War of the Words/Chapter 8

Delnar walked to the command tent with grim purpose; the battle was not going well at all.

"Casualty report," he barked a bit harshly. The senselessness of the battle was getting to him. He was a warrior by trade, First Knight of Deren, but the slaughter was wearing his resolve. Worse, no resolution was anywhere in sight.

"Losses today are about equal on both sides, commander." It was Cerin that spoke; even his energy and spirits seemed to be waning. "1200 Derenians and 1930 of the enemy fallen."

It was always "the enemy" now, never spoken of by name. Early on, their name had seemed powerful, given them a sinister air, moreso then just the word enemy. The name had lost its magic. Now a name identified them as people and thinking of them as persons with lives and families, ambitions and desires, only made it harder. Knowing that most of the enemy soldiers were young idealists following orders and not fanatical zealots bent on destruction made it worse. So they were dehumanized, not named, not people, just the enemy, without even the emphasis that capitalization would give them.

The war itself becoming near impossible to bear. There was no reason in it, only death. Delnar had tried only once to parley with the enemy. What resulted was a smashing disaster that nearly cost him his life.

The young soldier who had shown him in was a pleasant sort. He seemed generally kind and even concerned about the knight's welfare. This made what happened worse, though Delnar knew in time this knight would only have died for his cause or become as fanatical as his commander.

"Well, tyrant!? Have you come to surrender?" The man barked coldly.

"What?" Delnar was taken aback. "Of course not. I came to parley in hopes of truce."

"NEVER!" The man roared angrily "There can be no resolution save your total surrender or total annihilation. If you surrender, of course, the tyrants and the knights who serve as their instruments of oppression shall be tried and imprisoned or killed for their crimes against civility."

"You hypocritical bastard," Delnar stormed, his anger overriding both his reason and his code of ethics. "You prattle on about the people's right to rule themselves yet you deny them that very right: to choose their own form of governance."

"No unoppressed person would choose tyranny and no individual chooses to be oppressed!"

"Indeed NOT! None! Including myself!" Delnar was beside himself. "You simpleton, the people of Deren love Draynor. He is a wise and benevolent leader who brought peace to . . ."

"DO NOT MENTION his name! He is a petty tyrant who is loved in word due to his reign of oppression and fear. He brought this battle to our shores..."

"These shores belong to the people of Neld, our allies!"

"There are no people of Neld. There is no longer any nation of Neld. There is only the Vandarian province of Neld and its people are citizens of Vandar! This tyranny has been overcome as yours too shall be, and as the people of Neld called for the death of their tyrants when their freedom was at hand, so shall the Derenians call for your death. Well, not yours; you, alas, shall not live to that day. Guards, arrest this subversive: he shall be put to death at dawn as a symbol to his people to take heart. Tyranny will not go unavenged!"

"But sir?" the young man who showed him in protested. "He came under a flag of truce..."

"The flag is a deception, a trick; the man is a spy and he will die."

The man looked dejected as he arrested Delnar, but later arranged for Delnar's escape. An act of kindness and of honor. The man died for his courage; several days later his head arrived by courier as a token of the commander's esteem. The note read: Your spy has died in your stead, tyrant. May you bear the guilt!

Delnar did bear the guilt, it still sickened him, but it also strengthened his resolve slightly when all other forces served only to tear it down. The man was not a spy of course, he had never seen Deren in peace or in war, and now of course he never would.

"Press on, then," Delnar said to Cerin at long last. "Press on..."