My Word

Instead of the hoped-for bliss, a pained wince crossed Emelia’s face as she raised her arm to shield her bandaged wound.

“Oh,” Leon looked at her with a combination of sympathy and worry as he slowly lowered her to the ground. His voice was an octave softer than usual as he said, “I’m so sorry.”

A chill wind whipped through the carnage-strewn battlefield, carrying the sound of clapping with it. Emelia and Leon turned to see King Edward standing in the middle of the destruction, his face set in severe lines. As he applauded their union, he kicked aside a fallen soldier’s arm, the metal of its armor glinting in the pale winter light. “I’m glad to see my daughter is in good hands,” he said, his voice carrying over the gusts of wind. He looked around sadly as he added, “And that there’s some good news amid all this death.”

The horn blared, and a group of soldiers appeared from the shadows of the trees, marching into the clearing with a smaller detachment of Alana’s troops. The King was in their midst. His bald scalp glinted in the sun, and his dark-colored chin whiskers were trimmed into a neat goatee. His royal cape was decorated with his Kingdom’s crest in gold, and he wore a fine yet practical outfit, a black chainmail vest over his shoulders, and light armor underneath it all. He bore himself with an air of regality, walking with poise and purpose.

The soldiers grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to his knees. Resistance came in the form of squirming and futile attempts at standing, but the cold steel of a sword dug further into his neck and forced a stiff submission. King Edward and Leon stepped forward, their heavy armor clanking with each movement. King Edward’s voice boomed through the courtyard; his gaze was unwavering and determined. “Surrender for your crimes or be slaughtered here with your people.”

The Alana King surveyed the terrain with a stony glare, and his gaze settled on a young black boy kneeling beside him. The boy’s skin glowed with an ebony luster, and soft little curls sprung up on top of his head. His face was almost identical in shape to the King’s - strong cheekbones and generous lips - and their eyes locked in an understanding. The King smiled confidently as he turned to face Edward, revealing a row of perfect white teeth, and declared, “You thought this war was over?”

Edward stepped forward with a posture of authority to emphasize his words. He knew he had the upper hand and wanted his enemy to know it. “You’ve been pushed out of our territory and into yours.” Edward straightened up even further, and his voice rose with conviction, “This war is over!”

The Alana King laughed loudly, his voice echoing off the surrounding forest. “You’ve only seen the outskirts of our Kingdom. This is the tip of the iceberg. Kingdom Alana is vast and powerful, much more than your three smaller kingdoms combined. Did you really think you stood a chance?”

Emelia’s heart sank as she remembered the five archers with bows slung over their shoulders, quickly retreating from the battlefield. Oh no. She had made a huge mistake. She rushed up to Edward and grabbed his arm, her voice barely above a whisper. “Those archers didn’t retreat…they were getting reinforcements.”

Hundreds of Alana soldiers marched out of the forest in unison, their banners unfurling in the breeze. Leon watched as his Kingdom’s battalion formed up, exhausted from the earlier battle but still maintaining a disciplined formation. Even with fatigue setting in, their courage on the battlefield was undeniable.

The Alana King’s voice quivered as he said, “Wait.” Emelia looked down and saw the King still kneeling on the ground. His face was caught in an expression of complete surprise; his lips were parted, his brows were furrowed, and his eyes were wide. He softly uttered, “Sarah?” His gaze shifted from arrogance to relief as the reality of the situation sunk in.

Emelia’s face fell, her eyebrows furrowing, and her lips forming a thin line as she released a breath. “Sarah?” she said, her voice hollow. Her mind reeled, trying to make sense of the flurry of images and memories that raced through her mind. She was certain someone had called her that name, but she was unable to remember it. The feeling of the name on her tongue seemed almost within reach yet remained elusive.

The King scrutinized her with a piercing gaze, his eyebrows raised, and lips pursed. He studied her features—the curve of her lips and how her hair curled behind her ears. “You look just like my daughter...Sarah,” he said.

The Alana army marched steadily, their boots thundering in unison. The long line of armor-clad soldiers seemed to stretch on forever - a seemingly endless sea of steel armor, shields, and swords. A cacophony of war cries rose from their ranks, echoing across the battlefield and swaying the hearts of their enemies with fear. Even Cornea, Iris, and Macula couldn’t deny the sheer size and intimidating presence of the Alana army; they knew they would not win this fight with their weakened forces.

King Edward roughly grabbed a thick rope from the ground that bounded the Alana’s King wrists. He yanked it with such force that he stumbled upright. Edward got close to his face and said in a low, threatening voice, “Tell your men to stand down, or I will kill you right here.”

He smiled with cold satisfaction, his eyes glowing like the embers of a fire, “Do it,” he grinned. Edward could see the tension in the grim faces of the enemy soldiers, their weapons trained and their hands ready. “They’ve been instructed to slaughter everyone here regardless of whether I’m alive. However…” He looked at Emelia with a hint of compassion, “...her presence changes things.” He looked back to Edward with a hard stare, “Given what your army is facing. Free me from these bonds, and I will order them to stand down—for now….”

“Do it,” Emelia stepped forward, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening with the weight of her plea. “Our forces can’t handle another battle, and enough lives have been taken.” She looked to the King of Alana with hopeful eyes, “You give us your word?”

He looked her in the eye and placed a hand on his chest, solemnly saying, “I give you my word.”