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ZEPHIAR THE CRAZED V.S. FALKERN THE CUNNING

The night is dark and cold, and a storm of immense proportions is brewing up it's worst. Heavy torrents of rain assault the land, creating a storm far more treacherous. Lightning flashes, erupting the sky in a bright flash of white that lasts a mere second. The lightening leaves a huge scar on a hill where it's spidery fingers tore deep into the crust of the earth. falkern pulled his cloak around his body, doing his very best to shelter himself from the heavy droplets of rain that endlessly fell from above. He tirelessly trekked on, the weather not seeming to effect him in the lest. It was late, and most would be tired, but sheer determination pressed him forth. He had recently received word that his wife went into labor, and he wasn't going to miss the birth of his child for anything. The thick woods surrounding the tiny dirt trail he walked on were dangerous and infested with bandits and madmen. It was not like Falkern to take this rout, he would have preferred to go around the wood, but time was not on his side, and a few bandits weren't going to stop him from attending the birth of his child.

A dark shrouded figure crouched low in a thicket of bushes, an immensely thick sword imbedded into the soft, wet earth beside him. His hand rested on the leather wrapped handle. The figure watched carefully as a man passed by on the trail, a lantern illuminating his way. Waiting until the light blinked out, he lifted the sword from the ground and stood.

The path was muddy and the light of his lantern only gave him a few feet of visibility in this weather. He cursed softly as he drew his shortsword, getting the uneasy feeling there was something out there in those woods. Falkern pressed forth, not letting himself be overcome by fear. And then it came - a snap, directly in front of him. But he couldn't see a damn thing beyond the light of his lantern He strained to see, but despite his excellent eyesight, the darkness and the rain made a thick wall which he could not penetrate. Suddenly, he heard a sucking noise beside him. Footsteps in the mud. Smart bastard, Falkern thought as he jumped back. All he saw was two pale blue glowing eyes bouncing up and down as they advanced upon him. Without thought, Falkern tossed his lantern in front of himself, and drew a dagger with the hand that had been holding the lantern. As the lantern made contact with the ground, it erupted into a fiery blaze. Whoever it was running at him didn't seem to like the light, because he shielded his eyes as he jumped through the flames.

Falkern noticed the massive sword the man carried in his hand and gasped. One hit with that massive thing could splice a man in two. The man standing before him breathed heavily, his eyes filled with bloodlust and craziness. His hair was messy and unkempt. "Please, friend, I don't want a fight. My wife is in labor and I..." The man cut him off. "I am Zephiar, and I am the last thing you are ever going to see." They ran at each other, weapons raised and poised to kill. Zephiar used the greatsword with one hand, and the other hand he used for balance. Falkern raised his dagger and aimed for the man's skull. Using his tiny shortsword to block Zephiar's greatsword, Falkern thrust his dagger downwards, but Zephiar's hand shot up and grabbed Falkern's arm in mid swing. For a moment they stood in the deadly lock, looking into each others eyes. The flames from the lantern were slowly being extinguished from the heavy rain.

Zephiar's eyes were actually glowing with a bright radiance now, and Falkern was sure they permitted him nightvision of some sort. Falkern acted first. He butted his brow into Zephiar's nose, crushing it on impact. They both sprawled out of the lock, nearly falling over. Zephiar's mouth and chin were covered from the blood that poured out of his nose. He spat on the ground and looked back up. Zephiar let the sword lightly drag on the ground behind him as he picked up into a run. As he neared his opponent, he brought the sword around and slashed at Falkern with deadly momentum.

Had the blade struck, Falkern would have been killed instantly, but he had just managed to duck low enough. Zephiar stumbled over Falkern, who was still crouching low. They fell on the ground together and their weapons went flying from their grasps. Zephiar got on top of Falkern and rammed his head into the ground. He raised his fist, ready to pound Falkern in the face, when he felt a sharp pain in his lower back. Falkern threw the screaming man off him and ran for his weapons while sheathing the tiny dagger he had stabbed Zephiar with. Zephiar screamed with rage as he stood up.

His fist began to glow bright red He crouched low to the ground and began to gather energies into his fist. Falkern only had enough time to curse, and the huge ball of energy at the madman's fists sailed forward, seeking him out. The ball caught him in the chest, and it erupted with a massive burst of power. It exploded with enough force to send Falkern sailing off the path and crashing into a tree. He slumped down, motionless. The darkly shrouded figure stepped forward to observe his kill. All light was now extinguished, but Zephiar could still see like it were daylight.

He stepped up to the man and crouched down in front of him. He showed no signs of life. Zephiar chuckled, thinking how many he had killed this past week. Killing exited him thoroughly. The madman suddenly choked. Blood poured down and all over his clothing. Falkern opened his eyes and pulled the dying man closer, whispering into his ear. "Don't get between a man and his pregnant wife." With that, he slid the dagger out of Zephiar's throat and wiped it clean with the man's own cloak. Sheathing the blade, he pushed the limp form off him and left it to bleed. Falkern limped off, still determined to reach home before his child was born. Blood mingled with mud as Zephiar lay there, his life quickly depleting.

By: Calvin Cockell