The Battle

The Battle Music

(It is my favorite song from The Chronicles of Narnia for your enjoyment, and for dramatic effect…)

There is a battle going on here.  Sword brandished, jaw set and head held high.  It is early morning and far across the agreed battlefield I can see my opponent.  My army is ready to fight–my support, always and forever–but I falter in my eagerness to charge.  I am staring across that battlefield at myself…and she is glaring back at me and all my ready soldiers, and I know what she is capable of.

“Ready, my lady?”

Will I ever be? My enemy has many powerful weapons.  My doubt.  My uncertainty.  Failed relationships and the fear of loneliness hover around her like ghosts, haunting me even at a distance.  She holds onto regret and guilt and wields it into two great maces.  Her armor is forged of countless lies, so woven together that light won’t shine through it.  I am afraid.  Not of dying, not that I may fail, but that in truth there was never a battle to begin with.  That woman and leech staring back at me is who I am, and the justice my men and I represent means nothing.

A heavy hand settles itself onto my shoulder.  I turn to see my personal guardian, and he meets my gaze and holds it. “Who are you?” he asks.

I don’t know.  I don’t know how to answer anymore.  I left my home country in the hopes of finding myself, not to give up everything I’ve ever known.  I have found nothing except an unexplainable emptiness.  My greatest enemy follows me to the greatest ends of the earth.

“It is not an easy battle.  Perhaps it won’t end the way we imagined,” my guardian continues, soft and delicate.  “But we will die defending you.  Not one of us will be left if you are to fall, my lady.  We will not lose, so long as we keep moving forward.”

My grip on my sword tightens.  They deserve someone better to fight for.  My opponent is lifting her weapons, screaming for her ghosts and monsters to charge forward.  They come at an alarming speed, their numbers teeming, roaring like a giant thunderstorm that strengthens as my heart pounds.  My soldiers are waiting for my signal,  loyal even facing death.  Who am I? The enemy is moving too fast.  Who am I?! It deafens my thoughts.  My guardian’s hand leaves my shoulder and  he pulls out his shield and sword.  He looks at me, his eyes begging me to act.  WHO AM I?!

The first wave crashes into my men and they raise their shields in defense.  My guardian steps between me and my enemy and there is the clash of metal all around.  Shuffling.  The enemy is pushing us backward and I can hear my guardian as he meets my enemy’s mace with his giant shield.  It scrapes against the metal and it is hard to hear his voice.  It is lost in this sea of noise.  We are pushed back again.

“LOVED!  You are loved!”  I can hear him, beneath another long scrape of mace against shield.  “That is who you are!  FIGHT, my lady!”

His knees are shaking from the weight of my enemy’s weapon, but he holds fast.  In my place he is taking the burden of this fight and finally…I cannot bare it.  He is right.  This is my battle, and in the name of my soldiers who love me–the people who always stood at my side through the good and the bad–I have to win.  I readjust the hold on my sword and with a heartfelt scream I enter the fight.

Joining my guardian’s side I swing my sword high, baring my strength down on my enemy.  She blocks immediately and I feel the vibration run up my arm.  My guardian steps back.  My soldiers take their cue.  Swords are unsheathed and there is a great yell from my side.  I am locked in a duel, and my enemy is grinning…why is she so confident?  She swings her mace and I parry.

I am not that person.

She swings again, and again, forcing me back.  I continue to parry, saving myself by mere centimeters.

I never was that person.

I am no longer sure if my guardian is nearby; I am too focused on survival.  My doubt causes me to falter and with a furious crunch I can feel that I’ve been hit.  I drop my sword and stagger back.  I can’t feel my hand, but only a numb, cold feeling as she advances.  My soldiers are so busy fighting all around us–do they see?  I was not strong enough after all.  I keep telling myself that I’m better than her, but don’t they realize the lies?  My enemy is laughing.  I can’t escape her spiteful temper, and I tense as she aims for the final strike.

As her mace is about to meet my face, that same reassuring hand is on my shoulder.  A shield is thrust into my hand and through my own will I use it to block.  The resounding sound of metal against metal is heard…and then an echoing crack.  I am terrified.  Is my shield breaking apart?  I look to find it in one piece.  My enemy staggers back, bewildered.  Her weapon lies in pieces.

There is magic in this shield and I feel it running up my arm and into my body.  Warmth returns in my crushed hand and I watch as fright is entering my enemy’s face.  I am burning with Light.  I advance and my enemy scrambles to pick up my dropped sword.  She brings it up, swings, and my shield meets the blade and shoves her back.  Down she goes, flipping head over feet, rolling down the hillside.  She is gone.

I drop the shield, gasping for air.  How?! What power was that, to give me the strength?  The battlefield is a mass of cheering soldiers.  My enemy’s remaining creatures are fleeing for the woods.  I am swaying dangerously.

His hand steadies me.

“What magic did you give me?” I ask him.

“The only thing I did was provide you with all that you need,” he answers, his voice soft.  “A shield.  That Light was you.”

I am exhausted, sliding to the ground.  My guardian carries me and I can finally breathe.  My own magic?  The strength to face myself and defeat my darkest fears…not with a weapon, but with the greatest defense I know.  I am loved…

…and I will never be that person.

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As a quick explanation to the text above, I’ve been itching for a little creative writing…while also dealing with a bunch of crap.  I’ve been in a serious slump for the past two weeks–what we call a “crisis” in intercultural communication class.  I’m just now starting to pull myself out of it, purely thanks to God, my family, and my good friends Chazi, Owen, Kelly x2, Brian, Zac x2 and George.  Thank you all.  I really appreciate it.