I apologize for the lateness of this update. I've recently been side tracked on an X men fiction. However, having seen that I had 500 hits on this story I have decided to continue. Updates may be slower as I work on both stories, but they will come eventually. : D

Anyway. . .Enjoy.

Chapter 6

It was proclaimed as a miracle, a holy blessing of Sigmar. The mood in the manor was ecstatic. After months of sickness, the young Owen had recovered over night! Admittedly he was still very pale, but that was to be expected after such a protracted illness.

When Owen first woke he could remember very little of the previous night, it seemed like a dream rather than a memory. There had been a doctor . . . or had there, Owen could barely remember. He remembered a monster, but that must have been part of the dream. It had been a vampire hadn't it? Owen had read tales about vampires, creatures of the night that could become invisible and turn themselves into bats at will. Owen snorted; silly stories were giving him nightmares was all.

Owen suddenly realized that he badly wanted a drink. He lifted his arm to check if there was a glass on his bedside table. He lifted his arm. Owen's eyes widened in shock, he hadn't been able to move his arms for several months now. Owen quickly threw back the duvet to examine himself, his disbelief turned to wild happiness at what he saw. His muscles, they were mostly back, he was still extremely skinny by most people's standards but the improvement was massive. Owen ran his hands over his muscles, as if checking to ensure it wasn't some cruel illusion. Only one way to find out, Owen thought with an enthusiasm that had been missing for a long time. Haltingly, unused to using his muscles after so long, Owen lifted his legs off the bed and onto the ground. Now the real challenge Owen thought. Using the bed to balance, he slowly straightened his legs so that he was standing up, triumph filled him. Owen laughed aloud for the sheer pleasure of being able to stand up.

It took several minutes of pacing slowly back and forth across the room to prove to himself that he really could walk again. It was during this pacing that Owen's mother, Anne came into the room, followed by a servant with a late breakfast. Her husband had convinced Anne to delay Owen's breakfast, saying that he had been up late seeing a doctor and needed rest. So it was early afternoon by the time they arrived. On entering the room Anne's hand flew to her mouth in shock. The clatter of the breakfast tray hitting the floor moments later as the servant's fingers went nerveless with shock.

"Good morning mother." Owen said, an enormous grin on his face. It took several seconds for any sort of response from Anne

"Dear Sigmar thank you" were the first words she could think to utter.

It took several hours of tearful hugs from his mother, manly claps on the back from his father, and enthusiastic hugs from his younger brother before Owen finally had some time alone to get dressed. Owen swiftly pulled his clothes on, eager to be outside after so long indoors. Several minutes later, having found suitable clothing and noticing how loosely it hung on him, Owen examined his reflection in a tall full length mirror. What he saw puzzled him, for instead of his own reflection staring back there was only a pale blur in the glass. Momentarily Owen wondered if the mirror had become damaged somehow, but then noticed that the rest of the room was in perfect focus. Chilled at this strange phenomena Owen pulled away.

The incident with the mirror disturbed Owen a lot. However, he soon put it from his mind, after all, what's a mysterious mirror compared to being able to finally walk again! For an hour or two, Owen wandered the house, marvelling at the familiar smells and sights that he had not experienced for so long. It was while he was on the second floor, examining an old portrait of his great grandfather that Owen was found by Henry.

"There you are! Owen I've been looking all over for you – why are the curtains shut?" Henry said all in a rush as he entered the room. Owen turned around.

"What? Oh, the sun was glaring on the picture, I couldn't see it properly" Owen said, examining the painting as though trying to make up for six months of looking at the same four walls by feasting his eyes now. Henry looked puzzled for a moment by his answer, then tentatively replied

"But the sky is dark with storm clouds; it looked like it was about to rain a minute ago." Owen was obviously still not paying attention for he suddenly asked

"Do you want to go and have a practice bout; you'll have to go easy as I'm going to be pretty rusty?" Henry was still a little confused, but the offer of sword practice was too much to resist. Before Owen's illness the two brothers had spent most of there time duelling, it was what Henry had missed most.

"Of course!" He replied enthusiastically.

The pair made their way to the practice courtyard. As the pair opened the door to the yard Owen absent-mindedly sheltered his eyes; as if shielding them from the light of a bright sunny day. Henry had been right though, the sky was a dull grey from horizon to horizon. Owen didn't appear to notice his actions and Henry failed to see as he had rushed ahead.

Having equipped themselves with practice swords and protective vests from the armoury Owen and Henry made their way over to the duelling arena. A small roped off area, with a thin layer of sand sprinkled regularly on it for grip. By this stage the pair had attracted an audience. Stable boys and some of the servants with little to do crowded around to watch. The knowledge that Master Owen had recovered so unexpectedly had spread quickly and many took this opportunity to see for themselves.

The two of them squared off. Blunted swords held vertically as they had both been taught to begin a duel. The swords the pair fought with where not swords that would be used in battle, these swords were specifically used for the ritualized sport of duelling. Made as light as possible they would have extreme difficulty cutting through any real armour. For all that however, they could still be dangerous.

"Ready?" Asked Owen, a thin smile on his lips, he was always like this before a duel, cold and unemotional; focused purely on the art of defeating his opponent. Henry simply nodded, having entered a similar state of focus.

At that nod the duel began. Neither moved immediately to strike however, they began to slowly circle. Waiting for a misstep to put there opponent at a disadvantage. The misstep came from Owen, still unused to moving his legs after such a time; he slipped slightly on the damp sand. Henry immediately lunged, driving his blade towards Owen's torso. Despite his misstep Owen recovered quickly, quickly enough to parry his brothers attack. Now that they were both in range a furious round of strike and counter-strike, parry and attack began. Both young men's swords becoming silver blurs meeting with furious and repeated clangs.

To the audiences surprise it was Henry who was being forced to retreat steadily against the powerful blows of his older brother. It was well known that Owen had, before his illness, been slightly the superior of the two but even so he was showing no signs of having been dying only the day before! Henry was as surprised as the rest; he had expected a few easy victories over his brother before he got back to full strength. However his strikes were, it seemed, more powerful than before. Henry's arms began to shake and sweat was beading on his forehead as he struggled to match his brother.

Owen was barely aware that his brother was so overmatched. He was still revelling in the sensations of being in full command of his body. The ease of movement as he parried a clumsy attack from Henry and replied with his own strike felt wonderful. He wanted to test his strength fully now, and renewed his attacks, confident that Henry would be up to the challenge.

If Owen had been paying attention he would have noticed the signs. His brother's slightly winded breathing, lack of footwork other than a steady backing away and the fluctuating strength of his parry's were all signs that his opponent was at the edge of his strength. Under normal circumstances he would have noticed, and backed off a bit, to let Henry recover as his younger brother was often too stubborn to admit he needed to, but these weren't normal circumstances, and Owen wasn't paying attention.

Eventually the inevitable happened. Owen swiped his sword in a downward diagonal attack. Henry attempted to parry but his sword slipped in his grasp. Owen's blade connected with Henry's but didn't stop. Its arc continued as though the blade weren't there, straight toward the younger mans face. Henry had the presence of mind to throw himself backwards, that is probably what saved his life. Instead it sliced a shallow red line down the left hand side of his face before Owen realizing what had happened finally managed to stop the downward arc of his sword.

Owen's shock at what had happened was quickly suppressed by what he saw. His brother was hunched over slightly, his hand clasped over the slowly bleeding cut. Bleeding. Blood. BLOOD! His thirst from that morning returned tenfold. Involuntarily he took a step forward. Something in his mind screamed that something was wrong, but it was so hard to focus.

Then Henry's eyes snapped up to Owen's, filled with hurt, more emotional than physical at what his own brother had done. That was the reminder Owen needed. The world snapped back into reality and he saw himself standing menacingly over his younger brother. Sigmar! What am I doing? He thought, I actually wanted to. . .

Owen shuddered, backing away from his brother. Henry looked at him, confusion written all over his face.

"I'm so sorry" Owen blurted, still backing away. Meaning it for more than just the injury he had inflicted. With that he quickly strode away, almost running. The crowd of spectators nervously moved out of his way, they had all seen the disturbing look of hunger in the young lords' eyes only moments ago. Henry was left on the duelling court, bleeding still, and utterly confused by what had just happened.

I had intended to bring the situation with Owen's family to a climax quickly, but decided why rush? This has resulted in it bieng far longer than I intended, bear with me, this is going somewhere, honest.

Reviews encourage the author to write quicker. . .just in case you didn't know. ;)