"Kill anyone still daring to breathe. No one should leave this war ground on their own feet," a soldier hollered in rage. He looked a little higher-ranked than rest of the group members. "Even if the war has ended, we must not let any rat escape!"
The group of five or six troops who were still searching the ground, damped with crimson river of blood, nodded together to the order of their leader. Speaking with an incredibly energetic voice, "Yes, Sir!"
Debris of the war were terribly scattered around. Lifeless bodies hideously besmeared with blood were rolling in the mud. The tattered flags fluttered with the wind - giving off the feeling of sorrow and pride and centuries old kingdom's tragic end. Swords and bows pierced the bodies of hundrads of soldiers and common folks - making the world seem a butchering house.
The thick, metallic smell was mixed so well in the air that even the soldiers who have seen hundred of dead bodies felt nouseous and almost threw up. Those soldiers still searched that graveyard to kill anyone who dared to stay alive while covering their nose.
No one could tell that this hell used to be a lively place with men and women filling the atmosphere with buoyant energy and laughter in the past.
And now there was just bone-chilling eerie silence left behind.
In the dead zone, there was an area where an awkward stillness had been surrounded. The silence there was weird and had a strong killing intent like a python waiting to attack. It looked like there wouldn't be any living person left there - it was lifeless.
When it seemed that everything settled with time passing, abruptly a clear sob split the sky from the nearby dump of dead bodies. A child was crying . He looked very young, maybe just a three or four years old kid who had never seen any war before. Who knew how he even survived the brutality? Maybe, miracle or something else. No one can tell.
Filthy clothes barely covering his frail body and deep wounds were all over the child. Blood was trickling down from his head. He was crying, almost screaming while searching the dead bodies with terror in his eyes and shivering limbs; desperately trying to find someone who he called "Baba" amidst all the decaying carcasses.
"Baba...Pitaa-Shri, where are you?" He screamed so loudly that his vocal cords were almost damaged. His voice breaking in between his sobing yet he did not stop calling out to his father. Even after so much yelling and screaming for his father, no one answered him. Who would even answer him when everyone was long dead around him?
In his tiny heart, he knew his father was no longer here. He knew now no one would ever answer his call for help. Now his father has left him for eternity. Despite knowing this fact somewhere deep in his heart he was still turning and shaking all the bodies that looked like his Baba.
Just some fifty or so meters away from the child a body that seemed to have started rotting, moved. It moved though there was no strength left in the body like it was already at the death's door, however, it sluggishly tried to lift up its head. With trembling lips he asked, "Wh... Who is cry...ing?" He felt parched as he finally spoke after a long time, his Adam's apple bobbing eagerly.
His eyes were closed right and looked young like someone in his mid twenties. Even so, he had a strong aura around him; it was as if this person was powerful and stubborn enough to not die that easily.
His clothes were shredded to the point that only some part of his body was covered which made his white-skinned body more visible to the eyes. He was lying prone, his broad shoulders and back had many severe cuts and deep wounds.
The right side of his face was buried in the ground of dried blood. Even when only half of his face was showing, he still looked attractive, his sharp features which were covered in blood made his looks more striking in a strange way. The clothes of his were dyed in vermilion blood; who knows how many people's blood was on him?
He opened his eyes, persevering through the exhaustion. The sound of the child's weep made him look around. He wanted to see who was still alive in this graveyard. He gathered his little remaining strength to move his head a little higher to see in the direction of the wailing kid.
His long limbs were broken badly, a string of blood was leaking out of his mouth. He had blood in his eyes which made him a little scary, it made his sight a bit blurry as well. With the last strength in his broken hands, he tried to probe his body a bit higher.
At first, he couldn't even see the closest corpse but then after blinking his eyes two or three times his eyesight became a little better than before. It was still blurry which made him only see some silhouette of the entire place. He slowly rubbed his left eyes again for a better vision.
The cry of that child was still as thundering and clear as before - reaching his ears smoothly. After rubbing his eyes his sight finally became clearer in some seconds. Finally, he saw that child who was crying like there was no end to his tears.
Clang.
The man's eyes widened after hearing that sharp sound. His heart almost stopped beating. That was the sound of unsheathing a powerful long sword.
The person who unsheathed the sword was cladded in expensive silk with many beautiful embroideries all over the fabric which were made of real gold thread. That person could be described as a handsome young man but he had a dark, cold face like he was ready to kill anyone without even blinking an eye. He was standing behind that brittle kid. The child didn't even notice his presence because his entire focus was on his father.
Swish.
As if cutting butter, with just one swing of his sword, he ruthlessly cut off the neck of that unfortunate child with no visible expression. The kid didn't even get to realise what happened to him.
"NO!" The man stretched out his hand, shouting. He wanted to stop that swordsman but he was too late. He had no strength to even stand on his own legs anymore, he fell on the ground like his soul was snatched out of his body after witnessing the horrific scene. His chest tightened and his heart burned uncontrollably.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
In frustration he punched the ground until his left hand started to bleed more than ever, tears were falling from his eyes like an overflowing waterfall. His nails poked his palm in self-loathing. He screamed and screamed until his own voice started to resonate in his head.
That man who beheaded the child saw him from the corner of his eyes. He smirked and left without giving another glance to the scene behind him. Not paying any mind to the one frantically crying at a distance. Maybe the swordsman thought that was his last cry before his end so he didn't waste his time on him and disappeared instantly like a ghost.
A few hours passed in the pin-drop silence after the incident. The wounded man has calmed down a bit after being worn out by screaming and punching his first on the ground. He was still in the dumpster of piled dead bodies and noticed that the vicious swordsman was gone - leaving as mysteriously as he arrived.
The man again tried to look for that child's body but he could not find it. That child's beheaded body had fallen somewhere on the ground he did not know about neither his sight could reach to. Trying to find a kid's body in the sea of adult bodies was like trying to look for a pin in hay stack.
Why...why am I even alive? To see a ...to see a scene like that like some mute onlookers?
He asked himself. The hair on his body rose on its ends by the sudden chill winds.
Some strange noise entered his ears; it was the sound of wild birds. It was not the ears pleasing sound that small birds would make, rather it was the sound of big man-eater vultures flapping their wings over some lifeless bodies. It was nothing new to see kettle of vultures finding the dead bodies. The pungent smell of blood and rotting fleshes guided them to this man made hell in no time. Those ominous vultures were just five in counting but they could still shake anyone's heart with boundless fear. Fortunately, they were flying far away from the wounded man thus it wasn't a big threat to him or anyone around him. Moreover, those vultures became busy eating some dead bodies which were near the end of his sight.
He had no idea what he should do after watching another gruesome act right in front of him. An uneasy yet heavy feeling crawled to his stomach. He shut his eyes. He could feel his body going numb as if his last bit of life was leaving him too.
He felt useless, for he did not even save an innocent child from his devastating end. With a heavy and grief-filled heart he closed his mouth, his conscience screaming at him and cursing him like being stabbed by knifes. Tears were still streaming down his eyes, mixed with blood, making him look like he was crying tears of blood quite literally.
A drop of some liquid fell upon his left cheek. His eyelids were still down so he thought that that was a drop of rain. He caressed it with his left hand but he felt the consistency of it was a little different than of rainwater.
His eyes opened and he looked at his hand which touched that cheek. He murmured, frowning, "Blo...blood?" He wasn't shocked but surprised to see blood on his hand because it was not the blood he had on him as the result of the war - it was the drop that fell upon him from the sky. He tried to look upward in the sky to see where this blood on him came from.
His eyes broadened like they would fall out any moment. His heartbeat froze. He forgot to breathe. His body was paralyzed seeing the hideous view; one of those vultures was carrying that child's head which was beheaded cruelly. That vulture was carrying that kid's head by his ponytail in its huge beak, the blood was dripping down from the neck of the small kid as the vulture flown over him!
Time stooped flowing for him. A teardrop slightly streamed down from his right eye, the teardrop slowly rolled down touching his cheek. No words came out his mouth, his mind was blank. He felt an ache in his abdomen; he had never felt that impotent in his entire life.
He shrieked in his head.
If only...if only I had died before witnessing such a...such a heart breaking scene it would have been better, a lot better.
He punched the ground again; more blood seeped out of the wounds on his palm.
After a while, the entire war field fell terrifyingly silent again. Those vultures and soldiers were also gone after getting what they wanted.
It was evening, even the sky started to cover up in crimson color; the sun was setting. Now it was vermilion everywhere, no matter whether you looked up or down.
It looked beautiful, dreadfully beautiful.
"Ad... Ad... Ad...Vik..."
It seemed as if another dying voice was calling for someone, the voice was clear yet called in so much despair and pain as though it used all its last breathe to say the words. That voice reached that white-skinned wounded man, he hastily started to look for the person who was spoke. "Is... ugh... is someone calling my name? Did I hear it right?" A mouthful of blood leaked out of his lips when he opened his mouth making him almost choke.
At first, he thought that he heard it wrong and it was just his delusion but the voice came again to his ears.
"Ad… vik, Advik"
That person kept calling for him. After hearing so many times he was sure who that person could be.
He tried to examine the place again to see where that person might be. Brightness could be seen all over his face, it was like every time the other person called they sent some energy or hope to him.
He was happy, anxious, desperate, he was feeling so many mixed emotions together in his heart, it twinkled his whole face. He felt a new found strength in his almost dead body just by hearing that voice. His smile was like the soft sunlight which could calm anyone who would glance at him for even a moment.
With haste, he tried to get up on his feet but he had no strength left in him. The second he put his hand on the ground to support his body, his torso felt so heavy that his hands couldn't handle his own weight and he fell down. Afterward, he again came to this position and finally firmly placed his legs on the land. And with quivering limbs, he tried to rise again.
At last, when he was on his feet again, he coughed and a mouthful of blood spread in the air.
Thud.
With a loud thud, he again dropped down on his chest. It was his tenth time trying to get up, though his broken body couldn't support him any further, every time he was trying to be on his feet, he was falling.
He glanced in the direction where the voice was coming from, clenching his fist so crazily that his veins were visible, he again tried to straighten up himself. Despite the melancholy soaking his heart he repeatedly tried to stand on his weak limbs. He desperately wanted to go where that person was, who was lying down thirty or so meters away.
I have...I have to go where His Highness is. I can't stop right now. I don't want to stop right now.
He was staring in the direction of that familiar voice while he was on the ground again, lying down on his chest. He clutched his hands.
I want to see His Highness. I want to make sure that His Highness is alright.
In frustration, his tears again started to roll down. He started hitting the ground with his head, the anger for himself clouded his whole being.
In a frail voice he said, "What... was the meaning of having that much power when I did not even protect His Highness?" He rested his head on the earth, tears stopped but the prints of it were gleaming on his face. His heart was thumping like a thunderstorm.
"Ad... Ad... Ad..."
He heard the voice again but had no strength to do anything anymore. His gaze fixed on his already bleeding fist. While scowling he tightened it to the point to wreck the lines of his hand. Tears left his eyes silently.
I deserve this… Your Highness. I deserve this…
...
Dictionary:
Baba: Father (Informal)
Pitaa-Shri: Father (Formal)