Fallen Heroes
I approached the magnificent doors, feeling insignificant in their presence. Although they were grand, and the architecture astounding, they also told a story. It wasn’t an obvious story depicted by pictures carved into the woodwork or words that spelled out a plot. No, this was a subtle story that one could only understand by studying the patterns made by blood shed during war or the dents made by the blunt weapons of battle trying to force entry into what seemed a forgotten fortress from which I occupied.
The air smelled damp and somewhat musty, for the lake which once lived at the top of the mountain now transformed itself into a river flowing over the side of the castle and leaking through some of the cracks in the walls where moss began to grow.
I pushed one of the doors open with great effort, and with that a bitter draft blew inside. An enchanting sight was cast upon my eyes! I could see for miles! – The winged creatures circling about their nests or their prey, the sky azure, and the white frosted mountains. Oh, how they shimmered in the sunlight! As I began to walk forward, a valley started to appear before my eyes, revealing itself as I moved closer to the edge of the platform I stood upon.
“It’s quite astounding, isn’t it,” a voice said to the left of me. A figure emerged from the shadow of the giant structure I just came from.
“Where are…”
He held his index finger to his lips to symbolize silence. I found him quite eccentric, wearing a deep green robe about ankle-length, with boots made with some kind of hide. The man carried a bag of the same kind of material as his shoes; it looked as though it was fairly light, but he guarded it as though he carried a life that wasn’t his. I didn’t doubt his, or the contents of the bag’s, importance. His eyes looked so deep! – A depth that extended far beyond the greenness of the valley below the cliff we rested on. It was though he was lost in both thought and consciousness.
Minutes passed were he remained stationary, until something unknown broke the silence. I felt a presence around us although I couldn’t pinpoint it. The strange man most definitely could sense it too.
He seemed to align himself with something that was only visible, and possibly only existed, to him, and he outstretched his arms towards the sky as one praying might outstretch their arms to the heavens.
All I could do was stand there and watch, admiring, even though he seemed to have forgotten I was there. His eyes were now closed, and a blue aura manifested itself around his hands giving the impression he was carrying blue fire.
For several moments he stood like this unaware of the world changing around him. I turned around to once again respect this divine atmosphere in which I found myself. I could see the stream metamorphosed from the ancient lake and now leading its way through the jungle seeking out its destiny in the sea ahead like a warrior on foreign territory.
An impetuous thud jolted me from my trance. From somewhere over on the crag adjacent to ours on the right, came two slender shafts of wood carved to a point and dipped in tar. Everything happened so rapidly that it appeared to materialize in slow motion. The unknown bowman launched his weapons of warfare past me, forcing themselves into the old man’s chest, and pinning him to the closed wooden door.
He groaned in agony as the blue fire now turned to black dust, and his flame slowly flickered out as he passed through this world and into the next. It pained me to witness such an incredible man drift so easily into eternal sleep, although I didn’t understand why.
The sky grew dark and all time ceased to exist. All that was left in this void was myself, the old man, and the marksman. I gazed upon the deformed figure of the lifeless man and then to his murderer, and a sense of peace made itself known to me. It was clear I had gained his respect, for he stood tall and looked me in the eye with a glimmer of luminosity and esteem.
All darkness faded first to a distorted reality of the landscape and then to vivid color. The river began to flow more intensely than before, the birds and flyers returned to their territory swooping and diving as if in celebration, and, although subtle, I could feel the temperature rise. When I looked over to the ledge where the archer was, he was nowhere to be found.
I couldn’t help but pause and reminisce all that had just happened, for everything seemed to be unfolding all at once in my mind. I walked over to the old and motionless man and looked straight into his cloudy eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered in gratitude of all his unknown deeds.
Again, I walked over to the edge of the cliff, only this time I sat down and dangled my legs over the edge. Stones budged from their sleep and fell, fell, fell to their destiny. I turned around one last time, but the man had disappeared as well, and I was alone once again.
Another story had been added to the Treasury of Fallen Heroes for the Door to Eternity to leave its brand on all those who chance to live it.
Even the seemingly immortal die.
