The Battle
"Breathe. Just breathe."
She heaved in the middle of the open field, struggling for every breath.
The stench of death suffocated as it swirled around her nostrils. She tried to suck the air in through her mouth, but the taste of sulfur and waste threatened to choke her very existence.
She had no concept of time on this battlefield. It felt like she had been fighting for years.
It had only been three days, for this battle.
The actual war had raged for years before she became a soldier and would continue long after she was gone.
Originally, she had no intentions of joining the army that had claimed the lives of so many people she loved. She had made the decision long ago that she would never go down that path, as they had done.
But then she met him - the son of the general. From the minute she saw him, her heart longed to be with him. They met when he was still fighting in the army, and his stories of glory and battle and sacrifice planted themselves deep within her soul.
She told him she would follow him anywhere. He told her he was going to war.
By the time she registered to fight, she looked forward to the time when she could stand before this enemy and defend what she held sacred. Her heart longed for the day when she could tell her children's children that she had faced the dark lord and come out victorious, like generations before her.
Little did she know that she would spend years in training before she killed her first foe.
The boot camp had been very difficult at times. Her general was a good man, but he knew what he wanted and would stop at nothing to get it.
She was stripped of her very nature. His desires became her desires. His thoughts became her thoughts. When he talked about battles, she held her breath and hung onto every word. When he cried over the friends he had lost to the enemy, she sobbed uncontrollably.
And she was not alone. Her fellow soldiers were each going through this transformation in their own way. Each of them learning first to fear, then to reverence, then to respect, then to adore, then to love their general.
Of all her comrades, one in particular had been her support through all the months of training. In the beginning, she had shied away from his powerful presence. A friend of the general, but a soldier's soldier. From a distance, she watched him as he interacted with the veteran soldiers. She soon memorized every detail about him: his strong arms, his steady gate, his deep baritone voice, his smile, his very presence. She could sense when he walked in the room, even if she never saw him. He had no enemies in this camp; although he clearly was closer to some than to others.
She had longed to be one of those who knew him better. She had lain awake at night dreaming of the day when he would whisper some secret into her ear, as she had seen him do to so many others.
What this young soldier didn't realize was that he was watching her too. When she arrived the first day of camp, he was given strict instructions by the general's son that she was in his care until the day the two of them could be together again. But there was more to his observations than that. When he first saw her, he leaned over to the general and whispered, "There's something special about this one. She's going to be our next Deborah." The general had looked somewhat shocked at that remark. Deborah was one of the great soldiers of ancient times. Very few had possessed the land like she had in her time. But his friend was never wrong about such things; so he smiled and nodded and took special note of the zealous little girl walking through his door.
After months of training and watching and waiting, she finally worked up the courage to talk to him. He was sitting alone, staring off into the distance, as she walked up to him. At first he didn't notice she was standing there. She waited for what seemed like an eternity, debating whether or not to turn and walk away. But her feet were stubbornly planted, and all she could do was wait.
Finally, he startled out of his daydream and looked directly into her chocolate brown eyes.
He smiled. She blushed. Neither of them said a word, but something had been exchanged.
From that point on, the two of them were inseparable. He would go into training with her and tell her where to hide, how to shoot, and when to run. He was her eyes and ears on this pretend battlefield, and because of his assistance, she began to excel in her training. Soon the other soldiers noticed and commented on her abilities in the fight. Occasionally, she would catch the general watching her. He would nod in approval and continue with whatever task was at hand.
As her love for this friend grew, she began to talk with him about things completely unrelated to battle. She regaled him with childhood stories. He made her laugh with silly jokes. They cried together when she received word that her brother had died in battle. They stayed awake late into the night talking about the day she would have her shot at that evil bastard army. He reminded her constantly of the love she had for the general's son and how she would be with him when all this was over.
They exchanged excited glances when the word came down that they were to move out, into the battlefield.
Her batallion was alive with excitement as they snatched up their weapons and headed out to the transport vehicles. Men shouted "don't forget your extra ammunition!" Women hollered, "You there! Hurry up!" Soldiers in their fatigues rushed around in blurs of brown and green.
She jumped on the truck right behind him. He had done this many times and was a seasoned fighter. She noticed he did not smile and laugh as the younger, less experienced soldiers did. He knew what they were facing, and he was reviewing the battle plan in his mind.
On their way to assist their comrades in battle, the transport was ambushed. Immediately their training kicked in and each soldier was off the truck firing away at the horde of hatred that was attacking them. He was beside her the entire time.
"Under that bush!"
"Beside that truck!"
"Duck!"
"Fire now!"
She followed his every command to the letter. He noted her absolute trust. Later, he would tell the general about this.
But the general was not the only one who would hear reports of her obedience on the battlefield. The enemy also took notes. She had killed nine of them alone, and several of their soldiers were returning with major battle wounds, thanks to her obedience.
They feared obedience more than anything. A soldier could be brave, rush into battle, and be killed. Or he could be cunning, but be easily swayed to join the enemy's ranks.
But an obedient soldier - those were the most deadly, and the most difficult to take down. They stayed close to the general and followed his every direction. And the general never lost.
She would be a tricky one, but they would wait for the right time - when she was alone. They would simply wait.
She fought many more battles, each more difficult than the last. The general would pick her out for particularly difficult tasks, always asking of her more than she thought she could handle, but never more than he knew she could do. Her friend was by her side through each mission, and their trust grew deeper by the day.
In one particular battle, the enemy was pressing in on all sides, their soldiers screaming and hissing hideous curses at her battalion. The sulfur burned her eyes so that she couldn't see. The noise was so brash, she couldn't think clearly. This was the end; she knew it!
But then, in the midst of the smoke and noise and chaos around her, she cried out, "I cannot hear you! Where are you?"
She tuned her ears to listen for one sound and one sound alone - his voice.
"Run to your left!" she heard him command above the screeching horde. It was the most beautiful sound she had every heard, and she quickly moved her feet in his direction.
As the battles came in increasing fury, she learned to completely tune out the chaotic noise of the enemy and hear only his voice. Above the loudest trumpets and most high-pitched screeches the army could throw, she learned to hear his whisper.
Soon, the enemy began to target her in their battles. She was now a major threat and had to be destroyed. She fought with a greater fury, and she listen more intently than ever to the seasoned soldier.
But after months of fighting with the same battalion, after she had memorized the movement of her fellow soldiers and had grown comfortable with their fighting habits, the general sent word that she was to be moved to another unit.
She obeyed, as she had done from the beginning.
But now she was alone. She grew physically and emotionally fatigued from weeks and weeks of direct siege. Her friend was still with her, but even he could provide no answers as to why she had been thrown into the battles alone.
It was during this time of frustration and loneliness that he came to see her - the son of the general. She had been unable to receive contact from him since she had joined the ranks. She dreamed of him often, and woke up in tears, knowing that he too was in the midst of battle.
But this particular morning, when she woke up, her love was standing in her tent, with tear-filled eyes. She was older now than when they had first met. She was stronger and more beautiful. And from the moment he stepped foot in her tent, he knew she would be his bride.
During the following months of weary loneliness, he would send her words of encouragement and instruction through their friend. He knew what it was like to stand alone when the masses of darkness pressed around.
One letter in particular lifted her spirits:
"We are pressed, but not crushed. Persecuted, not abandoned. We are struck down, but not destroyed. We are blessed beyond the curse. My promise will endure. My joy will be your strength."
She sewed this letter into the lining of her jacket, and his joy truly became her strength in battle.
Soon, the letters became more personal, more intimate. He would have her friend sing her songs while she cried,
"You are so beautiful to me.
You are so beautiful to me, can't you see?
You're everything I hoped for, everything I need.
You are so beautiful to me."
He would remind her of the day they would dance for the first time as a married couple - partners for eternity.
She was compatible with him, and his letters carried her through many a battle.
But three days ago, when she woke up, she knew this battle would be different. No love note or precious tune would save her now. The sky was black, despite the fact that the sun should have risen two hours before. Her friend was already awake, sitting at the foot of her bed, very somber, very focused. He didn't even notice that she had opened her eyes and sat up in bed.
"What wrong?" she whispered.
"I�ve received our orders. Let's go."
That's all he said.
During that first day of battle, she saw, for the first time, the faces of the demon horde she was fighting. That in itself was enough to send some soldiers running, but she pressed on. All through that day and into the night, she shielded herself from the attacks of the enemy and attempted to command them back to their camps.
But they fought harder, more determined than ever that this would be the battle in which she would go down.
During those hellish days, her friend was oddly silent; though he was not absent. He stood by her, watching and talking to the general, via radio, on her behalf. She had no time to talk to the general, or his son. She wasn't even sure what she would say if she had the chance.
She was angry they had sent her into this battle alone. Didn't they know that this was what the enemy had been waiting for? She was too tired to even plead for them to take her out. She had done so many times, but all three of them were sadly silent.
All she could do was fight.
On the second day, she pulled out her most powerful weapon, the sword. Deftly wielding it in the face of her enemy, she sliced through their venom and thrust it into the heart of their camp.
But to no avail. She had only angered them.
Today, the third day, she was exhausted. Her muscles aching from constantly dodging and blocking with her shield the arrows of the enemy. She had no love letter or word of encouragement to lift her spirits.
She was tired. She was hurt. And this was when the blow fell.
She heard the dark lord hissing in her ear, "Where is your savior now? Who will rescue you from my wrath? I will kill you, and you will no longer be my concern. Where is your general now? You friend? Your love? You are alone. And now, you are mine!"
As he screeched these last words, his fist struck her head with a fearsome blow. Her world began to spin as she felt herself falling to the ground.
She had done the one thing that she had been trained never to do. She had stopped fighting to listen to his lies, and in doing so, she dropped her defense and left herself open to assault.
The ground scraped the left side of her face as she collapsed at the foot of the enemy.
This was the end. She had no fight left. What little light there had been on that dark battlefield began to fade as she slowly drifted out of consciousness.
Suddenly, out of the darkness, in the midst of her groaning, came a strong familiar voice:
"Run! Run to the general! Get up and run!"
She groped the ground to find a way to pick herself up. Almost involuntarily, she grabbed her friend's cloak and pulled herself to her feet.
"Run!" He screamed again.
She ran as fast as her bruised feet would carry her. Stumbling and tripping along the battlefield, she could feel her lungs struggling to keep up with her body.
"Breath!" Her mind raced, "Just breathe!"
Her legs aching, her chest and shoulders heaving for air, she stumbled over and over again.
She saw the general in the distance. She saw his son, urging her to continue. As she tried to focus her blurred vision on their faces, her foot jerked back on a root. She fell with a massive thud to the rocky ground below her as the snap of her ankle sounded through the air.
The enemy pressed behind her. She could feel with her face on the ground, the vibration of the army coming closer.
Things once again became very dim. She knew her fight was over. She had fought the good fight, finished the race.
She squinted her eyes one last time to look at her general and his beloved son.
But through her blurred vision, she saw something that shook her to her core. She saw love, and grace; compassion and power, in one action.
The general, and his son were running - not away from the immanent slaughter or the sulfuric mighty army. They were running towards it - towards her!
The general pulled out his mighty sword as his light penetrated the darkness. He plunged full-speed into the swarm of enemy hosts. They gasped and screeched as they tried to flee from his fury.
While his father was busy, her love ran directly to her, scooped her up in his arms and swiftly carried her far, far away from the raging battle. She could feel his heart pounding and see the determination in his eyes.
She blacked out completely, knowing that she was safe in his arms.
The next morning she woke up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. He was sitting next to her bed, the friend who had been with her through every battle.
She buried her head in his chest, as he kissed her forehead.
"Your love will return soon. He is with his father for now."
"The battle..." she started.
"Shhhh. Rest in me for now. Rest in me. There will be another battle, another day. So rest for now."
There would be another battle, in the not-so-distant future. But her lesson was learned well. Next time, she would be ready � ready to fight, ready to run.