INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

MY NAME IS DURZA

Arya jumped backwards, her right leg stinging as a fresh cut dyed her white leather leggings red with her own blood. Her sword quivered in her grip as she locked eyes with Durza, who pointed his own blade at her.

She was surrounded as soldiers circled her; kept her from running, and in the darkness she could see the glowing eyes of the Urgals as they watched silently from the forest that choked the road.

It was cold.

Arya's breath instantly turned to mist once it left her mouth. The lack of heat numbed her body, slowing her down.

Durza was toying with her.

He stepped forward, twirling his massive blade with one hand as he spun on the heels of ebony boots, closing the distance between them with terrific speed.

Arya charged then, her blade pointed at his exposed back as he was in mid-rotation.
But as she stabbed, his sword intercepted the blow, sending a shivering retort back to Arya.
She stepped backward, but it was too late. She had been stunned, and Durza chuckled as he took advantage of the opportunity.

He beat her blade upwards-leaving Arya's stomach unguarded.

Durza beamed with violent glee as he dragged the serrated tip of his weapon across her torso.
Arya's blood trailed  from the wound, twinkling in the light of the moon like red wine.

The Elf's enchantments throttled a weakening body for more energy to heal this new wound.

Shock caused her to momentarily freeze, only to awaken to a wicked blade cutting down on her shoulder, breaking it as she was forced to the ground.

Arya's eyes watered but she uttered no sound, despite the sting of pain that snaked itself throughout a screaming body.

She steadied her breathing as the last vestiges of the enchantment stopped the bleeding.

With that said, she was nowhere near healed.

Arya looked up to her attacker with cold eyes.

"A beautiful reception." He smiled cockily, image partially hidden by a veil of loosened hair.

Durza's eyes finally fixed on the egg. As he walked by her she could visualize him, hearing the sound of  clothing rumple as he knelt down with a grunt, obtaining the blue egg with his free hand.

"I must say the King was.. quite distraught upon hearing of your theft. But to see someone of your race stoop to such lows..."

He walked past and ahead of her with pleased laugh, lifting the egg into the gaze of the moon. He was nothing but a darkened shape to her, but she saw the egg, the brilliant egg as it glowed...filled with endless power and savage beauty.

"Gaisa-dum lyfis resciala!" Arya suddenly screamed as a last pulse of desperate magical energy erupted from her.

Durza turned, bewildered, and then gasped as the egg, which was in his grip, disappeared from his hands. He looked to his empty hand, and then to Arya, his eyes filled with growing incomprehension.

"Sir...the egg...it's gone..." One of the mounted soldiers said at the edge of the makeshift dueling circle. Durza shot a look at the warrior and then looked away as the man slid from his saddle and onto the ground, dead.

Durza walked gracefully over to where Arya still knelt, blood dripping from her ears and mouth, partly from her wounds and more-so from overexertion from using such a powerful magic.

He bent himself over, thrusting his sword into the hard ground so it stood on its own.

Durza smiled at her, but Arya refused to look him in the eyes, keeping her face downcast as his breath, which smelt like fresh pine, beat against her forehead and parted her hair.