"Give up already, Daren. You stand no chance now." Aladar laughed, savoring the moment that now could be called his.
Daren pulled himself up into a kneeling position, obvious strain masking his face. He grimaced as he pulled his sword towards him, gripping the blade tightly in his bloody hands. "I w-will not give up," his voice regained its strength as he went on. "So long as I live and you are not dead."
"Like you could do much now! Look at yourself Daren! You stand no chance defeating me now!" He trailed off as he began to laugh once more, giddy from all of the excitement. "Now, I have business to take care off. Try not to take to long to die." Aladar turned about and walked towards the North, towards the town he was currently corrupting with his evil.
"Do not turn your back on me Aladar!" The mage turned to see Daren standing, his longsword grasped resolutely in his dark red hands. Blood still welled out of the wound in his side, weakening him. Aladar chuckled, turned, and continued walking away.
Aladar heard a war cry behind him, loud and filled with fury. He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned to find Daren charging towards him, sword raised high. The mage raised his hands, his eyes going wide as he saw the heated fury coming towards him. He began to chant, trying to gain enough concentration to-----
"NEN!"
Nen looked up from her book to find one of her classmates trying to get her attention. Nen sighed and set the book down, a peice of paper acting as a bookmark. The loud noise of the classroom came back, having been drowned out by the word's of the book. She looked up into her classmate's face, irritation etching her face.
"Come on, you need to bring your poem over here." Nen took out her binder, decorated by dozens of pictures of mythical creatures and quiet scenes. She even had one picture of a tree covered in ivy (one of the most beautiful sights in her mind) with the word 'Escape' written across. She opened to find all of her papers loosely in there, no real organization putting them together. She did not care much about matters besides her books or daydreams, wanting to escape the world that she was in now. In the front she found her poem for the group poetry project, the words 'The Knight' gracing the top. She quickly scanned the poem, making sure she had made no mistake when typing.
When the battle began in a never-ending forest,
I watched from far away,
As a knight fought in the middle of all
The blood and carnage surrounded by those stately trees.
The sun stood high in the sky,
But its rays never touch the knight's darkened armor,
For the choking trees block all the life-giving rays.
He fought with all his strength, thinking, always thinking,
That his soul would be saved.
He was fighting for himself, he thought,
But all he was just a knight,
Who only knew to die for others,
And for causes that were never true.
Creatures of all sorts soon overcame him,
And he found himself on the ground, dying,
Thinking of the salvation that he thought would come,
But it never did come.
And as his last breath came from his bloody lips,
He realized his life was meaningless, vain.
No mistake, so she wrote her name at the top of the page. She stood up and walked to the small group of people with whom she was supposed to work with. They had to make a small poetry book, each person needing to put in a poem. All she had done was write the poem, reading her book as the others cut and pasted and colored away. She was not averse to work, but she did not being around a lot of people. She thought they were loud and annoying and would rather sit by herself and read a book or write a story.
She stood on the edge of the small group, waiting for someone to notice she was there. They were all busy adding finishing touches to the book, glue and tape scattered everywhere. Finally someone noticed her standing quietly there, and took her poem from her. Once her poem was in their clutches, she was left alone was more, neglected once again by the loud harpies standing before her. Just how she liked it.
She retreated once more to her own world, void of contact. Some would say she was lonely, but Nen never felt the emotion. She thrived in a world where no one could interrupt her, where no one could upset her. She pulled out her book, opened to where the scrap of paper rested, and began to read once again.
He began to chant, trying to gain enough concentration to cast a spell to defend himself against Daren's anger. He was only halfway through casting the spell when Daren's sword fell upon him. But, when Daren swung his sword his strength had begun to give out, so the wound which came unto Aladar, it was not as deadly as it would normally have been.
Red swelled on Aladar's chest, soaking the dark brown robes which he wore. The mage clutched at his chest, inspecting the wound. It was not too deep, but there was much blood. He could cast spells no more, he was too spent and the wound only made it worse.
He looked down at Daren, who lay on the ground, his blood mingling with the dirt and leaves. Already mud began to form beneath him. Daren breath was ragged and Aladar knew that the Hero was dying. He smiled once more before leaving the scene of fresh battle, heading towards the town where he knew his "followers" would help him heal.
Nen's head rose and looked about the classroom. The loud noises had changed and were beginning to fade away. The students were filing out of the classroom after packing away their belongings. Nen closed her book, paper in place, and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She pulled back a strand of dark brown hair out of her soft brown eyes as she left the classroom and the noises behind.
Click the picture
above to go on
Pic (C) by me, Des H