The Last Stand ; a short

The smell on the air was arid, with the taste lingering in the back of my throat.
I would speak, but my men are gone. My children, dead. My wife.. I prey had a quick end.
I led this defense and suffered the fate they said I would. All I can do now is die with my sword in hand. A glimmer catches my eye to my immediate left, an old gem.. shattered in the fight sometime.
With it, I scratch my last words into a stone.
My joints ache, after days of battle. I can smell my wounds. Arid in the air.
The pu...