The storm threatened to wash the beach straight into the ocean. For hours the wind and rain had battered the sand into a submissive strip of silt. Every heavy step sent a wave of sandy water straight up his leggings. Not that these offered protection any longer - the storm had turned his motley silk outfit and cape into a sodden, clingy mess, and only the constant downpour kept them from becoming an icy, stiff prison.
His clothes were not made for fighting, and the setting was definitely not conducive to it. If he weren't exhausted and desperately trying to stay alive, he might take the time to curse whatever god had put him in this predicament.
Or beg its forgiveness.
The sound of breaking glass heralded his fortune. His opponent had left itself open, and he swung his sword with every ounce of strength he could muster. The thing's leg, already shot through with cracks from previous strikes, shattered at the knee joint. The sudden shift in weight caused the creature's own attack to go wide, and it ate a jawful of sand instead.
He had to dive to get clear of the monster's bulk as it came crashing down. He couldn't congratulate himself yet, though. It was only off-balance. It did give him time to tighten his numbing grip on his still-vibrating weapon.
It didn't matter that the storm afforded little light; the monster pulsed with its own phosphorescence. It resembled a four-legged crab or spider. Tapering from its back came a scorpion's tail that ended in a pair of vise-like jaws. At fifteen feet tall, it should not have been half as agile as it was proving to be. Yet, beyond this, the most remarkable thing about the creature was that it was constructed entirely from a kingdom's ransom in jewels. Many people dreamed of wealth, but they usually didn't have to worry about it literally tearing them apart.
He leaped in to attempt a strike on its flank, but the snapping jaws quickly repelled him. A quick bat of the scorpion tail knocked his sword arm wide, and the stony jaws lunged in to clamp onto his leg. Suddenly, he was airborne.
The tail whipped back and forth, but he forced himself to focus through the pain. Up here, he'd never have a better shot. A thread of painful life reentered his icy fingers as his sword responded to his will. A nimbus flickered down his arm and surrounded the weapon.
Steely eyes of blue and gold locked onto a tail joint where several gems came together. THERE!
"SHLUSS-" he screamed as the sword descended, "GESH VINDIKYTE"
The power built up around the blade loosed in a brutal explosion. Suddenly, he was flying.
* * *
No sane person would have ventured out in this storm. Maybe that explained the woman's presence. She stared at the distant battle and swore to herself.
Damn that bastard for coming out here on a night like this!
Damn that bastard for putting up such a fight!
Damn that bastard for...
Oh, Goddess among us...
DAMN THAT BASTARD FOR WINNING!!
She wiped her hair from her eyes and fumbled about for the secret pocket of her clinging
dress. Out came a trio of diamonds; time for the ace in the hole.
* * *
I must be alive, he decided. It can't possibly hurt this much when you're dead!
There's an easy remedy to that, he added bitterly. Just lie still in this water long enough to freeze to death.
The sand had broken his fall; it felt like the beast had done the same to his leg. Almost certainly dislocated it. He groaned as he rolled to his stomach and felt around for his weapon. It was nowhere in sight.
He took some satisfaction in the state of his opponent. His finishing touch had reduced the jaws and tail to glittering rubble. The bulbous crystalline body had split in two. It no longer moved or even glowed. The pyrrhic victory was his.
He grit his chattering teeth against the pain and tried to stand. The injured leg would not take his weight, and he fell cursing to his hands and knee.
"Goddess," he whispered through clenched teeth, "if you can spare me any mercy, I swear I'll never let her out of my sight again."
He tried to stand again; this time, a loud crack sounded from beneath his throat. Eyes wide in pain and terror, he lost balance and fell backward, a hand gripping his chest. He fell face first into the sandy water. A rough hand flipped him onto his back.
Straining against the wind, the woman made her way into view. In some other setting, she'd be very lovely. But the constant torrent and dim half-light twisted her face into a grimace. Her shoulder-length red locks had long ago been pasted back by the rain. Her green silk gown, cut to show off her long shapely legs, now hugged her body as a soaked second skin. At her heart, a violet jewel sparkled in the gloom. The casual observer could be forgiven for thinking it a pendant.
Cautiously, the woman kneeled next to the prone warrior. A gentle finger pulled back the hair from his mismatched eyes and guided his face towards hers. From a belt sheathe, she produced a long stiletto and held it to his throat.
"I can be fair, Knight," she murmured. "If you want to live, all you have to do is cry."
The warrior stiffened as he stared down at the blade at his neck. It gleamed a wicked purple in the light of the woman's jewel.
He closed his eyes resolutely and bared his throat.
"What's wrong with you?!?" she screamed. "Doesn't even the threat of death scare you? Heal yourself!"
The warrior coughed, spasms wracking his body. "You know," he whispered, "that it doesn't work that way."
The woman shook her head in disgust.
"You and your pride and fears! All of you! I should kill you here, and I would if I didn't need your core so badly."
"Not... pride...."
"What, then? Your station? Duty? You couldn't protect your own Guardian, and the one you 'adopted' ran out on you!
"Not that I can hardly blame her," the woman muttered. "You have all the charm of a cornered land dragon. You'd chain the birds to the trees and gag them to keep the hunters from taking them. Your heavy-handed protection cost your last Guardian his life, and it will cost your current one hers.
"At least in your death, your sacrifice will mean something. With your core, I may be able to heal Florina, and with the Clarius once again among us we may be able to grow strong again."
Just one mercy, he thought, and braced himself.
She raised her knife in pronouncement. "Purposeless stone that has lost its direction, you-"
The next thing she knew, she was on her back, her knife arm twisted behind her in the grip of the warrior she would have sworn was at her mercy seconds before. He had launched himself at her with more speed than a cobra striking. A golden glow poured out from the cracked stone at his heart, casting an eerie light over his features.
His eyes glittered in the gold-rimmed shadow of their sockets. The mismatched orbs commanded her attention and held it there.
"M'lady, you caught me off-guard" he spoke quietly. Slowly, he raised a gloved finger to her trembling lips.
"Shh... now, now...." He touched a finger to her lips and traced it down her neck. "There's no need to say anything, now."
A voice within the woman's subconscious rose and demanded she break his grasp. His eyes stayed her escape; it was her turn for terror.
"You are right, and... I'm ashamed to admit it," he sighed, his finger outlining every facet of her violet gem and beneath it to the line of her cleavage. "I have been taking this duty of mine far too seriously."
She had done it again, she realized. Another like herself. The voice within pleaded with her to run.
"So perhaps you will forgive me, m'lady," he paused to kiss the tip of her nose, "if just this once I take a small something for myself?"
The warrior's hand snapped back to the purple gem and wrenched on it with a terrible violence. The woman broke from her reverie as the golden light faded, but it was too late. She struck him across the face with her empty fist and tried to force him away, screaming at the man to stop.
Her screaming became a hideous shriek of anguish, accompanied by a squelching, sickening pop.
"Oh come now," the warrior cooed. "It's not as bad as that." The glow from his own pendant dimmed to a pale glimmer as he regarded his gory prize. "Quite beautiful," he murmured.
The woman gurgled, clutching spasmodically at the fountain of blood issuing from the gaping wound in her chest. The warrior put a hand to the jewel at his own and winced, stifling a cough. "In fact," he continued, "I have it on good authority that you've put many of use through far worse.
"Shh... shh... don't. Don't try to speak. Save your strength, Sandra." His face and voice were a mask of impassiveness, but his eyes carried a tinge of regret. "Really, this should be a beautiful moment. This is where you get to decide if murdering your kinsmen really was the best way to save them, on your way to hell."
The woman weakly reached up to the jewel, as if putting it back would stop the flow of blood. The warrior dangled it just out of her reach. "d... d... da...."
"Damn... me?" He weighed this thoughtfully as he laid his other hand over the violet jewel and interlocked his fingers. "I'm sure you'll find this highly ironic."
The warrior ground his palms together, a crunching sound coming from between his gauntlets. The rain bled purple through his fingers. Sandra gasped a final breath and relaxed onto the watery sand, a look of anguished fear frozen upon her face.
The warrior collapsed onto the sand, fighting back an urge to vomit. His body shook
with the cold and yet another emotion that would be buried deep inside. A voice not
entirely his own calmly murmured, "Mercy granted." He crawled away from the body
to seek shelter, and unnoticed by any, it faded and vanished.
