The Craven

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Tab surveyed the battlefield through blurry vision.

She saw enough.

The yellow field had been transformed into a hellish landscape - piles of corpses forming mountains, spilled blood creating rivers and seas. She was there in the midst of it all: a giant, a god. For what other being could create such devastation and call it justice? It was too much.

Her vision became worse from the tiers, and her stomach churned from the smell - foul. She wanted to let her guard down, but her posture held high. All to save face. She was getting tired of portraying a lie of the perfect warrior, ruthless and efficient. What would the others say if they knew she was...tired? Afraid? They would probably cast her out, and with good reason. Who would she help then? Herself? Blasphemy. As tired as she was, she would stand tall.

Tab turned to the sound of hoofbeats. "Commander, Tabatha." Warlord Rigs said towering on his steed. "Are the rumors true? Has The Scourge been injured?"

"Unfounded, Warlord." Tab managed a wavering salute. Then, the naive fool she was, saw an opportunity to lighten her burden. "Just...tired..."

Rigs frowned as if slapped. "Quiet with that. You know this. The Scourge never tires." She nodded, he looked away. "I... I feared we lost you. Even as my most capable soldier, even you... to fight in such mayhem." He lowered his head. "Thank you."

"Thank the dead, Warlord. It is their sacrifice that won us this day."

Another nod, but his look was distant. "Quite so. Take care Tabatha. This land needs you still." He rode off, his steed trampling enemy and allied corpses alike.

Tab finally let her guard down, if only slightly. If she dared to relax, she was sure to collapse atop her fallen brethren. Then get trampled by a steed. She spat, surprised to see blood. Probably just a cut. Best to be sure. This land and people deserved more than a broken hero.

Back in camp the victory felt sower. I've seen defeats where the men were livelier. Tab thought as she walked in the camp, saluting those who got up, and those that couldn't. She entered the pavilion. Everyone present stopped what they were doing to acknowledge her arrival. Some toasted to her courage, some to her name. All of them craven - commanding their division from plush seats in this aromatic tent. Tab performed as she was expected, but she didn't come to mingle with the spineless, she came for the triage.

It was a little isolated area in the back. Warlord Rigs set it up so the Commanders could have a personal relationship with their men. She had yet to see a single officer near it. The place was a cacophony of death and sorrow, and her stomach threatened to make a fool out of her, again. She stepped out. A moment later a worried medic followed.

"Commander." She approached Tab with a horrified expression. "You are injured!"

"I am alright, Nits." The medic's eyes shone from the recognition, Tab remembered everyone's name. "See to those who need it."

Nits touched Tab's lips, smelled the blood. "Corrupted. Commander, this time you do need assistance. Come inside, please."

"I - I cannot." Tab liked this medic but not enough to tell her the truth. A half truth then: "I do not wish to occupy a bed meant for someone in true need." Her blood did taste strange, however. "You can tend to me in my tent, Nits. Would that be sufficient?"

"Let me get my bag!" A moment later she returned with said bag in hand, and a facial expression fit to cut rocks. "Lead on, Commander!"

Her tent was close by, but Tab still endured the same stares she always did. Shouts of: Life to our greatest!; The Scourge, it's her!; All hail victorious Commander! followed them as they walked among the army. She nodded, waved. Her eyes determined and back straight.

Once inside her tent she slumped to the ground with eyes closed.

"Commander!"

"It's alright, Nits. I'm..." Tabs sighed. "I'm just tired."

"But, the Scourge never tires..." Nits voice seemed to wilt with every word.

Tab gave her a flat stare. "And you believe that? Come, help me out of my armor."

Once naked, she lay on her bed, letting the medica inspect her wounds. There were more than last time. More than she ever thought possible. "Don't give me that look." She told the girl. "I should've perished a long time ago."

"Most of these wounds need treatment. Or rest. At the very least, you need rest."

"Is the campaign over?" Nits shook her head. "Has The Scourge ever missed a battle?" Another shake. "There's your answer." Tab refused to close her eyes again, she didn't want to see... the blood... the sightless eyes of her men...

It was too much.

Nits removed a splinter embedded between Tab's teeth. It was black with rot and pus. Tab nodded as the girl treated the rest of her wounds as best she could. Soon they were done, Tab was still naked, drowsy, but sitting upright this time. The girl seemed to take especially long to collect her equipment. Tabs knew her, knew her to be honest and fair. Dare I try to unburden myself once more?

"Medica Nits." She said in her Commander voice.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"You will erase this encounter from your memory."

"Commander..." Nits seemed on the edge of tiers but stepped back. "What.., what encounter?"

Good. Tab took a deep inward breath. Now, the hard part. "The one you just had."

"But - but Com - "

"Don't you remember? You just salved my wounds. Heard me admit blasphemy. Colluded with me in a secret paramount to treason. Does that mean nothing to you?"

Nits's vision was glued to her toes. Everything Tab said was true, if she wished it - nobody would be the wiser. That, above all else, was why she taunted the poor girl.

Wounds heal or rot. Like people. Dead or alive it did not matter. We are but grains of sand in a desert... And as hard as she fought, she would always remain a story - her life was finite, and she understood her time was near. But a perpetual lie? That can last forever.

It was... too much.

"Well, girl?" Tab raised her voice. "Have you nothing to say?"

"...I know it's hard..." A whimper.

"Speak up!"

Medica Nits took in a deep breath. "I understand your position, Commander."

"Do you now? Well, well, aren't you the hardened warrior?" Tab could feel the spite in her words. "How could you know anything about it?"

"I - I've read stories..."

"You think you understand me because you've read some book?" Tab found herself towering over the young medic. "I am not some story!" She yelled, spittle flying. "How dare you presume my situation? You hear me? I can have you flogged, girl!"

Tab stopped once she heard Nits crying. What am I doing? She was breathing like in battle, sweating. Several wounds reopening. Too much... She sat back down, embarrassed. Deflated. Worst thing about her tirade? It actually made her feel better. I really am a scourge...

"That was unworthy of me." Tab said with head bowed.

"It's alright," Nits was wiping her cheeks. "I... I heard this s-story once." She flinched, but when Tab said nothing, continued. Eyes never leaving the floor. "About a griffin cast out of its nest."

"I've heard that tale." Tab nodded. "He was cast out for not providing enough food for the flock. Instead of facing his punishment, he persevered. Honing his skills with beak and claw until he became their greatest hunter."

"And died a hero." Another whisper, this one stronger, more assured.

"And died a hero."

"I always ask myself. Would the flock have died without him?" Nits wasn't looking at the ground anymore. "Was his sacrifice necessary?"

Tab took a moment. "Of course it was. There would be no story if he left."

"There would be no story because he would still be alive."

Tab pierced her lips, her vision blurry, but she saw enough. "You are correct once more. But there would be a story. Just a different type of story."

"Would... would the griffin care, you think?"

"I think he would think about it for the rest of his days."

Silence fell on the pair like a warm blanket. After a time, Nits shuffled her feet. Then after some more, a determined expression stole her face. She seemed to have formed a decision but was keeping quiet to honor the silence.

At a motion from Tab she started speaking matter-of-factly. "Your wounds need treatment, Commander. Treatment that will require you miss your next battle."

"What type of treatment?"

"It's a sedative, you see." Nits raised a finger. "Your mind will be addled. You won't be thinking straight until the medicine runs its course. Would be best if you were left alone in your tent to rest." Nits nodded. "The head doctor will speak with Warlord Rigs personally on your behalf."

Tab stared at the girl for a long time. Long enough for the medic's posture to return to her previous meek self. I knew I had a good feeling about this one.

She doubted she would go through with it. The next battle would determine the outcome of the peninsula. The Scourge would have to reap the land once more.

Those sightless eyes...

"Co - Commander?"

"Thank you, Nits. I will consider this course."

"Please let me know by the end of the day." Her finger was raised again. Tab nodded. Nits breathed in. "And... thank you for... for everything, Commander Tabatha."

Tab raised her hand "For you, its Tab."

"Tab..."

"That's what my mother called me." It was Tab's turn to inspect her feet. "I've always hated my full name." She smiled. "There. Heh. Another secret."

After final formalities, Nits left the tent and the confused warrior within. The horns of victory blew loud that night with the celebrations lasting long into the morning. Longer than anticipated. The soldiers knew what was next.

Even more so now that The Scourge has suffered a major wound. She would miss the next battle? That was unheard of. Was the wound fatal? Warlord Rigs insisted it was a tactical ploy but no one truly believed him. The Scourge was human, and they would have to carry on without her.

Even more so, when after a long and bloody battle, they found her tent empty. Her personal belongings gone; her armor abandoned. At first they thought it an assassination. But there was no evidence of such. In time, the excuses ran dry, and the truth settled in like warm steel against traitorous skin.

She fled. Fled her land, fled her comrades. The Scourge had become The Traitor - The Craven. Tales of her cowardice would be spread far and wide for generation to come. As the empire became stronger, her infamy only grew.

In time, the stories would become legends. The characters engraved in the annals of time.

The people that made them, forgotten.

This one was real fun to write. The implications of the story run deep and it was difficult to pull the threads together. I'm sure I could've done a better job, but you have to finish something to learn from it. 😇 As always, I'm counting on your feedback if you spot anything peculiar.

PS: I used your favorite word @cryptoniusrex. 😁

Obligatory shout-out to the 🍕PIZZA🍕 gang, 🤙 gang. 🤙

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Peace. 🙂