Young Writers Society

Home » Literary works » Short Story » Narrative

12+ Violence

Red Plains

by OddlyPlaced


The fellow next to me asked if I was nervous. I considered that for a moment. If he had asked me in a different setting, I would have no doubt told him yes. The stories of old and the high born of this realm would have you believe fear is dishonorable and makes you a coward. The only dishonorable thing about fear is not admitting it’s within you. I know very well that the young, impudent, arrogant fool who leads our army, Lord Hargoth( Who has only “earned” the right to call himself a Lord because his high and mighty father decided to knock up his prissy wife), is scared. We are outmatched and outnumbered, soon many, if not all, of us will have arrows in our necks, gashes all over our bodies, our steel drenched in blood.  There are perhaps seven or eight hundred of us if I'm being generous, and if reports of the enemy are anything to be trusted, we will be nowhere enough to stop them.

He knows this, but will never for a moment show that he is afraid. It is out of no respect for us, no man wants to think his commander is afraid, he merely wants to uphold the stubborn idea of “honor” that every noble of this land is so obsessed with. Yet despite all of this, today I am not afraid. I’m hot. The bright sun of the east beats down on all of us, my dilapidated tunic clings to my chest, the tip of my spear is hot to the touch, I can feel puddles forming in my boots. Coming from a village in the north, such heat is foreign to me, and I despise it. For once, I am glad I’m not of higher birth, our young leader must be swimming in sweat with that fancy gambeson and overcoat of his. He’ll never take it off, once again thanks to his fervent devotion to honor. If the man - no, the boy, had a wife, honor would be his mistress. Right now, he thinks nothing of women. No, I know exactly what he wants. He wants glory, to be known in halls and taverns in even distant lands, perhaps have a song written about him, sung by the worst and best of bards alike.

He’s not alone in his desires, I’d wager that at least half the men in this army want the very same thing. Yet he is the only one with a chance of getting this, it matters not if we suffer a horrible defeat or a glorious victory, he will be the only one receiving any credit for it. Their hopes are ultimately futile, although I don’t blame them. Ten years ago I’d be here for the same reason, every young man seeks fame and glory. 

The rest of the men just want to go home and are praying to the heavens that they’ll survive. In our situation, their chances of getting what they want aren’t much higher than the glory seekers. But as for me, I don’t want any of this. I can’t take my mind off of this incessant sun. All I want right now is a pint of ale and some shade. The funny thing is, my chances of getting what I want are lower than any other man in Hargoth's army. There’s not a single tree for hundreds of miles, and we have hardly enough food to feed ourselves, let alone any ale. I finally answered the man who had spoken to me, “No, I’m not scared friend, not at all. Just hot. Hot as blazes.” The man, a young and sickly looking lad who surely belonged somewhere other than an army, laughed and said, “You and me both, you’re a sight braver than me though. To tell the truth, I’m deathly afraid.” He laughed again, “and I’m hot.”

We’ve known of their coming for five days now, warned by scared and foolish travelers who dared venture beyond the relative safety of our borders. We are the only force in this part of the kingdom at the moment, and weeks away from receiving any reinforcement. For the moment, we are the realm’s only defense from the invading hordes, riding miles and miles from the steppes on our southeastern border. 

A sound military commander would have had us take up a well defensible position, and instruct us to immediately begin preparations for battle. Fortunately for our invaders, we do not have a sound military commander. Upon hearing the rather perilous news, Hargoth went on some spiel about the importance of taking the initiative, disregarding the advice of our more senior men, and marching us out of the nation and into the plains frontier, believing it to be imperative to meet the enemy head-on. He spurred us onward, moving the army day and night towards what he believed to be his opportunity for glory, and what the saner among us believed to be our demise.

We are upon our sixth day of marching now, with seemingly no end in sight. In the eyes of our commander, there is no reason to stop or rest, he’s not tired, so therefore the rest of the army isn’t. Yet, what he fails to realize is that he’s the only one out of all us with a horse. Our food supplies dwindle, and many of us grow hungry, but yet again our young lord makes sure he is looked after first and foremost and is well fed. Such is the way of life, I suppose, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. Who your parents are has always determined your status in society, your place in life, and the way you are treated by others. We are all so tired, every direction I look I see exhausted men, who all just want to rest. Lord Hargoth is not completely oblivious, however, he sees the fatigue on our faces, and yet he does not care. He simply tells us we need to have more desire and drive, and that we can rest after we’ve defeated the enemy. 

If he keeps on saying these things, there is no doubt in my mind that one of us is going to kill him. But, as the sun begins to set, the usual time he allowed us brief amounts of sleep, Hargoth announces we are making camp for the night.  The entire night.  We all cheer, overjoyed at the prospect of getting more than a couple of hours of sleep.  Men who had looked as if they could barely walk all day rushed to set up their tents near a small stream, rejuvenated at the very thought of a good night's rest.  Even when we don't make camp, there is an extra reward for me with the coming of nightfall.  The cruel sun that makes me so very hot finally sets.  In its place, a freezing chill in the air takes its place.  Most of the army complains about, but to me, it is quite welcome, it reminds me of home in a sense.  Before settling in for sleep, we eat what little food we are given, and drink from the small stream we made camp next to, the bravest among us even bathing in its frigid waters.  We could finally get some much-needed rest. 

I'm awoken when the sun is just barely rising up from the west, by Hargoth clanging his sword on his shield.  With a groan, I unwillingly emerge from my tent and began to pack it up, as do the other men, hurried by Hargoth and our captains.  We resume marching as soon as we finish picking up our campsite, to the surprise of no one.  Seemingly thinking we shouldn't get tired anymore now that we've had rest, forces to us march faster, and for longer than we had before.  Our already dwindling food supplies are practically non-existent at this point, and we were not allowed any food in the morning.  Several men even fall over from exhaustion as the day continues on, simply too tired to continue. Lord Hargoth demands we leave them behind, labeling them as cowardly dogs with "no ambition", as he puts it. Before there had been quite a few men in his army who respected him, now there is no doubt in my mind that he is hated by us all. 

We march like this for the next three days.  I soon begin to wonder if there even is an enemy out on the plains in the first place, perhaps the travelers had just been frightened by a particularly large group of bandits. Even if there is an enemy out here, it seems like we are going to die of starvation or exhaustion before they ever even got the chance to kill us. If something does not change soon, there will surely be a mutiny.

Late the next morning, we continue our march to god knows where.  Evidently hearing something, Hargoth stops and turns to us.  “Halt”, he shouts to us, “Listen.” We all come to a stop and go silent, after a short delay.  Concentrating on listening as hard as I can, I begin to hear a thumping noise off in the distance and apparently some of the other men do too. “Sounds like horses”, a man behind me remarks. With each passing minute, the thumping becomes louder and louder. Hargoth has a very confused look on his face, even though I’m sure all of us know what is happening.

After a few minutes of waiting, we begin to see dust being kicked up on the horizon. Men who looked like they came from the east appear out of the massive cloud of dust, bow and arrow in hand. Finally realizing what was happening, Hargoth raises his sword in the air, sunlight gleaming off of it. “Make ready men!”, he yells, “we’ve finally found these barbaric animals!”  He starts to ride up and down the lines of soldiers, attempting to inspire us. “Today, many of us will be sent to join God in the holy kingdom. But let us make it a fair trade, and send all of these beasts to join the Devil in Hell!”, he shouts in his rather lofty voice.  We all began to cheer, despite being a terrible leader, the man could give quite a speech. For the first time in the entirety of the time I spent under the command of Hargoth, I felt like I wanted to follow him into battle. 

This quickly changes, whatever respect I gained for him from his inspiring words, is lost with the next word that comes out of his mouth. “Charge!”, he shouted, urging us onward by swinging his sword in the direction of the dust cloud of men and horses. The bravest among us quickly charge forward along with Hargoth, while most of the army stay in place, knowing that a charge against men on horseback would be suicide. I look at the men around me, they all looked as dumbfounded as I am. We all knew that Hargoth was a fool, but not this much of a fool. He and the stupid-but brave- men who followed him are getting closer to our foes, Hargoth closer than any of them since he was mounted. If he survives, I think to myself, maybe all that glory he wants so badly will be well earned. Before he could even begin to fight, Hargoth is rewarded for his bravery with a barrage of arrows from the horde’s bows burying themselves into him. His body slumped backward and fell off his horse as the poor beast fled(several arrows in its hide as well) away from the mass of death Hargoth had forced it to ride towards.

At first, I feel a pang of dismay.  Now, we have no one to lead us against this endless and unstoppable hoard heading towards us. Surely we are all going to die. But then I realize something.  Our leader was Lord Hargoth.  He contributes more to the army's success now that he's dead than when he was alive.  This is probably the best thing that could have happened to us, short of not being here in the first place or receiving reinforcements. Those of us who are tactically inclined are free to take charge now, and take charge they did. A man by the name of Roger(he insists we call him Sir Roger, but frankly I have had enough of superfluous titles), who was Hargoth’s second in command back when he wasn’t face down in the dirt, begins calling out orders to us and tasking our captains with arranging their companies in formation. “All of you, stand as close together as you can!” “Pikemen to the front” “Raise your shields!”, he barked at us, giving orders at us left and right as we all scramble to get into position. 

None of us had ever gotten to see Roger lead any army before, we just know that he had in the past. Still, I trust him to lead better than Hargoth, really anybody is a step up from him, especially someone who actually seems to know what he is doing and doesn't rely on his noble upbringing and honeyed words to lead.  Never in my life have I seen men move so quickly, practically sprinting to where Roger and our captains ordered them to be.  In fact, I don't think I've ever moved this fast in my life.  Those among us armed with crossbows begin to line up in ranks on a small hill(if you can even call it that) behind us.  I suppose quite a lot can be accomplished when certain death is charging right for you. We’re certainly much better off than we were before, but standing so close together makes this heat even more unbearable. I remember the words of the fellow who had asked me if I was scared, back then all we could agree on was how hot it was.  Now, I’m not ashamed to admit it, like him, I am deathly afraid.

Our enemy is now upon us, their arrows rain down on our lines, slaying those who are unlucky enough to not have a shield with ease. Hargoth was right, a lot of us will certainly be joining God soon. But thanks to Roger’s quick action, death rains upon the horde as well. I see arrows from behind me fly overhead, several of which find themselves inside one of the horde’s horse archers. Our pikemen thrust their spears into the horses of those who get too close to our lines, throwing their riders onto the ground and leaving them open to be finished off.  Still, we are heavily outnumbered, I can see men constantly riding towards us from the horizon, a neverending human stream. 

The accuracy of their archers is remarkable, still able to hit whatever poor lad they aim for despite traveling at full speed on their mounts. I heard legends of horse archers from the east, with the accuracy of any talented marksman, but never believed them to be true.  Oh but how true they are, several men near me have already fallen to their arrows, and many have flown too close to me for comfort. Somehow, we manage to kill the first wave of them, but for every one of them we kill, another takes their place. I begin to feel hopeless, I believed Hargoth had been leading us to our deaths, but this is far worse than anything I could have imagined. I understand now why the travelers who warned of coming invaders had looked so terrified. The invaders are terror itself.

There is hope, however. The more of the enemy we kill, the fewer men I see armed with bows, and the more I see armed with blades or spears. We might have a fighting chance without arrows falling on us constantly. Still, I've yet to see an end in the charging horde, and the horsemen armed with melee weapons are not to be underestimated. I find myself being forced to move closer to our front lines, to replace those killed. I was not ashamed to admit I was afraid, but I am a little ashamed to admit I'm starting to shake. 

Many of our men are soaked in blood, dead bodies line the once empty plains, and arrows from the first wave of horse archers are littered across the landscape. What had once been yellow grass, was now red with blood. I smell an awful stench of blood and sweat mixed together, with dust kicked up from their horses in my eyes and nose alike, disrupting my vision and causing me to cough. At this point I'm at the front of our lines now and must admit, I’m even more scared than I was before. With each passing minute that goes by, I see fewer and fewer arrows heading away from our lines. Behind me, there are maybe eight more rows of men to take our place if we fall, and our enemies just keep on coming. If only Hargoth could see what he’s done, if only he could see where “honor” got us.

To even further cement our coming doom, I see men armed with bows starting to appear again. One of which gets too close to us, and all of us quickly jab our spears at him, digging into his poor horse’s flesh. It almost becomes monotonous, endless waves of mounted men reach our lines, we all thrust our spears at them, over and over again. I’m no longer afraid, I’m tired. It feels as if I’ve been dunked into the ocean with how much sweat and blood is on me, my clothes feel heavy, like a full set of plate armor. I can hardly even lift my spear, let alone use it, and the godforsaken sun that has tormented me so long still beats down hard as ever. One second I’m preparing to strike at one of the horsemen, the next I’m on the ground.

I look down at myself, an arrow right in the middle of my chest. I don’t even feel it, a part of me is glad it hit me, laying down feels nice. I look up at the sun above me, still shining down harshly. Ironic that it would be the last thing I ever see. I wish I could die somewhere with snow, and the smell of pinesap in the air. Instead, I get to die in these hellish, ugly yellow -no, red at this point- plains. For once I’m glad the world works the way it does, Hargoth, that thrice-cursed fool, will receive the blame for our defeat.  Sir Roger(I suppose he's earned it) did everything he could, there was just no stopping the horde from the east. Strangely, I see horses ride by me… from our lines, almost trampling me. Perhaps Hargoth won’t go down in infamy after all. My vision becomes dimmer, almost blurry. I know what this means, and yet I’m not afraid. Again, I think of the man from days prior who had asked me if I was afraid.  I wasn't then.  But I realize now that I should have been, his fear was well-founded.  Now I’m laughing, laughing as hard as a dying man can. “At least I won’t be hot anymore”, I say through laughter, “at least I won’t be hot anymore”. As my vision goes dark, I can no longer feel the sun I hated so strongly.


Note: You are not logged in, but you can still leave a comment or review. Before it shows up, a moderator will need to approve your comment (this is only a safeguard against spambots). Leave your email if you would like to be notified when your message is approved.







Is this a review?


  

Comments



User avatar
44 Reviews


Points: 450
Reviews: 44

Donate
Fri Apr 03, 2020 5:53 am
Gravitem wrote a review...



A very well built story. I didn't find any problems with the construction of the plot. I didn't have to stop even once to understand. I loved your character. It is only when I started this review, I realized that your character doesn't even have a name. This leaves me awestruck. Honestly there is very little about the character's life except for when you mentioned that he'd have fought for honor if it was ten years ago. I think that's what made this story very engaging. It was like you mentioned one thing at a time and the lesser you mentioned, the more I felt like reading. You have a great since of building characters too I'll give you that. And the way you've portrayed your character's feelings by the advancing of the plot. I was amazed.

One more thing you did great was, that you didn't forget that true human emotions come only at the time of death. And you've brought out your character's true hidden emotions when he is facing death. I loved the way you ended. The tragic ending was made even stronger with the character's even contradicting emotions. Of course, most people behave the same way but I feel that it made a larger impact in this case.

I loved reading your story. Please keep writing!

Yours sincerely,
Gravitem.




OddlyPlaced says...


Thank you so much, I%u2019m really glad you enjoyed! :)



User avatar
31 Reviews


Points: 2199
Reviews: 31

Donate
Thu Apr 02, 2020 5:50 pm
Alfonso22 says...



Interesting story concerning a warrior who describes a battle in which he is mortally wounded. The story is told in the present tense. As if it is occurring as the warrior is speaking to us. I like that approach because it strives to get the reader into the center of the action. Make us feel as if we are right there in the middle of things sharing in the danger. experiencing the horrible heat, flinching at the hordes of showering arrows incessantly our way. Seeing the death of fellow warriors and wondering why we are following a fool as a leader and wondering how such fools get into leadership positions in the first place. Is this an allusion to our present USA situation? LOL!

Thanks for sharing this interesting story. Below are suggestions, Please feel free to ignore any that you feel are not helpful. Apologies if I offend in any way. Not my intention.


1. Try to remain in one tense, either present or past. Do not shift.

2. Provide physical descriptions of the people involved

3. Provide more detailed description of military deployment.

How are crossbowmen able to take aim at the approaching enemy with the pike-men in front? Describing them as positioned on higher elevation, such as on a knoll, or hill behind the pike-men, would clarify.

4. Show do not just tell.

In what way are these enemies from the East beasts? What exactly have they done to deserve that dishonorable hateful title? Inform the reader so he can also feel the hatred and long for their destruction.

5 Name choice:

"None of us had ever gotten to see Roger lead any army before, we just knew that he had in the past."

Another name, a more medieval name other than Roger is better. Roger Rick, and Mr Roger's Neighborhood came to my mind.

6. Punctuation suggestions:

We [are]outmatched and outnumbered, soon many[,] if not all of us[,] will have arrows ....

7. Imagery or Description Suggestions:

Brief descriptions of persons spoken about would provide visual imagery. Please keep in mind that a reader does not see, taste, hear, touch, or smell anything unless provided with imagery.

In short. imagine that the reader is totally dependent on us for such things. That will motivate us into providing the hints that will gradually fill out the scenery and the people within the scenery so that they become more than just references by a speaker or disembodied voices.

It doesn't have to be all at once, it can be done gradually until the cumulative effect is that the reader finally knows how the persons look.

A reference to voice-texture, such as deep, squeaky, gruff, raspy, or eye shape such as almond, big a round, slanted. oriental or color such as hazel, blue, brown, , hair texture such as straight, curly, woolly, wavy, or body type, such as stout, fat, muscular, slim, lanky, or to the smell stench or aroma of the places such as musty, prurient, wet-ragged, etc, can make the surrounding come alive, and have the reader feel what you want him to see and feel emotionally as you wish him to feel about both characters and location.

It all depends on what emotions we as writers are trying to arouse in the reader. Are we seeking revulsion, fear, worry, admiration, confidence, contentment wonder awe, pity, compassion, hatred lust, desire, longing, All of these require different imagery. But rest-assured, they all require imagery if we are to have the reader feel the way we intend them to feel. If we merely tell them, that will not suffice and will leave them flat emotionally.

In short, we need to show and not just tell.

8. Believableness:

Keep it Believable:

It is good to avoid impossible scenarios which weaken reader acceptance. Please note that If speartips are sizzling hot, then such heat would not allow armor to be worn because the armor would also be as scorching hot as the spear tips making them unwearable. So believability is weakened.

How does a horse escape all those arrows aimed directly its way? I would have him ride away hit by at least a few. ]

--------------

Specificity:

....began calling out orders to us and appointing certain men to lead certain sections of the army.

[Exactly what sections of the army? Exactly which men were appointed? The reader will suspect that the writer doesn't know how that army how this army is organized. Also, generalities do not convey images. Certain people, certain place, a certain number all all very vague descriptions conveying no image at all. Remember imagery! Imagery Imagery is the key.

Also, how many are on Mr Roger's side? 100? 200? 1000? 10,000? 30,000? As a reader. The reader has no way of knowing unless informed. How does Mr. Roger look? Is he old? Young? Tall, Short? White? Black? Oriental? Round faced? Square- faced? How does the armor he wears look? What is the geographical terrain look like? Are they in a valley with their backs to a river as the Romans were against Hannibal in one of their battles? Do they have the high ground? As a reader I see nothing. I only hear a voice telling me vague things. See the point?

Avoid Unnecessary repetition:

The stream of men flowing from the horizon seemed as if it would never stop,and our foes are as deadly as they are intimidating.

[That has been repeated already several times. No need for further repetition. Such repetition is considered padding which does nothing to keep the story going or in holding reader interest.

All in all a very interesting read and an admirable enthusiasm displayed by a writer who shows great potential.




OddlyPlaced says...


Thank you very much for the criticism, it is appreciated! I will take all of this into mind when I write in the future.:)



Alfonso22 says...


I placed the review of the poem on my website but not the poem because I would need your permission.
https://varietygalore.boards.net/thread ... ddlyplaced



OddlyPlaced says...


I'll be sure to check your website out! I found your advice to be very helpful and made some changes accordingly. Thanks again!



User avatar
22 Reviews


Points: 230
Reviews: 22

Donate
Thu Apr 02, 2020 3:52 pm
LewisPencastle2 wrote a review...



I think the message of this story is pretty good, it is simple and clearly shows the flaws of past society and the consequences of those flaws. There's nothing wrong with the story, but just a few things with wording and such. Firstly, at the beginning the narrator is asked a question by another soldier, but before answering he goes off on a bit of a tangent about their commander and scenario. There's nothing wrong with that, but how it's phrased it at first seems like the lord he's talking about and the man beside him are the same person, something you might want to make a bit more clear. Also, you sometimes speak in the present tense but then the past tense, so I'd go through your story and make sure you just stick to one. Other than that I honestly enjoyed reading it and I hope you write more.




OddlyPlaced says...


I'm really glad you enjoyed! Yeah, re-reading the part you're referring to I can see how that was confusing, so I'll be sure to fix that lol. I'll also modify the wording a bit and stick to one tense as you suggest, and continue to do so in the future. Thanks for the feedback!



User avatar
31 Reviews


Points: 2199
Reviews: 31

Donate
Thu Apr 02, 2020 3:00 pm
Alfonso22 wrote a review...



Please break the text into smaller paragraphs and use indentation for the beginning of each in order to make your story readable.

Unfortunately, as it stands, it looks like an array of many intimidating blocks of thousands of small characters mockingly challenging my eyes to see if they can manage to resolve them into something meaningful. Reading should not involve such a difficult challenge.

In short, a reader on the internet naturally recoils from such huge blocks of text. So before I can even attempt to read the content, I respectfully request that you please fix that typographical flaw.

Thank You
Kind Regards




OddlyPlaced says...


I didn't mean for it to look that way, it was formatted differently when I brought it over here from my original document. I will try to fix that!



Alfonso22 says...


Hi! Good to know that you didn't purposefully think it was OK. Happens to me sometimes too. As long as we know it isn't good to do that we are OK. LOL! Will read it s soon as it is fixed. :)



OddlyPlaced says...


I attempted to break it up some and make it more digestible, hope it's okay now. This is my first time sharing anything I've written in a place like this, so thanks for the advice!.



Alfonso22 says...


Thanks! That is far more readable now. Since it is a long piece it will take me perhaps an hour or two to get the feedback ready. Thanks for fixing it. Kind Regards.




My existence is political. And love is my statement.
— Kevin Abstract