The Side of HonourA Story by AndyJCashRun. The only thing Zhuge could do. Run. Help
would be on the other side of the river. For now, all he needed to do was run! Clouds
rolled in above him bringing forceful rain which made the tracks muddy and
slippy. More than a couple of times he staggered and mud kicked up into his
face. What a sad moment it was to retreat, but especially when the land itself
was against you. Fate wasn’t on his side either; there
had been no winds when Zhuge had charged the enemies armoury and set it alight,
but as he was slaying the fleeing foes a strong gale sent the flames behind
him, blocking him off from his allies. Alone he stood and fought an onslaught
of men, waiting for the fires to turn to embers or for help to arrive. One important thing to know about Zhuge
was that he was a skilled warrior and an unmatched swordsman. Battle after
battle he would pull his fellow soldiers out of difficult spots or poke holes
into the enemy ranks. It also meant though that the enemy sought opportunities
to quell this menace once and for all. The knowledge of Zhuge’s predicament
reached the ears of the enemy commanders and not a second was wasted in
dispatching any men they could afford. The news also reached a budding young
warrior by the name of Cui-Den who had begun to build a reputation for himself
in previous battles, some saying with a bit of cultivating he could become as
good as Zhuge. Brooding confidence, being as good as Zhuge wasn’t good enough
for Cui-Den. After hours of holding off the enemy
through fight and flight the weather took another turn and the rain poured
down, extinguishing the fire. He took this chance to flee the armoury and
attempt to retreat into his territory. Just as he set off, Cui-Den arrived on
the field and called Zhuge back, wishing to fight him. Zhuge was a smart man.
Fleeing was the smart option. Yet the enthusiasm that Cui-Den exerted reminded
him of a Zhuge of a few years before, one who was excited to be involved with
the fight and out to find worthy opponents. So Zhuge stayed and drew his sword to
Cui-Den’s. Cui’s men gathered around but didn’t dare to get involved in this
fight. The clash of metal was loud and constant as both competitors put
everything into it. Yet one side was lacking the power to make this a truly
memorable match. Cui-Den struck Zhuge’s blade into the
ground and brushed it away with ease. His hands deep in the mud desperately
trying to hold his weary body up, Zhuge consigned to defeat, saddened his death
would come down to a change in the wind rather than a tactical genius by his
opponent. Cui had a different view, disappointed
that he hadn’t faced Zhuge at his greatest might. If he killed him now, how
would he ever know how he rated against this great warrior of the land. He told
Zhuge to leave the field of battle and upon his return to seek him out first.
Zhuge thanked Cui-Den, complimenting him on his maturity and ran. Cui’s men were in shock and confusion,
torn between whether to accept their general’s virtue or report his actions as treachery.
Cui-Den faced a tough decision himself; risk the witnesses talking and being
sent to execution or cutting them all down where they stood. It was a difficult
choice... So Zhuge ran, not knowing how the rest
of the battle was going. It was quite possible resources were wasted to try and
extract him, as much as it was his resistance carved an opening for an allied
unit to break into the enemy bases. Strangely his mind kept wandering to
Cui-Den. He hoped he wouldn’t be punished because he was already relishing
another fight with the young man. The bridge that connected refuge and the
enemy was in sight; only a few more minutes. However as he approached the
bridge, unfamiliar faces were there to greet him. In his absence, the base had
been taken and his allies had been forced way back. While the flames had
burned, the enemy had circled around the back waiting for him to arrive. Had
Cui-Den known this all along? One of the stronger general’s stood with
a handful of men either side, grinning in glee at the tired state of Zhuge. Approaching
slowly, the general spoke with a rough tone about how he wouldn’t make the same
mistake as Cui-Den. Is he alive?! The general laughed in response and
threw down a sword. Cui-Den’s sword. Anger rushed through Zhuge’s veins, but
why? He had only shared one conflict with Cui and barely said two words to him.
Why had his death caused him so much pain? It didn’t matter right now. He picked up the blade and with renewed
energy struck a crushing blow which was only just deflected away by the
general. In Zhuge came again, raining his sword down to which the general was
struggling to deal with. Suddenly, the weather had another impact on Zhuge’s
life; the rain was heavier and the mud was tremendously difficult to get a
foothold in as the general found, slipping under the pressure of Zhuge’s
attack. In a swift movement, the general’s sword was swept away. The handful of men who had been with the
general cowered at Zhuge’s might. Running away in cowardice, the general stared
in horror as Zhuge towered over him. Being a man of honour, Zhuge always
analysed an enemy in the face of death. If he saw hope or fear, he would send
them away...much like Cui-Den. On the other hand, if he saw venom and
corruption... Zhuge pierced the general’s chest with
Cui’s sword. While the dying man choked on the fluids that ran up his throat,
Zhuge pulled the sword out and watched the rain wash the blood off the steel.
To think it could have been his blood on that sword... He sheathed the blade and started to run
again, hoping that his friends hadn’t been forced back too far. He wouldn’t be
able to forgive himself if he found out he was the cause of another good man’s
death. © 2011 AndyJCashAuthor's Note
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12 Reviews Added on August 2, 2011 Last Updated on August 2, 2011 AuthorAndyJCashUnited KingdomAbout18 year old who is still experimenting as a writer. I prefer writing fiction, especially fantasy fiction, but do try my hand at poems and short stories of other genres. Away from writing, I play footb.. more..Writing
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