Epunamun-Entry 5

Epunamun’s War Journal-Entry 5
July 11th, I think...

Well, I survived the battle, and I’m alive. But not for long.
It all started at sunrise. All 1500 of us filed into our hiding spots across what would soon become the battlefield. My spot was in the bushes, along the first clearing into the field. I was honestly surprised that over a thousand men could hide in one field and be practically invisible. We must’ve waited there for at least an hour. It was complete torture. We were all cramped into tight spaces with nothing to do except await the battle that would determine our fate. After about ten minutes, I realized I would probably go insane unless I found something to do. So I decided to count the number of sounds I heard. When I reached 1,264 sounds, I noticed a sudden increase in noise. I carefully peeked out of the bushes.

A moment later, I needed to change my pants. Marching right beside me was a giant mass of Aztec soldiers. They all wore long, majestic capes and enormous headdresses. They all marched in an orderly fashion, nobody slouching or stepping out of line, all to the beat of two enormous war drums. It was an impressive and terrifying sight to behold. I was scared! But still, we had the element of surprise, and I was sure we would come out on top. Well, kind of sure. Well, not really that sure. But, at least we had the element of surprise.

The Aztec warriors continued to march. Sweat ran down my brow. I remembered the orders: “Don’t attack until all the soldiers have entered the battlefield. That way we can seal them in!” I continued to watch them. A few minutes went by, but it felt like hours. Finally, I received the signal. It was time.

I thought of everything I was protecting: my family, my town, and my world. It brought out a flame in me that I had never felt before. At that point, everything ran in slow motion, and I remember every detail. Every scream, every yell, every man who had died. Exclaiming my best war cry, I burst out of the bushes and quickly chopped a man’s head off with my axe. It felt, in a morbid, disturbing kind of way, satisfactory.

The most disconcerting part of this whole ordeal was that killing almost felt kind of good to me. I finished off the move by using the momentum of the swing to carry my over and injure another man. He screamed in agony, clutching the stump where his arm once was, and fell to the ground. I swiftly stomped on his neck, crushing the vitals inside. I swung at another man’s chest, ripping open flesh and crushing bones.

I tried to end the people’s misery as soon as possible. After all, even though I had to kill people, I was not a sadist. A man struck at me from behind with a spear. I grabbed the spear from him, throwing him off balance. I used his situation to my advantage, and beheaded him.

Suddenly, a large group of men with animal-hide shields and large axes surrounded me. They could tell I was a threat to be reckoned with, and they wanted me out of the way. I had to think fast if I were to beat these guys. I looked around, and decided to first attack the largest man. Similar to them, I figured the battle would be easiest once the biggest threat was out of his way.

I ran at him, and implanted my axe in his shield, hoping to split it. To my surprise, it became implanted into it! The man swung his axe at me, slicing a small chunk out of my shoulder. I howled in pain. The other men were closing in on me. I yanked the axe (still connected to the shield) out of the man’s hands and bashed him over the head with it. He crumpled onto the ground and I turned around to face the other men. I smashed the first man’s skull in, and then threw the axe/shield at another man, knocking him out. I looked around for a weapon and quickly grabbed an axe dropped by one of the many dead people bleeding beside my feet. I sliced through a man’s chest, spewing guts along the ground, and implanted the axe in another man’s head. When I realized that the axe was lodged in his skull and the last man was approaching. I realized I had to beat him with the only weapons I had-my two fists!

I swung at the man before he had a chance to attack me. He blocked the blow with his shield and sent me sprawling onto the ground. He readied his axe for an attack, and I just barely dodged his swing. As it was, the axe snagged onto my cloak, immobilizing me. I looked around for something to attack with. The man grabbed an axe off of the ground. I reached for a nearby spear. My cloak was still attached to the ground by the axe, meaning I could only move a few feet in any direction. I struggled to grab the spear. The Aztec warrior brought his axe down on me! This was the end!

Then I realized I should stop being such an idiot and just use the axe holding my cloak in place to kill this guy. I yanked the axe out of the ground and at the last second cut the man’s legs clean in half. Caught off guard by his sudden dismemberment, the man crashed to the ground right in front of me.

Then I went absolutely crazy. I grabbed that axe and just ran through the battlefield, killing anybody that wasn’t an Incan. I couldn’t believe how good I was at, well, killing. I just ran through that giant mob of Aztecs, dismembering, decapitating, destroying anybody who got in my way. I must’ve killed over fifty men that day.
But then…pain…and darkness…that was all I felt. I must’ve been bashed over the head with something. When I came to, everything was fuzzy. I couldn’t tell what was going on. I felt sick to my stomach. I realized I was rocking. Almost as if I was being carried by somebody. All I heard were footsteps. My mouth tasted of dry blood. What had happened? I thought. The back of my head felt like it was on fire. A wet, thick substance ran down my head. Blood, most likely. I thought. Suddenly, I realized I was feeling very cramped. Wait…no…it can’t be…but I…but they…I’VE BEEN CAPTURED BY THE AZTECS!

This was it. I would have my heart torn out or my skin torn off (or both!) and I would be dead. Why couldn’t I have just been killed on the battlefield? This was horrible. I couldn’t stand it. To pass the time, I started playing around with some oddly-shaped rock bits I found in my little cage-until I realized they were the remnants of my mother’s statue of Quilla. Good lord, they had destroyed the thing. I was surprised to find that my war journal was still intact however.

When my cage was finally set down in the “Prisoner’s Room”, one of the Aztecs accidentally dropped his writing utensil and I quickly grabbed it before he noticed. So that’s where I am now. Trapped in a cage containing what’s left of my mother’s most prized possession, where I can barely move, writing in this journal with a stolen pen while I await my inevitable doom. Honestly, I don’t know why I continue to write in this thing. I suppose it’s just become a little bit of comfort I can spill my thoughts and feelings into.

I don’t even know what I’m feeling now. It’s almost like a mix of fear, depression, worry, anticipation, and desperation. My doom is imminent. My fate is sealed. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Nothing.