I have to say that I ended up having a lot of fun with this. It’s a little less descriptive than it started out, but I kind of like the over all new style. I had to work out a few things to keep it from turning into something completely ridiculous, but in the end I liked how it turned out. I’ll have to post the original some time.
“Take my arm,” Li said. Dim light shone off blood drip plate. A broke and torn arm took the wrist with a tug.
“Stand my kin. We have more to slay. You can’t stop now.”
“Hah! I’d not lay down my sword not while there are still some left to show the way.” Li laughed as he pried a thumb in the red gash in his arm. “This is a mere scratch. Wait, there is more that I will hand out this day. Tie it, so that I might staunch the flow. I grow a taste for more war.” Byr’s face split with a smile that showed aged and stained teeth. He drew a clean shirt from the pack at his back and tore a few strips free. With ease, he wound the strips and bound the wound. He made a snug bow at the top of Li’s arm.What clean strips were left went back in the depths of his pack.
“Come my sword arm yearns to hear the clash of steel,” Byr growled. Li’s brow rose. Teeth showed white next to the gore left on his face. His nut brown eyes seemed to spark. They looked to the fray soon to be joined. Deep black hair damp with sweat fell lank and dirt caked in his face.
As one, the two strode, but a walk soon turned to a sprint of fierce joy. Swords and steel clashed. Blood flew till all you knew was the foe in front of you and the friend at your back. Byr roared. Li echoed his call. Their cries could just be heard in the din of steel on steel. Soon they were lost in the sea of blood and torn cloaks.
As the sea shifts and flows, so too did the surge of thick forms. Waves of men crashed on the rocks made by their foes. Where Li and Byr moved a path was cleared so that more could fall in to pick up the slack. Soon few were left to stand in their way. Those who were left tried to take what men they could with them.
Li and Byr stood back to back with smiles still spread through gore soaked beards. The five left still meant to fight. As one, they whirled and turned with quick blades. Li’s blade cut down two men as Byr’s put an end to a third. A tired arm and mind left space for a sword to break Byr’s guard. The cold steel, blunt from use, cleaved the skin of his neck. Li yelled, the smile torn free by rage, and spun his broad sword in ire at the chance loss. The two men left fell in fonts of blood in heaps at his feet.
“Praise to thee,” Li spoke. Through his pain Byr smiled though he could not speak. “You go to a place made for the man who dies in such a fight. Would that I could join you, but God wills that I fight a new day.”
Byr’s head dipped. His hand shook. He made a fist of his hand, and with the last of his strength brought it to his chest. When it thumped down, it stayed put. Eyes that did not see stared up to the sky. Li closed the eyes of his friend.
Li stood straight and took in the war torn field in front of him. Crows had moved in on those who could not move. Moans and pleas for help came from those not as well trained as the men in his squad. At the top of the hill, two cloaked men topped the rise. Both had cloaks drawn to hide their heads, but Li knew them all the same. The two monks charged with the pure needs of his squad had lived to watch them fight yet again.
“Well it seems it was not yet your turn to join the dead in their sweet bliss,” the first monk said. He flung his hands out from his full sleeves and pulled down the deep hood.
“So it would seem. It’s a sign that I have yet to earn all the deaths set for me by our Lord.” Li grinned and wiped his sword free of blood on the clothes of a man had no need to care for such things. The tall monk dropped his hood as well.
“You are the last.” This monk Li did not know. A proud laugh ripped from Li’s throat.
“That is so.” He shoved the blade home into the sheath at his back.
“We feel that you may be too good for our squad,” The first monk, Jul, told him with false grief. Li’s sword stayed though his hand found the hilt. Jul slid a swift blade through the gap in Li’s plate. His face was a mask of rage and awe as he dropped to his knees.
“Why?” he asked as blood poured from the wound in his side. The two monks watched. No care seemed to be spared for the soon to be dead man.
“With you, and those like you gone, our real work can start. Take that soul with you into what comes with death. Let it get in the way of what goes on there. We do not need it here.” The pair of monks turned their backs and made their way up the hill.
“When we get back you will write up the news and share it with our chief. The last Soul Knight has been brought to an end. In this land at least, we are free to start our work to rule over those souls who would be ruled.”
WEWrites 