Blinded Hope

                                      Blinded Hope
         I stood, looking into the crowd. I had won the battle, but lost a friend. My heart was weak, and my hands were cool, despite the warmth of the blood. I left my sword, left it sticking out of my friend’s neck, a metallic tumor. I left the arena. I did not wait for the gates to be lifted, forcing them up.  I did not wait for the cheers to die.

         I had fought all of my life, fought for as long as I could remember. I had always fought for the crowd, always fought for glory hoping that one day a wealthy merchant would buy me from the death pits. It never worked that way for me. Always another slave was bought. Always one that wasn’t as fit, wasn’t as strong, wasn’t as feral as I was.

         I had killed many times over, killing for a chance at freedom. All the while, Jeroc had been there. We had fought side by side, fighting as brothers. He had been an extension of my arm and I of his. And in the past few moments, I had cut off my sword arm. I walked quietly back to my cell, the home that had been mine for the past millennia. The only possession that had ever been mine. I stripped the armor off, removed it piece by piece and threw each against the wall.

         I was done. I was finished. I was tired. Many souls I had released, and I was ready for mine to join them. I removed the last cloth from my body, throwing them in a pile. I wished that I could burn them, burn each thread, even set the metal of the armor ablaze.

         I fell to the ground, the straw that lined my cage being the only cushion. I wanted to weep, to feel sorrow for all the wrongs that were finally catching up to me, but tears would not come. They would never come. Not for one that didn’t deserve them. I stared out of my cell, thinking of his face.

         I thought of how he longed to see the outside world again. The way that smile covered his face, the hope of the idea crept into my mind. And then I saw his face, the eyes wide open, the face twisted in agony as he tried to take his last breath, the breath that had been cut short by my blade. I screamed and punched the wall. I felt no pain as my knuckles bled. I was done, finished.

         The last person I would slay would be myself. I looked upon my hands. They were strong, with a nail missing on the left one. They were covered with calluses and cuts. They were covered in filth, covered with dried blood. I looked at them with horror then. I tried to wipe them on the straw I sat on, but they only became filthier. I wished to be free of them. I wished to be free of all that I had done with them. All the pain that I had caused, all the hurt they had wrought. I had never been outside of the Cells, and I knew that the world was better for it. If my body were set out amongst the world, my soul would corrupt every being I came into contact with.

         I stood and tried to close the door to my cell. The guards would be coming soon, as they did every day. And just like every day, they would taunt and abuse us, us, the ones that could rend head from body without a fear in the world. I sat back in the corner of my cell. I would not take it any longer. I looked at my hands. I realized that they were not done yet. That they would never be done. That I would wash them with the blood of my enemies, with the blood of my friends for as long as I walked this land.

         The loud voices of the guards rang down the hall, like screeches of monsters coming for my soul. They would not want my soul if they knew the blackness to it. But my soul became hungry in that instant. I knew what I had to do. I know that there is no redemption for me, or my brethren, but there can be hope for a better life, for a better chance. I asked myself if it was possible that the soul of evil caused a matching heart of evil. Or if I could at least try to do better for myself. I may not make it into the fields that honorable warriors travel to when they are defeated, or ever be able to, but it would be worth a try.

         I stood, and walked to the pile of cloth that I had torn from my body. I picked two large strips and wrapped them around my hands. The guards were nearer now, but I walked out into the hall and gathered the bloodied armor I had used to dent the bricks. I looked at the breastplate; it had a slash of blood marking it. It resembled a wound, stained with dried blood. I tried to wipe it away. It wasn’t my blood, but that of my brother. I stopped, and put the plate on. If I was successful in attaining freedom, then maybe Jeroc could see it once more. I cared not for the blood that covered the armor.  I covered the chinks and holes that dotted the armor I wore with more of the cloth, using the still drying blood in places as an adhesive and tying it down in other places.

         I backed into the corner of my cell and waited. I closed my eyes, waiting for the guards to near. I did not want to kill, but I did not want this place to kill me, to befriend another only to be slain by him.

         They were here. “Hey you, you meat head, good job on killing Jeroc,” he slurred his words, drunk, “I want to congratulate you on killing your only friend.” This would be easy. The other guard and he shared a laugh, and then I felt the sting of alcohol thrown into my wounds that lined my back. I did not open my eyes, but instead turned and rushed the guards. I would not watch another die.

         I held my eyes closed, as tight as the prison doors that held us in these cells, while I felt my body grab a sword by the blade and drive it into the flesh of one of the guards. I felt myself swirl around as a spear blade sliced into my side. I did not scream out in pain, nor did my eyes open. My body turned with such speed, with such sureness that I knew I would never have to watch another one die. I did not smile as I felt my sword hit again.

         I finally opened my eyes when my body stopped. Two guards were laid out on the floor, one missing his stomach, the other his head. I did not smile. I was a step closer to freedom, but I did not smile. Somewhere out there, a boy no longer had a father, or a daughter no longer had a protector. I bent down and closed the eyes of one of the guards, taking his sword, but leaving his gold and other belongings. I would weep for them, but my eyes are not worthy of tears. I drug the guards into my cell. Into their cell. It was no longer mine, and it would never be again. I turned, waiting, listening. I could hear no sounds; no guards were on their way. I rushed down the hall, rushing for the nearest exit.

         I ran, but no guards appeared to block my path. I had expected more to try to halt my progress, but none had shown up. I was content with this fact. Fewer guards meant less killing, and an easier escape. I ran down hall after hall, but I still met no guards. At one point I turned and waited. I almost wanted to kill, but I hurried myself along, thinking of Jeroc’s face. I turned a blind corner and found a group of at least twenty guards blocking the heavy iron grating that meant escape, freedom.

         I did not stop moving, and instead I ran on, picking up speed, closing my eyes. I heard a guard yell, then the unsheathing of many swords. I did not care. I would either meet freedom, or death. Both were the same. Both meant an end to the senseless killing.

         As if on cue, I felt my sword swing, felt my hand grab the cold metal of other swords, rending them from the hands of their holders. I let my mind drift, trying to distance myself from the violence that flowed through me, as if water from the sky. Many times, I felt sword slice into flesh, rending tendons, cleaving bone.

         I cringed, wanting to vomit at every instance of these feelings. Yet, I also enjoyed them. Just the thought terrified me, with Jeroc’s face and the faces of countless others appearing in my mind’s eye. But still, I rushed on, eyes closed, body flowing like water. And all of a sudden, I stopped.

         I opened my eyes, and the guards were sprawled out around me. Arms were mismatched, heads were missing, blood covered the walls, and blood stained my armor. I checked my self, but no damage had been done to my body. The river of pain that I am, was whole and flowing. I walked up to the heavy portcullis, lifting it with all of my strength. I was beginning to look forward to find the dam to the river of violence that I had become. That I had always had been. I slipped through, a piece of my armor being ripped off as it became caught under the heavy gate. I tore it off, leaving it behind. I did not care if I lost armor, or if I lost limb. The best would be if I lost life. And then I stopped to look upon the outside world. 

         I heard a loud yell and turned to see more guards. I did not want to fight anymore. I was done. I had done something that I had never done. Something that I had never been able to do. I ran. I ran as fast as I could from the danger that was myself. I had no need, no want to kill. I was sick of death, tired of it. So I ran. I continued for many hours, my strong legs carrying me without fatigue.

         But I did feel something that came rarely for me. Hunger. I had always had my meals provided, always fed on a regular schedule despite the cruelty of the guards. I knew that no food would be provided, that I would have to search for food. I slowed my pace, eventually stopping. I looked around taking in the sights. I had never seen this green carpet I walked on, nor had I seen the brown titans that ended with more green in the sky.

         I saw movement in one of the brown giants. It looked like a small two legged animal. It had appeared out of nowhere, and it made whistling sounds that were
beautiful. I did not know what this creature was. I picked up a rock, and threw it. It struck true, and the creature fell to the ground. Many more of the creatures floated off into the sky, carried by flat arms that waved up and down. I watched these creatures curiously, but I did not try to strike another one.

         I instead walked over to the small creature that I had knocked down with a stone. I knew not what it was, if it was dead, or if it would attack. I gingerly touched it with the tip of my sword. It moved slightly and I over-reacted. My sword rent the creature into two halves. I bent down as blood poured out of the creature. I had unwittingly killed. I threw my sword up into the sky, putting all of my strength into its flight. I would no longer carry a weapon with me. I was too dangerous with one. My bare hands were weapon enough. With my might, I could take on an entire army.

         I sat down in front of the creature, trying in vain to put the creature back together. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I felt sorry for the little thing. I did not try to eat it despite my hunger, instead digging a shallow hole and burying the creature.

         To my surprise, a drop came from my eye. I looked up into the sky, a smile on my face. I stood and walked under one of the brown behemoths, continuing to stare into the sky. Whatever gods existed I praised. I wept. I vowed at that moment that no more death would spring from the river I was. I had found my dam, being nothing more than water itself. Water that flowed freely from my eyes. Water that released me from what I had done, water that would cleanse my soul of the dirt that covered it.

         I wept for an hour, a smile on my face as I thought of all those I had slain. The smile was not for their death, but for the tears that dropped from my eyes, for their memory that would never die in my heart. When the sun dropped lower into the sky, I decided to move on. I did not wipe the tears that covered my face, but let them dry, much like the wounds that we gladiators would show off later to our brethren. I had wept. I had started to forgive myself.

         My freedom was coming soon. And when it came, I would be ready for it. I would embrace it, never touching sword, dagger or any other weapon for as long as I lived. The river that I was, is no longer a river, but instead a dried patch of sand that would never hold the painful water again. I walked out from under the green canopy that I had been under and started to walk. I was on my way to freedom, but I needed to find a hospitable place to live. Freedom has no reason if there is no reason to be free.

         I walked on, going through a group of the brown towers, carefully navigating the tendrils and bushes that choked the land between them. I continued on until the sun disappeared and the sky became dark. I continued on still, until I spotted a small brick building. I hoped it occupied, and not by any prospective enemy. I rushed up to the building, searching for a portcullis or cell door. I only found a piece of wood and a few holes covered in clear metal. I guessed that the wood piece was where a person entered.

         I stood in front of it for some time, waiting for someone to let me in, but nothing happened. I started to grow hungrier and more tired by as time went on. I finally called out, hoping that whoever was inside would hear me. I waited a few moments longer, and then a female finally answered the door. It was only a female, so I walked in, pushing it out of the way.

         “Who are you?! Who’s there?!” It yelled. I was surprised that it could talk. All of the females that the gladiator masters gave me to bed had been silent, not capable of speech. My had been birthed by one.

         I looked at the female, “You can speak?” I asked.

         “Yes, I can, now who are you?! Get out of my house!” It grabbed a small knife and started waving it, blindly. Blindly, because it was blind. Blind like the older gladiators that survived to thirty passings of time, with milky white eyes.

         “How is it that you are not a slave?” I was intrigued that it could talk, and could talk intelligibly.

         “Get out, please don’t hurt me!” It was weeping. I rushed to it and touched the tears. One so pure, one that could cry so easily. I held its head, cradling it, watching the cleansing water if the soul pour from her eyes.

         “I will not harm you; I do not want anything of yours, other than a meal, and a place to bed. I will not harm you, and I could help protect you.” It pulled away from me, and backed against a wall.

         “You will not harm me?”

         “Never.” I had found a new companion. A new friend. I would never hurt it, this female. She was beautiful, but I had no wants to bed with her. She was blind and I did not want to take advantage of her, and I felt a need, a primal urge to protect her.

         “You must sleep outside. I will have a dagger with me, so do not try anything.”

         “Thank you.” was my simple response.

         That night, I ate the best meal I had ever had. It had been wonderful, better than anything I had ever tasted. After the meal, I had tried to talk with it. It would not talk, but I learned to call it Hope. I then quietly went outside and slept in front of the door. I looked forward to the morrow, to find out more about my new companion.

         For many passings then, I got to know Hope. I learned that females are just as intelligent as men, and that many can be just as strong. In time I grew to love her, as I would love one of my brothers. Each day I would do chores for her and she would talk with me. I learned much of the world from her, that wood came from trees, and trees were the behemoths that I surrounded her small house.

         Also in time, soldiers came. After many passings, guards that worked for the king of Sylvane came looking for me. There was a knock at the door. I had been preparing the stew, while Hope had been sewing. I went over to the door and called out, asking who it was. I did not like the answer. They called themselves guards. At the sound of that word, Hope stood, and grabbed a dagger that she had hidden from me ages ago.

         She tried to hand it to me, but I would not touch it. She held it and nodded. For one that was blind, she did very well, living as though her eyes worked all along. I opened the door.

         A guard wearing black armor stood on the other side of the door, holding parchment that held a picture, one that resembled me. He immediately saw me and tried to strike. I merely grabbed his sword and asked, “Why are you here?”

         “We have come to capture an escaped prisoner of his lord, king of the throne of Sylvane.” Hope let out a startled cry at the mention of my status. Over all of the time I had spent with Hope, I had never told her of my escape, of what I had done, of the violence that had spewed from my hands.

         One of the guards pushed past me, and grabbed her. “Let her go.” I said with force. The guard simply sneered. I had not killed in many years, not even harming creatures of the wood. I didn’t want to kill, but I would to defend Hope. To defend my friend.

         “Let us take you and we won’t hurt her, much.” I saw red when he said that he wouldn’t hurt her much. I closed my eyes. I would not watch as I destroyed the dam that had held back the river for so long. I felt my body move, and felt bones crunch under my fists. I felt a sword slip in between my fingers. I felt flesh rip, and bone tear.

         And then I heard a scream. The sword flew from my hands and I forced my eyes open. I had struck her. She was on the ground, her chest still in the light.

         I went to her, not caring about the guards that remained standing outside of the door. I bent down and lifted her. I knew that I had done it, that I had been the one that had struck the blow.

         I wanted to cry, I wanted to vomit. I did not let myself; one with such a black soul could not do such things in remorse. One with a soul as black as mine. I carried her to the door. The guards that remained tried to attack, but I ran. I ran past them, I ran past the forests, I ran past the small streams, I ran past animals. I ran until I reached the cliffs of the sea, and jumped. I jumped out as far as I could.

         I would cleanse my soul with the great water that would rush up to greet me. I dropped Hope as I fell, and tears sprang forth from my eyes. I closed my eyes, waiting for the water to rush up and meet me. I knew I couldn’t swim, but I would not fight the water anyway. I felt water, but I could still breathe. I opened my eyes. I wasn’t in the sea.

         Instead I looked upon golden gates. A woman with wings beckoned me towards her. I started to walk, but stopped. Could there be salvation for what I had done? Hope?