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Kingsman (revised)
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Kingsman (revised) |
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Wesley the Blue Member
since 1999-09-02
Posts 426Forest Lake, MN, USA |
Ok, there have been some serious modifications done to this since it was posted. The largest probably being that the narator no longer has a daughter. There are some others in there too, but if you didnt read the first verson, you dont have to worry about it. Kingsman I thought that my hope had vanished when my small border patrol stumbled into the main body of the enemy’s army. Surly hope was gone as I watched my comrades be publicly tortured to death for the vulgar amusement of the troops, wondering if I was to be the next to go screaming with agony into death. Hope was no where to be found on the long chill nights tied to a stake in the ground, without shelter. No hope being forced to walk tied by a length of rope to a horse. My last faint glimmer of hope snuffed out under the heel of my captor as I was made to watch as the black hearted men raped my wife again and a gain before killing her, and being forced to hear my four year old sons screams from inside my home as it was burned. My soul was raped as my wife was raped. My heart burned and died as my son burned and died. Were it possible for a man to die of despair and heartbreak, surely I would have. I no longer cared to live, actually wished for the pain to end. The next day, when I refused to walk, I was tied across the back of a horse, the cords digging into my wrists until they were raw and bleeding. I didn’t care. Life and death had no meaning any more. I died with my family, violated and burned. Yet I still lived. Why I was kept alive I don’t know. I hated my captors for every thing they had done, but I hated them most for not ending my misery. I knew the army was moving towards my king’s stronghold. Other prisoners came and went, soldiers mostly. None of them were around for more than a few days. The leader of the army would come and pry information from them before having them put to death for sport. I learned a little about what was going on, not much though, I just didn’t care. The general, a big man, gnarled and scarred from battle, seemed to take singular pleasure in tormenting me, keeping the memory of my families deaths fresh in my mind, turning what might have been a smoldering of hurt into a funeral pyre of pain. Looking back that’s probably the only reason he didn’t have me killed, I provided him with too much morbid pleasure. The night we spent camped outside the city walls of the capitol was the coldest yet. The chill of autumn was setting in, I could see my breath in the light of the cooking fires. I didn’t sleep at all that night. I shivered and convulsed with the cold too much to sleep. Shortly before dawn I was unsteaked and led into the general’s tent. He was dressed in blackened armor, giving a few final orders to his commanders before the assault began. He came over to me and smiled wickedly. “Are you ready to see your great nation fall today? Are you ready to see the city burn?” I said nothing. I just stood there, staring blankly at the ground with my hands tied behind my back. He laughed insidiously. “Not talking today?’ He came over to me and got right up behind me and whispered, “I wonder how many will scream like your son did or weep in agony like your wife. How many do you think? 10? 20? 100?” I turned and spat in his face. He backhanded me across the face, sending me tumbling backward. “We shall see what this day brings.” He said as he stalked by me and out of the tent. Outside the dawn had come and the attack had begun. I could hear the commanders barking orders to their troops. I could hear the sounds of many booted feet trampling the fields and the sound of horses and the clank of armor. Soon I heard the sounds of battle; the ringing of metal on metal, the shouts of anger and pain. I didn’t care. Time had no meaning as I sat listening, just as life had no meaning. The sounds and screams of battle abated, moving farther off and lessening. I knew the walls had been lost, but it meant nothing to me. At some point the general came back into the tent and ordered me to come with him. I obeyed. His armor was unblemished. It was obvious that he had not seen battle personally that day. Had I been able to feel anything anymore, I would have felt appalled that this man didn’t have enough courage and honor to fight beside his troops. It was some time passed mid day when I left the tent. We made our way across the battlefield, littered with the bodies of the slain and wounded. We arrive at the gate, which was mangled and torn from its hinges, the abandoned battering ram lying across the ruble. All across the city plumes of smoke went up as the soldiers set buildings ablaze. There were occasional sounds of struggle as they met pockets of resistance, but they were quickly over come. We made our way to the king’s audience hall. We stopped outside and the general ordered the four guards that accompanied us to enter the building. Sounds of fighting emanated briefly from within before one of the guards came out, indicating that the path was clear. We entered the antechamber and found three bodies on the floor. Two were Kingsmen guards and the third was one of the general’s guards. We left the antechamber and moved into the main audience hall. The large room was empty except for a lone man sitting on the throne. He looked beleaguered and bloody from battle. The figure looked up as we entered, a resigned look on his face but fire still burning behind his eyes. The general strode confidently across the hall with me and the guards in tow, our footsteps echoing in the empty air. The king rose as we approached and stood regally in defiance. One of the guards forced the king to his knees in front of the general. The remaining guards stood to either side of me. “Surrender your crown to me, you are defeated.” Demanded the general. “Never. You may have won the battle and taken the city, you may even kill me, but there is something you cannot defeat, that you cannot kill, and that is hope.” I laughed at this, for surely my hope had been killed. The king looked at me with sad eyes and continued without looking away from me. “As long as even one man stands who has hope and courage, you will never defeat us.” The general grew angry and drew a dagger, stabbing it into the kings kidney with a snarl. The king pitched forward, his blood spreading around him, staining the white marble floor. He looked at me and mouthed the words of the Kingsmen’s code, a code I had lived by for my entire life. “Honor, courage, strength.” Something inside of me sparked back to life. I was lost in a sea of emotion. Hate, grief and pain all swirled around me and I sank to my knees, drawing breaths that seemed to not have air. Thinking I was overcome with despair, the general laughed and took the crown from the dead king’s head and placed it atop his own. I found focus for my emotion. I began to growl lowly as I pulled at my bonds. My muscles tensed and corded, straining against the ropes. My growl became louder as I focused my hatred and pain on the ropes. The guards and the general looked at me, staring at the mask of rage on my face. I screamed and pulled at the bonds. Finally they gave way and I was free. The guards beside me were startled but recovered quickly, drawing their swords. I grabbed the guard on my right before he could strike, throwing him between me and the other guard, just in time to catch the incoming sword thrust. I gained my feet and set to meet the other guards attack. He raised his arm to slash at me with the sword. I slid forward and to my left a little, catching his right elbow with my left hand and his wrist with my right. I slammed my right knee into his midsection doubling him over. I moved my left hand down his arm a little and brought my knee up again, this time connecting with his elbow and breaking it. He dropped the sword and crumpled to the floor in pain. I picked up the sword and turned to meet the remaining guard’s charge. I parried the wild blow and we squared off. I feinted a strike and he moved to counter. I took advantage of the opening I had created and thrust my blade into his throat. The guard gurgled and slumped to the ground. “I see some of the fire has returned to you belly. I though it had burned out with the fires that killed your son.” The general mocked. I snarled in response and half-heartedly thrust at his midsection. He parried easily and countered with a slashing strike. I blocked and slid back half a step to put a little distance between the general and I. The general advanced and I fell back. He advanced again and struck, I blocked. The great hall reverberated with the ring of the blades crashing together. We stood there for a brief moment, blade on blade, looking at each other. I wore a mask of pain and rage, he smiled wickedly. He struck again and I parried again and countered. The hall again was filled with the ringing of metal. There was another short pause. We set at each other, striking, parrying and countering. Giving and taking ground, weaving in and out of the great pillars supporting the roof. The hall sang with the ringing of metal on metal. We went back and forth for several minutes, taking and giving minor wounds. We paused for a minute, panting for breath, bleeding from a dozen scrapes and small cuts. He initiated the fight again with renewed vigor. We slashed and thrust in a steely dance of death. I was growing weaker as the fight went on. The weeks of imprisonment had taken my edge. I was a little slow in parrying a thrust. I felt a sharp pain in my side. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it was the first major wound inflicted in the fight. I was stunned and unable to react as the general struck again, stabbing into my thigh. I stumbled back and fell to my knees in agony. The general laughed and stalked in. He swung again, aiming at my neck for a killing blow. I managed to intercept the strike, but weakened from the pain, the force of the blow sent my sword flying across the hall. I was defenseless. I could only stare at my tormenter with rage. He knew he had me beat, he knew I was at his mercy. He came forward and put his blade through my left shoulder. I screamed with pain as he gave the sword a light twist as he pulled it out of my shoulder. I collapsed forward and to the side. I landed in the cold pool of blood that had seeped out of my king’s veins. I looked over, there was the king laying face down, dagger still sticking out of his back. The general didn’t follow my gaze. Instead he turned laughing, high on power and blood lust, putting his back to me. I reached out and pulled the dagger from the dead king’s back. I pushed myself to my knees and staggered to my feet. Weak from the loss of blood and the fighting, I staggered my way towards the general, more dragging my injured leg behind me than using it. My left arm hung at my side useless. It was a struggle to remain upright, the pain was excruciating, but I was determined, this fiend of a man had to die. He heard my shuffling footsteps, but it was already too late. Just as he turned to me, I plunged the dagger into his belly. His eyes widened in shock and pain. With my good hand I pulled his sword from his weakened grasp and clumsily shoved it up under his breastplate, piercing his black heart. He gurgled once and fell backwards. I took the crown from his head and stumbled towards the marble throne. I collapsed at the dais, too week to walk any more. I pulled myself the rest of the way to the throne on the ground. I placed the golden crown, now smeared with blood from my hands, on the great arm of the throne. I rested my back against the throne, completely exhausted and expecting to pass from this world at every breath. My eyes grew heavy and I could not resist the pull of sleep. As I lost consciousness I heard the sound of trumpets in the distance sounding the charge, then blackness. I awoke in a soft bed, my shoulder, side and leg bandaged. My wounds still ached but I could tell that I had been unconscious for quite some time. Beside the bed on a table were a new Kingsmen’s uniform and a new sword. The invading army must have left after I slew their leader. I smiled as I remembered what had happened, I had gotten my revenge on my tormenter, but it was empty, I was still empty. My family was still gone and I was still alone. I fell back into deep despair, cursing my luck for not having died in the king’s audience chamber. I pulled my new uniform on drearily with a slight twinge of pain, but considerably less than I expected, and strapped my new sword around my waist. I still had my duty to do, I didn’t care about a damn thing anymore, but I still had to do it, it took the death of a great man to remind me, but I knew now. I had made a promise to king and country, and I keep my promises. [This message has been edited by Wesley the Blue (edited 02-27-2001).] |
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| © Copyright 2001 Keith W. Mullin - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Dawn Eclipse Senior Member
since 2000-01-31
Posts 637The Horsehead Nebula |
a very good tale Keith.. though i must agree with you, it is dark. i think i would go insane if i had to watch my family go through that.. wonderful job.  "Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other course, no other way... No day but today" ~Broadway Musical RENT~ *Cassandra Roseen* |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Good tale you've started here, Keith. The majority of mistakes I noticed in this story were either keyboard slip ups or homonyms. You have "Boarder" instead of "border" and "heal" instead of "heel" in the first two paragraphs. I kind of thought the man's near escape at the end was a little out of line.. considering he has a gaping wound in his thigh and shoulder.. maybe he could throw the knife? It'd be hard for him to move period... and then when he get's up why does he immediately don the kingsman's clothes, I think he'd be sick for quite a while, and damn surprised to be alive... Just so comments/suggestions.. Great foundation, Keith. "And every state of mind, left to itself, every shutting up of the creature within the dungeon of its own mind - is, in the end, Hell" - C.S. Lewis |
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Ruby dagger Member
since 1999-08-01
Posts 76Wyoming, MN, U.S.A |
Great story. I really like how you decribed the pain. Luv Kelly "At the right time and place, a question was more deadly than any sword." -Mercedes Lackey |
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