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On the 15th anniversary of the Long War’s end, the most attractive man Laurea had ever seen slunk into the New Rose tavern and drank with his back to the wall, alone. As the evening deepened, the New Rose filled with proud soldiers from Fort Trifften nearby, roaring louder than the hearth fire and exchanging old victory tales over uncountable pints. The attractive stranger did not join in.
By ten o’clock, Laurea had gathered the courage to ask why.
“More White River Lager?”
The solitary man looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed with old nightmares and his jaw rough with growth, but under this, his face was arresting — its symmetry, its power. He leaned forward to attend her, and his muscles rolled beneath his shirt like waves upon the sea.
Laurea set down the fresh pint she bore. “On the house. For the hero.”
He rested one broad hand around the glass. “I’m no hero, miss.”
“Of course you are. You’re here this night because you fought in the war, yes?”
“Yes…”
“And you survived. That alone’s an honor.”
He replied in a low voice, and Laurea had to half-guess his words beneath the booming refrain of “The Dark General’s Rotten Hide” sung out across the room. “Hardly. I’ve survived by cowardice. I stopped fighting at the end, and turned and ran.”
Laurea stacked his empty glasses. “But you did fight.”
“I didn’t finish it.”
“But you helped.”
“No.” He stared down into his untouched lager, as if performing augury with the foam. “Others helped. My actions negated that, and worse.”
“But — ”
“I was not a mere footsoldier, miss. I had men under me.”
Laurea searched for something comforting to say, but came up empty.
“Betrayal like mine’s monstrous when the scale’s made large, and the cost of cowardice becomes measured in lives.” He finally raised his pint. “Imagine how many, for me to drink alone.”
Laurea’s eyes widened. “Half a moment. If all your men got killed — then you must be — ”
“No.”
“General Ralon.” Laurea’s face grew hot. “They sing folktales about you. Everyone says you just disappeared, not died, but — ”
“I’m not General Ralon.”
“…Oh.” Laurea glanced to her right. A knot of men were banging their mugs on a table, chanting for more ale. She smiled at them and raised a finger, and said to the lone soldier, “General Horn?”
“No.”
“Colonel Vance, then?”
“Wrong again.” Though his glass was full, he stood and withdrew his coin purse. “Two silvers will cover it all, I think.”
“Please.” Laurea set a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to embarrass you.”
The men at the nearby table whistled in impatience. “Shake it, miss! Ale! Ale!”
“In a moment!”
The stranger moved to go. Laurea tightened her grip and said, “I just thought… today of all days… you might want someone to listen to your story. Without judgment.”
But Laurea’s next words were lost when he met her gaze. His eyes held not just a soldier’s despair and loss, but death — an endless legacy of it, stretching so far back into the past, the point of genesis became unknown. Death wrapped his being. It buried him. “No man may know my face, miss, but every man on this earth already knows my story. And they’ve already judged me.
“I am no hero.”
Laurea stared. The man broke away from her grasp and slunk out the door, chased by a final, mocking refrain:
“What’s beneath that dragon mask
And lofty, flowing pride?
And promises of fine conquest?
The Dark General’s rotten hide!”
“Miss! Ale for my brothers, or d’you have no shame?”
“Coming.” Laurea went back to the bar, leaving the man’s proffered silver untouched.
They’d been singing for hours. She knew his story well enough.
KJ Kabza‘s flash fiction has appeared in print and throughout the web, in Flash Fiction Online, 580 Split, Brain Harvest, Every Day Fiction, and others. To read more of it (and other, longer work), he encourages you to visit www.kjkabza.com.
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21 Responses to “HERO • by KJ Kabza”
Comments
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February 23rd, 2011 at 2:30 am
I didn’t warm to this military Mr D’Arcy, I’m afraid.
February 23rd, 2011 at 6:31 am
Interesting concept. The stuff of legend and song lives to listen about himself. Just how old is this guy?
I get the impression he’s not of the Long War but even previous to that… “an endless legacy of it, stretching so far back into the past, the point of genesis became unknown.” A good old fashioned ghost that haunts the pub? But then again, why would they be singing old songs? If it was the anniversary of the Long War they’d be singing songs of it.
So now I’ve talked myself out of any interest in the man. Good writing but I would need to know more about why the deserter turned and ran to feel any empathy.
February 23rd, 2011 at 8:23 am
“No man may know my face”, the man says. It appears like the mysterious presence in the tavern is a phantom who can only be seen by a female. This particular phantom represents “man’s cowardice” and moves through the centuries, performing its duty, but is unhappy with its role.
It also seems that part of the phantom’s fate is to periodically take human form and suffer the indignation of being derided in public song by those who he betrays. Since only the woman can see him, at the end she realizes exactly who it is she serves.
Very eastern feel; I liked it. Three plus stars…
February 23rd, 2011 at 8:28 am
I agree with Seattle Jim, the soldier isn’t a real man at all. He’s an allegory for betrayal, he’s no man, he is indeed a phantom. I like how his rank is never established, nor his name.
February 23rd, 2011 at 8:46 am
That poor soldier. He and the drinking song about him was the only thing I really liked about this stpry. The background info about the long war was too confusing.
February 23rd, 2011 at 9:46 am
Interesting dissection by #3
I agree with you and Debi.
Having trouble with a rating !!!!
February 23rd, 2011 at 9:55 am
AHA! He’s an allegory for betrayal!
Hmph…should have figured that out for myself. Should think, then type.
February 23rd, 2011 at 10:26 am
I thought that this one needed more info. Sorry.
I thought the questions were answered too simply:
- “No man may know my face, miss, // “What’s beneath that dragon mask
- but every man on this earth already knows my story. And they’ve already judged me.//And promises of fine conquest? The Dark General’s rotten hide!”
- They’d been singing for hours. She knew his story well enough. (so, he’s a real person)
- So he was not ‘Death’. Death visits all sides. His rank was General, ‘The Dark General’ who wore a mask. A proud General who promised conquest but ducked out in the end.
- Sadly, since we don’t know the history of this Alt Earth, ‘Dragon mask’ and ‘Dark General’ hold no meaning for the reader. We don’t know what conquest he was reaching for, or what it cost his supporters. We only know that folks really, really don’t like him even 15 years later.
- That’s where it falls apart for me. I was interested up until the end. I just couldn’t summon up any like or dislike for this fellow.
February 23rd, 2011 at 10:45 am
Seattle Jim, thank you for the insight about a phantom only the barmaid could see.
I had wrongly assumed that ‘no man may know my face’ meant he was death. It didn’t quite fit and I sensed that I hadn’t got his identity exactly right.
With the benefit of hindsight, this phrase now carries more weight:
‘his face was arresting — its symmetry, its power.’
And these I liked for their imagery:
‘Laurea searched for something comforting to say, but came up empty.’
‘Betrayal like mine’s monstrous when the scale’s made large,’
‘death — an endless legacy of it, stretching so far back into the past, the point of genesis became unknown. Death wrapped his being. It buried him.’
I don’t claim to understand it fully,even now, but there was something in the prose and use of metaphors that captivated me and I am voting on gut instinct when I rank it 4 stars.
February 23rd, 2011 at 10:56 am
No, I don’t think he was death either, Rob, I think he was betrayal personified. ‘She knew his story well enough’ didn’t mean to me he was a real person…I read it (or I did after Jim and Debi explained it) that she knew betrayal well enough.
I like the idea that while the whole pub is exchanging old victory tales, a good dose of reality walks in and reminds at least one person that war is not made up of only honourable people.
February 23rd, 2011 at 11:03 am
The writing, switching between telling then showing, back to telling, lost it for me. Show me more, tell me less. The idea though, may be a good one since it has people here talking about the content rather than the writing.
February 23rd, 2011 at 11:13 am
With so much discussion going on, this piece must be either confusing or pure genius.
Alas, I was confused.
February 23rd, 2011 at 11:14 am
Loved the mystery of this, the caring nature of the barkeep, and the old-fashioned, European flavor inherent in the setting. I thought the stranger was General Ralon until I read the comments – now the metaphorical explanation makes more sense to me. Beautiful job capturing the atmosphere – I could feel the rowdiness of the soldiers and hear the pounding of their mugs on the tables.
February 23rd, 2011 at 12:05 pm
I’m suffering from war story fatigue. How many so far this year? War as allegory for everything bad, okay, okay. But is it too much to ask to make the stories make sense on an every day level and not just work on our sympathies and overtax our brains for meanings that may or may not be there? Or do only the greatest writers do this?
February 23rd, 2011 at 2:09 pm
I disagree with those who have said this piece does not make sense.
The scene was well-drawn, but like Rob said it was difficult to get attached to the most important details because so many of them (the song, the world, even the war itself) are too foreign to the reader.
Still, I found the writing itself quite strong. KJ sure knows how to tell a story, and I would bet green money this piece would go down a lot better with readers if it only had a more familiar setting.
Three stars for solid fundamentals and bold vision: The Seventh Seal meets Dungeons and Dragons (minus Jeremy Irons chewing scenery, that is
)
Finally, props to commentators on this one for the rich discussion!
February 23rd, 2011 at 2:37 pm
@ 15, Well, ‘splain it to me, then.
Guy walks into a bar. Everybody there is singing about him, so he is apparently quite infamous, — but no one recognizes him? Even though for whatever reason he still looks as young as he did back when he fought? And wait, a general who looks young? Really?
The phantom deal doesn’t fly. The girl is talking to him for an extended period of time and gives him at least one drink, that’s something the other patrons at the tavern would have noticed.
And why would a tavern full of war veterans be endlessly and incessantly singing a song about some guy who let their side down, why aren’t they singing songs about their exploits? The service members I know sing their particular theme songs, patriotic songs, when there’s an occasion for it. Seems kinda silly, but okay, I suppose that’s plausible.
Another detail that got me, this girl names three highly ranked officers who apparently did the same or worse as this man. Maybe I’m not that familiar with histories of wars, or maybe this war is unique, but to have that many officers become so notorious for cowardice as to be at the tip of the tongue of a barmaid really stretches the limits of belief.
Won’t even get into the details of the writing in this story, “Death wrapped his being,” and all that. But like I said, I am worn out from all the war stories EDF has been publishing of late.
.02
February 23rd, 2011 at 10:42 pm
Lots of interesting discussion here.
Just a note to streamline story discussion: please direct general comments for the editorial team (not specifically related to this story) to our forums, thank you.
February 24th, 2011 at 2:33 pm
@fishlovesca,
Having read the piece again, I couldn’t find any evidence that the soldiers were singing about HIM, specifically. The girl only THINKS they are singing about him, and as we see she also mistakes him for a whole host of other people.
Thus, I interpreted him as another officer (other than the ones the girl identifies) suffering from some sort of guilt or trauma and his shtick about every man on earth knowing him as meaning his personal story fit with the lyrics of the popular song.
You definitely have a point about ALL the high-ranking officers in this war apparently having been cowards though.
By saying I thought the story made sense, I meant that to me it was a coherent and consistent scene (in terms of action and tone) albeit one quite fuzzy round the edges. The “mystery” of the man’s identity did not throw me as much because I read with the above interpretation in mind.
As for the writing I believe this is ultimately a matter of personal preference. I don’t mind my prose a bit on the purple side if it’s consistent and fits with the mood of the piece.
Also, for whatever reason I usually find myself more engaged by pieces that generate substantive discussion than the ones that breeze through with a stream of comments reading “Great! 5 stars! Loved it!” For whatever reason this one had me drawing comparisons to The Seventh Seal, so I felt like it did something right.
Hope this clarifies where I was coming from a bit.
February 25th, 2011 at 2:56 pm
That is a brilliant explanation, Nick. Thanks to you, I did go back and read it again. And I think I can help make more sense of the story, without having to use your brilliant explanation. This is a war fought in some future time and/or place in which the officers wear dragon masks, according to the song, and thus why this officer says, No man may know my face. SHE doesn’t identify him, HE identifies himself, and his actions are consistent with a man racked with guilt and shame. There!
As to your liking stories others don’t like, well, that is just like a contrarian. Lucky for you, you’re a genius and can carry it off.
Nice catch on this one.
February 25th, 2011 at 3:57 pm
@Fishlovesca
I appreciate the kind words, though I assure you I couldn’t be further from genius.
The story that appeared some time ago about a pause, written from the perspective of the pause, for instance, eluded me completely… and I think that time I was the only one!
February 25th, 2011 at 6:01 pm
Do call me Fish.
Your explication of this story was brilliant, and would have served very well, had it been necessary.
If you go back and look at that story, “Memoir of a Pause,” you will note that I did not comment, either.