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Rated: E · Chapter · Fantasy · #1831765
Just to prove, things can always get worse.

"Father," Myrl screamed at the body in his arms. "Father!"

"Well, I must say that was easier than I thought it would be." At the sound of the strange voice echoing through the courtyard, Myrl turned towards the gate.

Standing there, holding a long bow was a man. He was of medium height and a bit on the skinny side. His dark black hair looked as if someone had placed a bowl on his head and then cut anything sticking out from under it. And his skin, though it was an almost sickly pale, was smooth without any noticeable blemishes. He wore a typical peasant tunic of faded red and a pair of faded, black breeches with crossbands up to the knees. His black boots that came up to mid-calf and the sword at his hip were the only thing that didn't scream peasant. In fact, the hilt of the stranger's sword bore a striking resemblance to his father's sword.

"Though, I never wanted to fight the man known as Johann the Blade, I just didn't think one arrow would finish him." The newcomer tossed his bow to the ground and began walking towards Myrl. "Though I don't have the same trouble of fighting his poor, retched second son."

Myrl gently laid his father back on the ground and stood up, never taking his eyes off of the intruder. Without him even thinking about it, his hands found their way to the hilts of his swords, and rested there as if that was where they belonged.

"Tell me who you are and why I shouldn't cut you to pieces for killing my father."

"My, my, such arrogance. And in the face of your better, or should I say brother." A chuckle escapes the man's lips at the astonished look on Myrl's face. "Yes, that is right. I am your elder brother Yamir, though our father never claimed me as his child. My mother made sure that I knew who my father was."

"That is a lie." Myrl's face twisted in anger at the wild accusations of this mad man. "My mother and father never mentioned anything about a missing brother."

"Missing? I never said anything about being your missing brother. We only share a father."

"What? My father would never. . ."

"Yeah, yeah. I know what you are going to say. 'My father would never do that. He would never cheat on my mother or his family.'" Yamir turned and spat on the ground. "Let me tell you, your father is not that great of a man."

"Enough! I have heard all the slander that I am going to hear from you. You will pay for your accusations and actions." Myrl grabbed the hilts of his swords and pulled them free of their scabbards.

"Very well.." Yamir also drew his sword. "I wanted to take control of the family anyways. And killing you is the only obstacle left."

Myrl looked at his opponen’ts sword and recognized it instantly. That was why the hilt had matched his father's sword. The sword Yamir held was an exact replica of Flameshroud. It was his brother Marr's sword.

"What? Do you recognize this sword?" Yamir held the sword up and slowly turned it for Myrl. "That's right; it is your brother's sword. I took it from him when I killed him. And now I am going to use it to kill you."

Yamir lunged at Myrl so fast that he was just barely able to deflect the blow away from his body. Yamir pulled back before Myrl had a chance to counter-attack. This man was fast, very fast. It was no wonder that he had beaten Marr. And though his brother was no slouch, Myrl believed that he was better at swordsmanship. All his teachers told him he was, and Yamir would not get away with his crimes.

Myrl began to circle to his left, his swords held out in front of him in a defensive pattern. Yamir followed suit, slowly swinging his sword in his right hand. Myrl then lunged at him, one sword going high and the other going low, but somehow Yamir was able to bat both blades away. Yamir returned Myrl's attack with one of his own. He came in on Myrl's right side, which he easily blocked with his right blade. His counter with the left blade found nothing but air though.

And so the battle went on for a few seconds, which can seem like an eternity in the heat of battle, with attacks and parries and counter-attacks. Neither one was able to land a blow, but Myrl could feel himself slowing down. This was the second battle he had fought this day, and he hadn't really had a chance to catch his breath from the first one. He was blocking more than he as attacking.

Then the thing Myrl had been dreading happened. Yamir's sword snuck in past his defenses and caught his right hand. With a yelp, he dropped his sword and as he tried to bring in his other sword to block, it was slapped hard. He felt the ringing of the sword all down his left arm and then that sword was sailing across the courtyard. The only thing Myrl could do when he saw Yamir's sword reverse its direction and come for his midsection was leap backwards to avoid it. He landed on the ground on his butt with the point of a sword staring him in the face. He scooted back, trying to get away from his death, but that sword tip just followed him until he found himself up against his father.

"Nowhere left to run my little friend." Yamir looked down the length of the sword at Myrl. "And, don't worry about our sister. I will take good care of her."

Myrl's mind was racing now, trying to figure out how to get out of this. Then he remembered his father's sword was right behind him. He grabbed a hand full of dirt and flung it at Yamir's face. Then as quickly as he could he spun around, grabbed the sword out of the ground, and brought it up to block the blow that he knew would be coming at him. He just got the sword up in time to stop the downward slice of it's duplicate.

As the swords made contact, sparks flew out into the air and Yamir's hand and
sword was forced up into the air. Almost on instinct, Myrl drew the sword down across the midsection of his opponent, easily cutting through the tunic and flesh that was there. Yamir looked down at the gash and dropped to his knees as Myrl wearily stood up. With Flameshroud pointed at his half-brother's face he spoke.

"Any last words before I run you through?" Yamir looked up at him and spat blood and mucus at him. He then opened his mouth to say something but was cut short as the two exhausted fighters were engulfed in flames.

As the flames closed in around him, he could only watch in terror as Yamir was consumed by the fire. So intense was the heat that he could feel it pushing in on all sides of him, stealing the air and making it very hard to breathe. He could feel himself losing consciousness as he gasped for the precious commodity that would keep him alive, but somehow he was able to force himself to take a step forward. He knew that it shouldn't be, but he felt that if he could get out of the fire he would be alright. Unfortunately, the confrontations he had already endured today and the oppressive heat leeched all of his energy and he felt himself falling to the ground. Just before the darkness swallowed him, he caught a glimpse of a large creature flying away from the house, and it seemed to be carrying something in it's claws.
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