Dusk and Wither of the Black Rose [Revised 8/27]

At least that was what I thought he said. He said that in elfen, but it was all the same, each elf I meet will say the same thing when they see my fiery sword.

“Wasn’t he killed last hundred years or so, in the Valley of Blue above the heartland by that missing one. The same thing happened eons and eras ago. Still hasn’t been reborn, no right vessel to possess.”

No matter how many times I told them we swordsmen with one of the four god styles under our name were blessed, or cursed with it. I’m sure some did but most didn’t fall on our knees and beg for it. Elfs never seemed to care, they hated us all the same.

That last fight was hardly ten minutes long, but it felt like the moons had raced through the night sky twice already.

“This was supposed to be a search for a learned mage to study from. If only she would tell me more, why does it have to end up like this?”

I let out a sigh, or maybe just trying to catch my breath, only wanting this to end. I drew an arch, ridding what little blood remained on my sword. Flare and ember flew off before wrapping my blade once again.

Really, why does it have to end up like thi…

A bolt of water flew at me, an arm’s length away from obliterating my head. Saved only by survival instinct pulling my hand inward, blocking it with my sword, turning it into a cloud of steam. That was fast, fast enough that I didn’t have time to finish my thought, fast enough that another attack was already here.

Pitfall opened before slamming shut, and spikes shot up from beneath me. It was hard to skip and dodge in this mist of steam. Was that first spell even an attack? Grinding my feet against the ground to stop myself from sliding into a sinkhole. Was that just to blind me?

His attacks weren’t just aggressive but also well strategically placed, leaving no gaps for me to advance through, demonstrating his range superiority perfectly. Trapping and making me dance in his show of magic.

It’s not like I’m hunting for his head, why is he trying this har…

Cough built up in my throat. The air got heavy and thick, breathing and even movement got difficult. Two arrows of stone were shot at me, they shattered hitting the flat of my sword. A third one sneaked past, crumbling my left leg.

Sounds of water movement echoed around me. I knew an attack was coming but it was impossible to locate when the air is being manipulated like this.

Half a dozen spears of water got pulled up, rushing in and piercing through me. It was unavoidable, my sword turned to the ground, standing only thanks to the crossguard supporting my weight. Then a firestorm rained down.

Maybe I had lost my mind, but the fire was just barely warm. It was painful, but it neither hurt, nor did it burn.

When the smoke and ash lifted, I was on one knee. The fire on my sword flickered, barely still blazing. He was panting, excessive use of magic got in his veins, making them glow blue, staff barely hanging onto his hand.

The enchanting glow on his feet was fading, the magic supporting his water walk spell scattered. His feet touched ground, then his knees, and his hands.

I stumbled over, unable to call it a walk. There was no grace in sight. Hand raised high to finish this mess that I did not start. My sword relighting with the trace of vigor still in me, was the only resemblance of glory on this night. This is enough.

"This is enough!"

The elf didn’t say that, not that I was listening to him. A merling said that, my companion, just a dozen steps behind him, in front of me, still laying there in the water.

"Stop the fighting, isn’t this enough?"

My vision was blurry, barely making out her outline. I couldn’t tell whether she was crying or just river water under her eye. The battle occupied my mind, taking it over, I had almost forgotten about her. When I realized that, an overwhelming somberness radiated out, before being washed away with pure white, if pure white was a feeling.

I turned back to the elf and switched into a half-swording grip, knocking him over with my pommel as a last punishment.

"Hey! There was no need for that."

Her staff was soaked, still in the elf’s grip, and somehow avoided being stained red. I ripped it out, grabbing hold of it for the first time. A certain magical power was definitely emanating from it. It felt, oddly like myself.

I handed her staff back and helped her up to dry land away from this bloodied river, or maybe she helped me up. She tried to look mad, but her worry overpowered it. The fire on my sword then extinguished, like the withering of a black rose.

"Ahh!.. Are you alright?"

And I collapsed.

###

My eyes were sore. Guess I passed out? I tried to sit up with my eyes still closed.

"Owww…"

My head hit something, but before I could open my eyes to see what it was, they were covered up and I got pushed back down. My head laid on something soft.

"You’re awake! Don’t get up and open your eyes yet! Let me finish the healing first."

Hearing her voice was relieving after a sudden rush of dread from remembering the battle just a moment ago. Wait, what about that elf? Before panicking again since what happened was still left open-ended.

"I helped release the magic stuck in that elf’s blood, so he’s not in any danger but still very injured, but when he woke up, he didn’t even look at me and just walked away even after telling him to let me give him some healing first. That’s just rude!"

Was I that easy to read?

"Oh yeah… Before he took off, he looked at you and said something like, ‘The one born in fire. Bloom of the red rose. I, uhh…’ had made a mistake? Something like that, ‘...I’d not dare make an enemy of you.’ He said."

She said that while trying to mimic the elf’s deeper voice, but her vocal range didn’t let her go that deep, making it sound just a little funny.

Silence went on for a minute, she seemed to be waiting for a response I didn’t have.

"I don’t know what he meant, but that elf’s not trustworthy, just ignore it."

That was what I said, but I don’t think I would be able to follow my own advice.