Flesh And Blood.
Dedicated to Wandering Cat. Rock on, my friend.
References to Life's Quest included without permission.
"Blood. The feast has arrived, my sword." he muttered, and he drank deeply in the misty haze that clouded his eyes. Red. Red. His hands were stained crimson, and Karel knelt at the body of the slain enemy monk. His sword still had the throat blood in the grooves, and it lay discarded. Karel toyed with the liquid, his fingers becoming a darker and darker red. "You were nowhere near strong enough, my foe. Perhaps next time, eh?" he remarked dryly to the corpse.
Karla watched with mixed emotions as her brother crouched at the bleeding body. He truly was the Sword Demon. The world's fiercest fighter; and it showed in his sword strokes. An apt title, she thought. Her brother could sometimes . . . most times, be a soulless monster.
It was the Sacaen way not to be overly compassionate, after all, but several of her fellow plains-dwellers in this army seemed to have broken that rule without much fear. Nor did breaking this code seem to have any negative consequences, Karla mused. Lady Lyndis was one of the nicest people she had ever met. When she had learned of the Lorca tribe's destruction, her heart had pained her. It did her good to see that there were some survivors.
There was also Rath and Guy, from the Kutolah tribe. Karla didn't exactly get along with Rath; his very presence seemed to discourage all conversation except from those who knew him best: Guy and Lyn. Guy seemed to have broken all of the laws and customs that the Sacaen's considered. As a result, he was viewed by most as odd, but Karla had talked with him on occasion and found him to be a rather pleasing fellow. His swordplay was wondrous, Karla gave him that. It was surprising her brother hadn't killed him by now.
My brother seems to live for death, she thought bitterly. It was hard for her to view this demonic man, this creature feasting on the blood of those around him, and to know that he was her own flesh and blood. Well, he would certainly fill his sword's belly tonight. The fight that had engulfed the army now was against many of Nergal's morphs. It was in the nature of the Sword Princess to feel cool and detached towards violence, but she felt sorrow at her brother's narrow-mindedness towards butchery. An unwanted tear sprang to her eye, and she quickly wiped it away. She could not, would not show weakness near her brother. The Sword Demon, she knew, would scarcely bat an eyelid as he cut down his sister. Bloodlines meant nothing to him; they were just more people to kill, more people to fill the belly of his sword . . .
More people to satisfy his lust for blood.
Karla turned away as Karel rose from the carnage of the monk's body, and she swiftly ducked a hand axe thrown at her from a nearby warrior. Wake up, she told herself. Any injury here meant certain death- from her brother. Karla gripped her Wo Dao tight, and hurried for the warrior, who had changed his hand axe for the lethal-looking Devil Axe. She was well aware of Karel sprinting behind her. Karla leapt into the air, spinning until she was a blur.
"Fukutsu!" she cried, and her sword slashed wildly and lethally. Blood matted the coarse earth, and the morph bellowed in pain. Karla landed awkwardly and rolled, springing to her feet and running for the unprotected back of the warrior with the Devil Axe. Her Wo Dao lifted high into the air . . .
When a gauntleted hand crashed into her belly and knocked her to the ground.
The warrior turned around, and chopped at her gasping form. Karla rolled hard, but the axe still cleaved through her thin robe and into her flesh, leaving a nasty, perhaps fatal, wound. The Sword Princess struggled to breathe, and she painfully got herself up.
"Fukutsu!" she repeated, and quickly dispatched the unfortunate warrior. The morphs eyes were blank and shallow as it collapsed in a heap. Karla winced, placing a hand against her robe and doubling over. She was bleeding badly, and the near sorrowful gaze of the morph as it died was lingering in her mind. Behind her, footsteps sounded. It was her brother, Karla knew it. The way the steps were against the earth; subtle, but with deadly and purposeful grace.
"Sister . . ." he whispered in her ear, before sliding the blade of his own Wo Dao across her throat. "It appears you have been wounded." Karla was hyperventilating.
"Karel . . . what . . ." The Sword Demon shook his head, and Karla could see the reflection of his face in the sword; though it was blurred by the blood of morphs.
"You have known bloodlines hold no ties with me. You have been wounded. My sword will feast on you." he whispered maliciously. Karla felt tears roll down her face, and her heart was breaking.
"You even weep at the knowledge of death . . . further proving of your pathetic weakness." Karel continued, and he slowly maneuvered around to look her in the eye, being careful to keep the blade at her throat.
"A Princess will be slain at the hands of a Demon." he finished. "But is that not what happens every day? How can you hope to change this world, Karla?" She had no answer, but she was trembling. Death was coming, on swift wings too. It would bear his soul away tonight, to the regions of the damned. The world would be rid of another Sacaen Swordmaster.
"Goodbye Karla." Karel whispered. Like lightning, Karla's sword plunged into Karel's stomach, slicing it open and carving deep. The Sword Demon's eyes were wide, and shocked.
"Karla . . ." he uttered, almost pleadingly, before falling away from her and collapsing, dead, onto the dust. Karla was weeping openly now, and she knew she could never rest easily again. How did she do it? she asked herself. Karel was by far her superior in the art of the sword. Perhaps he was so blinded by the promise of blood that she took him by surprise. Perhaps by the time the first blow had landed, it was too late to do anything.
Perhaps . . . the remainder of his soul was strong enough to prevent the demons from killing her in the Sword Demon's final moments.
Karla wiped the tears away, and turned from the body of Karel, the Sacaen Swordmaster. The Sword Demon. She ran away from the carnage, only wishing for the nightmare to end. But there was the battle to deal with first.
A few nights later . . . .
Karel's eyes opened, and gazed at the starry sky over the Dread Isle. He stood . . . no, he leapt to his feet. He was strong again. His wounds had healed. The Sword Demon barely batted an eye at the dried blood on his robe. How and why had no meaning. Only revenge would serve him in this life.
"Sister . . ." he whispered to the full moon. "Till we meet again . . . my revenge will be swift and terrible to behold."
A Demon walked the earth once more.
Well, here ends another Angsty fic of mine. Read and review. If I get more than five reviews wanting a sequel, I'll write one. Otherwise, this will be a one-shot. But I have to get more than five reviews that want a sequel. A reminder to read and review.
English-Japanese.
Fortitude-Fukutsu.