Death and Pestilence

Chapter 3: Dreams and Nightmares

"Sorcerer of the deathly plagues, show yourself!" Boomed a voice, loud and proud. It wavered not, it feared none. I shuddered.

"Come face me; quit hiding, you pathetic excuse for a knight! I know you're in here, rotting in your filthy heaps of chemicals and corpses! You sick, cock-faced bastard, SHOW YOUSELF!"

I could no longer take his slanders. Enraged but calm, I leaped from my hiding place above my study bookcases, landing squarely behind this blonde imbecile. Dust shot up in my wake.

"Eh, heh heh heh!" The man gasped. I readied a bomb from my robe and lifted my cane up threateningly. "Hee hee...another hapless fool tries to challenge...m-me..." I faded out, enthralled wholeheartedly by this man's appearance. When he turned to face me I lost it. His deep, blue eyes opened wide with subtle fear; his full, chapped lips parted slightly to catch a quick breath; his tanned yet fair white skin glistened in the moonlight, bedecked in unbefitting rural apparel. The moment's image burned into my mind, everlasting.

...And slipped away like a golden fish from a fisherman. Pain suddenly flared through my chest, (but very weakly as those senses were dulled) as the young farmhand took a swing at me. "I'll show you who's the fool, you heinous pest!" I teetered on my short legs until my cane stabilized me. "You hazardous, good-for-nothing devil, not only have you been harassing and murdering innocent villagers with your bleak illnesses and diseases, but your viral dispersions have also been devastating my father's, my family's, and my village's crops! You need to..." I pouted as I watched the young man complain with unrestrained fury (and for what? I wasn't a king, I was a knight. And definitely not King Knight- that would be even worse). How sad it was to see such a handsome face marred by a scowling frown and furrowed brows. "...or I will be forced to smite you with my-"

"Hee, hee...did you think of all that on the way here?" I interrupted in jest in an attempt to brighten myself up, if not also the man as well. "Or did your father pitch you those long-winded lines, perhaps?"

Note to self: such slanderous banter would not work as intended. He took an intimidating battle stance and roared. "You twisted son of a shrew! Do you not know what it means to be a knight and have chivalry? Have you no honor, mercy, nor care for others, as a true knight should?"

I didn't respond at first, feeling as dejected as a puppy berated by its master. Then, with a weak smile, I mumbled trying not to show weakness. "I may not follow the code of 'chivalry,' but I do follow the code of...hee, hee...'sick-alry.'"

The blond seemed to be boiling in the kettle over that one, yet he progressively developed a smile. Was I finally infiltrating his stern facade? "Oh...do you, now? Well that's funny because," he whipped out two sickles from his bag. My eyes widened behind the bird mask. "So do I. Except it's more like SICKLERY!" He yelled, swinging his dual tools at me with expert grace. It sliced through my robe and an arm with which I guarded myself, drawing some blood. The infected crimson specks spattered onto the floor and the young man's barely protected flesh. Hissing burns sounded as the tainted areas on his gorgeous skin bubbled.

"GRAAAHHH!" The farmhand roared in pain, dropping his grain-gathering weapons. His agonized screams pierced not only my ears, but also my heart. "You m-monster!"

I hopped back a few steps, scared for his life. I wanted in no way for this to get ugly. "Sir...please leave now, while you still have your life. I do not wish to kill yOU!" I hastily skipped away from the man, who attempted to tackle me. "Sir, leave, I pray! This is a battle you cannot win! I'm sorry, but I cannot revive your dead crops. I can, however, cut down on my chemical exhausts and wastes if I must, and-"

"I DON'T CARE!" My assailant declared, grabbing the sickles he let fall to the floor. I was surprised by how much vigor he had in spite of his infections. He charged at me again, blades swinging. I jumped over him, and mid-air kicked him onto the floor none too gently. With a grunt he shot right back up and threw a sickle at me, which sunk into my shoulder. I winced. He seemed surprised at my resistance, but only for a split second. "I don't care what you do, you bastard! It's what you've DONE that counts, and I intend to have my vengeance for it!"

I held up my hands in surrender and backed away slowly, tossing the sickle to the ground. Fighting this innocent man would tear my black heart apart. "Listen, friend, this isn't the smart thing to do-"

"FRIEND? Frien- N-NO!" he had a brief hacking fit, definitely as a result of being around me for so long. "Y-..you are my FOE and y-your *cough, cough* reign of plague and pestilence will end, you foul, pungent d-demon! Now I may not be a knight, and I am in no way chivalrous or honorable, but I demand you to stop being a coward and fight me like a man; like a real knight!" He baited, then dashed at me with lightning-fast speed and slashed me with a trenchant sickle, jumping away just in time for my blood to miss him. The weapon sliced open my chest, but only barely since my robe was thick. It would heal easily.

I hopped back to a far wall of my study. Yet the farmhand was relentless, and charged for me again. "Damnit..." I muttered underneath my doctor's mask. I instinctually pulled a bomb out of my robe. Yet I hesitated. This man had no armor whatsoever; there was no way he could withstand my chemical explosives.

Nevertheless, he was getting closer, and although I knew his sickles couldn't kill me, my human instincts panicked. I sidestepped his attack and threw a bomb at his feet. As it left my hand I instantly regretted it, covering the eyeholes of my mask. I couldn't bear to see how maimed his body would become.

Then came the screams. Wails of agony so loud, they could rival a banshee's. And the smoke-choked coughing and wheezing didn't sound any better.

With fleeting sanity and tear-stained eyes, I looked up with a morbid curiosity (and to protect myself lest he could still attack). A thick veil of smoke and purple sparks rose around the toppling body of my blond assassin. In a moment of passion I ran over to help him, but he suddenly sprung to his feet and rushed for me again. "Y-you and your DAMNED tricks." His words stabbed me like sharpened knives, and the pain of his sickles. "You're a useless, repulsive, reclusive monster; the hollow shell of a man!"

This was definitely some kind of abusive obsession, but regardless of his words I still felt sympathy for the man, strangely enough. No matter what he said to me, I didn't want to hurt him more than I already had. I kept hopping back, trying to throw bombs near his location to scare him away.

"Once I kill you, I'll hang your masked head on my wall, and feed your rotting corpse to felons!" He growled with a staggering voice, and stumbled into a coughing fit from my sickness and the bomb smoke.

"That...that doesn't even make sense!" I squawked. "And you're not going to kill me just as much as I'm not going to kill...y-you..."

And within half a second the sickle-wielder collapsed onto the floor, hacking out blood. His skin and face were swelling up with hives and pustules, and his breathing was labored. Shocks of sound exploded and echoed about the vast study with his constant coughing. Once his throat was cleared, he rasped. "F-fine...I surrender."

I perked up. "Wonderful!" I chirped, but frowned again once I received an eyeful of his current state.

"H-...how..*cough, cough* in God's name..d-did I already get sick?"

"My being is rampant with all kinds of viruses, bacteria, opportunistic infections- things you've never heard of from my laboratory research and even the most foreign of lands." I began worriedly as he kept on coughing. "You've gotten too close to me, breathed too much of my miasma. I told you, this was a battle you'd never win. No matter how many slashes and wounds you etch into me, you'll still end up dying. And I'm sorry. I tried to warn you-."

"H-help me..." He rasped, gripping his neck tight to loosen up his trachea. His flesh was turning a sickly chartreuse color. "I...can...n-not...breathe..."

"Alright wait, don't talk!" I hated that there was nothing to do to save this beautiful man, but could I give him a medicinal drug to keep his pain or illnesses at bay, perhaps? I got on my feet and immediately scurried to my alchemical lab. "Do I even have medicine?!" I screamed, incredibly frantic, tossing around elixirs and potions when the labels were hidden or illegible. I found a remedy for colds but he clearly had more than a cold! Nonetheless, I grabbed those and a few more potions and antibiotics for mild ailments. Nothing that would prevent his death, but prolong his life, albeit slightly.

I hastened back to the struggling man, almost dropping my remedies. By now he was on his hands and knees, swollen and trembling, gasping for air. I ran to his side and grabbed hold of his mouth, attempting to imbibe those potions into him. But he was faster.

"Although my heart is so black to inter bodies daily, and deny the aid of a defeated foe..." he croaked, seizing the beak of my mask. I froze, and the vials in my hands crashed to the ground. "...yours is blacker. And although you c-claim *cough* to mean well," he removed the mask from my face, pausing to scan my youthful, yet pallid, features and smile. My heart fluttered. Shimmering harshly, his blue eyes seemed to chill to a shade more pale and icy. "I kn-now you are going to return to devastating the land and its pe- *cough, wheeze* -ople after I die, as father told me when he assigned me this job. S-so I have no reason..." He viciously slammed my face against the mess of glass and liquid on the floor. With a flick of his wrist he ground my face against the shards, cutting it up in a plethora of places. My heart bled with it. It actually hurt. "To leave you alive, and shall k-kill you- no matter what- with my last...d-dying...brEATH…GRAAAH!" And suddenly he released me, along with the sickle he was going to utilize to hack off my head. It clattered to the floor with a dull thrum.

I got up off the ground rapidly, blood pooling out of my face and into all the spilled potions on the floor. I was going to try and give the assassin what was left of them but that scrapped my idea. And the fact that he was breaking out with all kinds of irreversible pustules and cutaneous conditions. In any other circumstance, this would've been hilarious or even enjoyable to see. However, I felt incredibly guilty. Like I should have done something but could not.

"G-GodDAMN YOU! SHIT- it burns!" He roared, falling over onto his side. "Damn...AHHHHHH! Someone- ANYone...HEEEELP!"

'I tried, man.' I thought to myself as tears spilled from my eyes.

"ARGHHH! *cough cough* Y-you..fu-ucking..g-godforSAKEN...vile- *cough cough*
E-excuse f-for a...kn-...ight."

Such were his final words, used to spit out the rest of his own life and blood.

~~~

I awoke with a cold shiver running through my body. I struggled to free myself from the blanket which confined me, but my flailing made me realize I was on the floor again.

With a sigh, I calmly wiggled out of the blanket and slung it onto the bed. I ambled out of my room and into my vast, library of a study. Why in the world was I having these recurrent dreams about that pretty farmhand (or, assassin, I suppose)? Why did the gruesome battle I fought with him choose now, almost five years later, to resurface into my subconscious realm of dreams? I tried so hard to repress it!

A shocked caw permeated my thoughts. I turned to look at the caged Lich Yard crow, which was flapping its wings wildly and shooting out jolts of electricity. I walked over to where it was held on my desk. I couldn't resist caressing its glistening feathers to toss away my concerns and thoughts. Yet I forgot too quickly of its treatment and static ravaged my body. It stung! That's a grade-A enemy if there ever was one!, I thought, cackling.

I turned my head to look out the window. Unexpectedly, it was still night time, but more inclined to the early hours of the new day. Which meant that I should've gotten some more sleep for the meeting at noon.

On my way back to my room (I couldn't resist petting the cute little crow again) a thought came to mind. What if the nightmares return after I close my eyes? My good mood left me, and I thought of that man again. A growl rumbled in my throat and I punched my bedroom door. "No, no, NO!" I hissed, and turned back around. I hated thinking these uncomfortable thoughts which plagued me as I do to others. I needed to be liberated from them. I needed to toy more with that crow on my desk. It should be able to harness its electrical energy, anyways, and choose when and on what to release its energy.