When a Stars Teardrops Become Jewels: Eclipsed Garden

| 9 | Double-Edged Sword

Dove released her arrow. The King parried it with Raffa's sword, lodging the sharpened arrowhead into the mud. 

In the meantime, Siren noticed the fiery hair of the prince's demon climbing the wall to Dove's nest. Slipping out one of his hidden knives from his boot, he launched it so that it would pierce the leg of the climber. The red-haired demon wailed and fell off the wall only to wail again when he hit the ground, lodging the metal deeper into his muscle.

Dove, hearing the yell, peered over the edge and after a quick judgement of her situation gave a nod to Siren. Siren nodded back. Dove was changing positions; it was Siren's turn to cover.

When Siren's eyes fell back to the ground, they met with the cold silver eyes of the prince.

In the prince's hands was a dagger. Blood dripped from the hilt down the double-edges to the tip. The blood a darker red than the rubies embedded into it. Whether that blood was the prince's own or his enemies, Siren did not know. Siren only knew that the prince was deciding where to pierce that blade through so that it would have him suffer the most pain.

The prince growled at him, "You betray our people? For demons? Demons!" He repeated as he spat down on the ground. "Where is your loyalty!"

Before Siren opened his mouth a scream shrill as a dying bird pierced the sky behind him. He did not look. He knew that his limitation of his command had run out and that the scream belonged to the noblewoman he had frozen. She pointed to Siren and shrieked that he was a demon before running away to her save herself from a worse fate. The jig was up. Siren sighed and pulled the knights helmet off, discarding it onto the ashen mud beside him.

Asterlos' scowl deepened, his voice coming out as a growl, "Demon."

Siren smiled sheepishly, putting his hand behind his head, his fingers finding grip around the knives he had placed in the pocket between his shoulder blades. The prince gripped the hilt of his own blade so tight his knuckles paled between the cracks of dried blood. In a blind rage, Asterlos charged toward Siren. As he did, Siren threw down the knives at his aggressors' knees. Only one managed to hit where he had meant, the other merely slicing open the outer layer of the prince's pant-leg. However, even with a knife imbedded into his thigh, Asterlos took a step forward and raised his blade to pierce Siren in the neck. Siren raised his hand. With the last of his hidden shoulder blades in his palm he took in the weight of the strike then redirected Asterlos' dagger downward to the ground.

Asterlos stopped his blade short, released his grip for a second and then re-clenched the hilt and swung upwards, in the exact opposite direction of his first thrust.

The cut landed just beneath Siren's chin. It burned from the exposure to the smoke. A dark red line of his blood ran down his throat. Siren did not have the time to register the wound before Asterlos started to lift his blade upwards once again. Glancing downward, Siren lifted his leg and slammed his foot down onto the knife he had thrown into the princes leg. The prince crumpled to the ground in pain, as the knife wedged through his thigh muscle down to his bone. He held his leg and screamed upward to the night sky.

Siren fell backwards, his back hitting the ashen covered ground. He breathed heavily. The over-sized armor pinched at his sides. It was hard to move, let alone breathe in this damned metal case. He unclenched the hinges and pulled the heavy-plated armor off his body over his head, leaving only the chainmail. After it was off, he lifted a hand to his neck touching his fingers to his wound to see if he was still bleeding. He was.

Next to his face he saw the hilt of the ceremonial blade, still glimmering red with the shine of blood and embedded rubies.

Just like the prince, he also looked upward to the sky. As he did a sword's silver blade appeared above his face. He felt for his blade in his palm and felt nothing. He must have dropped it while taking off the armor. Almost instinctively he reached for the ceremonial blade. He managed to block the sword tip with the flat edge of the ceremonial blade just as it reached his chest.