Prokhor Ozornin - On the Wings of Hope - Prose

A rising sun could be seen in a building’s windows …

31.10.2010

The loud roar - a furious war-call filled the area and forced to shudder, apparently, even the sky. Hundreds and hundreds of warriors were running towards each other, dressed in sparkling chain armors and inexhaustible fighting passion was sparkling in their eyes. There was neither doubt, nor fear - only a thirst of battle and a war fury - to kill the enemy before you fall on the battlefield yourself. But those who have fallen in a fair fight are winners already, they are destined to enter the sparkling halls of Valhalla and the almighty Odin himself will lead them into new battles forevermore. Let him guide them into this struggle for their enemies to fall before the power of the mighty Odin!

A blow - a turning. A turn - a strike. The joy filled him - finally a battle which he has thirsted for so long, a decent struggle once more! A waving of hand - battle axe falls upon a helmet of the enemy - and he heavily falls to the ground. Another swing - and a blow of monstrous force dissects a chain armor of one more. Drops of blood, streaming from a body of the enemy … repeated blow - and a new enemy has fallen. Here his fighting comrade swings too - and practically splits in two parts another foe.

There were no rules here - and more nimble and crafty sometimes prevailed. A sword, which has fallen flatwise on a back of his battling friend … some sort of squeezed rattle, coming from his throat. Here his comrade falls on a knee, trying to turn and strike back the attacker - but the attacker, who have sneaked from behind, strikes again, this time with the edge of his blade - and it breaks off chain armor plates … One more instant - and everything is finished.

In such instants he ceased to feel the pain. He ceased to feel weight of his weapon, for the hundredth time striking into iron plates, he ceased to feel time itself. A shout of desperation and pain broke from his breast - pain from the death of his friend with whom he has been diving one bread and hardship of war marching. He has been twisting and twisting his lethal weapon, feeling no weight - and enemies scattered before him. Most brave - or stupid - perished instantly. More careful preferred not to get inside the dance of sparkling steel. But enemies were many and their number has been, apparently, only growing.

Shouts and groans. Sounds of clashing blades. Battle was boiling.

* * *

The battle has been raging for a day - and warriors of Odin have prevailed. Only a hundred warriors from former several thousand …

“Glory to the Great Odin!”- battle shout was carried around, once the last enemy has fallen.

“Glory to the Odin!” - many warriors repeated in an echo, him including. They have won the battle, they have prevailed once more. Their fallen brothers will stand in the light halls before the Great Father - for new battles and new victories. And one day he will meet them too …

* * *

He moaned. In powerless fury punched a table with such a force, that it has almost collapsed half-in-half.

Why, why, why? Why should he do that? Words fell into silence and were dissolved in it without a trace. Words were gone - yet his inner voice did neither abandon him, nor give a chance to rest. No longer a voice of the warrior of Odin.

Monastery. Why should they attack this monastery? This is unworthy battle! Murder of innocent ones for the sake of looting of stronghold’s treasures …

And he, he must lead his hundred-warriors squad - only to see how monks fall under blows of axes and swords, having lifted their crosses highly and begging their unknown to him god for protection … This will be a massacre instead of a battle - bloody slaughter because of avidity. And he, one of the best, will be their leader… and he cannot refuse for the price for that deed is a death and eternal damnation, forever depriving the one from entering into the golden chambers of Odin. Why doesn’t he have a choice? Why must he exterminate defenseless ones - not warriors in any sense?

Or must he?

He roared in powerless frenzy. Swept up on the house. Then grasped an axe and started smashing everything in vicinity. Then somehow ran across a butt with water and tipped a head over there. This helped. He returned to his senses, calmed down.

Has been silently sitting, reflecting. So an hour has passed. Then he has sharply and fitfully risen up, as though having solved for himself a question of utmost importance.

“It is decided”, - he thought clearly, - “it is decided”.

* * *

They were landing ashore from war galleys and he was commanding them - warriors of Odin. Warriors of a god, deadly for their enemies.

And battle shouts and enthusiasms were born once again. His brothers-is-arms were almost the same - yet their enemy was different now … Here the last of warriors is descending on a coast - now he should lead them into battle against yet unaware of their presence defenders of a monastery, that has conveniently arranged itself on a slope of mountains one kilometer away from here.

“Now or never. Now or never”.

“Warriors”, - he cried out. - “Great warriors of Odin, who have won in hundreds and hundreds battles for the glory of our god! We are daring and courageous, and Odin leads us into the righteous battle! The fate of our enemies has already been sealed, for Odin himself directs us!”

A loud shout of approval was his answer.

“But I call to you, warriors. Whether we are going to fight for a worthy purpose for now? Whether a battle that is awaiting us is worthy of the glory of true fighters? We are obliged to destroy foes of ours - but whether they are real enemies for us? We have always battled worthily and have finished battles as conquerors - yet we will not leave this fight as conquerors, brothers! This fight is not ours, it will not lead us to the glory and golden halls. We must not conduct it!”

Rows of warriors started arguing. It seemed as if they all were greatly confused.

“Even one, a single one from you, support me, brothers. At least one courageous enough for that…”

“Yes, Hrothgar said right! This battle is not ours!” - and one of his soldiers stood forward, saying these words. “I too have thought of that when has received my task to go under his command - and I have decided that this fight is not a deserving one. We will find no glory in this battle, but rather kill those who are unworthy to fight against the Warriors of Odin!”

Warriors started whispering among themselves. Some were winding heads in confusion, looking at what others were going to do. Yet this did not continue for long - totally not long. Only several dozens of seconds.

“You are the traitor! You dishonor victorious fighters! You are unworthy of entering the halls and will be forevermore damned for that cowardice!” Another warrior came forward, as if almost spitting out these words in him.

“Betrayer!”, - he repeated and has approached Hrothgar, highly raising his battle axe. But during that moment the one who have supported Hrothgar has blocked his way and unshakably risen up in arms, being ready to fight - or to die. They are really going to die here soon - two against dozens …

And so he spoke again. Convinced them of an error, which they were almost ready to make. Urged them not to start this unworthy battle. Told of better battles and worthy encounters. He tried to find all those words clear for them - speaking their language, which have almost become distant for him.

And while he was speaking, another dozen of soldiers left the ranks and stood nearby him - in their eyes there was the same courage and readiness, if required, to die here - as well as in his own. Yet entire thousands of fighters remained motionless. It seems that they are really going to die today - and be subject to eternal damnation for this apostasy …