Drekk's Soliloquy

Too much.  The sound of the voices, boring into my skull.  They won't stop.  They never stop.

"Derrek?  Derrek, my lord, the general has given the order to move out."

"Very well."

Too many people talking.  Too many thoughts, too many memories.  They aren't mine.  Mine got lost, buried in the morass ages ago.

"M-my lord, the general is waiting."

My hand snaps to my scabbard, grasps the hilt.  My sword.  My soul.  The peon scuttles back into the shadows.

"Not long now."  The echoes of my whisper mingle with the others.  Nothing is real.  Only justice.  Only revenge.  Justice is an illusion.

The voices grow louder.  My grip tightens, pulls me back.  It's almost time.

Without a sound, I turn and leave the tent.  I make my way to the edge of camp; the edge of what will soon become a battlefield.  The air tastes cold.  The wind is calm.  The clamor dies to a whisper.

Breathe.  It feels good to breathe.

The laughter of the men pierces the morning.  The sound stirs the voices again, wakes them.  They want revenge.  They want justice.  They want to die.

I shall grant their wish.

I turn and pass through the ranks.  The men flee before me; I am as a falcon to little mice.  No--ants.  The falcon finds interest in mice.

Only a look from me and the men guarding the tent let me pass.  No password--I will chastise them for that.  That is how the assassin got through.  Laziness.  Lax security.

My sword is drawn.  The general turns, expectant.  His throat gushes crimson.  The blood chokes him, drowns his scream; froth foams up from where his voice once lived.  The voice is dead, now.  He falls silent.  My sword returns to its home: sheathed, protected; the blood wiped clean.

A scream of rage escapes my lips.  The echoes of my scream mingle with the others.  The guards rush in, confused.  Their lips move, but they don't say a thing.  Too many voices.  Too many, much too much too many.

"The general," I say.  "He's been killed."  Pain is etched deep onto every line of my face.  It surprises them, scares them.  They are afraid of the unknown.

"Those bastards will pay for what they've done.  I'll make them pay!"

I turn my gaze on the guards, turn my face from woe to fury.  The general was a good friend of mine.  We were very close.

"You--you let him get through.  This is your fault!  I'll KILL YOU!"  The first is down before he can scream, the second flees.  I let him go.

Later, I will recover my composure.  I will decide to lead my men, boldly, into battle.  Vengeance for the fallen general.  Tears will stream from my face as I charge.  We will fall.

Today I will die.

It gets louder when I die.  Nothing left to distract me from the others until I come alive again.  No matter.  It is unavoidable.  They chatter in anticipation.

Today, the war rages on.  We are losing.

The war rages on, and the enemy is losing.

The war rages on.

I am winning.