A General Dreams

“I have a dispatch for the general, sir.”
“It can wait.”
“But, sir, it’s urgent.  From the King himself.”
“The general is sleeping.”
“...I see, sir.  I’ll see him when he wakes.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The woman was on a promontory playing her flute.  The wind whipped through her hair, making it mimic the cascade of her crimson dress.  The general’s practical mind noted that the direction of the wind would make playing the flute difficult, if not impossible, yet the mournful sight of her music floated effortlessly above the percussive wind.  This was a dream.
He knew what he should do, but he didn’t wish to confront her, not yet.  He turned to survey the land around him.  It was rocky, dark, and dismal, the far off horizon blurring into a foggy gray.  There were no signs of battle, no signs of death, but there were no signs of life either.  A soft but piercing note tore him from the desolate landscape back to the lady on the rock.  The wind had died down and the general noted with mild apprehension that the train of her dress resembled a trail of blood.
As soon as that thought passed through his mind, the music stopped and she gazed at him solemnly.  
“Are you going to pay attention to me this time?”
“I pay attention to you every time.”
Her eyes narrowed.  “You went into battle a fortnight ago, after I told you exactly how it would end.  Was I wrong?  No, and yet-”
“Yes.”
“Excuse me?”
The general calmly walked up the stony path until he was standing over her.  “You were wrong.  You told me that I would lose 48 men in that battle.  I didn’t lose 48 men.  I lost 47.  You were wrong.”
“One man hardly makes a difference in-”
“One man makes all the difference.”  The general’s tone was hard as a rock, though his volume did not change.  “I will never trust you.  I will never believe you.  I will break your spell, witch.  The future cannot, will not, be set in stone.  Not for this soldier.”
“I have helped all the generals before you.  They took me at my word and they-”
“Never won this damn war.”  
The woman’s shoulders stiffened.  “I am not in the habit of being addressed in such a vulgar manner.”  
The general scoffed and sat down next to her.  “I have been in this position for a year now.  You should have adjusted by now.”
“You’re going to die.”
“Everyone does.”
“You’re going to die tomorrow.  Stay inside.  Eat and drink nothing.  See no one.”
The wind picked up again.  It was cold and biting, carrying a faintly burning smell.  The general stood up.
“I have heard you.  You will release me now.”
“You’re going to ignore my words, aren’t you?”  She turned toward him, and despite her best efforts, a glimmer of fear quivered in her eyes.  The general softened ever so slightly.
“You have been wrong before.”
“By only one man!”  She turned away again, not bothering to hide her frustration.  The general put a hand on her shoulder.
“I am only one man.”
She turned to look at him as the wind grew stronger, carrying the gray fog of the horizon with it.  The world started to fade away, though she remained in focus.
“Farewell, General.”
“Until next time, My Lady.”  The last thing he saw before he woke was the beginning of her reluctant smile.