Crown

Foreshadow

Dust and dirt hung heavy on the battlefield. Dark red blood soaked the sand. Swords clanged and arrows pierced the breasts of unfortunate souls.

In the midst of chaos, Isabella fought with just one goal in her mind — save her Land, Darius. The straps of her breastplate hung heavy on her tired shoulders. Her hair had come undone from its bindings and stuck to her grime-covered cheeks.

Isabella had no time to notice any of it. Her adversary was double her size and triple her weight and had almost disarmed her at the beginning of their fight. She was still alive only because she had curved her blade in an arc and sliced his thigh at the very last moment. Since then she had been on defence, parrying and dodging his blows, while searching for a chink in his defence. The man suddenly thrust his sword forward, making her jump away. Isabella knew she was on time constraint. With every tarry, she was growing increasingly fatigued.

"Think, think, think!" She chanted in her mind. She could not defeat him with sheer strength and she could not be on defence forever. This fight had to end now! So she resorted to the only one thing that she knew could give her an upper hand — trickery.

Isabella quickly stepped out of the way of another slash. Her opponent was using a greater sword and her short blade was not a match for it. But there was one way she could turn his advantage into his disadvantage.

Instead of evading the next attack and getting in her defensive mode, Isabella parried it and lunged right, trying to make a slash across the man's side. He blocked her with no effort.

And that was his fatal mistake.

Isabella ducked under his extended hand. The man's eyes widened as Isabella pulled up her sword hand and slashed through the air in a small arc. He had recognized her trick, but he was a split second too late. Isabella's sword connected with the strip of bare skin at the base of his neck. In a swift and clean move, she slashed his throat. The man dropped his sword and clutched his throat with both hands — a vain attempt to stop the blood flow, one last attempt at survival. Isabella took two steps back and watched as her foe dropped on his knees and fell on his sand.

Another man's blood darkened her sword today. She had saved her Land, but with a price. Isabella shifted her sword to her left hand and wiped her sweaty palm on her garb. Then she looked around herself. It took her no time to find another opponent. This time, she was more on guard. She would not repeat the same mistake and give him a chance to disarm her.

"He is fast," Isabella thought. She let out a huff of breath and concentrated on his moves, trying to find a pattern in his attack. Suddenly, she heard a scream and jumped. Her movements faltered and to regain her balance, she lowered her guard for a split second. A split second was all that he needed.

Isabella gasped as the sword pierced through the leather, cut open her skin and set deep inside her. She felt the sword twist inside her stomach and dropped to her knees. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts — Darius, her father and her sister.

Milenna...

Isabella turned her head to look at the Wall. Milenna was somewhere inside there, tending to the injured. She did not even realize when her back hit the sand. The world grew colder and darker around her. She opened her mouth to take short gasps of breath. Her whole body shivered and her vision grew blurry.

She saw the man pull out his weapon — her blood dripping from its tip — and pull it above his head to plunge it inside her again.

She lost her consciousness.