The Forgotten Prophecy

Chapter 69

Matthew couldn't sleep. It was like his mind was running a race he himself hadn't chosen. That night was a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts that were unshakable, a battle of sleeplessness, a torment that must be endured rather than a rest to be savoured.

He wanted so much to melt in the soft mattress and drift into the world of dreams, but his brain was a violent whirl of dark thoughts. He wasn't ready to wake in the morning and face reality. Not yet.

When he tried to do the math in his head, he almost instantly knew that things were bad. There was no way to predict the outcome of their impending clash. He felt all the reasons why his soul was so perturbed and wondered how he may navigate better. He had no answer.

Peter stirred in his arms, making him glance down at her. She let out a small yawn and buried her face in his chest. Within seconds she was again fast asleep.

Matthew sighed in defeat and closed his eyes. He knew she had to fulfill her destiny; she was the only one who could make their victory possible. She was their ticket to their kingdom's salvation. His salvation. No matter the odds, he wouldn't let fear destroy his hopes. Because he couldn't afford losing her.

. . . . .

'They will attack from different directions,' the king said. 'They plan to make a diversion.'

The elves nodded in understanding while staring at the map of the city walls that was spread on the round table. The morning light coming through the window glass was casting shadows on the walls, shedding its warmth and temporary solace before the night fell, and with it their worries and fears.

The king's spies had returned from their mission a couple of hours ago and the king had summoned them for an urgent meeting. The moment Matthew noticed his grim expression, he had instantly known that the news was not good.

'What are their numbers?' the female elf asked.

'We have no idea. Could be more than ten thousand.'

'Are we outnumbered?' the old elf said.

'If our estimations prove correct, yes. We are.'

Silence filled the room. Speaking would be pointless. The graveness of the situation was right there in front of them, and they couldn't ignore it anymore.

'So, you will stay at the western part of the walls. Most of our soldiers will be stationed there,' the king glanced at him.

'Aye, my lord,' Matthew agreed.

'And you will defend the eastern part of the walls. A team of five hundred soldiers will stand with you.'

'Aye, my lord,' Peter said from his right.

'We will strike the enemy flanks from the sides. Here, and here,' the king pointed on the map.

'Our warriors are outside the walls. They will remain there on standby,' the old elf informed them.

'Alright. I have called my generals to decide on our tactics. You two are dismissed. I will send for you once we have carved out a plan.'

Matthew and Peter bowed in front of the king and reached for the doors. Matthew stepped out first and after a few seconds he heard the door close behind him with a soft click. He turned around to look at Peter, but something made him freeze midway. Right next to the door stood no other than their captain. Matthew stared at him with wide eyes and saw him bare his teeth at them.