The Last Flame - Crystal Bow

Chapter 29

Saphaer half-opened his eyes as the door opened. He was sitting at a chair, and had wiped all traces of his breakdown away hours ago.

Naireth had his sword in hand, and his expression was guarded and angry. Saphaer tipped his head upwards slightly. "Hello."

"We're going." Naireth half-growled. "Now."

Saphaer shrugged and got up, brushing himself off before following Naireth. The way was familiar and Saphaer realized just where they were going.

Back when his father had ruled, there had been an arena attached to the side of the castle for practice fighting. Saphaer wasn't sure who used it, but he was sure nobody would be using it now. Naireth walked ahead and Saphaer scanned the weapons rack. He slid behind it, grabbing his usual sword; he always kept it here. Glancing back at Naireth, Saphaer muttered a quiet spell. He was sure that there was some kind of thing stopping him from doing anything in the arena itself.

When Saphaer stepped into the arena, Naireth was already ready, his eyes narrowed. "It'd do you good to look more terrified, traitor," His words dripped with venom, "Perhap if you beg for mercy, I might refrain from killing you."

"I'm terrified." Saphaer said, letting sarcasm stain his voice. He really was, his heart hammered in his chest. He was going to die, no doubt about it, but he would do his best. Naireth had probably sent out a patrol already, but...

If he didn't, Saphaer would have time to stall. He tightened his grip around his sword and, for a moment, he felt as if someone was watching him, though he didn't dare look away from Naireth. The Dragon King seemed to just be waiting for a time to strike.

If he shifted, Saphaer was dead, no questions asked. Saphaer narrowed his eyes as he and Naireth paced around each other.

Saphaer reflected on a lot of things in those painfully long moments before the fight began. He thought about Pheonix, pain rushing through him to be quickly replaced by determination. His grief steeled his resolve. He thought of Cliffton and Moone on their journey. He'd let one person die...he wouldn't let any others.

Naireth darted forwards with a lot of speed, but Saphaer had a more lithe build than him and was able to move quicker. He slipped aside, his sword coming down hard and fast only to clash on metal with Naireth's. The shifter snorted and so the fight began.

Saphaer found himself dodging more than attacking, but occasionally he would get a hit in. It reminded him of training, but this was no training; losing didn't mean a pat on the back and a 'you tried', at least not anymore.

So far none of the blows that landed had any lasting damage, as both of them had armor, but eventually, Saphaer managed to get a low blow to cut Naireth. It was a small cut, but he heard Naireth hiss in pain through his teeth. Saphaer internally rewarded himself before darting backwards before Naireth could take a swing at him. Saphaer lifted his sword to match the shifter's blow and turned, using Naireth's strength to push him away. He hadn't absorbed the force, just...moved it.

Naireth went rolling away but sprang to his feet before Saphaer could walk over. He raced at him with surprising speed and Saphaer took a flying leap back, rolling across the sand and getting to his feet in a moment's notice. He had his sword ready by the time Naireth finally reached him and the two engaged in close combat again. Saphaer reached for a touch of magic, which, surprisingly, he could still access.

Every time Saphaer landed a blow on Naireth, a thin layer of frost began to spread over his armor, and every time their swords met, Naireth's got heavy from the ice forming around it. It was making Naireth colder, heavier, and most importantly, slower. He seemed to notice this after a while and let out a roar of fury, lunging forwards. The air around him was blistering and Saphaer let the spell drop. Their swords met and Naireth barred his teeth at Saphaer. "I'm tired of you fae and your games!"

Saphaer didn't respond, he had to focus. Even the slightest slip up could kill him.

Saphaer and Naireth continued the deadly dance until Saphaer finally managed to knock Naireth down. He put his sword to Naireth's throat, panting. "Give up."

"No." The Dragon King snarled.

"When will you stop?" Saphaer narrowed his eyes. "When I'm gone? When the world's gone? When will it end?"

"It'll end when I choose for it to."

Saphaer screeched as he leg was swept out from beneath him. He rolled away and hopped to his feet but Naireth was right there and then it was all pain.

It was pain and it was RED and BLOOD, there was BLOOD and there was a HOLE in his CHEST and it was PAIN and everything was pain and it felt like he was on fire.

Saphaer managed to calm himself enough to look at the wound. Naireth's sword had pierced his armor and blood was starting to leak out. Saphaer inhaled sharply, but it only increased the pain. Saphaer closed his eyes and forced a small smile. The edges of his mind produced a memory.

It was Phoenix, swaying from side to side, humming softly. Saphaer had been sitting beside her, and the two didn't say anything but it didn't matter.

Something about this memory was different, as Saphaer hadn't remembered making it. As his thoughts began to slow, it clicked into place. He opened his eyes and stared at Naireth.

"...Thank you."

The other King's expression flashed with fury and confusion, but Saphaer simply closed his eyes again and greeted darkness as it took him, and as everything burst into flames.