The Battle and The Truth

         All he could hear is the clash of steel against steel. All he could see is his opponent’s movements. All he could feel is the flow of battle. The waves of battle enveloped him as he focused solely on his enemy. The one he hates, the one he fears, the one he wants to kill.

         Ranlt was a big man standing a few inches over six feet, with a hawk nose and a sharp chin. But despite these features he could be considered a handsome man, thanks to his medium length, flowing, brown hair and piercing icy blue eyes.

         His opponent was roughly the same size as him with facial features similar to his own. But his expressions were different and disturbing. Where Ranlt was concentrated on nothing but the battle, his enemy’s face was expressionless. Whenever Ranlt took a small, superficial hit, he would grunt away the pain, and maybe even allow a small wince. When his opponent took a hit however, nothing happened. Sure blood did come out and the cut was visible, but the enemy’s face did not change. That haunting expressionless face was always there, the stare of those eyes would not leave Ranlt’s face.

         It is an epic battle among two equals as attack met parry, parry led to counter attack, and counter attack was foiled by parry. The two warriors exchanged rounds of offense and defense, but neither could gain an advantage. Despite his anger and fear he held his cool as the warrior knew this was the key to victory. He would not lose this time, this time he would win and will suffer no more pain at the hands of his enemy. He hated the opponent for ruining his life, for taking away his mother and father….

         He walked into the room to find his mother and father under the guillotine roughly 10 yards away from each other. A man for each stood by the respective lever that would set off the guillotine. He pulled the string of his longbow to his cheek when he noticed a rather small and scrawny man with an angular face on the opposite side of the room. The petite man sported a particular twisted dagger at his hip and Ranlt realized this was the man who was behind the kidnappings and the murder of his parent’s house guard. Only that dagger could have left the perverse wounds in the guards.

The killer sneered, “You have found me, congratulations. But who will you choose to save? Your sweet mother or your brave father? It is your choice….” His words trailed off as he ran down the hallway. The executioners went for the levers; he quickly drew back the string to his longbow and… hesitated, as he could not decide who to save. It was only for a split second, but that moment cost his mother and father their lives. He quickly killed both men with a shot to the heart that hit home, but it was too late. He fell to the floor in disbelief, and swore revenge on the murderer. The man who had run away….

         The steel of his great sword sparked as it met a blocking great sword belonging to his opponent. Sweat rolled down his face as he was starting to tire. That face, that never changing visage pulled at Ranlt’s hate, at his anger. He wanted to end this soon. The warrior decided to kick it up a notch. He sped up his attack routines and managed to work in kicks to the stabs and slashes of his sword. The opponent is on the defensive. “Good,” the warrior thought. “Now I can beat that which killed my brother….”

         The murderer was down, panting hard. He pretty much just gave up as he stared the warrior in the eyes, a stare of hatred, a stare of death. Ranlt said, “What is the name of my parent’s murderer. I will know it before I end your life.”

Ranlt was set back on his heels when the killer responded by laughing wildly in his face. “My name, I don’t remember what my real name is, but I go by Drayth,” he managed to say while keeping that mocking laughter up. The fighter brought the blade of his great sword to the man’s throat, telling himself he would end this now. But he thought twice before killing a defenseless man, after all he had never killed a fellow human before. That thought cost him though as Drayth was able to kick the warrior in the shin and run out the door. The fighter recovered from the kick and ran after him, but he had vanished. A week later a letter was left at his door step saying,

“Thanks for letting me escape, but I’m afraid your attempt on my life is going to cost you. You will have no family left by tonight.” He ran to the opposite side of town to where his brother lived only to find him dead in his bed. The poison used to kill him was left in a vial as a taunt by that evil man….

         That thought provoked the fighter even further as he increased his ferocity tenfold. His anger took hold, it was a black hole from which nothing else could thrive and there was no escape now. He beat down mercilessly on his opponent not allowing time for a counter attack. His anger continued to build, his hate magnified, his fear subsided. He then gained a distinct advantage over his enemy. This would be the end, the end of his pain and suffering all he had to do was kill his opponent. His enemy would pay for the greatest of his pain, the loss of his wife….

         That same night he came home to find his house burning, no doubt set ablaze by Drayth. He ran in to the house where he could distinctly hear his wife’s screams for help. He saw her behind great flames in the bedroom. He was about to go in when, she screamed, “Save yourself,” before she collapsed. Because of that he slowed down and gave a moments thought, but decided that he had to save her. He hurdled the fire and knocked through the outside wall with his great sword. He dragged her out and tried to revive her, but it was too late. Despite all of his best efforts she had passed on….

         That death had led him to this fight, the ultimate battle against the one responsible for those deaths. He was tiring, but he did not slow down. His opponent was becoming more and more desperate with his blocks and parries. His anger allowed him thoughts of his wife and Ranlt went into a fury. He could no longer be considered anything but mad. His attacks were ruthless, but without purpose, he had to gain control. He knew if he didn’t he would lose; he could not afford to lose. He saw the opening, this was it, the end of his pain; all he had to do was drive his blade home. Then he hesitated, despite his anger and madness. That expressionless face stared at him as his opponent seized the moment and stabbed the fighter in the side.
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         Ranlt came out of his meditations panting, with beads of sweat trickling down his face. The knife he held to his own throat was quivering. Filled with rage, he threw the knife across the room as hard as he could manage. His indecisiveness cost his loved ones their lives, filled him with pain beyond bearing, and now it cost him the ultimate pain of living with the suffering. He couldn’t bring himself to take his own life. His hesitance has cost him everything. Streams of tears joined the beads of sweat as the warrior began to weep.