Lieutenant

The General was aspired by his Counselor's words, and actually, he had tons of questions that he could die for the answers: What happened after he left the battlefield? What happened to his family? How to walk out of the mountains? What's the fate of him and his brothers following him?....

They talked and discussed for almost ten minutes about what questions that they should bring forward, while the old man went back fishing just like nothing happened, the same spot, the same posture, the same attitude.

Finally, in the end, since they couldn't persuade each other, they reached an agreement: The General would ask the first question, then the Counselor would ask the second question, and then the General ended with the third question. In this way, the General got two times to ask whatever questions he want, while the Counselor got one. Then they walked back to the rock and seated themselves.

"Sir, thank you for your time and help. I'm gonna ask the first question, then." The General sat upright like he was being interviewed.

"Ok." The old man stared at the surface of the water as if a fish would bite the next second.

"How could we walk out of the mountains?"

"Follow this river in front of me and the direction of its flow. You will walk out, " the old man answered.

'What? That's it?' the General thought. They tried to follow some rivers in the hope of being led out by them before the General met the old man, but they failed, many times: most of the rivers flow into the same deep pool in the center among the mountains; some into the abysses; some into the underground. After they turned around and around among the mountains following the rivers, which took them months, they gave up.

When the General was in thoughts, the Counselor said, "Sir, the second question: What do you think we should know that we haven't known yet?"

'What a dumb question it is!' the General thought.

Actually it was a very smart question, and also a critical one, which that would change their kingdom, though they couldn't possibly understand at the time of then.

"That scale in your General's bag is more powerful than you think: it even can bring a dead man back to life." The old man didn't look at them, didn't move a little like a rock, fishing.

The Counselor seemed not satisfied with this answer, him expecting a better one, but that's it.

The General's hand reached into his bag and stroked the scale. "I'm gonna ask the third question," he announced. "What happened to my Lieutenant after we left that battlefield?"

From hundreds of questions, he picked this one on top of the one about his family.

"You really want to know?" the old man asked.

"God damn yes!" General seemingly didn't care much about his opportunity as the Counselor did.

Someday, after about a month when the General, the Counselor, and majority of soldiers left the battlefield, the day of the Lieutenant and his one thousand crimpled soldiers finally came.

The sun above them was scorching hot, and there was no shadow or shade at all on the ground. A small group of horses, their riders holding spears, stood behind the Commander and the others. It was clear from far away where those people belonged to—the army of the enemy. There were several groups of horsemen ahead of them who appeared to be waiting for the order from their commander to attack.

The grass under the hooves was dry and burned by the heat of the sun, and the dust raised by the passing of thousands of men made everything white and gray. As the line moved slowly forward, everyone became silent. No sound could be heard except the pounding of blood in every soldier's heart. At last they arrived at a point where three sides formed a triangle with the fourth side open. On top of the hill lay a huge mound of earth. This place was surrounded by a wall of stones and thorny plants.

From inside the enclosure emerged a long row of soldiers, around twenty of them, standing straight and tall without any sign of fear or nervousness. Behind them stood a large number of wounded soldiers, some with one leg, some with one arm, some bleeding, some dying, some limping, some dragging their arms, some carried by comrades.... All of these people looked pale, exhausted, worn-out, but they wore armor and helmets, swords and shields, spears, bows, arrows, quivers, and pikes, and they held weapons ready to defend themselves. Their eyes shone brightly with hatred against the enemy.

As soon as the commander saw the face of the Lieutenant, he understood why they called him the Leader. He was a handsome young man whose hair hung down to his shoulders. His eyes were cold and calm, looking at the enemy. And though he wasn't wearing any helmet or shield, he had a sword hanging over his shoulder; he also wore a breastplate, cuirass, and greaves. Though he was only twenty years old, he was like an experienced warrior, as if he had been fighting battles since he was born.

Winds blew across the field through them. The smell of blood and flesh mixed with the scent of the dried grass, making the air heavy and thick. The sounds of the battle that morning, still in their ears, sounded like the roar of waves crashing against rocks, the clashing of metal, the shouts of the soldiers, the neighing of the horses, and the cries of the injured, the groans of the dying, and the screams from the bodies half dead.

The sight of the battlefield, the corpses, the burning bodies, the wounds, the broken bones, the torn clothes, the scattered limbs, the bloody hands, the faces of the dead, and the empty eye sockets haunted them. The dead souls of their friends and companions filled their minds, haunting them, always lingering in front of their eyes, so that they could see them again and again. But now, no one was distracted by anything: the final strike, the end of the war was just in front of them.

It was dead silent except for the sound of wind.

A horse stepped forward slowly from inside the crowd. The man on the horse was dressed in full armor, with his head erect, left hand grasping the rein of his horse, right hand holding a horsewhip. The whip glittered in the sunlight. When he approached close enough, he shouted, "How are you doing Lieutenant? With all my respect!"

"I'm doing very well! Never better!" The Lieutenant shouted.

"How about your General? Is he doing fine, too? I can not see his presence here. Or is he a coward hiding his ass behind his soldiers?"

"He is behind us, yes. But he is injured and in comma. So he can't be here to see me kick your ass. Sorry about that."

"If you bring your general forward here," the commander pointed at the ground in front of his horse with his horsewhip, "then you can leave with your brothers, happy and alive. Because, as a soldier, I admire your spirit and talent! How about that?"

"How about you surrender, kneel under my horse, and lick clearn my boots?"

The commander was not irritated by the Lieutenant's words. He smiled kindly. "You're a brave boy, aren't you? If you give yourself up and join our forces, I'll make sure you get treated fairly. Our king, waiting for our victory, is preparing victory celebration dinner for us, wine, women, gold, name it! I assure you he will be much happier if you join me and go back with me together."

"Wow, sounds great. But I don't think so."

"What's the point, Lieutenant? Really? Look at you and your only twenty abled soldiers around you, are you going to fight us, one thousand soldiers?"

"Seems enough to me!"

No one dared to make sound, all focusing on the Commander and the Lieutenant.

"Either you bring your General forward, or I will kill you all to take him. What other option you've got, Lieutenant?"

The Lieutenant didn't answer the Commander, instead, he said, "I will continue my fight with you in my next life, Commander. Take care and wait for me."

The Lieutenant turned the horse around and rode slowly back behind the short stone walls. All the soldier followed him.

The enemy watched them curiously and playfully, without knowing what they were doing.

From behind the wall, you could see piles of piles of dry grass, tattered clothes and tents, wood from the frames of broken chariots, even piles of dead bodies. It took them days to hide these against the behind of the short stone walls around their camp.

After a while, the Lieutenant went out of tent with a torch in his hand. Just the moment they saw the torch, the enemy understood what the Lieutenant wanted to do—he intended to burn himself together with all the soldiers, the abled ones and the crippled. Everyone was shocked and surprised at his craziness, especially the commander.

"Lieutenant! Why don't you surrender?" he shouted.

"Because it's my honor to die for my kingdom and my General. Go and tell your King that the lieutenant, the General, has died in battle, and the war is ended!"

"You are a strong rival, a respected one, Lieutenant! Hope we can be friends next life!" the Commander screamed as if he was afraid the Lieutenant couldn't hear him clearly.

He knew he couldn't stop the Lieutenant. He even couldn't stop the fire after Lieutenant ignited it—the air was dry, the wind was dry, the grass was dry, most of all, no water around at all. If the Lieutenant lit the fire, they had nothing to do about it even if they wanted to but looked them burnt to ashes.

The Commander got off his horse, pressed his right palm on his heart, and bowed towards the Lieutenant. The whole group behind him followed their Commander and did the same.

"My brothers! I'm sorry we can't be brothers anymore for this life. Don't be sad! Don't blame or complain! This is our fate as soldiers! This is our honor as soldiers to die on the battlefield! Goodbye, my brothers! See you all next life!" The Lieutenant screamed as loud as possible to make sure everyone in the camp could hear him clearly, and then he threw the torch towards the grass pile.

The flames rose high and began spreading fast. The smoke spread far and wide, filling the sky.

Then the Lieutenant lit all the tents one by one, starting from the right side and ending in the left. The heat of the fire was unbearable. The soldiers' clothes caught fire immediately and burned them up within seconds. Then their horses started running wild, trampling the tents and setting them ablaze. The tents were like huge torches that burned furiously. Everything was covered in flame and smoke. The smell of burning flesh spread quickly among the enemy.

The Lieutenant turned around and walked to the center of the camp, his face blackened by soot, his body burned, and his hair singed, his chest and arms bleeding, but he kept his head high. He stopped at the center of the camp and faced the enemy. There was not a trace of fear, or hesitation in his eyes.

All of the enemy were watching the Lieutenant as he continued walking toward the burning tent. They knew he was about to jump into the flames. The Commander and his soldiers were watching the whole scene from a distance.

The Lieutenant walked into the flame. Then one by one, all the soldiers walk into their burning tents. There were loud crackling noises as the tents collapsed on the ground one after another.

The fire burned furiously, and the smoke became thicker, covering the sky completely. The ground was scorched and burnt. The ground where their tents were located turned into a sea of red. Their tents melted to ash in front of their eyes. There was not a single living soul anywhere in the camp.

The fire burned fiercely until noon. When it was over, all you could see was a huge heap of ashes with pieces of charred cloth lying around in it. Then, the wind went wilder and wilder, blowing all over the field. It carried away everything that was left of those brave heroes who gave their lives in this last war.