Aug 22, 2009, 3:09:51 AM8/22/09
to Flash Fiction Fridays
I figure if I can't think of something good, then I should at least do
something gloriously bad.
Tyr's Last Stand
Tyr might have been named after the mighty Norse god, and he might
have been as brave as any of the warriors of legend, but at heart he
was a mortal, and he knew one simple fact: he would not survive
The battlefield loomed ahead of him. He'd gotten split up from his
allies, and he could hear the sounds of clashing steel from the nearby
forest; but he could see a unit ahead of him, and he knew that he
didn't have time to find anyone else. Not too far behind him stood an
outpost tower on a hill, a critical tactical position in this land,
left in his guard. Letting it fall to the enemy would be disastrous.
Seeing the soldiers in the distance in front of him, he knew that he'd
have to fight them; he'd have to stop them from reaching his town. It
was his duty. He readied his sword hand as he marched towards them.
Deep in his heart, Tyr knew that he was a little scared. He was the
perpetual underdog of his company, he'd been seriously injured twice
over the course of the war; only blind luck had even gotten him this
far. His confidence was restored a little when he saw the uniforms of
the soldiers approaching him; they were but militia, peons. If nothing
else, he was a far fiercer warrior than they, he could stave them off;
it was only the officers he knew fear of, men who were just as strong
as his own comrades, and more experienced than he was.
The unit closed in on him. Soon they were but a hundred metres away.
Tyr drew his sword, charging forward. The militia men were slow in
responding, too slow. He cut their leader asunder with one slash, then
crossed swords with another. They started to circle him, but while one
tried to flank him, Tyr quickly turned about, cleaving his head off
with a bloody swing of the sword. The remaining three seemed hesitant.
It was as Tyr swung his blade at the next man standing, as steel
clashed upon steel, that he saw the bright colours of an officer
appearing out of the forest nearby. It wasn't just any, either. Tyr
recognized him instantly: he had a huge scar on his face, and he knew
that this was the legendary giant, the fiercest enemy that his people
had ever fought.
And at that moment he knew that he was doomed.
He had no hope against him. He called out for help, hoping that one of
his allies would hear; but he knew that it would be too late to save
him. He knocked back one of the militia, and moved away, taking the
chance to turn his head back towards the hill. In the distance, he
could see a rider rushing to him, a minute away from the tower. It was
too far, he knew, if Tyr turned now, the tower would fall.
He lunged at the militia man, killing him, then turned to stare at the
giant approaching him. He knew what he must do: he must stand his
ground. He had no hope against his enemy, none at all, but he realized
in the inner reaches of his heart that his duty was to stand up
against him and go down fighting. Courage had gotten him this far, but
now it would bury him. He would die, he knew, but he could stall him.
It was his duty to make a stand here, to fight and die against this
mighty warrior, so that he might buy some time for his allies. The
militia backed away as Tyr's enemy, the officer, ran in.
Tyr raised his sword, marking a line in the dirt. He was ready, ready
to die valiantly, for a good and worthy cause, to protect his
brothers. The giant swung his sword mightily at him, and Tyr's guard
wavered, knocked off balance. This was it, he thought, as he swung his
sword futily back-- the giant just laughed at him. Tyr tried one more
attack, knowing that he had no chance of even harming his enemy; the
giant grabbed him by the throat, then disembolewed him with a single
thrust of his blade. Tyr collapsed to the ground, his guts bleeding
out all over the dirt as he died. He only hoped that his death would
mean something, that he had bought enough time for the rider.
He tried to keep his eyes up, but his vision was a blur as in front of
the tower, the rider crossed blades with the giant. Soon the giant had
been forced to flee, and the rider approached him. Soon he was
standing nearby, and Tyr was struggling to keep his eyes open as he
stared up as his victorious comrade, a man so great he had managed to
survive against the mighty giant.
The rider got off his horse as Tyr laid dying, and just shook his head
sadly, a look of pity in his eyes as he watched him. Tyr winced,
staring back at his noble brother in arms. A second later, but after
what felt like minutes to the mortally wounded warrior, the rider
began to speak in eulogy for him.
"lol, noob, lern2play" he said, shaking his head in disappointment.
"gtfo ur draging us down."
Tyr heard his words echoing through his head as he breathed his final
breath, and waited for the afterlife to call him.