FicWad

The two titans clashed, their swords flashing with blistering speed toward one another. Not once had either drawn the other's blood, but as the battle wound on they drew ever nearer breaching their foe's defenses. The dark clouds above shouted protest, and they parted to allow the heavens room to smite the generals. The lightning struck between them, shoving each back but throwing neither off balance. The dark armored general's eyes blazed and he lifted his sword once more, tilting it toward his opponent and unleashing a magical onslaught.



The crimson defender raised his shield as the bolt of darkness swept in, dispelling it before any harm was done. Carving a vicious arc with his own blade, the general returned the attack with interest, but to no avail. The two were evenly matched with blade and magic, the outcome would have to be won on endurance and wit alone. The dark general lifted his weapon to the heavens, the blade glowing with increasing intensity as he chanted a spell, splitting the angry clouds and unleashing his fury unto his crimson foe. Chris lifted his sword to his shield, running it down the length then back to the top and chanting his own spell, igniting the ground around him in a circle of blue flames.



As the magical barrage fell from the sky it was met by the increasingly fierce blue flames, countering each other until the flames were savagely snuffed by a counter-spell by the dark general. Chris ducked and rolled to his left, narrowly avoiding the still descending primary attack. Spinning on his heel, Chris sprinted from the enemy's field of view, appearing moments later from three separate spots surrounding the dark general. Discarding their shields, all three crimson warriors sheathed their swords and drew large blades from their backs, holding them two-handed.



The dark general threw down his shield and plunged his saber into the ground, taking out a two-handed hammer and wielding it up high. Suddenly the three crimson knights converged on their foe, hacking and slashing with ferocity and near-recklessness. As if sensing the approach, the dark general spun and hammered a blow into the fourth crimson knight behind him; the other three dropped to their knees and stayed completely still as their comrade was thrown back into a spear that was jutted from the ground.



"I knew you would be cautious for your safety and approach me from behind, fool!" Cried the dark general with atone of triumph. "Here I thought you were going to be a worthy foe, but you are weak. You can't even keep your doubles here fighting with that spear through you. Pathetic!" He sneered, spitting at the body before watching it decay rapidly in front of his eyes. His eyes went wide as the realization of his mistake hit him like the physical blow that was soon to follow. Spinning around he was about to raise his hammer as the blade plunged into his side, throwing him off balance. The three crimson warriors once more converged on him, this time slowly and with more purpose behind their every movement.



Panic struck the dark general, his eyes shifting from one to the next, searching for the flaw, looking for the one detail that separated the man from the doubles. No human could possibly mimic the fluid movement with exact precision, or so he thought. Out of nowhere the middle one attacked, only to meet the all too eager head of the dark general's hammer. He went down without a struggle, but his comrades didn't follow his lead, they both rushed at the same time. In the split second he had, the dark general chose the warrior to his left; as he swung the hammer around to assault the man, the walls holding back doubt from his mind split and he was flooded by all the ways he could be wrong. Tearing his mind back to the present he reversed the hammer in mid-swing and plunged it into the belly of the man to his right, lifting him from his feet and high above the ground in a deadly arc that brought him down to an instant demise.



Suddenly a large blade plunged into the dark general's back, plowing through the vertebrae and shattering his ribcage to pierce his lung. As blood filled his lung and he could no longer draw in air, he dropped to his knees and threw his head forward, spitting blood onto the ground before him and losing what little balance he had left. Toppling to the ground with a muffled grunt, he blinked for the last time then was still. The sword was withdrawn from his back and wiped clean on his cloak.



Kneeling beside the body, Chris shook his head and sighed, "You were so close, but all I had to do was plant the seed of doubt and you would cave in sooner or later." He whispered to the dead man, then took the man's ornate dagger and placed it in a pouch at his side. He walked over to a hill in the middle of the battlefield and gazed upon the carnage that lay there, two armies demolished because of one stupid man's refusal to settle the battle general to general. The irony of the situation saddened him, for he got what he wanted in the first place, but only after both of the armies were dead. Most of the men they fought weren't soldiers, but the weight of numbers evened the odds enough to leave Chris in this situation.



His heart sank even further as he looked upon the faces of his fallen comrades, those he had just met as well as those he had fought next to for most of his life. He sighed and walked back to the rear of the plain where the spare horses were picketed. Leaping into the saddle of the closest horse, he turned it back toward the city and rode with haste to deliver the results of the battle and return with men to retrieve the bodies for proper burial.



*



The huntress drew back the string on her bow and aimed for one of the elk that had stopped by the stream for a drink. She waited until her target had finished taking a drink and was standing by the others, patiently waiting for them to finish. Its head looked around curiously at the surroundings, completely at ease and peaceful after its refreshing drink. Drawing in her breath slowly and then exhaling with the same patience, the huntress paced her breathing and was nearly ready to let the arrow fly. Her target turned and dashed off at speed into the bushes, its companions following as she let loose a moment too late. Cursing softly, she notched another arrow incase they were running from something that was potentially dangerous to her as well.



She could make out the rhythmic tapping of the horse's hooves before it emerged at the stream, sweat glistened on it's coat as it stepped into her view and that of the sun. It had obviously been running for some time and was burdened by something that was bunched up on its back. As she moved around to a better vantage point, she noticed that the thing on its back was a body, slumped forward in the saddle. With extreme caution she approached, looking about incase it was a trap. Satisfied the horse was alone, she walked out and replaced the arrow to her quiver, strapping the bow to her back.



She tapped the warrior's shoulder, but he didn't respond, she noticed blood flowing down the side of the horse and pulled the man off of it. His body fell to the ground in a heap, despite her efforts to make his dismount slow and comfortable. She checked and saw that his tunic was covered with blood, most of it dried and most likely, she guessed, someone else's. There was fresh blood coming from the warrior's shoulder, though, and she lay him down straight and checked his pulse. Although weak, it was steady and he could be tended to and definitely saved. She unsaddled the horse and searched the packs for bandages, finding some with a curved needle and medical thread.



Removing the warrior's pauldron for easier access to the wound, Cassandra moved aside other armor and clothing that obstructed her work. She took a sack of water from her belt and cleaned the wound, threading the needle and stitching the skin closed with expert skill. Although not an overly large wound, she applied a gauze pad to it and secured it incase an excess of blood seeped out. She noticed some was already coming out and sighed, she would have to put a better bandage on, which would require removing more of the warrior's heavy armor.



Cassandra took off the warrior's helm to find astrong handsome face; setting it aside she removed his plate and chain upper-body armor and his tunic. This gave her a perfect chance to properly bandage the wound, so she carefully removed the gauze and replaced it with another pad, this time wrapping the tape securely around his powerful shoulder and under his arm. Satisfied, Cassandra felt for his pulse and could already tell a difference. She stood and took the brush from the man's saddlebag and brushed off the horse, cleaning its coat and feeding it some of the grain from the man's supplies. She then returned the saddle to the horse's back and placed the man's armor on it, fastening it to the saddle straps. She then led the horse and half-carried half-dragged the man to her shelter, laying him in her makeshift bed and lighting a fire.