The hero

The hero approaches. Swiping defiantly at the beads of sweat rushing his eyes he quickens his pace, momentarily reinvigorated.

“They sent a good one this time,” Neteria whispers. “He’s ready.”

Strange. Usually the stench of fear follows them. But Neteria was right, and on this day the elders offered a warrior. At my side Neteria turns to face the west and gazes into the darkness. The rising sun would soon reveal what she already knew was there, but for now only she could see the hero traveling by foot through the night.

“Rest my love. He will be here soon.”

I wait, without rest, and when the darkness stirs I follow its whispers, compelled towards the hero with every step. The journey is familiar, though the winds carry away any signs of past travels and disfigure the surface of the sand. I don’t have far to go, but the distance weighs heavy on my spirit nonetheless. Eventually the familiar figures I am searching for break through the shadows and mist. Two olive trees and a well.

The hero’s quick, deliberate footsteps and exhausted breaths grow louder, but the sounds are carried away with the wind and scattered across the desert. As he nears even the winds are still, leaving behind the dark energy of a man with a purpose.

He approaches the well quickly, coming to a halt some distance away. Every muscle in his body is tense, but he calms his breath and straightens his shoulders. He slowly makes his approach, descending on me with the certainty of a long awaited thunderstorm. He didn’t speak for several moments as he studied me, just like the hundreds before him had studied me.

“You know why I’m here.” He shifts his weight and waits for a response. I remain silent.

He draws his weapon and stares down the length of it, into me. A flash of righteous rage burns in his eyes, and as he stares into my face there is a moment so fleeting an outside observer would have never seen it; his heart had weighed the cost of what he was about to do.

A mistake. He didn’t have time to see what I was about to do, much less stop me. The end of my staff meets his temple with a thunderous crack, and his body slumps to the ground.

For a moment he is held prisoner by his incapacitated vessel, but when his eyes flutter open again he rises to his feet without hesitation. Wiping the blood from his face, he spits blood at the ground and tightens his grip on his sword as he turns to face me again.

“They didn’t tell me who you are. But I didn’t need them to.”

He sees that this caught my attention, and starts to circle me, slowly.

This strategy is different from the attempts of the other warriors. It was, new, even. I’m intrigued, but I do not look at him. He takes the opportunity to lounge at me. I step aside, deflecting his strike. He retreats, resets his stance, and glares at me.

“You have defeated the last of my brothers. You torment our people with your cruelty.”

I suppress a chuckle. He lunges at me again, and I step aside.

“I trust in the gods of my father and they won’t let me fail. You disrespected all that was sacred.”

His voice becomes more determined with every word. His blade slashes through the air. I must move faster and faster to continue avoiding his advances, but I manage to elude him.

“I know they will lend me their strength when I need it.”

Slash.

“But if I must die, I came prepared. I have nothing left to lose but my honor.”

Slash.

“You have taken all else from me!”

He unleashes a fury of assaults. Sweat splashes across the sand with every jolt, and he closes the distance between us with ease. I deflect his strikes with my staff, and when he loses his footing for a moment I push him away from me forcefully. He takes a deep breath and lifts his blade towards my face as he steps closer. “You must return what was stolen!”

I bring my staff down on his left ear. Dark blood trickles down his jaw but he stands firm, raising his sword again.

He waits. The tip of his sword moves fractions of an inch with the rhythm of his breathing.

“Leave this place now and I will not harm you anymore.” I only whisper, but other than the pounding of his heart and the shifting of sand under his feet, it is silent, and I know he can hear me.

“You know I cannot do that. I must die before I return to the elders empty handed.”

He looks at me. Once more the fire burned in his eyes. Once more he weighed the cost of what he planned to do. Once more he hesitated. But the scales didn't matter any more. The hesitation that proved the purity of his heart doomed him to die.

“So be it.”

Realization crashes over his face. He didn’t know why his body told him to stop my staff from striking the ground, but he reacted anyway.

It's too late. The staff comes down and waves of vibrations reverberate out in all directions. The desert fades away until only the sand I stand on remains and everything else is as if it had never existed at all. The darkness is heavy and weightless, static and yet pulsing. Suspended in space and time the hero is helpless.

“You assume you know who I am. You assume because you listened to stories. The inchoate stories of blind men. But I can assure you, you know nothing.”

His face flushes with rage and he struggles against my will even harder.

“They don’t tell you how worthless your bravery is, but I will.”

His eyes close tightly, as if it could stop the words from filling his ears, as if he could spare his heart this one pain. Only then do I meet his gaze, just like the hundreds before him.

"You are nothing more than a sacrifice."

With the snap of my finger, the desert returns. The winds have already filled the voids in the sand left behind by the warrior's feet. And as I watch them fill up, becoming one with the desert again, an emptiness fills me like never before. The sacrifice has given me no peace. I still wait for death to come, knowing it draws closer every day.

I turn towards the rising sun and begin my journey back to Neteria. Engulfed in the desert's parched silence, I was nothing but another grain of sand in the wind.