Two shrouded figures circled each other. They drew swords and held them loosely at their sides.
"It doesn't have to be like this."
Said the taller of the two, in a deep masculine voice. The second figure laughed bitterly and shook her head.
"You know it does. It always has been and always will be. Now stop stalling and get this over with."
The man exhaled furiously and ground the point of his sword into the ground.
"There has to be way! I can't…I won't, carry on like this!"
The woman held her sword aloft and prepared herself.
"You can't stop the inevitable! Don't deny unavoidable."
With a cry she launched herself at him. In one swift movement she traversed the space between them and swung her sword at his head.
"We can fight it together Nalia!"
He screamed as he brought his sword up to meet hers, in a clash of sparks. She was forced backwards by the strength of his parry and stumbled slightly.
"No Tate! We can't, they wouldn't let us!"
Her faced creased with anguish and she threw herself at him again. Her blade sliced through the air and Tate sidestepped it. It hit the polished Onyx floor with a harsh metallic sound. Nalia swung the blade along the ground at his feet. Tate jumped, a fraction of a second to late, and the sharp edge of the sword cut through his leather boots and into flesh. With a howl of pain he fell back and onto the hard floor.
"Nalia! Don't..please..NO!"
She brought her blade aloft and shut her eyes. She sobbed as she felt it slide through his chest and jar against the cold floor beneath.
Tate choked and strained against the unfamiliar presence, and pain, of the sword.
"I..love you Nalia.."
As the words left his lips, the life left his body and he lolled back onto the floor. The blood pooled from the wound and spread, like oil on water, across the smooth flat surface of the stone floor. Her body shook with silent sobs as she retracted the once gleaming blade from Tate's unmoving form. She retched as the metal rasped against hacked cartilage and bone. Ignoring the blood she knelt next to him and removed the shroud from his face. Laying a kiss on his fast cooling lips she whispered reverently.
"And I you, my love."
A laugh echoed in the vast space behind her. A man in flowing robes, floated down from a viewing balcony, which was situated at the back of the huge arena type hall. Nalia's grip tightened on Tate's shroud and she placed her head on his motionless chest. The man landed softly on the ground and leaned against a pillar, as he watched Nalia.
"I swear, you get more dramatic every time this happens. And Tate! Well, he's quite the little Romeo, isn't he?"
The mans sneering tone grated on her nerves and she rose to a crouch over Tate, still with her back to the man.
"Do not speak of him. You haven't the right."
The man laughed jeeringly at her waved his hand at Tate's corpse. It disappeared in a flash of black. Nalia's throat tightened and she resisted the urge to run at him with her sword.
"I have every right to speak of him witch. I own him as I own you, and every other misbegotten fool who comes after my brethren and me. Stop moping and go to your chambers. You'll see 'loverboy' soon enough."
Nalia snapped. Reaching for her boots she withdrew two daggers. She spun and threw them at the man screaming with fury.
"I said do not speak of him!"
The man shot out his hand and the daggers disappeared in the same black flash that took Tate. His eyes blazed with rage and with a flick of his wrist the daggers reappeared, shot through the air and embedded themselves in Nalia's chest. She fell gasping to the ground and man walked over to her. Twisting the daggers as he shouted at her.
"So be it! You shall go out as a failure instead of in victory."
She spat at him. Blood streaked spittle dripped down his face and he slapped her. With one last breath she tried to reach her sword. Her hand stopped on the hilt and slid off. The man waved his hand and she disappeared in a flash of black. He strode out of the room muttering to himself, as he wiped the mess from his face.
"It doesn't have to be like this."
Said the taller of the two, in a deep masculine voice. The second figure laughed bitterly and shook her head.
"You know it does. It always has been and always will be. Now stop stalling and get this over with."
The man exhaled furiously and ground the point of his sword into the ground.
"There has to be way! I can't…I won't, carry on like this!"
The woman held her sword aloft and prepared herself.
"You can't stop the inevitable! Don't deny unavoidable."
With a cry she launched herself at him. In one swift movement she traversed the space between them and swung her sword at his head.
"We can fight it together Nalia!"
He screamed as he brought his sword up to meet hers, in a clash of sparks. She was forced backwards by the strength of his parry and stumbled slightly.
"No Tate! We can't, they wouldn't let us!"
Her faced creased with anguish and she threw herself at him again. Her blade sliced through the air and Tate sidestepped it. It hit the polished Onyx floor with a harsh metallic sound. Nalia swung the blade along the ground at his feet. Tate jumped, a fraction of a second to late, and the sharp edge of the sword cut through his leather boots and into flesh. With a howl of pain he fell back and onto the hard floor.
"Nalia! Don't..please..NO!"
She brought her blade aloft and shut her eyes. She sobbed as she felt it slide through his chest and jar against the cold floor beneath.
Tate choked and strained against the unfamiliar presence, and pain, of the sword.
"I..love you Nalia.."
As the words left his lips, the life left his body and he lolled back onto the floor. The blood pooled from the wound and spread, like oil on water, across the smooth flat surface of the stone floor. Her body shook with silent sobs as she retracted the once gleaming blade from Tate's unmoving form. She retched as the metal rasped against hacked cartilage and bone. Ignoring the blood she knelt next to him and removed the shroud from his face. Laying a kiss on his fast cooling lips she whispered reverently.
"And I you, my love."
A laugh echoed in the vast space behind her. A man in flowing robes, floated down from a viewing balcony, which was situated at the back of the huge arena type hall. Nalia's grip tightened on Tate's shroud and she placed her head on his motionless chest. The man landed softly on the ground and leaned against a pillar, as he watched Nalia.
"I swear, you get more dramatic every time this happens. And Tate! Well, he's quite the little Romeo, isn't he?"
The mans sneering tone grated on her nerves and she rose to a crouch over Tate, still with her back to the man.
"Do not speak of him. You haven't the right."
The man laughed jeeringly at her waved his hand at Tate's corpse. It disappeared in a flash of black. Nalia's throat tightened and she resisted the urge to run at him with her sword.
"I have every right to speak of him witch. I own him as I own you, and every other misbegotten fool who comes after my brethren and me. Stop moping and go to your chambers. You'll see 'loverboy' soon enough."
Nalia snapped. Reaching for her boots she withdrew two daggers. She spun and threw them at the man screaming with fury.
"I said do not speak of him!"
The man shot out his hand and the daggers disappeared in the same black flash that took Tate. His eyes blazed with rage and with a flick of his wrist the daggers reappeared, shot through the air and embedded themselves in Nalia's chest. She fell gasping to the ground and man walked over to her. Twisting the daggers as he shouted at her.
"So be it! You shall go out as a failure instead of in victory."
She spat at him. Blood streaked spittle dripped down his face and he slapped her. With one last breath she tried to reach her sword. Her hand stopped on the hilt and slid off. The man waved his hand and she disappeared in a flash of black. He strode out of the room muttering to himself, as he wiped the mess from his face.