Been watching a lot of anime this weekend, so maybe that is the inspiration for this. Not a complete story though and hopefully I can develop this into something more later on.
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The blood dripped slowly down her extended hand, the hilt of the dagger barely clasped in her trembling grip. Her face was chalk-white, with twinkling drops of sweat making their steady track down the ridge of her elongated cheekbones into the void below. She tried to say something, but her will had completely deserted her now, that last thrust taking every remaining ounce with it. Her frame undulated erratically, the random heaves and grunts mirroring her arrhythmic respiration and turbulent mind. She would not have been standing but for her tenuous grip on that hilt that was stuck into her opponent's torso. Her guard was completely open to any counterattack, but his blade lay uselessly in the crimson pool inexorably widening around him. This battle was well and truly over.
Her head was feeling light as blood poured serenely out of the many cuts and gashes on her own person. Never had someone pushed her so far, to within an inch of her death, and for that her opponent was to be admired. She was the chosen one after all; a noble, gifted by birthright and honed by the best teachers her land had to offer. She had forded mighty rivers, conquered majestic mountains, roamed the length and breadth of this world and the various adventures that it offered. She was one of their best, among the fiercest warriors that ever roamed this realm; and yet...yet...this heathen had reduced her to this pitiable condition!
She let go of the hilt in self-disgust and staggered back, willing herself not to collapse and further extend the ignominy of her situation. Somehow she managed to make it to a nearby railing and leaned gratefully against it. Her vision was getting blurry now and the blood streaming freely down her forehead wasn't helping, but she didn't even have the energy to wipe that away. She took deep ragged breaths in an attempt to calm down her adrenalin-loaded nerves and bring some sanity back to her world. This can't be happening, her brain was screaming, this has to be a nightmare! But the blood was real and so was the opponent standing in a pool of his own blood.
She marveled at how he could still be standing. Surely there can't be anything left in him! His body was festooned with tattered skin and gaping holes, including the one an inch from his weakening heart from which the hilt of her favourite dagger jutted out. It had been the perfect move, a desperate but successful gambit that decided life-and-death battles such as this. She had taken his hit, dodging enough at the last moment to not get pierced in any vital organs before unsheathing the hidden dagger in her sleeves and piercing through his now open guard. But even in that split second he had enough speed and energy to move that vital half-inch that saved him from certain death. Her eyes were still staring with disbelief at this demon that stood before her, this greenhorn who no one ever heard of and who shouldn't have lasted ten seconds against her.
Movement! He moved! What? How? How could he still move? How could he be losing so much blood yet even now reaching slowly for that dagger buried in his chest! She stared in utter disbelief as he grasped hold of the hilt and with a slight grunt yanked it out of himself. The sudden spurt in blood flowing out his wound made him go down on his knees, but he still managed to somehow tear some strips out of his ragged sleeve and fashion a crude compress on it. She tried to get over her initial shock and attack him, but her legs refused to move. It was as if a giant hand was keeping her pinned against that railing, and it was all she could do to breathe. She could only watch in growing astonishment as the man finished bandaging himself and started picking up his sword. Impossible! That arm was completely useless! Not even the best medics in the kingdom could ever heal that ragged hunk of flesh! But slowly, surely, the fingers that should not be moving clasped the hilt in an almost loving embrace and the man who should not be alive got to his feet with the sword hanging by his side. Impossible! IMPOSSIBLE!
He now started to trudge towards her, his sword hanging loosely by his side. She tried to struggle up, to do something, anything; but her power, her much vaunted, feared, awe-inspiring terrible power was exhausted, consumed by this demon-incarnate who even now looked at her with inscrutable eyes as he made his inexorable way towards her. There were no guards to defend her now, no secret reserve of power that she could yet tap and emerge triumphant. This well and truly was her death approaching her, cold cruel death that made no distinction between nobles and commoners and claimed everyone equally for its own.
He was now standing over her, that young unworn face implacable as always. She felt so small right now, lying at the feet of this monster who simply would not go down. His sword quivered as if about to move for the fatal strike and she reflexively closed her eyes.
"Look at me!" he thundered.
She opened her eyes and stared grimly into those bottomless grey eyes.
"I'm going to kill you now".
"I know", she replied laconically.
"Aren't you going to beg?"
"No"
"Why not?"
"There is no honour in begging".
"There is honour in killing innocent villagers then?"
"They were enemies of the state!" she shouted, her anger suddenly giving her energy,"Insurgents! Filth! Vermin!"
"Not all of them."
"I don't give a damn! This is war, war has casualties. We didn't seek this!"
"You did not seek this?" he snarled through clenched teeth, "You DID NOT SEEK THIS!"
"NO!"
In a burst of motion too quick to even follow, the tip of his blade pierced the soft skin of her neck. It was not a killing move, but enough to draw a trickle of blood.
"This is your doing!" he raged, waving his hand at the ruins of a once prosperous community behind him, "This is all your doing! You cut them down where they stood, slaughtered man, woman and children like stray dogs! And for what, hunh? WHAT? Your stupid laws, your stupid tyrannical state that has smothered their hopes and dreams for generations!"
"Don't be naive!" she replied back equally fiercely. This rabid attack at all she held dear was too much for her to bear. "We give structure, moral, code, justice! We raise men from beasts! We create beautiful cities and prosperous communities! We are not like you rabble who want nothing more than to return us back to anarchy!"
She paused, taking heavy gulps of blissful air as her would-be executioner surveyed her impassively before leaning in towards her.
"Was this necessary?" he sighed. She looked up surprised. The anger had suddenly gone out his voice, to be replaced by a heavy sadness that was literally weighing him down.
"Answer me!" he said, louder this time.
"Was what necessary?"
"Was all this...this massacre...so much blood...was all this necessary? Do you really think you did the right thing?"
"The law says..."
"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE LAW SAYS!" he yelled with such force that she recoiled involuntarily, "WOULD YOU HAVE KILLED ALL THESE PEOPLE!"
She looked out behind him at the corpses littered on the ground, including the guards that he had slaughtered before she started fighting him. Grass, tiles, clothes, bones; even under those dark dark skies everything gleamed with a crimson hue. It was a psychotic's canvas, just blood and more blood everywhere. She had never ever seen so much blood in her entire life.
A chill wind whipped through the air, dragging stray leaves stained red behind it. She watched them flutter by as her eyes suddenly started watering. She tried hard to control herself, but couldn't prevent a stray sparkling teardrop from rolling down her grimy cheek.
"No", she whispered.
That same impassive stare, the same steady hand on his sword.
"Again", he whispered.
"No."
"AGAIN!"
"NO" she screamed out defiantly. "NO NO NO! I WON'T! I...I..." she gulped, tears streaming freely down her face now. "I won't!" she finished, before breaking out into sobs.
The greenhorn continued to stare at her as she buried her head in her hands and wept uncontrollably. Then silently, imperceptibly, he moved his sword away from her neck and gingerly sheathed it. She looked disbelievingly as he turned around and started walking away into the shadows.
"WAIT!", she screamed. He paused and half-turned towards her.
"What now?" she cried imploringly, "What do I do now? How do I go back?"
"Go back to what?" he murmured.
"My home, my liege, my life..." she broke off, choking up, before continuing, "How do I live with meaning and honour! I, who could not even beat a village bumpkin and uphold the law!"
His teeth gleamed in the dark night.
"You don't."
She stared wide-eyed at him.
"You get well", he continued, "you train, get stronger, faster. You look at the world, the pain, the suffering. You look at your justice and how fields like these run red with blood at its behest. You open your mind, as I have, noble, and when you have finally seen the truth come find me."
"How...how will I find you?"
He guffawed at that.
"By the time you are ready, I'm sure my fame would have spread enough. I will also be training to be stronger you know", he concluded with a wink, before turning around and proceeding onward.
She didn't stop him this time, just kept staring at those blood-spattered clothes until they vanished into the darkness. The sound of running footsteps was intruding into the welcome lassitude that was now enveloping her conscience, like irritating flies on a sticky summer morning. Ah what she would give for a glass of cool ice water now, she thought as she drifted off into unconsciousness, maybe something sweet to go with it too. But her last conscious thought was of that inscrutable face and the blood-red field and she knew she would never be the same again. She won't, she simply won't...
