Lief Erikson
04-21-2003, 01:45 PM
*I'll post more interesting short stories before too long; this particular one I wrote for a description exercise. Th actually a true story, though. I wrote it on the morning of 7/10/01.*
Shore Conquest
Caesar stared up at the lush, green jungle ahead of him. The sandy beach beckoned his conquering legions, the invincible army of Rome.
The clouds moved quickly across the heavens, but the harsh tropical sun beat down upon the hundred ships of his fleet. The surf crashed up against the beach, retreating in waves of white foam. Hard coral rocks, sharp and treacherous, were scattered along the beachfront. But there was no one to greet him, or the army of Rome. The natives were all deep inland, collecting their weapons for the swamp battle that would assuredly take place. The enemy cities were farther back, and it would take many days of march before his legions reached their walls and conquered their inhabitants.
The fleet rolled with the waves, a hundred bobbing craft out upon the open sea. This beach was being stared at by thousands of eyes, people who knew that upon its shores their fates would be decided. Death or glory lay ahead. Retreat was impossible. Many looked for an omen of their forthcoming victory; some sign from the gods that their quest was favored.
Caesar knew that the gods’ wills didn’t matter. The morale of his men did, more than anything else in this coming battle. They were well trained, but many were still deluded with notions that the gods really existed. If they did, they certainly didn’t care much about how their subjects worked and toiled for them. They had never taken any special action. It was through strategy, strength and skill that the battle was won, not any supernatural intervention.
He gripped the railing of the ship more tightly as they encountered the rougher surf, rocking the ship slightly as it closed in on the land.
Soon, however, they had passed the boundary. They had crossed the rougher waves, and now were in shallower water. The fleet stopped and the smaller boats were lowered.
Releasing the railing, Caesar leapt over the side of the ships into one of the small boats and urged it to hurry on so that he led the fleet of small craft.
Soon each had landed, and Caesar sloshed eagerly through the knee deep water, quickly reaching the dry sand.
A smile crossed his face as he looked upon what would soon become a new nation conquered by Caesar.
He moved forward with a light step. Suddenly, as he moved quickly forward a gust of wind caught his water sodden cloak and whipped it up in front of his legs.
His legs caught together for an instant, and he stumbled and fell face forward in the sand.
The troops that had been advancing stopped and an audible gasp broke out from the waves of troops.
Their cursed omen.
Caesar ground his teeth for a moment, but then he stretched out his hands, digging his fingers into the sand on each side of him.
"I have you now, my country! I have you now!"
Worried and shocked looks disappeared and smiles broke out among the troops.
Caesar picked himself up and casually wiped the sand off of his front. He lifted his hand, fist clenched towards the still unconquered jungle.
"I have you now!" His cry sailed up into the air and his troops beat their spears against their shields, a loud roar swelling from thousands of throats.
The omen was given.
The white walled cities with their spikes and stones no longer concerned him. The armed, cunning and deadly barbarian tribesmen no longer threatened.
Half of the battle was already won.
Shore Conquest
Caesar stared up at the lush, green jungle ahead of him. The sandy beach beckoned his conquering legions, the invincible army of Rome.
The clouds moved quickly across the heavens, but the harsh tropical sun beat down upon the hundred ships of his fleet. The surf crashed up against the beach, retreating in waves of white foam. Hard coral rocks, sharp and treacherous, were scattered along the beachfront. But there was no one to greet him, or the army of Rome. The natives were all deep inland, collecting their weapons for the swamp battle that would assuredly take place. The enemy cities were farther back, and it would take many days of march before his legions reached their walls and conquered their inhabitants.
The fleet rolled with the waves, a hundred bobbing craft out upon the open sea. This beach was being stared at by thousands of eyes, people who knew that upon its shores their fates would be decided. Death or glory lay ahead. Retreat was impossible. Many looked for an omen of their forthcoming victory; some sign from the gods that their quest was favored.
Caesar knew that the gods’ wills didn’t matter. The morale of his men did, more than anything else in this coming battle. They were well trained, but many were still deluded with notions that the gods really existed. If they did, they certainly didn’t care much about how their subjects worked and toiled for them. They had never taken any special action. It was through strategy, strength and skill that the battle was won, not any supernatural intervention.
He gripped the railing of the ship more tightly as they encountered the rougher surf, rocking the ship slightly as it closed in on the land.
Soon, however, they had passed the boundary. They had crossed the rougher waves, and now were in shallower water. The fleet stopped and the smaller boats were lowered.
Releasing the railing, Caesar leapt over the side of the ships into one of the small boats and urged it to hurry on so that he led the fleet of small craft.
Soon each had landed, and Caesar sloshed eagerly through the knee deep water, quickly reaching the dry sand.
A smile crossed his face as he looked upon what would soon become a new nation conquered by Caesar.
He moved forward with a light step. Suddenly, as he moved quickly forward a gust of wind caught his water sodden cloak and whipped it up in front of his legs.
His legs caught together for an instant, and he stumbled and fell face forward in the sand.
The troops that had been advancing stopped and an audible gasp broke out from the waves of troops.
Their cursed omen.
Caesar ground his teeth for a moment, but then he stretched out his hands, digging his fingers into the sand on each side of him.
"I have you now, my country! I have you now!"
Worried and shocked looks disappeared and smiles broke out among the troops.
Caesar picked himself up and casually wiped the sand off of his front. He lifted his hand, fist clenched towards the still unconquered jungle.
"I have you now!" His cry sailed up into the air and his troops beat their spears against their shields, a loud roar swelling from thousands of throats.
The omen was given.
The white walled cities with their spikes and stones no longer concerned him. The armed, cunning and deadly barbarian tribesmen no longer threatened.
Half of the battle was already won.