She thrust the rolled up parchment into Quil’s hand, “Here, choose the hundred to stay, tell them not of the situation, and have one with a good tongue read that.” She turned her back to him and stood over her desk. “If you fail in my expectations we will lose… we cannot lose this battle and you know it…” She let out a long sigh, one that told of her weariness.


    Quil dropped his head, looking at the ground. “We really need this victory,” he whispered. “We need to win… or we will gradually lose the war…fine, but may all of your horrid schemes plague your very conscious,” he spat, his eyes full of anger. “May you never rest your head peacefully, may you be haunted by then innocents you kill!” With that said, Quill stormed out of the tent, parchment in hand.


    She smiled to herself and said to nobody, “Oh don’t worry… they do… but they do not haunt my mind… they make life much more interesting… heh…”