Elt’s heart pounded in his chest. This would have come as no surprise, except that he half expected it to have stopped dead by now. Around him, the moans and screams of the wounded and dying filled the air like a near-tangible mist of despair. He knew that the lucky ones were already dead. At least death offered some respite from the horrid reality that now faced him and his compatriots.“Form ranks!” came the hoarse cry of the senior officer of Elt’s detachment. Elt helped a fallen soldier into the slowly forming lines, half watching the officer pace back and forth before them. He couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, but now he was commanding the hundred or so men and boys that remained from their original battalion of three hundred. He was thrust into command only hours before when their commanding officer had been slain in an enemy ambush. He didn’t look ready to be in charge.
Elt wondered if anyone ever really was.
“Kneel before Supreme Commander Sefil!” came the young man’s nervous cry once more. Those who were standing knelt, and those too injured to stand scrambled into as close to a kneeling position as they could manage. Elt knew that protocol required him to look straight ahead, but he dropped to the ground quickly and dug his clammy palms into the blood-drenched soil, head down and chest heaving. Dare he look into the eyes of the Supreme Commander? He felt as if guilt were etched on every inch of his battle-scarred face. He heard the unsteady rhythm of horse hooves, picking their way slowly along the ranks over bodies and ruts in the earth. With every ounce of willpower he had left, he forced himself to look up into the eyes of the man who towered over every one of the weary soldiers kneeling before him. Sefil’s eyes gleamed beneath the harsh curves of his ornamental gold helmet. Hair as black as his soul spilt out from beneath it, not a single strand out of place. His armor gleamed, immaculate. He never fought, and yet he commanded an entire army through fear and manipulation. Elt felt bile rising in his throat, and swallowed hard, willing Sefil to move on, to continue on his way down the line. At last, Sefil broke his gaze and kicked the horse, who neighed in protest but continued along its grisly path.
Once he was out of view, Elt felt the brush of movement on his left. His eldest brother, Ansel, had snuck slowly and quietly to his side. Ansel’s eyes seemed to press on Elt the importance of silence. Be still, they seemed to cry, say nothing. Do nothing. “Promise me.” Ansel whispered, his voice barely registering above the cacophony of death rattles and screams that surrounded them.
Elt nodded, but he could not convince his body that everything would be ok. It continued to betray him until at last he was sure that the whole company must know what he had done.
“Someone among you told the enemy where to find us.” Sefil said. His voice was melodic, hardly what you’d expect from a man who commanded that anyone who stood in their way be destroyed. “Someone among these ranks, from among your brethren, has betrayed us all.” He spoke slowly, purposefully. A few of his highest aids had been following him on foot, and they began to pull people indiscriminately from their lines, dragging them forward and forcing them up, regardless of their physical conditions.
“Look at what deception brings you. Failure, defeat, and destruction. Is this what we want? Dissention in the ranks? No! We want a united front. We are fighting for a better tomorrow for all the people of this land. And deceit cannot – will not – be tolerated."
Eleven men were now standing in front of the lines, eleven men who Elt knew had nothing to do with the plan that had led to today’s massacre. His heart raced faster as suddenly two strong hands were grabbing him, heaving him forward by the helmet that was strapped tight beneath his chin. He fell face first into the muddy ground and struggled back to his knees, only to be forced to his feet and led to the group that had been singled out.
Sefil’s voice seemed almost melancholy as he continued, completely ignoring those who had been brought forward. “Look upon the faces before you. These are your compatriots, your allies. But are they also, beneath that, traitors? I do not know. But I do know that in order to lead you to peace everlasting, sacrifices must be made.” He paused, scanning the ranks slowly, as if looking for some tell-tale sign of treachery. “If the traitor does not turn himself in, then I will be forced to kill each man you see standing before you. Let it be an example. Let it show you all that treason will not be tolerated. Let it prove to you my resolve, and how any doubt will be handled swiftly and without mercy. This is war, my children. And there are no second chances in war.”
Sefil waited then. Elt felt the man beside him trembling in fear. He wondered if he had the courage to save these people, to do the right thing. He’d been stupid. This was his fault, and now he had to pay the price. He gathered his strength, but as he prepared to speak, his eyes met Ansel’s. Be silent! They warned him urgently. Let someone else take the fall! You weren’t alone! An eternity passed between them, and Elt looked away. He felt Ansel’s gaze boring into the depths of his soul. “I will not wait forever. You have five seconds to reveal yourself, traitor, or I will cut them all down without a second thought. One.”
Elt’s heart jumped into his throat, and his fists clenched against his sides.
“Two.”
Do it! He willed himself. Now!
“Three.”
Ansel’s gaze was still on him. He didn’t look back at his brother, but he could feel his eyes still. A tear running down his face, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. He was so afraid.
“Four.” Elt opened his mouth to confess. But the words that came next were not his own.
“It was I!” came Ansel’s loud cry from the front line. “It was I who betrayed you, Sefil, and I would do it again, knowing the consequences! You are corrupt, you are evil, and I will not follow you. Long live Hewhay! Long live Ne De!” He kept speaking even as four of Sefil’s aids surrounded him, dragging him forward. Sefil approached, still on horseback, and looked down into Ansel’s defiant stare.
Ansel spit before Sefil’s horse.
No! Elt’s heart cried out with everything that was in him. Please, no!
“I will never serve you, you coward!” cried Ansel. “You will never win this war!”
Sefil spent a long moment looking down at him. Then he spoke softly, but each of the twelve who had been dragged from the ranks could hear him as clear as day.
“Kill him.” He said simply. Then, “Kill them all.” One of his aids drew a sword, and with a flash of steel glinting in the midday sun, Ansel crumbled like a rag doll to the ground. “And let that be a lesson to the rest of you!” cried Sefil loudly. The rest of his foot soldiers drew their swords, turning to face the twelve helpless prisoners.
Elt closed his eyes. Now, finally, he would taste death. He was afraid, but somehow at peace. Soon he would be with his brother.
The swordsmen advanced.
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