I stand on the battlefield alone.
But I know I won’t be alone for long. I rarely am.
From the distance I see my enemy charging towards me – a sight I know all too well. It would do no good to move forward, to meet him where he is, so I straighten my stance, plant my boots to the ground, and adjust my grip on my shield.
There’s nowhere to run. I’ve tried, and paid the price. This means that all I can do is wait, but waiting is better than nothing. I’ll take anticipation over a surprise attack any day.
The enemy draws closer, and I can see that his weapons are better than mine, his armor stronger, and his confidence greater.
Not again. Please, not again.
He’s within feet of me now and I’m paralyzed. I so badly want to make the first strike and perhaps get off easy this time, but I can’t. I know what’s ahead, and I brace myself for a blow that doesn’t come.
No, instead the enemy circles me, looking me up and down with that sadistic smirk I’ve seen many times before. As always, his first jabs are with his words rather than his weapons. And sometimes I think the verbal cuts are deeper. The usual routine begins: a few petty insults, observations of my weaknesses, and rhetorical questions only meant to throw me off. Blood rushes to my face as I absorb the comments I am trying so hard to ignore, but it’s too late.
He knows he’s gotten to me. And now that he has, the real battle begins. Before I know it his sword swings through the air. My armor blocks the blow but it’s enough to make me lose my balance. Twice more I feel the blade hit and bounce off, but the third time it cuts through my sleeve and draws blood. I grit my teeth, try not to let the pain distract me, and finally manage to raise my shield in time to deflect the sword and buy myself some time. I blindly rush forward without hesitation, with the hope of possibly making a successful counterattack.
But I fail. I’m only paying attention to myself and not where the enemy is. I’m too close for his blade to slice me again, but his fist collides with my head and sends my helmet flying to the left. The few seconds it takes for this to distract me is enough for the enemy to hit me harder than I’ve ever felt before. The air leaves my lungs as the edge of his shield smashes into my chest. It’s not a fatal wound, but enough to leave me bruised for days. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of my ribs had cracked on impact. I can’t even stand at this point and fall to the ground, but it isn’t over yet.
In a final moment of desperation, I swing and make contact, maybe with his knees – I can’t tell. To my surprise, the enemy turns and flees. Perhaps I hit harder than I thought. But as I see him run I know he’ll be back. They always come back, no matter how hard I try.
I fall forward, letting go of my sword and shield. I don’t want to fight anymore – all my efforts are seemingly futile. I want this to end, even though I know my surrender will not keep the enemy away.
But I don’t want to fight anymore. I can’t fight anymore.
I remain face-down on the ground, broken. My helmet and lies in the dirt next to me. If anyone were to come finish me off now, they wouldn’t even have to try.
That’s when I hear heavy footsteps approaching, and I fear for the worst. This is the enemy here to make his final blow. I am finished.
“Soldier.”
That isn’t the voice of the enemy, that scathing, mocking tone that makes me cringe. No, this is the voice of my commander. I raise my head just enough to see his face.
“Stand, soldier, the enemy is gone.”
I do my best to avoid the commander’s gaze. “He’ll come back.”
“Yes, he will, but stand.”
Who am I to disobey an order? The commander is the strongest man to walk the earth, whose name alone drives fear into even the most terrifying opponent. With all of my remaining strength I try to rise, only to collapse again.
Without hesitation the commander takes my hands in his and pulls me to my feet effortlessly. He hands me my helmet and watches as I struggle to place my sword back into my belt. “What happened?”
Hasn’t he been watching? But I answer anyway. “The enemy attacked.” My voice drops to a whisper out of shame. “I knew it was coming but I’m not strong enough.”
“No, you’re not.” The commander looks at me with almost a deep sorrow in his eyes, as if he himself feels the wounds I have sustained. “Who told you that you had to fight alone?”
“I don’t know.”
“You did. You came up with it on your own, and never thought to ask.”
I have nothing to say to this, because he’s absolutely right. He always is. The longer I look at the commander, the more I observe about him. His hands are more calloused than I remembered, and his scars deeper than mine have ever been. This man has sustained hits that would have killed me in an instant.
I wonder how many enemies he has fought off while I struggled against just one. How many times did he save me from an oncoming attack before I ever knew? I never gave it a thought before…
I have been silent for far too long, but the commander waits patiently. Then he reaches down, picks up my shield, and hands it to me. “You’ll need this. Stand and fight, soldier.”
My heart sinks. I knew that there would be more to come, but that didn’t mean I was looking forward to it. So I slowly, gingerly, hesitantly, begin to walk towards the center of the battlefield. But something stops me before I can go too far.
The commander has extended his shield in front of me, and I walk right into it. I stop in my tracks and look at him, wondering what I’ve done wrong this time.
“Who told you that you had to fight alone?”
Oh, that’s right. I do my best to swallow my wounded pride and take a deep breath – or at least as deep as I can with my battered ribs.
“Will you come with me?”
“Of course”
We walk across the battlefield, and I can once again see the enemy approaching from the distance. An involuntary shudder courses through my body from my head to my sandals. I’m not confident enough to face him again.
The commander notices, and turns to me. “Stand and fight, soldier. I am with you.” He draws his sword. I follow suit and draw mine. He stands just a step ahead of me, ready to protect when I cannot stand on my own.
The enemy comes closer, and the commander addresses me once more. “The battles are many, soldier, but the war will be won.” He will not leave my side. I know this now.
So I will stand and fight.
But I will not fight alone.
