Everlasting Chains

Frontlines

Several months into the year, the land upon which I served was invaded.

It's rumoured that they laid to waste everything and everyone that hindered their advance for they were like locusts they said, Locusts of the North.

It was not too long before the rumours started to take hold as the very state was only hanging by a thread. This I say, not because I am some high ranking member of the great families disguised as a slave, but because of the decree of the king.

I had no idea there existed anything beyond the Master of our lands much less an Overlord over all the rest. Upon his decree, all that dwelt in his domain would fight to the last man, slave or free.

A bit ironic, how one would be tasked with defending the land that had been all the while actively seeking to consume him..tch..

This decision took into account that given the opportunity, slaves would turn against their Masters or run for the hills but was still made because of the nature of the invaders; total annihilation.

This had been the case with the outer lands and though slaves revolted they were not spared but all shared the same fate as their oppressors.. at least we were told so.

With only two major families left with enough resources to create a force against the invaders, I found myself reuniting with Hasan.

The Vesto family and the house of Elrimi were practically all that stood between these invaders and extinction.

And so every able man was conscripted while all the slaves whether young or old had to take up arms which were only given to us on the decisive day.

We set out to meet the invaders and since I heard it was advantageous if we had the high ground, our march was no simple feat if we were to make it in time.

By evening, we had positioned ourselves along the hills of Teysera, owned by Master Elrimi and as we had made camp, the invaders were in view quite afar off in the valley.

The tension started to build up as the opposition seemed to have endless numbers and from the looks on everyone's faces that knew nothing but digging, fear had begun to suffocate them.

They had realised their role as cushions for their masters, as mere stepping stones meant to be sacrificed so they could live.

I could see many grit their teeth and envision escape at the start of the battle since they were all but assured of death otherwise..

How were these starved slaves beaten within an inch of their lives everyday supposed to come out as victors in such odds.

The ground began to shake as the invaders drew near us and almost as if in resonance, the blades the slaves wielded shook with fear and despair..

"WILL WE DO BATTLE NOOO-W!!!!?" Smacking the back of his head, his words became muffled in the end but all had been startled by this roar that seemed to strike all with lightning.. and as all heads turned towards us, great laughter broke out.

Turning towards this i***t brother, my eyes glistening with evil intent, biting my lip in frustration, "What the HELL do you think.. our heads could, " but before I could even finish, the look in his eyes beckoning me to look around, the slaves whose faces spelt nothing but devastation were now ripe with hope..

One I could not understand.. one I still don't.

And almost as if he read my mind, "Fear is too flawed to be called a survival instinct, " looking back at the multitude of unwilling slave soldiers now resolute in their resolve to fight he smirked, "And even if it should be, hope far surpasses it in strength!"

In that moment, I was almost sure he was the better man amongst us, I was almost sure..

But I'm too level headed to believe in anything I cannot confirm to be true with my eyes.

And like a wave of pure instinct, these previously downcast men's eyes burned with fearsome vitality, ready to face their enemies down below.

Provoked by the morale of these skinny half dead men, the actual warriors behind them let out a cry in an attempt almost to assure themselves that they would not lose in vigour to mere slaves.

With the advancing invaders nearing the hill, the commander in charge of the slave unit, upon his horse, raised his glaive, "EVERY MAN THAT SURVIVES AFTER WE DRIVE OUT THESE INSOLENT CURS!! WILL BE FREED!!"

To be honest, there are no words sufficient enough to describe this moment, whether it be confusion or desperation or even excitement, a whirlpool of emotions was stirred in these men's hearts, a torrent of memories, long forgotten wounds bursting open and these similarities in experience, causing them to look around amongst themselves, desperate to believe in this truth and as far as our masters are concerned they excelled at manipulating despair. For like I said, I don't believe anything I cannot confirm to be true with my eyes.

Unlike me however, the multitude of slaves let out a shout, one that sounded more like a cry of victory than a roar of conviction..

What is freedom? Why must I risk my life to attain it, more especially so, in impossible odds? I don't know, maybe it's because it's impossible to attain that it was so enthusiastically offered.

Before I could sort out these thoughts, slave 'warriors' blew past me racing like great rushing waters downhill.

Collecting myself in an instant I realised even Hasan had joined the fray and truly had I wasted any time I would have been a casualty of this rising storm.

Tightly gripping my blade; screeching with the pangs of freedom, almost double the weight now, I made my way through the wave of destruction, shouting with all the strength my lungs could muster.

My heart, heavy, but a good heaviness.. of a heart filling up with courage, with vague notions of freedom and above all.. with a dense kind of hope.