I want to dedicate this chapter to Allisonkmg365 for reading and bothering to actually leave feedback,
The smell of smoke woke Max, the ground was warm and rough under him. As he stood, brushing soot and dirt from himself, he noticed he was standing in the middle of the same crater from before. This time it was charred and baron, wisps of grey smoke rose into the air in places. At the edge stood a tree, blackened and sooty, flames burned lazily on the ends of a few branches.
He stared at the tree with a feeling that there was more to it. Then he saw it, in the middle of a large shadow blackened knot hole, that faintly recognized green spark, an itch in his mind spoke of a gem, but he couldn't hold onto the words.
Max closed his eyes trying to recall, but just couldn't, the memory faded like an old pair of jeans. He turned his head away from the tree, and when he opened his eye, there it was, the Black Knight. It's armor darker then the pits of hell. Max couldn't see its face but it was as sure as Satan is evil, smiling at him. Above the sky was grey adding a dark note of dismal solemnity.
He couldn't take his eyes away from the dark specter loitering at the edge of the crater, he forced his gaze away and looked down, at anything beside the frightening death crusader. He saw, as his eyes bore into the charred remains of the ground, that he was once again garbed in the dazzling silver armor. He reached over his shoulder with relief to find his swords, feeling the rough texture of the handles gave him a sense of confidence.
The cimmerian paladin began to walk slowly and deliberately, toward Max. A thought began to form, a recurring theme was beginning to coagulate. With the suddeness of and obliquely cliche symbolism of flipping on of a light switch, Max was hit with a revelation. This black knight, this evil incarnate needed to be destroyed by his hand. He needed to defeat this evil from within, he could end this once and for all.
The knight was upon him now, it stepped up, toe to toe, face to helmeted face. It just stood for a beat not belying any movement. Then with a flash of lightning and a boom of thunder the final battle began.
The knight swung high, Max went low. The swords sparking, clanging and grinding. The knight lunged forward, sword outstretched, Max dodged and deflected with his swords, spun and sliced at the stygian templar. His blades effortlessly swiped away by the eggshell finish of the knights black claymore.
For a perceived eternity they fought, sparks flying, cacophonous metal on metal notes singing and sweat spraying and dripping, no one able get the better of the other.
Max saw an opening in the knights defence, it was unable to protect its legs, the armor was constrictive. He waited, dodging and weaving, perrying and defending, he was looking for the perfect time to attack. The knight cocked back and swung a level swipe high at Max's head. He ducked, spun and swept the legs of the knight. It fell hard on its back and max pounced, plunging both swords at the armored chest of his nemesis. It rolled on its side, the swords narrowly missed the knight. As it rolled, the knight regained it's feet and stabbed wildly at Max.
Max turn sideways, reducing his profile and dodged the lunge and planted a devastating blow to the side of the black abomination's knee, it went down on the opposite knee and Max resheathed one sword and lifted the other up in one movement. He came down with the sword at the knights neck, the blade cutting the air and whistled, he almost regretted that it was over, almost.
The blade contacted the knights neck, slicing through with no resistance, the helmet covered head hit the ground with a clang, blood, black as the bottom of the Mariana trench, sprayed in the air, arching over Max, a fine mist of the stuff , blackened his armor to match the knights. The blood felt like victory and smelled of the future.
Max removed his left gauntlet and wiped the blood from his face. He looked down at the knight, its head sat a few feet away. He walked over to the helmet and picked it up. He stared for a few minutes, trying to make a decision. Then he walked over to the tree, still holding the head, carefully placed it on the ground by the base of the blackened tree and began to dig. Using his swords and his helmet he dug a five foot deep hole, dropped the helmet in and kicked the dirt in after. He buried the thing along with the evil, and sadness and anger it had brought him.
He remembered then about the green sparkle and the tree. He could hear the emerald calling him and he went to it, his feet barely touching the ground as he walked. He knew immediately what to do. He picked up the knights sword and cleaved the tree in two, the top half fell to the ground with a quaking slam.
There in the stump sat the emerald. It gleamed, even in the gloom, slick and green, singing the song of the epic journey now over. It urged him to take it, to swipe it up and run to his future, to his destiny. He reached out and picked the gem up, he felt the warmth of it. He hefted the jewel and a sudden surge of energy rushed through him a flash of light blinded him in whiteness and silence.
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Dream Therapy
General Fiction"Dreams have always expanded our understanding of reality by challenging our boundaries of the real, of the possible." -Henry Reed Ex-army Ranger Max was angry and depressed. Mental illness plagued him. Now he's stuck inside his own dreams with only...
