Chapter 12: The Rose Duelist
Wave's grin soon faded. A figure ran up to Shivan's fallen form: Celtic, bow drawn. She stood up above him, not as a weak woman would kneel and cry, but as a strong one, aching for vengeance over her lost love. She trembled with fury, and when she spoke, her voice shook with sorrow and tremendous rage.
"I will kill you for that!" she yelled. Her cloak shivered at her feet.
"You cannot kill me," Wave replied, lowering his bow. "No one can kill me."
"We will see about that," Celtic said. She took two arrows from a white quiver on her back and set them both on her bow. The string was drawn taught. The arrow-tips glistened. "You will die!"
"FOOL! Try to kill me."
There was no sound as the two arrows flew from Celtic's bow, severing the air and slamming into Wave's chest. They bounced back and fell to the earth.
Wave dropped his bow as Celtic looked on in dismay. It was not anger now that filled her eyes, but fear: fear, and sorrow.
Wave spoke: "You will die like your husband, you filthy rat."
He began his path towards Celtic, taking heavy steps. As he did so, he released sword from scabbard with a clang. His speed was incredible. Celtic attempted to load another arrow, but Wave reached her too quickly. With one blow of his sword, he smote her to the earth. She was disarmed, lying on her back, Wave bearing down on her, sword at the ready.
Her fingers graced a pommel at her side. There lay Shivan's sword. Ever so stealthily, she pulled it towards her, until she could clutch its grip. Wave began to speak again.
"No," he said. "I will not kill you. I have much better plans for you, cutie."
He began to reach for her with his free hand.
"No!" she cried out in defiance. She took Shivan's blade and plunged it into Wave's chest as he fell on her, breaking armor with the incredible force of the blow. He went limp for a moment, and the sword was stuck. Then some tissue in his body gave way, and the sword plunged deeper. As he was dying, Celtic spoke.
"There is only one who may touch me."
She threw the carcass off of her, stood, and removed the sword. She looked at the bloodied blade, and then at the melee around her. WWESB archers had begun to use fire-tipped arrows. The YSBers' cloaks would be caught in flame, and the fire would spread. Most were driven mad.
"It's a pity," Celtic said under her breath, "that Wave did not live to see his victory."
But there was a call! A horn blew in sweet melody in the keep of the forest. Then there were voices and song. A fair song it was, and Celtic wondered at who produced it. She was certain it was none that could aid them. The time was too dark and the hour too late. It would be an enemy to speed their defeat. She would fight to the end.
Then there was a trampling of hooves, and from the forest emerged a force of horsemen. At their fore was a man that wore no cloak. A beautiful cape flapped behind him in the wind. Violet and red were his colors, and they showed all about him. His hair was a dark green. His pale eyes were set. He was playful in his urgency, but stood firm and strong atop a white mare. The others in his party were cloaked and hooded by violet cloth. They rode brown steeds.
"I am the Rose Duelist!" he said as he came on, spotting Celtic and assuming her the leader of the defense. "I have come from other realms with a mighty army! We have heard your call. We come to defend the Vale!"
Wave's grin soon faded. A figure ran up to Shivan's fallen form: Celtic, bow drawn. She stood up above him, not as a weak woman would kneel and cry, but as a strong one, aching for vengeance over her lost love. She trembled with fury, and when she spoke, her voice shook with sorrow and tremendous rage.
"I will kill you for that!" she yelled. Her cloak shivered at her feet.
"You cannot kill me," Wave replied, lowering his bow. "No one can kill me."
"We will see about that," Celtic said. She took two arrows from a white quiver on her back and set them both on her bow. The string was drawn taught. The arrow-tips glistened. "You will die!"
"FOOL! Try to kill me."
There was no sound as the two arrows flew from Celtic's bow, severing the air and slamming into Wave's chest. They bounced back and fell to the earth.
Wave dropped his bow as Celtic looked on in dismay. It was not anger now that filled her eyes, but fear: fear, and sorrow.
Wave spoke: "You will die like your husband, you filthy rat."
He began his path towards Celtic, taking heavy steps. As he did so, he released sword from scabbard with a clang. His speed was incredible. Celtic attempted to load another arrow, but Wave reached her too quickly. With one blow of his sword, he smote her to the earth. She was disarmed, lying on her back, Wave bearing down on her, sword at the ready.
Her fingers graced a pommel at her side. There lay Shivan's sword. Ever so stealthily, she pulled it towards her, until she could clutch its grip. Wave began to speak again.
"No," he said. "I will not kill you. I have much better plans for you, cutie."
He began to reach for her with his free hand.
"No!" she cried out in defiance. She took Shivan's blade and plunged it into Wave's chest as he fell on her, breaking armor with the incredible force of the blow. He went limp for a moment, and the sword was stuck. Then some tissue in his body gave way, and the sword plunged deeper. As he was dying, Celtic spoke.
"There is only one who may touch me."
She threw the carcass off of her, stood, and removed the sword. She looked at the bloodied blade, and then at the melee around her. WWESB archers had begun to use fire-tipped arrows. The YSBers' cloaks would be caught in flame, and the fire would spread. Most were driven mad.
"It's a pity," Celtic said under her breath, "that Wave did not live to see his victory."
But there was a call! A horn blew in sweet melody in the keep of the forest. Then there were voices and song. A fair song it was, and Celtic wondered at who produced it. She was certain it was none that could aid them. The time was too dark and the hour too late. It would be an enemy to speed their defeat. She would fight to the end.
Then there was a trampling of hooves, and from the forest emerged a force of horsemen. At their fore was a man that wore no cloak. A beautiful cape flapped behind him in the wind. Violet and red were his colors, and they showed all about him. His hair was a dark green. His pale eyes were set. He was playful in his urgency, but stood firm and strong atop a white mare. The others in his party were cloaked and hooded by violet cloth. They rode brown steeds.
"I am the Rose Duelist!" he said as he came on, spotting Celtic and assuming her the leader of the defense. "I have come from other realms with a mighty army! We have heard your call. We come to defend the Vale!"