Post by Lerris on May 26, 2008 15:24:51 GMT -5
In the back of his mind this lone Elf who walked among the forest was unashamed of the sword that hung from his belt. His reason for returning here was as single as a single word that seemed to utter over and over again within his mind, reminding him of the duty his sword whispered to him: Revenge.
Abbot, his oldest of friends had been the one to shove him off, the one who had told him that he was being made to leave his home. He had said that Lerris would be better off alone, and that this time away from his home would help him grow and find his own way on this Earth. Abbot had handed him a walking-stick and a few supplies with a calm smile upon his face and Lerris had watched him dumbfounded, “Master, I don’t need to find myself, I am right here…how hard is that?” Abbot hadn’t replied, just smiled. At that time, it had all been so preposterous that Lerris had not known what to say and had simply left without a word.
That was a distant memory, because now Lerris was seventy….seventy something, he had lost complete track of time, as things seem to lose importance when you’re focused on Revenge. Many things had changed, and Lerris had not only changed mentally, but visibly. He had a beard now, dark and brown like the hair on his head, long and wild. Because when your mind is set on revenge you chose to forget emotions, save the base ones, like hate. At this point the Elf is incapable of caring for any other being, and it is at this point that Abbot sees him, locks eyes with him, but there is no calm smile, only a blank stare.
He breaks the silence first, “Lerris, my boy, look at y…” The younger of the two holds up his hand to cut him off, “Don’t, don’t say anything to me Abbot, because I do not think I have the time for the things I would say back at you.” Abbot shakes his head a deep sigh accompanies the movement, “I guess you aren’t my pupil anymore, I suppose at some point I had to stop trying to teach you.”
Lerris’ eyes burned, he wasn’t sure why he was near tears, this man had hurt him more then anyone ever had. He wipes the tears away, wondering if they are tears of anger, or frustration. No other words were spoken, but the ring of steel that filled the air around the two announced the arrival of a sword, and oddly enough Abbot made no move to flee. No move to guard himself from what he seemed to know was coming.
The only move Abbot made, was to smile. It startled Lerris at first, to see someone like Abbot smile at him while he held his sword in anger next to him. “So, you are going to kill me then Lerris?” Abbot raises his hand, and tapped his left breast, “My heart lies here my old friend, please, strike true.”
Had Lerris still been within his mind he would of dropped the sword and fell to his knees, letting his tears overcome him. He wouldn’t of looked into this being’s eyes and slain him, but his hate burned his heart, and this Elf no longer cared for anyone but himself. So he lifted his blade, and even though he could of chosen the right way, he could of chosen the path of repentance, he coldly decided to end the other beings life.
The pupil blinked, the master did not.
The body of the deceased slid from the end of the blade leaving in it’s wake the blood of an innocent elf, and with a thud it fell to the ground. Silence enshrouded the woods, and Lerris’ body heaved as he stood over the corpse of the fallen Abbot. Within his warped mind he felt like he had accomplished all that he had ever wanted out of life.
Although Lerris felt alone, he was not the only living being in the wood this night, and there was no mistaking that her presence was like a fire in the wood, the kind that danced with such effervescence, and warmed with aegis, and burned with a passionate intensity that threatened to consume all in its path, with a jocular disposition at that. She moved her sleek body amongst the wood, fast moving cedars flashing by, distorting the image of her body as it traveled in the forest. She had been there before. d*mn it all, she had been there before.
Rowen’s silver eyes moved across the cluttered boles of tree in her wake, letting it all sink in, the recognition reflecting in her eyes. Momentarily stopped in the wide of the wood, she looked about with the world that was coming back to her, bit by bit, moment by moment, time by time. She hadn’t meant to, but she was there again. She remembered. She remembered as sure as the scar on her shoulder, she was in the wood, the home of the elf that wounded her, the elf she still owed in blood and pain and victory.
“Rowen!”
Not many things changed about Rowen since the last time she was there. She was only a few years older, no less c*ckier, perhaps even stronger, and she was as ever the same thief who killed and plundered and took pleasure in the sword. But there was one article of significance about her that was forever changed. A boy darted through the wood, running after like a wildcat, a natural poise about his body, though lacking speed when it came to the careless wandering of the woman he followed.
“Rowen, where are you?”
He emerged from the thicket. He was small and lean, not yet entered into adulthood, but old enough to survive on his own, for a little while. Though a child, there was something not altogether childlike about him. Darker. Knowing. He had an intellect that should not have belonged to a boy, but there he was, flesh and blood and bone and alive. As soon as his head stuck out of the branches and boles of tree, his movement was halted by the raised hand of Rowen, signaling for him to stop.
“Stay here, Byron,” she said to her student, one that had been put on her shoulders rather involuntarily. She looked at him, and a clever smirk played on her lips, and her eyes narrowed with fire. A very light smack on one cheek, “set up camp right here. I have to go see about an old friend of mine.”
She didn’t wait for him to say anything before she left him, running off into the wood, silent but for the gentle disturbance of rock and wood beneath her feet. Once, an elf had told her not to go on sneaking up on people. She didn’t listened. She never did. And if she was right, that same elf might know it, that day, as she followed the sonancy in the air, the sound she thought was the voice of an elf who gave her a scar she would not forget, and who she had yet to fight again to show she was better. And she was better. She had to be stronger, she had to be smarter, and she would make him know it before the day was out.
She had not planned to be there... indeed at first, there was regret, confusion, even anger. But as she heard that voice floating in the air, she could not be stopped, even by herself.
She skulked along the wood, slowing, coming closer to the beaten path. It was twilight. The sun was gone, but the light remained, and the sky was gray and blue, and the shadows on the earth made everything dimmer, but still beautiful in it’s own light. The twilight was on the path, and Rowen was one who spoke against traveling by road, such modes only taken by nightfall, and only used to stalk and to attack and to take from unsuspecting travelers. But this... this here was one notable exception. She emerged from the cedar trees and came onto the pathway, growing cautious, eyes looking about for all signs of life. The birds, the plants, deer...
Elves.
“Sir Saphire.”
When he heard his name spoken Lerris stood to his full height, and ripped his gaze from Abbot’s fallen corpse. Abbot’s death had unlocked something inside this elf, it had let the hate burning at his heart to fully corrupt him. He lost himself within that hate, and allowed the fire of that hate to rid him of whatever compassion he might have had left inside himself.
He clutched the blade that until know he hadn’t realized he still held within his palm. Lerris lifted the blade, pointing towards the direction from which his surname had been spoken, “Do you intend to speak my name and stay hidden, I have no time for shadowed beings in the night. Make yourself shown, so we may finish this quick, I have better things to do with my time.” His voice dripped with contempt, and it was clear that while he spoke it was not a suggestion, it was a demand.
Rowen smiled at the voice, and felt the sword on her belt as she reminisced on moments past. She wasn’t scared of the way he sounded, she wasn’t scared of anything, ever, at any place or any time. That was a certain arrogance about the way she moved her body toward the sound of his voice, a certain superiority about her smile and the tilt of her head and the sway of her arms at her sides.
“Saphire,” Blackhawk hummed and grinned as she stepped lightly on the path in the forest. She didn’t see him, but she had a very good notion of where he was. “Do you remember me? I remember you. I remember you and me, right around here somewhere; I remember steel, and I remember blood. I remember telling you I don’t like being ordered around.”
She paused and let her eyes sweep over the terrain. Silver eyes, eyes that again took on the likeness of one who wondered and one who remembered and one who traced over memories like they were there in an instant, gone the next. One moment, clashing swords, one moment, a quiet twilight forest. One instant, blood and anger and dancing silhouettes by moonlight. Another, an empty expanse of cedars and birds and earth.
“Now... come out where I can see you.”
He smiled a wicked smile, “Rowen…” It was almost a growl, she wasn’t the one he felt like hearing let alone seeing at this time, but then again, he didn’t like seeing her anytime. It was the wrong time to push this Elf, because right now Lerris Saphire was not about to back down from a fight, even if it was with Rowen. Blood still dripped from his sword, and begged for more.
Had she been smart enough, she would of turned and left as soon as Lerris had spoken her name. Had she been smart enough she would not of drawn her sword to fight this Elf who no longer felt anything but hate. But Rowen wasn’t about to back down from someone like Lerris Saphire, because in her mind, he was just an elf, an elf who did not like to fight.
Lerris lowered the tip of his sword and stepped into the moonlight that shown through the trees. The wicked grin still upon his face faded as he caught her gaze, “Only death speaks in this forest tonight, if you choose to leave right now it may not speak to you…” He took several steps towards her, and lifted his sword and did not even bother for an answer. The Dark Elf feigned right, and kicked her in the left part of her stomach. This elf didn’t give warnings, this elf didn’t care about anything….
Rowen jarred backward as the kick landed in her stomach, surprised, but fast recollected as she made distance and grasped the hilt of her sword. “Lerris,” she spoke in words so tall and refined, back straightening from the blow she had received on her stomach. “That’s not very polite.” Her boot slid back against the dry dirt, and she watched him, carefully, cautiously, though her eyes themselves did not look cautious. Arrogant, unafraid, clever eyes, dexterous eyes, and unshaken by the elf.
He was different--she could see that. But the balance between pride and intellect was won off by pride every time. He made a dirty move, but that didn’t change him from the elf who wouldn’t even kill her the last time they met. It almost made her angry. It almost boiled her blood how he didn’t finish it, how she was made to go on with a loss forever marked in her mind. She had lost. She didn’t care if he said it was a draw, but she had failed that day. Things like that didn’t go away, never went away until she repaid old debts.
“I can’t say why in the world you would attack me just now, Sir Saphire--considering how amiable we were as we parted ways. Good friends, I’d say--wouldn’t you?”
She drew her sword, and a magnificent sword it was. Her Xakaryas, the phoenix blade, carved in with the bird of fire along the steel. The moon reflected off the steel, and the sky did grow darker, the twilight taking its leave into blue night. She held out her sword in front, as if to attack, but then she swung it beneath her belly as she made a low and respectful bow.
“I have an old score to settle with you. I want to even the odds today; what say you to that, Saphire?”
In truth he didn’t really say anything, because this Elf didn’t take time to talk; because this Elf didn’t care to talk, he would rather fight…he would rather kill. He didn’t give warning, just as his last attack had been, he swung, connecting swords with Rowen, he growled and pushed forward against his own sword as Rowen pushed forward on hers.
He broke the lock and ducked, bringing the hilt of his sword straight up, trying to catch her in the chin but was easily blocked and thrown back. He left no time to catch breath as he went towards her right leg, her sword swung to block it but connected with nothing.
His sword was already on its way back up towards her left shoulder, because this elf did not fight fair, because this elf cared of nothing more then ending her life. This elf played on weakness, this elf fought as dirty as he could, because sometimes you had to cheat to win.
The sword blade didn’t connect, because Rowen was faster then that, she had brought up the blade just enough to block it as the edge of Lerris’ met her shoulder. It bled, but did not go through, the sword cried out in anger that it’s master had not fulfilled his promise of her death, and was tempting it with her blood.
He almost apologized to it, but this elf didn’t care for apologies, he only cared for the kill; and on this night, he intended to get it. Besides, Lerris Saphire wasn’t going to die, not at the hands of Rowen bloody Blackhawk at least.
Rowen let open her jaw as though to expel a cry as the steel pierced her skin, though her voice was mute and silent. She pushed him back with the sharp of her sword against his own, and the pain of her wound sent shockwaves down her arm. She remembered the wound, right there, right where she had been struck. Where there was a prominent scar from a dagger that once sunk so deep beneath her skin, there was a bloodstain and cleanly ripped length of tunic. She didn’t think he would do it. She really didn’t think he would...
Her force broke, and she slid herself underneath his arm, fast like lightening, steel sliding against steel as she eased herself behind him, shoving him back clumsily, putting distance between them.
He wouldn’t... she thought to herself, and for the first time, it occurred to her that something was wrong, something was wrong with him, and she didn’t know what.
“What the hell is the matter with you?!” she cried out to him in a voice of apparent anger and subversive confoundedness, not showing her pain as a sweat built up on her forehead.
She let her sword droop as she released the hilt from her left hand. The sharp of the sword rested against the dirt as she let her arm rest, limp at her side, but only for a moment. She reverted herself to her former position, biting down the hurt in her shoulder as she lifted her weapon in a fighting stance. It hurt like all d*mnation, but she could take it. She wasn’t going to look weak in front of him, not ever. She was better than that. Better than the pain, better than scars, better than him.
“Answer me, d*mn you!”
Lerris Saphire would of answered her, but something had happened to his humanity, he wasn’t about to die after he had changed his life by killing his former master Abbot.
Wait…Had he actually done that?
The hate within his heart, that pumped now the hate throughout his body told him that he had. It cooed that all would be could when they got rid of Rowen, and everything would be fine and right in his life once she was gone.
Rid himself of Rowen? Since when did she get here?
The hate within him made him slash wildly at Rowen, it begged it’s host to let it finish the job and when this was all done they could sit alone, and have a nice long talk about what they were to do. It told him to play on Rowen’s weakness, to attack her left shoulder with all his might..
Why was he fighting Rowen? Why is she here? This isn’t right, I killed Abbot!
Something in his mind kept telling him that everything was right, he had killed Abbot and now Rowen would be next and all those who had hurt him would be gone. But Lerris’ lips moved, he mouthed the words at first, and suddenly reached through the hate in his heart and screamed, “No! This isn’t right!”
Rowen had been angered and bewildered, a sinking feeling in her gut as he attacked her and she blocked and went offensive. He yelled things at her, and that feeling only got worse, debilitating her movements, cluttering her mind, clinging to her blood and bones and insides. Not right, not right, she kept saying to herself, but she couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, every blow coming on as it had before, just because she had to show she was better than he was. Just because he beat her, and she couldn’t be beaten, not ever, not by anybody, anywhere. Her movements became heavy, and she felt like her body couldn’t fight anymore, even though she knew she could if she tried. Her hand swung and her fist and the hilt of her sword smacked Lerris on one side of the head, forcing him on the dirt on which they fought.
“So, if you think it’s God-d*mned wrong, why did you attack me. Why won’t you talk to me, elf, say something!”
She hit him again with the back of her sword, her blood boiling to make him hurt for hurting her, but her mind and her gut numb with something else. It almost hurt, how much her mind tore her apart, it almost hurt how much she wanted to make him feel pain and how much she wanted to know what was wrong with him, but she both knew and wouldn’t admit that the elf was right. This was wrong. And it wasn’t with the fighting, and it wasn’t with her, it was him.
Lerris rolled onto the ground as her sword connected with his body, the hate begged him to get to his feet. But it was at this point that something else bubbled inside him, and it was not hate, or grim determination, but a sense of concern. Concern for Rowen, he felt like he was going crazy, he couldn’t kill Rowen no matter what she may have done.
He knew he was going crazy then, having a conversation with himself in his own mind, telling himself that he could not harm Rowen. Since when had he cared about her at all? Since when did he have to tell himself not to do something? The hated within him kept telling him to get up and attack. He cried out, and it seemed as if the forest itself had stopped and watched at attention. No animal moved through the bush, no leaf fell from the trees and no wind blew to move those leaves. Only two beings, one stood over the other, and the elf cried out once more.
Suddenly the hate that burned his heart extinguished, and Lerris Saphire felt…nothing. He came to his knees, and his lips worked, but no voice came. He kept moving them, eyes starring blankly at Rowen until finally three words escaped his lips, “Please, kill me.”
Rowen just stared. Her hand was wrapped around her sword, her eyes all livid with white hot fury, the fury of old debts and the anger at the elf who seemed too good to speak to her. Angry at how he acted, how he moved, how he spoke and didn’t speak; and then this. Her grip on the hilt of her sword tightened until her knuckles were white, and her teeth bit down with her eyes of passionate intensity, of deep and bottomless, silver moons that reflected everything she saw that day.
“You want me to kill you?” she said. Her voice was shaking, with ire, with burning. “You want me to kill you?! I will kill you, understand that Sir Saphire, I’ll kill you and I’ll show you how much stronger I am. I’ll kill you, but...”
Her voice softened. Even shook, her sword still raised, her silver eyes falling from ire to something that could not quite be described in words. Eyes of silver pools of water that wavered and ebbed and flowed with the tide and wind and ripples of quiet motion.
The pool was deep with many things on the bottom that were not clear; with earth, with stones, with fish, with sprites, with many things invisible without submerging beneath the pool. Those were her eyes as her grip on the sword seemed to loosen and her anger seemed to fade, fast like hot iron in cold water, resulting in the unsteady aura of her being.
“... not like this.”
The steel disappeared in its leather sheath, the phoenix to bed before it came to life in scarlet. She held out her hand to help the elf to his feet, and she watched and waited. Lerris made no motion to grab her hand at first, the complete loss of feeling was not only in his mind, but also his body. He was lost, lost in darkness somewhere within his mind. Many moments passed as she stood there, hand extended to help him to his feet.
Within his own mind, Lerris finally saw it, a light at the end of the tunnel perhaps. What he had failed to realize is that the darkness cannot create itself, because there must be a small light, for without it darkness could not exist, and when Lerris reached out and grasped her hand, he took a firm grip on that light and pulled himself off the ground, and out of the darkness.
It took him several seconds to realize he was just standing there holding Rowen’s hand, it didn’t even matter that he was holding Rowen’s hand. Because it was him holding her hand, and standing there….not a shadow of himself. Lerris couldn’t bring himself to look at her; he could hardly bring himself to look at anything.
Rowen just stood there, gazing at his diverted head. The twilight was long gone, and it was fully night now, black sky full of millions of bright lights, and two people underneath who did not move either which way. Yes, she had heard his words, solemn by comparison to the crazed calls she had witnessed before, but despite what was spoken, she didn’t know what to do. Something had happened that day, something important, and she just didn’t get it.
“Someday... I’d like to understand.”
It was the only thing she could think to say, the only important thing, the only thing that seemed to matter. She waited, standing and looking on with those silver pools, but she didn’t expect to get an answer. Not that day. Perhaps when they met again, ready to fight a real and fair battle to decide who was stronger than the other. Perchance, one day, before she killed him. But she didn’t move. Maybe she just wanted to hear him say something, given that he had almost said nothing, quite perturbing under the circumstances. Perhaps she really did expect him to answer, though really more likely, perhaps she didn’t like being told what to do.
Silver ponds, fish, clutter, sprite.
Lerris slipped his hand out of hers, “Please, go now, if you wish to no longer kill me, then leave me to myself.”
After you, Sir elf. After you
Lerris heard her speak, but he paid little attention to what the words actually were. When she didn’t make any move to leave he turned, his back to her now, and realized he no longer gripped a sword in his hand. This time, he didn’t care where the sword was.
He still found himself not wanting to meet Rowen’s gaze, so he looked out about at the forest. The sudden silence seemed to feel odd now after so much had happened that night, after one had murdered another. He almost choked, when the sudden realization hit him that he had killed Abbot. He almost cried out in pain, but with the feeling of Rowen’s eyes on his back he only screamed on the inside, his soul yelled for redemption for him.
“Maybe someday, Rowen…” It was all he could bring himself to say to answer her, he kept quiet after, not wanting to test the lump in his throat. He walked forward, into the thickness of the trees, into the thickness of the silence and disappeared from sight.
Moonlight reflected in his eyes as the silence of the forest night hung about him like a damp cloth. With careful deliberation, he walked through an expanse of undergrowth, stopping within a place where the ground rolled smoothly down into a grass-covered clearing. He lowered to one knee behind the thick trees, and hung his head.
He closed his eyes, and for the first time in years he wept, for the death of his master, his friend. He wept for himself, knowing that something as this could never be forgiven, no matter how hard he tried to repent.
But he wept nonetheless...
Abbot, his oldest of friends had been the one to shove him off, the one who had told him that he was being made to leave his home. He had said that Lerris would be better off alone, and that this time away from his home would help him grow and find his own way on this Earth. Abbot had handed him a walking-stick and a few supplies with a calm smile upon his face and Lerris had watched him dumbfounded, “Master, I don’t need to find myself, I am right here…how hard is that?” Abbot hadn’t replied, just smiled. At that time, it had all been so preposterous that Lerris had not known what to say and had simply left without a word.
That was a distant memory, because now Lerris was seventy….seventy something, he had lost complete track of time, as things seem to lose importance when you’re focused on Revenge. Many things had changed, and Lerris had not only changed mentally, but visibly. He had a beard now, dark and brown like the hair on his head, long and wild. Because when your mind is set on revenge you chose to forget emotions, save the base ones, like hate. At this point the Elf is incapable of caring for any other being, and it is at this point that Abbot sees him, locks eyes with him, but there is no calm smile, only a blank stare.
He breaks the silence first, “Lerris, my boy, look at y…” The younger of the two holds up his hand to cut him off, “Don’t, don’t say anything to me Abbot, because I do not think I have the time for the things I would say back at you.” Abbot shakes his head a deep sigh accompanies the movement, “I guess you aren’t my pupil anymore, I suppose at some point I had to stop trying to teach you.”
Lerris’ eyes burned, he wasn’t sure why he was near tears, this man had hurt him more then anyone ever had. He wipes the tears away, wondering if they are tears of anger, or frustration. No other words were spoken, but the ring of steel that filled the air around the two announced the arrival of a sword, and oddly enough Abbot made no move to flee. No move to guard himself from what he seemed to know was coming.
The only move Abbot made, was to smile. It startled Lerris at first, to see someone like Abbot smile at him while he held his sword in anger next to him. “So, you are going to kill me then Lerris?” Abbot raises his hand, and tapped his left breast, “My heart lies here my old friend, please, strike true.”
Had Lerris still been within his mind he would of dropped the sword and fell to his knees, letting his tears overcome him. He wouldn’t of looked into this being’s eyes and slain him, but his hate burned his heart, and this Elf no longer cared for anyone but himself. So he lifted his blade, and even though he could of chosen the right way, he could of chosen the path of repentance, he coldly decided to end the other beings life.
The pupil blinked, the master did not.
The body of the deceased slid from the end of the blade leaving in it’s wake the blood of an innocent elf, and with a thud it fell to the ground. Silence enshrouded the woods, and Lerris’ body heaved as he stood over the corpse of the fallen Abbot. Within his warped mind he felt like he had accomplished all that he had ever wanted out of life.
Although Lerris felt alone, he was not the only living being in the wood this night, and there was no mistaking that her presence was like a fire in the wood, the kind that danced with such effervescence, and warmed with aegis, and burned with a passionate intensity that threatened to consume all in its path, with a jocular disposition at that. She moved her sleek body amongst the wood, fast moving cedars flashing by, distorting the image of her body as it traveled in the forest. She had been there before. d*mn it all, she had been there before.
Rowen’s silver eyes moved across the cluttered boles of tree in her wake, letting it all sink in, the recognition reflecting in her eyes. Momentarily stopped in the wide of the wood, she looked about with the world that was coming back to her, bit by bit, moment by moment, time by time. She hadn’t meant to, but she was there again. She remembered. She remembered as sure as the scar on her shoulder, she was in the wood, the home of the elf that wounded her, the elf she still owed in blood and pain and victory.
“Rowen!”
Not many things changed about Rowen since the last time she was there. She was only a few years older, no less c*ckier, perhaps even stronger, and she was as ever the same thief who killed and plundered and took pleasure in the sword. But there was one article of significance about her that was forever changed. A boy darted through the wood, running after like a wildcat, a natural poise about his body, though lacking speed when it came to the careless wandering of the woman he followed.
“Rowen, where are you?”
He emerged from the thicket. He was small and lean, not yet entered into adulthood, but old enough to survive on his own, for a little while. Though a child, there was something not altogether childlike about him. Darker. Knowing. He had an intellect that should not have belonged to a boy, but there he was, flesh and blood and bone and alive. As soon as his head stuck out of the branches and boles of tree, his movement was halted by the raised hand of Rowen, signaling for him to stop.
“Stay here, Byron,” she said to her student, one that had been put on her shoulders rather involuntarily. She looked at him, and a clever smirk played on her lips, and her eyes narrowed with fire. A very light smack on one cheek, “set up camp right here. I have to go see about an old friend of mine.”
She didn’t wait for him to say anything before she left him, running off into the wood, silent but for the gentle disturbance of rock and wood beneath her feet. Once, an elf had told her not to go on sneaking up on people. She didn’t listened. She never did. And if she was right, that same elf might know it, that day, as she followed the sonancy in the air, the sound she thought was the voice of an elf who gave her a scar she would not forget, and who she had yet to fight again to show she was better. And she was better. She had to be stronger, she had to be smarter, and she would make him know it before the day was out.
She had not planned to be there... indeed at first, there was regret, confusion, even anger. But as she heard that voice floating in the air, she could not be stopped, even by herself.
She skulked along the wood, slowing, coming closer to the beaten path. It was twilight. The sun was gone, but the light remained, and the sky was gray and blue, and the shadows on the earth made everything dimmer, but still beautiful in it’s own light. The twilight was on the path, and Rowen was one who spoke against traveling by road, such modes only taken by nightfall, and only used to stalk and to attack and to take from unsuspecting travelers. But this... this here was one notable exception. She emerged from the cedar trees and came onto the pathway, growing cautious, eyes looking about for all signs of life. The birds, the plants, deer...
Elves.
“Sir Saphire.”
When he heard his name spoken Lerris stood to his full height, and ripped his gaze from Abbot’s fallen corpse. Abbot’s death had unlocked something inside this elf, it had let the hate burning at his heart to fully corrupt him. He lost himself within that hate, and allowed the fire of that hate to rid him of whatever compassion he might have had left inside himself.
He clutched the blade that until know he hadn’t realized he still held within his palm. Lerris lifted the blade, pointing towards the direction from which his surname had been spoken, “Do you intend to speak my name and stay hidden, I have no time for shadowed beings in the night. Make yourself shown, so we may finish this quick, I have better things to do with my time.” His voice dripped with contempt, and it was clear that while he spoke it was not a suggestion, it was a demand.
Rowen smiled at the voice, and felt the sword on her belt as she reminisced on moments past. She wasn’t scared of the way he sounded, she wasn’t scared of anything, ever, at any place or any time. That was a certain arrogance about the way she moved her body toward the sound of his voice, a certain superiority about her smile and the tilt of her head and the sway of her arms at her sides.
“Saphire,” Blackhawk hummed and grinned as she stepped lightly on the path in the forest. She didn’t see him, but she had a very good notion of where he was. “Do you remember me? I remember you. I remember you and me, right around here somewhere; I remember steel, and I remember blood. I remember telling you I don’t like being ordered around.”
She paused and let her eyes sweep over the terrain. Silver eyes, eyes that again took on the likeness of one who wondered and one who remembered and one who traced over memories like they were there in an instant, gone the next. One moment, clashing swords, one moment, a quiet twilight forest. One instant, blood and anger and dancing silhouettes by moonlight. Another, an empty expanse of cedars and birds and earth.
“Now... come out where I can see you.”
He smiled a wicked smile, “Rowen…” It was almost a growl, she wasn’t the one he felt like hearing let alone seeing at this time, but then again, he didn’t like seeing her anytime. It was the wrong time to push this Elf, because right now Lerris Saphire was not about to back down from a fight, even if it was with Rowen. Blood still dripped from his sword, and begged for more.
Had she been smart enough, she would of turned and left as soon as Lerris had spoken her name. Had she been smart enough she would not of drawn her sword to fight this Elf who no longer felt anything but hate. But Rowen wasn’t about to back down from someone like Lerris Saphire, because in her mind, he was just an elf, an elf who did not like to fight.
Lerris lowered the tip of his sword and stepped into the moonlight that shown through the trees. The wicked grin still upon his face faded as he caught her gaze, “Only death speaks in this forest tonight, if you choose to leave right now it may not speak to you…” He took several steps towards her, and lifted his sword and did not even bother for an answer. The Dark Elf feigned right, and kicked her in the left part of her stomach. This elf didn’t give warnings, this elf didn’t care about anything….
Rowen jarred backward as the kick landed in her stomach, surprised, but fast recollected as she made distance and grasped the hilt of her sword. “Lerris,” she spoke in words so tall and refined, back straightening from the blow she had received on her stomach. “That’s not very polite.” Her boot slid back against the dry dirt, and she watched him, carefully, cautiously, though her eyes themselves did not look cautious. Arrogant, unafraid, clever eyes, dexterous eyes, and unshaken by the elf.
He was different--she could see that. But the balance between pride and intellect was won off by pride every time. He made a dirty move, but that didn’t change him from the elf who wouldn’t even kill her the last time they met. It almost made her angry. It almost boiled her blood how he didn’t finish it, how she was made to go on with a loss forever marked in her mind. She had lost. She didn’t care if he said it was a draw, but she had failed that day. Things like that didn’t go away, never went away until she repaid old debts.
“I can’t say why in the world you would attack me just now, Sir Saphire--considering how amiable we were as we parted ways. Good friends, I’d say--wouldn’t you?”
She drew her sword, and a magnificent sword it was. Her Xakaryas, the phoenix blade, carved in with the bird of fire along the steel. The moon reflected off the steel, and the sky did grow darker, the twilight taking its leave into blue night. She held out her sword in front, as if to attack, but then she swung it beneath her belly as she made a low and respectful bow.
“I have an old score to settle with you. I want to even the odds today; what say you to that, Saphire?”
In truth he didn’t really say anything, because this Elf didn’t take time to talk; because this Elf didn’t care to talk, he would rather fight…he would rather kill. He didn’t give warning, just as his last attack had been, he swung, connecting swords with Rowen, he growled and pushed forward against his own sword as Rowen pushed forward on hers.
He broke the lock and ducked, bringing the hilt of his sword straight up, trying to catch her in the chin but was easily blocked and thrown back. He left no time to catch breath as he went towards her right leg, her sword swung to block it but connected with nothing.
His sword was already on its way back up towards her left shoulder, because this elf did not fight fair, because this elf cared of nothing more then ending her life. This elf played on weakness, this elf fought as dirty as he could, because sometimes you had to cheat to win.
The sword blade didn’t connect, because Rowen was faster then that, she had brought up the blade just enough to block it as the edge of Lerris’ met her shoulder. It bled, but did not go through, the sword cried out in anger that it’s master had not fulfilled his promise of her death, and was tempting it with her blood.
He almost apologized to it, but this elf didn’t care for apologies, he only cared for the kill; and on this night, he intended to get it. Besides, Lerris Saphire wasn’t going to die, not at the hands of Rowen bloody Blackhawk at least.
Rowen let open her jaw as though to expel a cry as the steel pierced her skin, though her voice was mute and silent. She pushed him back with the sharp of her sword against his own, and the pain of her wound sent shockwaves down her arm. She remembered the wound, right there, right where she had been struck. Where there was a prominent scar from a dagger that once sunk so deep beneath her skin, there was a bloodstain and cleanly ripped length of tunic. She didn’t think he would do it. She really didn’t think he would...
Her force broke, and she slid herself underneath his arm, fast like lightening, steel sliding against steel as she eased herself behind him, shoving him back clumsily, putting distance between them.
He wouldn’t... she thought to herself, and for the first time, it occurred to her that something was wrong, something was wrong with him, and she didn’t know what.
“What the hell is the matter with you?!” she cried out to him in a voice of apparent anger and subversive confoundedness, not showing her pain as a sweat built up on her forehead.
She let her sword droop as she released the hilt from her left hand. The sharp of the sword rested against the dirt as she let her arm rest, limp at her side, but only for a moment. She reverted herself to her former position, biting down the hurt in her shoulder as she lifted her weapon in a fighting stance. It hurt like all d*mnation, but she could take it. She wasn’t going to look weak in front of him, not ever. She was better than that. Better than the pain, better than scars, better than him.
“Answer me, d*mn you!”
Lerris Saphire would of answered her, but something had happened to his humanity, he wasn’t about to die after he had changed his life by killing his former master Abbot.
Wait…Had he actually done that?
The hate within his heart, that pumped now the hate throughout his body told him that he had. It cooed that all would be could when they got rid of Rowen, and everything would be fine and right in his life once she was gone.
Rid himself of Rowen? Since when did she get here?
The hate within him made him slash wildly at Rowen, it begged it’s host to let it finish the job and when this was all done they could sit alone, and have a nice long talk about what they were to do. It told him to play on Rowen’s weakness, to attack her left shoulder with all his might..
Why was he fighting Rowen? Why is she here? This isn’t right, I killed Abbot!
Something in his mind kept telling him that everything was right, he had killed Abbot and now Rowen would be next and all those who had hurt him would be gone. But Lerris’ lips moved, he mouthed the words at first, and suddenly reached through the hate in his heart and screamed, “No! This isn’t right!”
Rowen had been angered and bewildered, a sinking feeling in her gut as he attacked her and she blocked and went offensive. He yelled things at her, and that feeling only got worse, debilitating her movements, cluttering her mind, clinging to her blood and bones and insides. Not right, not right, she kept saying to herself, but she couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, every blow coming on as it had before, just because she had to show she was better than he was. Just because he beat her, and she couldn’t be beaten, not ever, not by anybody, anywhere. Her movements became heavy, and she felt like her body couldn’t fight anymore, even though she knew she could if she tried. Her hand swung and her fist and the hilt of her sword smacked Lerris on one side of the head, forcing him on the dirt on which they fought.
“So, if you think it’s God-d*mned wrong, why did you attack me. Why won’t you talk to me, elf, say something!”
She hit him again with the back of her sword, her blood boiling to make him hurt for hurting her, but her mind and her gut numb with something else. It almost hurt, how much her mind tore her apart, it almost hurt how much she wanted to make him feel pain and how much she wanted to know what was wrong with him, but she both knew and wouldn’t admit that the elf was right. This was wrong. And it wasn’t with the fighting, and it wasn’t with her, it was him.
Lerris rolled onto the ground as her sword connected with his body, the hate begged him to get to his feet. But it was at this point that something else bubbled inside him, and it was not hate, or grim determination, but a sense of concern. Concern for Rowen, he felt like he was going crazy, he couldn’t kill Rowen no matter what she may have done.
He knew he was going crazy then, having a conversation with himself in his own mind, telling himself that he could not harm Rowen. Since when had he cared about her at all? Since when did he have to tell himself not to do something? The hated within him kept telling him to get up and attack. He cried out, and it seemed as if the forest itself had stopped and watched at attention. No animal moved through the bush, no leaf fell from the trees and no wind blew to move those leaves. Only two beings, one stood over the other, and the elf cried out once more.
Suddenly the hate that burned his heart extinguished, and Lerris Saphire felt…nothing. He came to his knees, and his lips worked, but no voice came. He kept moving them, eyes starring blankly at Rowen until finally three words escaped his lips, “Please, kill me.”
Rowen just stared. Her hand was wrapped around her sword, her eyes all livid with white hot fury, the fury of old debts and the anger at the elf who seemed too good to speak to her. Angry at how he acted, how he moved, how he spoke and didn’t speak; and then this. Her grip on the hilt of her sword tightened until her knuckles were white, and her teeth bit down with her eyes of passionate intensity, of deep and bottomless, silver moons that reflected everything she saw that day.
“You want me to kill you?” she said. Her voice was shaking, with ire, with burning. “You want me to kill you?! I will kill you, understand that Sir Saphire, I’ll kill you and I’ll show you how much stronger I am. I’ll kill you, but...”
Her voice softened. Even shook, her sword still raised, her silver eyes falling from ire to something that could not quite be described in words. Eyes of silver pools of water that wavered and ebbed and flowed with the tide and wind and ripples of quiet motion.
The pool was deep with many things on the bottom that were not clear; with earth, with stones, with fish, with sprites, with many things invisible without submerging beneath the pool. Those were her eyes as her grip on the sword seemed to loosen and her anger seemed to fade, fast like hot iron in cold water, resulting in the unsteady aura of her being.
“... not like this.”
The steel disappeared in its leather sheath, the phoenix to bed before it came to life in scarlet. She held out her hand to help the elf to his feet, and she watched and waited. Lerris made no motion to grab her hand at first, the complete loss of feeling was not only in his mind, but also his body. He was lost, lost in darkness somewhere within his mind. Many moments passed as she stood there, hand extended to help him to his feet.
Within his own mind, Lerris finally saw it, a light at the end of the tunnel perhaps. What he had failed to realize is that the darkness cannot create itself, because there must be a small light, for without it darkness could not exist, and when Lerris reached out and grasped her hand, he took a firm grip on that light and pulled himself off the ground, and out of the darkness.
It took him several seconds to realize he was just standing there holding Rowen’s hand, it didn’t even matter that he was holding Rowen’s hand. Because it was him holding her hand, and standing there….not a shadow of himself. Lerris couldn’t bring himself to look at her; he could hardly bring himself to look at anything.
Rowen just stood there, gazing at his diverted head. The twilight was long gone, and it was fully night now, black sky full of millions of bright lights, and two people underneath who did not move either which way. Yes, she had heard his words, solemn by comparison to the crazed calls she had witnessed before, but despite what was spoken, she didn’t know what to do. Something had happened that day, something important, and she just didn’t get it.
“Someday... I’d like to understand.”
It was the only thing she could think to say, the only important thing, the only thing that seemed to matter. She waited, standing and looking on with those silver pools, but she didn’t expect to get an answer. Not that day. Perhaps when they met again, ready to fight a real and fair battle to decide who was stronger than the other. Perchance, one day, before she killed him. But she didn’t move. Maybe she just wanted to hear him say something, given that he had almost said nothing, quite perturbing under the circumstances. Perhaps she really did expect him to answer, though really more likely, perhaps she didn’t like being told what to do.
Silver ponds, fish, clutter, sprite.
Lerris slipped his hand out of hers, “Please, go now, if you wish to no longer kill me, then leave me to myself.”
After you, Sir elf. After you
Lerris heard her speak, but he paid little attention to what the words actually were. When she didn’t make any move to leave he turned, his back to her now, and realized he no longer gripped a sword in his hand. This time, he didn’t care where the sword was.
He still found himself not wanting to meet Rowen’s gaze, so he looked out about at the forest. The sudden silence seemed to feel odd now after so much had happened that night, after one had murdered another. He almost choked, when the sudden realization hit him that he had killed Abbot. He almost cried out in pain, but with the feeling of Rowen’s eyes on his back he only screamed on the inside, his soul yelled for redemption for him.
“Maybe someday, Rowen…” It was all he could bring himself to say to answer her, he kept quiet after, not wanting to test the lump in his throat. He walked forward, into the thickness of the trees, into the thickness of the silence and disappeared from sight.
Moonlight reflected in his eyes as the silence of the forest night hung about him like a damp cloth. With careful deliberation, he walked through an expanse of undergrowth, stopping within a place where the ground rolled smoothly down into a grass-covered clearing. He lowered to one knee behind the thick trees, and hung his head.
He closed his eyes, and for the first time in years he wept, for the death of his master, his friend. He wept for himself, knowing that something as this could never be forgiven, no matter how hard he tried to repent.
But he wept nonetheless...