Thad held his sword tightly and breathed. His muscles ached from fighting, his blood spattered armor weighed heavily on his shoulders, and sweat fell from his brow and stung his eyes. All around him the sounds of battle rang out as blade struck blade and men cried out as they fell to the ground. He was tired, tired of the fighting, tired of the bloodshed, tired of this idiotic war.
Just two feet away from him stood the man who was to blame for all of this. A man of about six feet tall and 300 lbs. Thad was a boy compared to this man as he was only five foot eight and weighed roughly 180 lbs. Not just last month he had been a prince pampered and loved. Now he was a hardened young king. He was so unprepared for the reality of battle and he had no joy in striking down another man, but he had to stop this man, there was no other way to end the war. No other way out.
Slowly He licked his lips as he approached the man. He had struck down another of Thad's soldiers. A young man who yelped as a wolf caught in a trap when the fiend's sword sliced into his armor. Thad watched in sickening agony as the boy fell to the mud covered ground; he was too young. Just like all the others. These were boys, not men, fighting for the sake of a country that no longer cared about its people due to the man’s influences.
Thad's grasp tightened on the hilt as he approached that devil of a man. No one knew his name or where he came from, but in less than a month he had thrown Thad's kingdom into turmoil; pitting neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend, and brother against brother and ultimately the man behind the murder of his father.
"No more," Thad shouted as his arms heaved his blade skyward to strike down the grisly evil, but as he brought it down for a finishing blow the man spun around and fended off the sword with his. He then grabbed Thad’s arm and kicked him solidly in the stomach. Thad gasped as the wind was knocked out of him and he fell to the ground. The man stood over him and smiled devilishly as he brought his sword down to strike him. Thinking quickly, Thad rolled over just as the blade sliced into the ground where his neck had been. He leapt to his feet and charged.
Sparks flew as the men began striking blades. This man may have looked slow but he was light on his feet and smoothly maneuvered around every one of Thad’s attacks. He swung and missed, stabbed and missed. The energy drained from him with every move he made and his limbs screamed in pain with every effort he gave. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and his shoulders heaved as he lifted his sword. That’s when Thad finally realized the strategy of his foe. He was allowing Thad to strike over and over again to weaken him so he would have no energy when his foe finally turned on the offense.
“No more games,” Thad said as stopped striking, he planted his feet firmly on the ground and held his sword out in front of him. He breathed slowly as he studied how his enemy stood away from him. The man smiled his teeth black and rotting. His beady eyes gleamed as they darted from Thad’s face to his sword. Quick as a flash the man lashed out at Thad. Defensively, he spun but wasn’t fast enough, his enemy’s blade sliced through his chain mail and into his side. Without giving thought to the searing white pain Thad grabbed the man’s wrist that was holding the sword then with his other arm smashed his elbow into the man’s face. Blood gushed from the now broken nose and the man shouted in surprise.
The sword dropped from his hand and Thad quickly brought his knee into his foe’s chest. He felt it as bones were crushed and the man fell to the ground. Thad kicked the now defenseless man onto the ground and sheathed his own sword then went and picked the man’s off the ground. He held the sword in his hand and looked with grief as he saw it was stained crimson with innocent blood then he went over to where his foe lay on his back coughing and choking on his own blood. Thad held his side as he stood over his foe. Blood seeped through his fingers and he was beginning to feel the intense pain of the deep wound, but he was not about to move.
The man looked up at him and gave him a wicked grin. He began to laugh, but it sounded more like gurgling and soon he began coughing violently. The battle continued to rage on around them but Thad only saw the man. The man started breathing raggedly and focused back on Thad.
“It…” the man sputtered, “feels good… doesn’t it?”
He smiled and stared at his sword in Thad’s hand seeming almost infatuated with the significance of war and pain. Thad looked from the sword to the man and felt anger and bitterness rise up like bile in his throat. Around them men were fighting and the hundreds of bodies laid scattered on the war torn field. War had ravaged his people. It had broken apart families, killed hundreds, left a visible scar on these lands and here this man was lying on the ground like a dying dog with not even a hint of remorse in his air. Thad tightened his grip on the unfamiliar hilt as tears began to blur his vision. Quickly he blinked them away and let out a shaky breath.
“No,” he said calmly, “it doesn’t feel good.” The man looked at him with contempt. “It will never feel good. War is war and it will never give me joy, but my people give me joy and they are worth protecting. No matter the cost.”
With that Thad brought up the sword and stabbed it into the man’s throat. The gurgling ceased and the man’s eyes grew wide with shock. He stood back and let the weight of what he just did fall on his shoulders. The war would end now. Thad’s men could return to their homes and his kingdom would return back to normal. That’s all that mattered; that’s all that had ever mattered.
Closing his eyes he lifted his head to the sky and felt a warm, heavy wind blow across the field. It was a wind that would bring rain; he could smell it in the air. Rain would wash the blood away, would bring new life to this land. He sighed as he felt himself sway on his feet, blood continued to flow from his wound. His knees wobbled as he tried to stay standing but they soon gave way and he crumbled to the ground.
Thad lay there with his cheek to the earth and a haze began to cloud his thoughts. The sounds of war grew distant; the resounding of metal against metal became hollow and vacant. Soon all Thad could hear was his own breathing.
Plop. Thad felt a drop on his hand. He slowly forced his eyes to open and saw a water droplet slide from the top of his hand to the ground. He desperately tried to concentrate on the rivulet the single drop formed through the blood and dirt that covered his hand. He smiled as he remembered the song his mother would sing years ago as it rained outside and he would sit in her lap as she would sweetly sing the chorus. With slow, deliberate breaths he chanted:


Rain comes to wash us clean


Comes to make us well


From the ocean streams


To where the forest dwells


And when the rain must go


Without saying goodbye


New flowers will have grown


Under a new blue sky
Thad smiled to himself as he softly sang the last line then closed his eyes and let out a long last breath.