A Warrior's Enemy

The distant sun grazes across the horizon like bleeding fruit. The sound of a roaring battle echoes over open fields. Mist glazes the grounds hiding blades of grass that stand ready to drink the sun, as swords clash, arrows cut through the air, and men die. Thousands of warriors fiercely look into the eyes of their enemy. Eyes, filled with fury, pulsing with the vision to bring death upon their opponent. To hollow the earth of another life. With each fury of strikes, heavy breaths bellow in their chests as blood is forced from flesh by steel. Screams of death pierce the air but no warrior has time to listen. For each second, is a moment spent at the foot of deaths throne. The chill air of death slumbers in the bones of these men.  And no man can be saved by the blade of the dead. The sun begins to rise higher in the sky, coating the skies with an orange haze. The mist continues to glaze the ground with a frozen presence. The smell of blood and horror swallows the air. Fierce screams of battle thunder from warriors. The clashing of steel barrages the view as these warriors put life at the tip of their blade. Shields held with strength block many strikes and many blades, but many warriors find themselves out-skilled. Dropping their shield only for a moment, and that moment, becomes their end. Death awakens in the bones and chills the body for soils of earth. As a blade lacerates flesh with ease, cutting deep into bone and finding place in it. Eyes of the wounded grow cold with gloss of emptiness as their soul flees their body. The body, lifeless falls to the ground and lays with an open jaw and eyes of suffering.

A warrior holding a blade in flesh of the wounded, pulls the blade from bone. Blood crusts his blade and spatters his face. Yells of victory howl from his throat as his eyes grow wide with the taste of triumph. But upon his celebration the whistling of an arrow lacerates his ribs. Injecting itself into his lung. His eye become still as his head follows down to the pain. Blood drips from his sword to the ground, while blood mimics from his chest. The grass below becomes a canvas of war, a canvas of red. His knees, now the bracing of self. His breathing becomes weak and shallow. His ears become faint to the roaring of the battle. The sun now rests high in the sky, shaded by grey clouds. He places his hand upon the arrow from where it presents its head and begins to pull. Blood spills with each inch the arrow is moved. Spit, blood, and pain all flood from his mouth with each agonizing pull. 
Soon the feathers of the arrow are inches from his bone. The Warrior inhales a heavy breath, blood follows. Placing his blade upon the ground, he grasps the arrow with both hands one last time. The arrow is released and a foul scream exits the Warrior. More blood finds its escape from the confines of his flesh. Tossing the arrow to the side he anxiously observes the battle around him. His ears still faint to the sounds around him. He picks up his blooded blade and forces himself to his feet, his body weak he catches himself with his blade, thrusting it into the ground. He looks to his right as an enemy with a face painted black and blood smeared upon his chest screams his way to him. The Warrior yells and pulls himself from the ground and stands with might. He faces his enemy and screams fearless as the man cuts his way through the battle. 

The Warrior watches as a few, before the painted face, are cut down in few strikes. The Warrior heart pumps with vengeance for those he sees fall before him. He begins to hum a song, a song for the warriors of his people. A song that sings of death, blood, steel, gods, dragons, and a feast. He stands ready for battle. The enemy painted black, now stands before him, his eyes filled with rage. He opens his mouth and releases his tongue, it is split in two, he screams while waving his head back and forth. The Warrior looks on, but feels no fright, but solace. Solace to face the eyes of death, the hand of fate, and the honor of battle. The enemy, with no shield and sword half the height of the Warrior steps forward. A small circle opens as the battle naturally makes way for those who truly wish to seek the wishes of death. The sun becomes concealed by the clouds, they begin to pour. The mist still kisses the grass. The air becomes cold and clouds of breath flame from the mouths of a thousand men. 

The Warrior and his enemy, circle each other with intent to feed the other their blade. The Warrior lunges forward with a quick thrust. His enemy parries with his blade. Again and again they exchange blows. The Warrior feels his lungs becoming a glass for blood. His vision becoming a whisper of a dream. More strikes are exchanged and the Warrior remains steady with his vengeance and honor for his men. His enemy, with an empty stare, as if possessed grins and licks his lips. The Warrior releases a scream at his enemy and strikes down. His enemy steps back raising his blade and blocks the attack. They are locked, steel to steel, eye to eye, breath to breath. The rain begins to pour heavier, the air grows even colder and the mist begins to thicken, rising to the chest of the Warrior. Now all that is in view, is the shoulders and head of his enemy. The Warriors enemy kicks the him, causing him to fall upon his back. The Warrior, hitting the grounds coughs up blood from his lungs and wipes it from his mouth. He looks at the blood, now upon his hands and sees death smiling back with its pale skin and black lips. 

A faint yell comes rushing from the mist and the Warrior immediately looks, his heart pounding like the drums of war. He quickly raises his blade toward the scream and hears the piercing of steel through the air. His enemies blade emerges from the mist and clashes with the Warriors. Sparks flutter from their blades and dimly light in the mist. The Warrior makes his way off the ground, using every ounce of strength to keep his enemy from forcing his blade to earth. His enemy lifts his blade and disappears into the mist. The Warrior looks around in the mist with caution. His ears still faint to sounds, the Warrior ignores them and relies on his eyes and the sense of a Warrior. He turns around quickly and their stands his enemy, looking down at him. The Warrior quickly tries to strike at his enemy’s gut. But his enemy grabs the throat of the Warrior, lifting him from the ground. The enemy snarls as he looks the Warrior in the eyes. The Warriors enemy drops his blade and increases his grip around the Warriors throat. Blood rushes from the lungs of the Warrior as he gargles the last of the air that is suffocated by blood. 

His enemy smiles as he holds him close to his face. The Warrior feels the life from his body begin to fade. The Warrior struggles but has no strength to hold onto his blade any longer. He drops his blade and falls, the blade cuts into the ground. His enemy grips harder around his neck. The Warrior tries to fight back, gripping his enemy’s hands trying to separate them. Thunder crashes from the sky, lighting strikes the battle field, and rain starts to flood the fields. 

The Warriors enemy grips even harder, causing blood from the Warriors chest to bleed out. The Warriors eyes begin to see the wings of death against the clouded sky. The Warrior finds a strange warmth to what he is seeing. He reaches toward death and smiles with content. But as he stares a bolt of lightning crashes into death, the wings of death burn up and it falls to earth. The Warrior shocked at the moment loses a sense of everything, of life, of death. He saw death die before him and fall, fall like any other man would. His enemy still holding him pulls a small blade from his side and raises it to show the Warrior. He licks the blade while he stares the Warrior in the eyes. Blood lust fills the enemy. The Warrior watches his enemy lick the blade then cut his own arm. Blood rushes from the cut and the enemy rubs his small blade through it. Strange whispers of shallow voices flow to the Warriors ears as his enemy’s blade touches the blood. 

His enemy lifts the blade from the cut and presses it again the Warriors forehead. The enemy slides the blade across the Warriors head and draws blood. The warrior grunts with pain, but his enemy releases the grip around his throat a little. The Warrior is able to breath. Suddenly, his enemy pulls the blade from the Warriors head, licks the blade and begins to whisper a chant to himself. His eyes start to roll back in his head. The Warrior with no idea of hope tries to escape, but no amount of struggle even allows any inch of movement from the hand of his enemy. Thunder breaches the sky and lighting impales the earth over and over. The Warrior looks on as the lighting forms. His enemy suddenly stops chanting, the mist separates from them and the warrior looks down, and at the feet of his enemy, one of his fellow warriors lay dead. Beaten and cut like prey. The warrior feels anger envelope his body. He becomes enraged with hate for his enemy. His enemy, no longer chanting looks at the warrior and raises his blade to the gut of the Warrior. The warrior can feel the tip of the blade beginning to slowly press into him. The Warrior feels his angered pulse and heart beat echoing in his ears. 

His mouth becomes numb, something over comes him and he looks up at the sky once again. And there, in the distance of the rain is death once again. Riding on the back of a dark horse, a stream of shadowed mist is left behind with each flap of the horse’s wings. Death, still with its burnt wings, raises a scythe from its side. His black cloak waves with the wind as death comes rushing toward the Warrior. A hellish scream pierces the sky and deaths hood lifts from its head. Death eyes, red, like the fires of hell stare into the soul of the Warrior. The Warrior screams upon hearing death, visions start to blind the Warrior. Visions of pain, happiness, suffering, agony, sorrow, pleasure. Visions of his past, visions of his enemy, visions of those on the battle field. 

Suddenly the visions stop, and death is right there. Right behind the Warriors enemy. Its stands tall with a flesh ridden hand upon the shoulder of the Warriors enemy. Its face, pale as snow, its flesh rotted like fruit. Its breath freezing the air around it. Its horse, standing silent with raw black eyes. Its wings spread ten feet wide. 

The Warrior frozen in the site of death looks on with a welcoming embrace. Death screams again, the Warrior feels the coldness of death consume his lungs. Suddenly the Warrior feels a sharp pain, his enemy is plunging his blade into his gut slowly, as if to torture the Warrior. The Warriors eyes fill with pain as anger still boils within. Death screams again, the Warrior feels fright this time. Death screams again and again. Each scream a new inch of blade in the gut of the Warrior. The Warrior feels the blade piercing his flesh, his eyes and head drop looking down at the ground. Again, he sees his fellow Warrior motionless at his enemy’s feet. The Warrior rages with more anger, he looks at his enemy and his enemy stares back with lustful pleasure. The Warrior reaches down to his side with struggling fingers. Death, now stands silent, looking unto the Warrior in silence as his cloak dances in the wind and misted shadows pour from the wings of his horse. 

The air around the Warrior begins to grow colder as the blade furthers into his gut. The Warrior screams in pain and continues to struggle with his fingers to his side. The Warrior, looks death in the eye and clenches his jaw in hate of his enemy. His mind becomes a swamp for thoughts to the death of his foe. His fingers feel something at his side, it is a small handle to a dagger. The Warrior is able to reach it. He carefully pulls it from its sheath and grips it with his hands. His knuckles become white to the grip and his hand becomes steady. His enemy, still piercing the sword into his gut stares, waiting for the Warriors death. The Warrior looks at him and smiles, his enemy smiles back, but suddenly stops. The enemy’s eyes become frozen with abrupt pain. The enemy releases the Warrior and the blade in the Warriors gut. The enemy looks down at the Warrior for a moment and then looks down at his gut and sees a dagger sticking out. The enemy looks back at the Warrior with anger and pulls the blade from his gut and laughs. The Warrior angered and at the body of his fellow warrior, does not hesitate. He pulls the blade that is in his gut and lunges it into his enemy over and over. Screaming, he rages with vengeance and honor for his warriors. 

The enemy feels each puncture of flesh, blood pours from his mouth and his eyes are no longer lustful with blood, but rather lost to the pain of the Warriors strikes. The enemy falls to the ground on his back and the Warrior continues to stab him. Blood squirts like rain splattering upon the ground. It covers the Warriors face, body, and legs. Nothing is stopping him from ending this enemy’s life. The Warrior becomes tired and can no longer strike his enemy. He drops the blade and looks up, there, still standing is death. The Warriors stares with shallow breaths. Death stares back with no response. The Warrior begins to question what death wants, yelling out question for its existence. But death stares on with silence. The Warrior becomes tortured by the stillness and tears start to fall from his eyes. 

The Warrior feels the coldness of death hug the air around him and chill his bones. The Warrior ceases questions towards death and sees that the battle around him has stopped, that the mist has settled and the battle is won. But he is overcome with sadness as he turns around and sees the body of his fellow brethren once again. He rushes over to the body and turns it over. He grabs beneath the shoulders of the body and pulls it into him. He continues to cry but in silence as his hands hold gently to chest and face of his warrior’s body. He then looks up at death and sees its still there. Death starts to walk forward and stands over the dead enemy’s body. Death stabs the base of his scythe into the ground and plunges his hand into the chest of the body of the enemy. But no cracking of bone or cutting of flesh appears. Death's hand, made way into the body of the dead translucently. Death pulled his hand from the body and small blue light was in its hand. It looks at the Warrior and places the blue light in its mouth. It closes its mouth and swallows. A dim light can be seen through the holes of deaths cloak. Death looks at the Warrior and screams again. Then turns around and mounts the horse and flies off. 

The Warrior, still holding the body of his fellow warrior looks around him again and sees a few men approach, they are healers and see the Warrior. They walk over and check on the Warrior, the Warrior does his best to speak, but can't. The healers step aside and a man with a large pouch and wheelbarrow approaches. He starts to remove items from the Warrior. The Warrior is confused and tries and to speak up, still he can’t, he can't even move. Suddenly he feels a strange warmth overcome his chest and quickly fade to cold. It feels as if something is pulling his heart from his chest. Then, his eyes become empty, like that of his enemy.  





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