Glory of Wantilan p5
by, 03-17-2011 at 01:01 PM (641 Views)
The endless rush met Larkís fury as he now cut them down like saplings defending his fatherís sword at all costs.
A voice called over the battlefield that stung like glass shattering in the ear. The rush stopped, the punrigs fell back and into lines surrounding Lark and the sword. The mindless creatures were organizing something not seen since the myths of Imfel. The Dark Mistress was leading them and they obeyed her will over their own conquering instincts falling into ranks behind one another. They almost took the fight out of Lark, his only advantage was their blinding rage and they stripped him of it. Then the earth below him cracked shaking him slightly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his fatherís sword illuminated green with bolts of green lighting twisting around it. Lark let his axe go dropping it to the ground with a thud that signaled the attackersí second wave. Maybe they thought him to have given up, dropping his weapon in compliance with his impending doom. Lark grabbed for the sword keeping his eyes on the swivel. As his grasp clamped the hilt everything was clear to him. As if time stopped the whispering words told Lark of how the earth strengthened the sword and obeyed the sword. The earth around the sword cracked outward like a spiderís web from the pressure. Lark tore the sword from the ground and raised it high into the air above him. Swinging down with all his force he struck the earth only moments before his attackers reached him. Striking the earth the sword let out a thunderous boom. An invisible wind rushed out blowing back the punrig army like leaves in a wisp. The ground split forward from the sword accented by bolts of green lightning. Zigzagging onward the earth tore apart rising and falling, blowing debris and punrigs everywhere. The split earth drove forward toward the Dark Mistress clearing everything in its path.
As the crushing wave was about to reach her she leapt high into air and straight at Lark. Landing on the aftermath the Dark Mistress skillful dashed over the jagged landscape. Leaping from mound to mound over the split earth she met Lark head on with her black blade. This time Lark did not fall so easily, he met her sword with a force that halted her charge into a deadlock. Larks sword was severely weakened but thin bolts of green lightning still danced about his blade as it shook against the black marble sword. Larkís eyes locked onto hers straight into the beautiful velvet purple. In them Lark found no hatred only bliss, she herself then let out a smile from the corner of her mouth as her hair draped playfully over her eyes. Her grip loosened slightly and so did Larks; ending the stalemate. Given the moment she took it swiping again at Lark underestimating him in her excitement, something he was also often a victim to. Over excitement and impulse decisions was one of the many things Lark attempted to fix in creating a better self. Still it was this very fault in him that caused the death of his family and now it was that fault that would lead to their retribution. Twisting his shoulders and dipping backward Lark narrowly avoided the onyx blade as it screamed through the wind. In her haste she over-swung; Lark only ever needed his opponent to make one mistake, to give him on inch and he always took the yard. Whirling his sword over hers he tapped her blade slightly adding to her over swing and not underestimating her. Both Larks hands gripped firmly on the hilt as he straightened his sword to its target and thrust forward at her heart. His fatherís sword had enough magic left to pierce cleanly through the black and purple armor driving deep and through. Lark let go of his fatherís sword catching hold of the woman as she fell limp dropping her sword to the ground, it was the only sound Lark heard. Lark held tightly not letting her fall, her head rested solemnly on his shoulder. Her hand gripped his arm as she amazingly forced her head up to meet his gaze. The beautiful velvet eyes held no surprise, no wonderment, and no hatred. In them Lark saw only happiness her face lifted to a smile. Reaching up behind his neck she grasped him gently and kissed him. It was unlike anything Lark had ever experienced. He had been with girls before, he had felt the butterflies and the sweaty palms but never had life been so clear to him. The passionate kiss ended in her last breath as her head fell again to his shoulder. So clear was life at that moment, for that instant Lark felt true happiness only to be ripped away from him. Now life had never been more confusing. Never had so many questions filled his head at once with no one and nothing to help him. The few remains of the punrig army retreated swiftly, their leader and controller defeated they dissembled in chaos running into the forest aimlessly. Lark and the Dark Mistress knelt alone on the battlefield silhouetted by a magnificent sunset. A sunset only seen once every ten years, the two suns set together with all eight moons on the horizons. Each moon hugged the horizon like a mountain in the distance. The white moon was in the north moving east was followed by the purple then green, the blue, the black, the red, the yellow and finally right to the white moons west the silver. The colors blended and bled throughout the entire sky a display held with much celebration and joy throughout Wantilan. Lark hadnít seen it when he was seven his spiteful brothers locked him in the shed, where he first found his fatherís secret.