Rogue Adventures - A Tale from Neverbeen Universe

23

Finally they found what they came for. And while Sendrith collected the cylindric gem, Yumír looked about worriedly. He had a bad feeling about this. The last time they were attacked and Sendrith got hurt so badly, and he still hadn't recovered yet as there was not enough time to rest. "Let's go home," Yumír bade quietly and tugged at the hem of Sendrith's coat.

"You're going nowhere," a low voice stated. Yumír startled and turned around to see the same assailant who hurt Sendrith the last time.

"Young Master," Sendrith bowed with a grin and readied his spear, "I was hoping to meet you again."

"Hand me the artifact," the Daemon commanded and held out his hand. Yumír hoped Sendrith would obey so he wouldn't get hurt again. This man was dangerous. He ducked behind Sendrith and peered worriedly at the Daemon.

But Sendrith was a stubborn one. "Come and get it. Let's dance again to see who earns it more," he murmured and pushed Yumír back.

"No, Sendrith! Please don't fight. You're still injured," he exclaimed, but the Daemon didn't skip a beat and attacked. "No, please..." Yumír tried to plead with them, but they wouldn't listen. All he could do was staying out of their purview and praying nothing would happen to Sendrith.

But the Daemon was strong, and Sendrith was wounded. A successive wave of sword swipes rained on the silver-haired one, so he could only duck and swerve. Blow after blow Sendrith was driven back. Yumír observed how his only friend could only defend against these vicious and fast attacks.

"Please... stop fighting," Yumír begged, but they wouldn't hear him.

Sendrith barely blocked and swerved as the Daemon struck at him so fiercely. Yumír didn't know what to do. He wanted to help Sendrith, he wanted them to stop; yet he could do nothing. He was unarmed, and the battle was so intense there was no way of intercepting.

Sendrith let out a groan as a strike slashed and burned his thigh, he staggered and barely blocked the followup blow.

"Sendrith!" Yumír cried out, tears welling up in his eyes. "Stop! Please stop!" But they wouldn't. The Daemon fought cruelly on, and Sendrith wouldn't yield, though he could barely move and was just defending and hanging on. "Have mercy!" Yumír tried again. His vision became blurry as tears streamed down his face and he quietly sobbed.

But apparently the Daemon didn't have any mercy. Like last time he vanished and reappeared to strike at Sendrith from a different angle, again and again. Sendrith barely followed, and with his injured leg he couldn't move as swiftly anymore. Somehow he ducked or blocked. Then he grunted again with pain as the sword swiped across his back. Sendrith fell forward, but he broke his fall, rolled on his back — which had to have been in a lot of pain — thrust his arms in the air with his spear held between them. A loud metallic clank echoed through the air as the sword hit the shaft of the spear. And while the Daemon drew up for a second blow, the spear broke in two.

Yumír was shaken with tears. "Stop!", he sobbed, "Please... please, stop!"

Sendrith rolled around as the blade hit the floor where Sendrith had just lain. Somehow Sendrith managed to get back on his feet, but he was panting hard, sweat beading on his brow. His injuries looked so bad. "Please! Give him what he wants, Sendrith!" Yumír pleaded, but he was ignored.

The Daemon vanished again and reappeared in a fast succession, each time accompanied by a barrage of swipes and blows. With two spear parts Sendrith was able to block more efficiently. But then his hand was hit and the spear clattered to the floor. "No!" Yumír cried, his whole world spinning, as the Daemon thrust his sword forward and Sendrith's eyes widened. He gasped and gaped. With a nasty noise the Daemon ripped his blade from Sendrith's chest, then drew up for a horizontal swipe which severed Sendrith's head from his shoulders. With a dull thud the body collapsed as the head rolled towards where Yumír fell to his knees, crying violently.

Bitter bile forced its way up Yumír's throat and he retched hard. Sendrith was dead. His only friend and the person most dear to him was dead. The tears wouldn't stop. He vomited again. He was dizzy, his mind and heart in turmoil.

Sendrith was killed, killed, killed. The thought echoed through him, turned into a hurricane, which shredded his fragile mind into pieces. Each fracture reverberated with the image of Sendrith's severed head.

Killed, killed, killed...

He groaned with anguish, tore at his hair and reared up. His hands turned black, as his body lost all form and every coherent thought was erased. The hurricane still raged on in his mind. He roared as pain thundered through his small body, which began to grow into a ghastly spectre, a formless shadow of claws and teeth.

Killed... killed... kill...

Mist arose from his bodiless body, shrouded the whole area in an influence nobody could escape once inside. He slowly stood, autopiloted by pure instinct. There was someone inside his purview, caught in his mist. He grinned toothily. He could sense them, feel them, smell them, hear them, see them. Heavily he stepped towards them, and with every step he accelerated. Manic laughter erupted from the gaping hole that was his mouth. His hand stretched and elongated as they clawed at his prey.

Kill, kill, kill!

That someone tried to bite him with their sword, but the blade went right through him without causing damage. He was the shadows, and the shadows could never be hurt. But he could hurt them; inflict pain and make them suffer, hear their agonized cries and helpless whimpers. Oh, he would love that.

Cackling he leapt, his greedy claws lusting for blood. There, he hit his mark, sunk his claws deep into hot flesh. They gasped. What a lovely sound. He wanted to hear it again. So he tore at his prey as it struggled and tried to fight him off. And he let them, wanted to see them try and hope they might survive him, just to slowly, slowly shatter their hopes and defenses. Then he would taste their fear.

Yes, this prey was a rebellious one, defiant and strong, just as he liked them best. But their strength mattered not. For who could fight the shadows? They were powerless against him, and he would relish the moment they realized this.

And all the while one single thought was singing in his mind.

Kill, kill, kill...