Seasons of Ferne, Summer's Passion

Chapter 8

Although Evelyn's day had been pleasant her night was riddled with nightmares. It didn't help that the evening had brought with it an unexpected wave of heat, birthing thunderstorms and turning the air into a sticky paste. Heavy winds blew cold rain into her window as she slept, weighing down her curtains just enough to cause them to slap against the walls with a wet, almost organic thwapping sound that only helped add to her almost feverish visions. Thunder masked the sound of her moans and rainwater mixed with the sweat on her pillow as Evelyn tossed back and forth, unaware she was caught in a dream...

The two men stood mere paces apart, blood flowed from countless bodies strewn around the battlefield, staining red the thick mud that clung heavily to their armor. Both breathed ragged gasps of air, each exhausted from the strain of long battle as one evaluated the other. Cuirass's rose and fell as each man judged any perceived weakness of the other, swords gripped tightly in shaking hands stood at the ready.

As a heavy rain fell from a sky painted with the dull red and grey hues of an evil and artificial storm, each braced themselves for a final attack. Few living souls remained at their command, those that still stood backed away quickly, giving wide berth to those who would decide their fates.

One combatant, lean and proud, seemed to radiate his own light against the darkness of the storm. Armor of finely wrought silvered gold and living wood hugged the curves of his body gracefully, running along and across his athletic form as a mosaic of precious metals and natural life. His face was eternally beautiful, olive skin accentuated bright gold eyes that shone with both century's old wisdom and youthful intensity. He wore no helm to protect his head, only a golden crown of interwoven wines and glowing jewels. Although smears of bloody mud and soaked ash marred his features, the grime could do little to dull his bright visage.

The other stood in stark contrast to the first. Much shorter, his thick limbs and wide chest were covered in a patchwork of rough, black ironwork. Terrible faces were beaten into the bolted and pinned metal in rough fashion, screaming and twisted, they stared out from his chest and limbs, a dire warning of merciless evil. His head was covered in a black helm of similar making. Spiked and raw, the beaten metal face of a fractured skull served to cover the angry face beneath, life only hinted at by means of the fogged breath that escaped the mask's rough mouth. In his hands he held a massive sword, a thick two-handed hilt led to a wide, blood covered blade of blackened metal. The heavy steel didn't taper to the point of a blade meant for battle, but instead protruded from the handle as a wide, flat blade with a nearly squared off end. In her dream's mind Evelyn recognized the design from medieval studies. It was an executioner's sword.   

"You must turn from this path," The taller man said, his voice ringing with the confidence of long rule, "relinquish your hatred and allow peace to rule your heart once more."

The response was immediate. A merciless scream of anger burst from the man's chest, its deep sound echoed at his opponent within a stream of clouded breath. He sprang forward, armor ringing out in metallic song as his boots thwapped heavily into the deep mud of the field. The taller man braced for the impact of the attack, raising his silvered gold sword high. Using the fallen body of a dead warrior as a springboard, the dark form leapt high into the air, his black two-handed great sword swinging downward in a powerful arc.

The impact was like thunder. Bits of blood and gore not yet rinsed from the blades in the heavy rain sprayed across the taller man's face as the swords met, the larger blade of the black great sword biting deep into the silvered gold blade. Forced to his knees at the blow, the taller man clung to his own sword as if it were life itself, the only shield he possessed against the brute strength of the dark warrior. More screams came forth from the black helm as he lifted the giant blade again and again, reigning down blow after blow, hammering the taller man into the mud.

Soon the slivered blade could take no more abuse and cracked. Knowing the next blow would be the last, the tall warrior braced his cracked sword at an angle as the dark weapon came back down. Turning his blade so the flat was against his palm, he was able to redirect the force of the blow and send the blackened metal of is adversary deep into the muddy ground. The sudden redirection of weight caught the shorter man off guard and he stumbled to one knee, giving the tall fighter enough of a moment to roll to the side.

With only a breath of time to his advantage, the taller man kicked the back of his opponent's other knee to send him sprawling to the ground. The man cried out with surprise as he fell, his thick and heavy armor a hindrance on the slick and bloody earth. Gore-soaked mud and water seeped into the openings and weighed him down long enough for the tall warrior to regain his footing.

Enchanted thunder cracked across the sky as the tall warrior flicked his wrist in an upward motion. Heavy vines sprang from the ground around the dark fighter and began to wrap around his form like a constrictor smothering its prey. He screamed out in anger and flailed against the vine's deadly embrace, pulling a long and dark dagger out of his belt at the last possible moment.

The tall fighter re-doubled his efforts to bind the man to the ground, but the combination of the warrior's brute strength and the keenness of his dagger freed him from the vine's deadly grip. Knowing the moment was brief the tall man flicked his other wrist upward, concentrating instead on the dark great sword still stuck in the bloody earth. Vines sprang from the ground and wrapped themselves around its length, one after the other, until the dark weapon was completely covered in hardened wood.

Eyes diverted, the tall warrior had no time to react as the brute regained his feet and charged. Armor clanged and living wood cracked at the impact of the shorter man's body as he gored the taller man to the ground. Horrified eyes looked up to see a black iron gauntlet ball into a powerful fist the moment before metal struck flesh. The sharp edges of the rough armor tore through his skin and scraped against bone, the iron itself burning his flesh like a hot brand.

Screaming in pain, he fought with all his remaining strength in an attempt to buck the dark fighter off his chest. It was a fruitless effort. The combined weight of man and armor were too much for the thinner man to manipulate. Over and over again the black gauntlet came down, shredding and burning his face while angry screams burst through the twisted metal mouth of the dark helm.

A final, desperate burst of magic emanated from the king, wrapping both fighters in a never ending assault of vines. Thicker and thicker they grew, engulfing both men as the coils tightened. Using the last bit of strength and movement he could muster, the dark form positioned the tip of his dagger over the king's heart. As the vines pulled them together in a final embrace the dagger dug deep, penetrating the living wood of the king's breastplate like steel through paper.

The last thing Evelyn heard before waking was the king's dying scream as the blackened blade split the wood of his breastplate and pierced his heart... 

Evelyn woke screaming, the sound of her rapidly beating heart pounded within her ears like a drum. Cold sweat and rainwater soaked her pillow as the storm continued to force its way into her open window. Shivering from both the dream and the cold, Evelyn pushed her way out from under the damp covers. She pushed matted hair away from her eyes and stepped out of bed. The carpet was cold and wet from the rain under her window and dark spots had soaked into the walls from the heavily hanging curtains.

Lightning flashed as she stood to close the window, bringing with it a powerful wind that blew icy water across her face. The moment before shielding her eyes with her arm Evelyn thought she saw a small figure clinging to the branches of the tree. Gasping with surprise Evelyn dropped her arms and pressed her face against the screen, eyes darting intensely between the spot the figure had been and the lawn beneath.

"Hello?" she called, her voice dulled by the sounds of wind and rain.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the tree and lawn with a burst of white light, but the lightning's bright intensity revealed nothing more than an empty lawn and tree. Evelyn allowed the figure to escape her mind as she closed the window, thinking it nothing more than her mind trying to recover from the dark and unusual dream.