Where Light Meets Dark

Chapter 8 - Why?

Night was pretty sure he'd never seen Sunray as shocked as she was looking now as he attacked Preciser. And the only reason he could think of was the Greek. Trying to think straight while fighting, he guessed he'd assumed she already knew; it was such a normal thing for him. His father, Tizian, had raised him with it alongside English and Italian—

Tizian.

Even the mere thought of him sent a hard wave of all his old grief crashing over him. Finding himself staggering backwards from one of Preciser's harder strikes, he paused, his grip on his weapon tighter than ever as he tried to keep it under control and push it to the back of his mind. It wasn't as easy as it normally was.

By then, Sunray had gotten over her surprise and joined the fight. Per usual, it was so much easier with her help; now Preciser had two directions to focus on at once, two attacks to block. Now, after momentarily driving him back away from them, his partner swiftly leapt to the edge of her barrier, and when he ran as close to her as possible, she whispered, "Disarm him. He can't touch our weapons, remember?"

"Gotcha." He raised his blade over his shoulder and sprinted up to Preciser as if to attack . . . but at the last moment dropped his weapon and grabbed hold of the villain's instead. Sunray circled around back, still shooting with her aims high, as Night started a game of tug-of-war over Preciser's axe. Their opponent now looked completely torn, trying to block Sunray's shots behind him and simultaneously attempting to yank his weapon away from Night.

Out of nowhere Preciser released his grip on the handle, and Night, who hadn't seen the sudden action coming, also let go, but unintentionally; the axe's weight forced him to. He stumbled backwards to a halt as it sailed somewhere out of sight, leaving Sunray frozen with an arrow half-notched, Preciser gaping at where it'd just been, and Night staring at him, wide-eyed but otherwise expressionless. Finally he snapped his jaw shut and, still in a weird mood, asked sarcastically, "Anyone want some tea?" for no other reason than to break the silence.

Preciser glared down at him, then jerked his arm up and opened his clenched fist. A brief yet blinding flash of light flared up out of nowhere, which sent searing pain all across Night's front side. He flinched and gasped, quickly backing away out of range as he suddenly saw— and felt— what it would be like if Preciser got a hold of the light gem and used it against him.

Thankfully, the flare was only part of the villain's real intention, and therefore faded quickly. In its place, to both heroes' shock, was a huge battle axe completely identical to the one Night had just flung to who-knows-where. He dropped his arms from his chest and summoned his weapon, then narrowed his eyes. "A spare. Who knew."

"Not I, said the cat," Sunray called with a grin, then strengthened her notch and released the light arrow, which was only the first of a whole volley as Preciser swung his new weapon with lightning speed down at Night. He leapt up as it sliced safely past below, and, as he was falling, grabbed the smooth handle above the villain's fist, then swung himself up and kicked the giant hard in the face. The impact made Preciser take a single step backwards, while Night tried to regain his balance on his opponent's arm. When he did, he summoned his blade, lunged, and pressed the flat of it to his throat, remembering Sunray's earlier words.

Preciser let out a strangled cry and grasped at his neck, only to jerk his left one down again as Sunray quickly positioned her bow around his fingers. She let go as he shook his hand desperately, trying in vain to get it off while the light heroine stood to the side with her arms raised, her eyes literally glowing with concentration; she was controlling the bow. Not letting it move from his hand. Further up, Night continued to press down with his blade, his grip strong.

Then suddenly he was gone.

It wasn't like he broke free from them and ran; he just vanished into thin air. Night found himself falling; he hastily twisted in midair and ended up in a crouch, narrowly avoiding landing on his head. Straightening, he summoned his seax again, having dropped it while falling, and glanced around in confusion. "Where'd he go?"