Vanquish

• Kaelan Flynn, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2013

The valley floor is blanketed in a thick and heavy fog, mountain peaks jutting out from the clouds both near and far. I stand vanguard amidst a sea of motionless bodies, each man silently anxious to see what lays beyond the wisp. A light breeze sweeps through the ranks of Samurai, causing hundreds of banners to swirl and flutter. Each banner emblazoned with the crest of a formidable samurai clan. I examine the nearest in earnest, seeking one of my companions. "No, don't be foolish. I watched them die right before my very eyes in our last skirmish against the shogun. If I hadn't dishonoured my men with my weakness they could've stood with me here today instead of being piled in the mass grave with the others", I thought forlornly. "I am surrounded by strangers".
The thundering bellow of a war horn from somewhere in the formation interrupts my brooding and I reluctantly turn my attention to the clouds of fog. A line of silhouetted figures appear in the gloom and advance. Not before long, one figure bursts out of the wispy abyss, promptly followed by a score more. Each of them clad in armour fashioned to represent the monsters of our childhood stories, grotesque and frightening they make for an unnerving sight.
The group marches forward briefly before halting a few hundred metres from where I stand. The foremost individual raises a small horn to a gap in his helmet for his lips and blows. The rumble that it produces echoes throughout the valley, the sound bouncing off the mountains. I scan my surroundings nervously, expecting more enemies to charge through the mist at any moment but none appear. Minutes pass and still nothing happens. A few of the men around me begin to laugh and soon the laughter sweeps through the ranks like the plague and before long every samurai is roaring with laughter at the boldness of this meagre group.
The twenty-one warriors remain, still standing in mute formation. The foremost, once again, brings his horn to his lips and blows thrice. Our laughter dies slowly, as a thousand shadows emerge from the fog. Horns in every direction echo the warrior's call. My heart pounds as I recognise my fate.