Short Story

   

         Tamorah traipsed hurridly through the woods. The moon was full and bright, glaring down at him, offering him no hiding places. He crouched in a small clearing and listened. It did him no good and he knew it. The Deylaric were a very powerful race. They were demons, slaying the others of his race with the help of the evil gods. Tamorah jumped up and once again began his flight to the safe zone at the edge of the forest.
         The eyes glowed softly in the darkness as the man stalked his prey. He glided through the forest without a sound as he smiled. Tonight would be the end of this one way or another. Someone was gonna die. He idly picked a flower as he passed and slowly inhaled the soft scent. The flower withered and died in his hands. He felt only slight remorse, for his gods delighted in death.
         Tamorah stumbled into a small stream. It was ankle deep and ran through the narrow clearing, dividing it into two narrower sections. He knelt on the bank and cupped his hands in the water and drank savagly letting the cool water roll itself down his throat. He had soon drank his fill and he sat looking at his reflection in the quiet part of the small stream. He was much like his older brother, with dark hair and light chocolate skin. Both were tall although his borther exceeded his six-foot frame. The eyes were the biggest difference. His brother’s eyes always glowed an eery red in the darkness but were pure black in the light. Tamorah’s  eyes however, glowed a comforting gold in the dark and were pale blue in the light. He was clad in plain brown hunting leathers with a giant two handed long broadsword strapped to his back and a small bow clipped to his belt. HeÕd run out of arrows long ago. He stood up ready to leave when something in the reflection caught his eye. Two red dots appeared above his left shoulder by his ear. Tamorah whirled to stare directly into the glowing red eyes of his brother. His appearence alone inspired fear, but the knowledge of his religious beliefs and the power at his beckon only served to heighten it enough to make even the most battle hardend warriors wet themselves. He was dressed in complete black, with hard leather armor underneath a large bilowing black cape. He had a single long sword hooked to his belt. A dead rose was wrapped in his belt.
         “Hello little brother.” He said
         “Cornainth.” Tamorah acknowledged
         “Why do you run from me? What have I done to make you feel this way?” Cornainth asked with the slightest hint of pain in his voice.
         “You are evil. You’ve been stalking me, waiting for the kill.” Tamorah replied bluntly.
         “Why do you think I’m evil? We’ve grown up together. We were raised the same-”
         “You have changed.” Tamorah cut him off “We were never raised to use the dark arts or to become demons.”
         Cornainth laughed out loud in true mirth. “I am not as evil as you think little brother.” He said suddenly sobering “I feel remorse for a beautiful flower suddenly wilted. But everything will die someday. Darkness is no different then the light, the night is no different then the day with one exception. People fear the night because they don’t know whats in the darkness, when in truth there are the same things there as there were during the day. They can’t control the night or the darkness, and so it must be feared.”
         Tamorah stryggled within himself seeking to regain his certainess. This was his brother. The one who’d beat up bullies for him when he was still little. How could he distrust and fear the only family he had left? They had shared a room for years. Yet he did not trust him and he did fear him. Cornainth was the one who had taught him how to fight and therefore knew his every strength and weakness and could easily defeat him if he tried.
         Cornainth seemed to waver. “I’m sorry little brother.” He said with true pain showing through. “We must fight and one of us must die.” He drew his long sword. Tamorah couldn’t believe this was happening. His hand shook as he slowly drew his own massive sword. He hesitated for a second staring disbelieving at his shaking hand, trying to decide whether or not to actually fight his brother or turn and run. Cornainth decided for him, taking advantage of Tamorah’s hesitation, he swung his sword for a clean swipe at Tamorah’s right side. Tamorah brought his own sword around and blocked the attack keeping his sword aimed down. He brought it up under Cornainth’s sword and attempted to flick it to the side. Cornainth kept his grip well, and slipped his blade under, slicing through Tamorah’s clothing. Blood instantly stained his clothing. He groaned and moaned in pain and brought his sword back up to parry Cornainth’s attack on his neck. Tamorah faught down the rage burning in him, rage that he had managed to keep down for so long. Tamorah  lost himself as the rage burst forth as he relentlessly attacked his brother. Driving him back into the stream which instantly turned stagnant. Tamorah twisted his blade and pulled it up cutting Cornainth’s chin. Cornainth jerked back and put his hand to his chin and drew it away to see his blood-covered fingertips. His red eyes flared meeting his brother’s golden ones. He leaned down to the water and rinsed off his fingers. His teeth clenched as the water turned red with his blood and it dripped off his chin. He slowly straightened and met his brother’s face once again. He waited calmly noticing the conflict in his brother’s eyes as Tamorah stood there staring at the blood dripping off Cornainth’s chin. Tamorah shook his head violently. He had never before drawn Cornainth’s blood before, in fact he couldn’t remember ever seeing him bleed at all. He shook his head again and opened his eyes slowly regaining control of his rage. Cornainth’s red eyes flared with savagery. He lunged for Tamorah’s heart. The long broad sword flashed as Tamorah pushed the attack to the left causing it to only hit his arm. Tamorah twisted Cornainth’s sword and push it out of his hand. Cornainth suddenly finding his sword clattering to the ground, pulled what looked like a normal dagger from his boot. He stabbed in into Tamorah’s unguarded flesh. He pushed up a little switch on the handle. The single blade instantly split into three. With a flick of his wrist, he twisted the dagger, flicked the switch closing the blade into one and ripped it out, dragging with it a ropy length of large intestine. Tamorah screamed in pain and instantly tried to stuff it back into his side. Cornainth faltered, his eyes became a calm dull red. Conflict distorted his face as he threw the dagger downstream. Then it passed and his eyes returned to the blazing red. Tamorah’s hand glowed a soothing blue as he laid it to his wounds. He winced slightly as he pushed the intestine back inside and healed it. He looked pleading into his brother’s face which was now a mask of darkness, an odd blackish fire burned in his hand. Tamorah’s eyes slowly widened with realization as he slowly straightened. Cornainth released his dark magic on his brother with his eyes blazing. He watched as Tamorah was flung backwards with the force of his dark magic. It lifted him eight feet in the air and slammed him into a tree. The fire disappeared letting Tamorah slip down to the ground. He fell with a heavy thump on the ground, his back parcially leaning on the tree. Cornainth muttered something under his breath as he made his way over to his brother’s body. He cautiously put his hand on Tamorah’s neck feeling for the pulse. He found it beating very faintly and somewhat sporadically. He summond the teachings of his childhood, puching back the corrupting evil. He stretched his heand out and held it over Tamorah’s body. He move it slowly down from his head to his feet, making sure the blue healing light covered and healed every inch of his brother’s battered body. Tamorah began to wake as pulse stregthened. Cornainth stood and once again began to collect his odd blackish fire. Tamorah’s eyes opened and gleamed and innocent gold as he whispered a prayer. Cornainth pulnged the fire from his magic deep into his heart. It engulfed him in the pain that he knew he would have to endure for the rest of his life. He just hope that Tamorah was stronger and wouldn’t let it infect him. He cried out once before his charred body finally dropped dead to the ground. Tamorah let a single tear roll silently down his cheek as he watched the purple light form where his brother had stood. The light was the evil that had inhabited most of his brother’s body. It was now looking for a place to stay. Without a word Tamorah started to dig a shallow grave. The sun would be up in four hours and he was ready to leave the cursed place.
         He reached his clan’s camp early the next evening. His wife, Alennya, greeted him with relief, but also with odd looks, noticing the change in his manner. She dutifully started the fire and cooked his dinner. Then she sat down across the fire from him. His eyes gleamed with a harsh golden fire. She knew something was wrong. He was staring angrily into the fire. She sensed a new hatred in him, an evil that had never been there before. In him she saw blackness, and she wondered if he truly loved her anymore. They had met when he was eight and she was only six. They had been best friends since then. But now he was lost and it was killing her. She longed to make him happy again, just to see his smile and his love. She looked to him now and saw only anger. The ground where he sat was dead. He looked up at her, a strange look twisting his features as Alennya pushed the knife through her heart. Tamorah stood and strolled into the forest. He felt only a little remorse as he idly picked a flower, for his gods delighted in death.