“Revolt” by J. Logan Napier, NYC

topic: REVOLT medium: TEXT

 The wind spoke of everything; its aura of distant dust bragged of a multitude lumbering slowly towards them; its gusts, like a hum and a ha, rising high and subsiding low, pinched their nostrils with the unwanted stench of the sweat of the horse and unbathed men; its consistent blowing, monotone, bringing sound and noise, instilling fear and uneasiness amongst the outnumbered throng.

They all looked to the one who led them.  He was younger than most, but when tested by the sword he displayed the maturity of the seasoned warrior.  At Dunhile Town, their first skirmish against the dark ones he ran headlong into both horse and man, severing the latter’s leg, and choosing never to hurt the dumb animal.  He always moved fleetingly and with stealth, much like a shadow; his enemy always trying to catch up.  All of them watching, when possible, believed he was a man possessed fighting strictly from his soul for he always challenged and never coward.  When victory was declared and the flag was raised he spoke humbly cautioning his brothers against arrogance and telling them that this was a mere battle in an ever expanding war.

The young one looked back at them.  He asked himself if they were all ready for such an engagement.  He knew in his heart that he was, that he was still sickened by this government’s treatment of the common man in this land he called home.  He remembered his first kill and why, and he shuddered under his Jalibaya.  He remembered back and saw that decrepit old man being whipped, this after that same father had seen his son put to death for belabouring a servant of the king; apparently the judicial hierarchy had considered the fathering of such a boy a punishable crime.  The dark one, the one using the whip, felt his own sword being drawn from his scabbard and the last thing his eyes saw was the blood spurting from his wound as he fell dead in the dirt. It was then and there that his belief in a just society took on a manifestation towards an unshakable conviction.  This conviction woke up with him every morning and guided him along the bloody trail of battle.

“Will you fight with me this day against that hoard of rabble? They all cheered!  “They outnumber us many times yet we must show them that they do not deal with cowards, whiners or an unruly mob.”  The cheering became louder!  He was to speak again but a small band of elders yelled at him to gain his attention.

“We must leave now young one!  Their numbers overwhelm us!  We will be slaughtered and our women and children will be left alone to face the wrath of hungry men fresh from a victorious battlefield!”

He eyed them all with contempt.  “No rebellion has ever gained ground by running away!  Today we all may die, but our passion, our cause, will be passed on to others!”