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Fiction » Fantasy » Final Falling font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: Blade Griffin
Fiction Rated: T - English - Romance/Drama - Reviews: 7 - Published: 03-01-03 - Updated: 11-24-03 - id:1248046
A/N - Ok, so timely updates and me don't mix. I have excuses this time! My dad got fired and the dish washer broke, so I now have chores galore. Anywho, I need some insight on couples. This IS a romance ya know. I'm just not sure who will be with who, so if you have a preferance, or would like more characters, please tell me.

*wails* No one reviewed! I'm so hurt! Well that the story continue.

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Chapter Six

Mezera watched the pair with a look of interest. A comfortable silence had fallen over the three villagers, but the demeanor of the old friends was close to a blizzard. In the noiseless war the food was downed in a matter of minutes, leaving the room stuffed to the seams. All was well until Erilika snapped.

"That's IT!" She slammed her bowl on the rickety table. She now stood, fire raining in her gaze. Luckily it was set upon Logan. He didn't notice her belligerent stare, or at least didn't show it. A cool look was given her in return. It was rather expectant, as if only waiting for her to continue. "You have a look of pure superiority on your face every time you look at me, and I want to know why!"

"You've gotten damn paranoid. I was doing no such thing!" Logan's voice showed his indignance. He straightened in the chair, his behavior just DARING her to continue. She took it and rose ten. Erilika stood in a proper posture as well, all anger fading from her face, only to be replaced by a cold and emotionless facade.

"So, that behavior has become so natural that you do it without thinking? It makes sense. The villagers are at your mercy, waiting to be crushed at any foul movement." Terribly sorry for offending you my lord." She sneered the title, adding disrespect with a mocking curtsy. With that she left, the shacks door nearly falling off it's hinges with the force of her tirade's slam.

Logan was shocked. Never before had she been so coarse. So.... Heartless.

He just stared at the door. The accusations chilled him to the core, putting him into shock. The children decided it would be best to gather their things. After the bowls were collected and cleaned - Mezera figured neither of the cabin's occupants would be washing them that night - They crept out silently. Not even Jeric's crashing slip pulled Logan from his reverie.

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She wandered in the night air. She had been far to rough on him, she knew, but he had to see that he wasn't living the dream. He was locked in a never- ending cage. She had seen him after that battle, his fire was sparked again, that mildly playfulness he acquired when he was truly happy. Soon it faded, leaving a hollow shell of the once great man. She wouldn't leave him like this. Not like he had her.

Erilika knew he may very well hate her in the end, but he would be living again. That was a goal she would lose what affection he had for her to achieve. With his fire burning again he may be able to find a companion to spend his days with. She never knew if that would happen for her, she decided it would happen when the gods granted her peace.

The trees thinned as a cliff appeared. Standing at its edge the wind flowed around her. They weren't the caressing breezes she had expected after an evil had been defeated, but harsh torrents of air. There was more to come. Much more.

With that in mind, she made her way back to the cabin. Opening the door slowly she inched in. It closed with an inaudible click. Making her way to his bed she bent to give him a small kiss on the forehead. Standing a wistful smile she watched him sleep for a moment. "You'll make it my friend. You'll make it."

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The village sat in peace, sleep claiming them all. From the far outskirts to the headman's house all was still. Souls slept a fitful, dreamless, night away. All but one. He writhed on his mat the haunting picture before becoming only more gruesome and clear.

A blood covered sky painted the background. A barren desert filled with the dead. Not by the raging battle, but lack of water. The warring armies were yet to charge, and still they were as a taunt bow. One small slip and hell would fly. Armor glinted in the sun, men wearing an extra layer to prevent it from scalding their skin with to flame giant fury.

A man wandered between the masses, raging in a maddened tongue. He stood with no side but continued to flounder one direction or the next, spreading the feeling of doom amongst the troops. Finally he dropped. No more mumbling, no more curses or incantations. The sides watched each-others movements with hawk eyes. One warrior was over - run with bloodlust, the heat not effecting him as he rode forward on a pale war-horse. Drawing his sword he reigned his mount into a rear, his voce yelling the charge as the metal pierced the air.

The bow was released and havoc flew.

Battle cries muffled the sounds of any natural movement. Armor clashing together as the soldiers charged towards each other deafened the commander's orders. The white Arabian rode ahead, slicing whatever being happened before the blade. Friend or foe the metal continued it senseless motions. His unruly motions should have killed him. Instead they made him a monster. A devil among men.

On the ground a smaller figure fought, not to kill others, but to live through the battle. They turned only in time to watch an axe prepare its way to her neck. A horrified gasp barely escaped them shocked lips before the attacker was upon them. A broadsword slipped easily through the attacker before the blow fell. The prey fainted from relief., never forgetting the savior on the white mount.

Savior or not, he thought of himself as neither. He wasn't thinking. Thought was unnecessary on the battle field. That's what killed you. Hours raged by. Regiments pulled back only to be replaced my another. Through it all he fought. A lone figure deep in the enemy flanks.

The unconcious soldier had awoken long ago. Still fighting for survival his own blade swung only to keep his life. He noticed the white dot amongst the black and brown. Until his hero returned, he would fight. For two days it continued, until almost every enemy was motionless.

A towering figure brushed down an exhausted horse. The white was stained with gray sweat from bothe animal and rider. Its owner ignore anything but the gentle stokes he applied to the pale coat. He started when a hand rested on his shoulder. He spun with incredible speed, pinning the offender against a pole by his neck. Flailing a hand towards his beaten helmet, the grateful soldier slid the metal tin shakily from his head.

It reveled a rather pretty face of a girl no older that fifteen. Her hair, which matched her oddly gold eyes perfectly, was cut short for a female's, only reaching her shoulders. Stiff fear was easy to spot, even with her emotionless face. Releasing her throat, he dropped her to the ground "Who are you , and what do you want, girl." He sneered with his distaste.

"I- I am Erilika Ah`Haferun. I only came to give you my thanks. You save me on the battlefield, you know. A man was going to behead me, but you stopped him just in time." She started to talk a bit faster, more sure of herself. He turned to walk away, but she followed still blubbering adoringly.

"Well damn then. It seems I missed." He remarked as he entered his tent. It shocked his younger tag-along for a moment.

"Hey! I only came to THANK you! If someone had told me you walked around with a stick up your ass, I never would have tried." She stormed in after him. Exasperated he faced the tiny ball of energy, thid time to only be shoved into his hammock. The girl, it seemed, had a temper. "I do not care what makes you behave the way you do, but you are not going to treat me like that! Now, I will ask you a list of questions and you will answer every last one." Erilika hissed the last part. "Now, what is your name?"

"Logan O'Grauffyn." He answered stiffly. Who knew someone so tiny could be do intimidating?

"Well, Logan, as long as you stop acting like a prick, we should have a wondrous friendship, don't you agree?" All he did was nod.

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The picture changed. He now saw only white, bright blinding white. Mezera appeared laughing over some trivial thing as he had come to know she enjoyed. Kneeling, her hands on her knees she watched as a small kitten rolled around in the green grass. The gentle wind plucked at her short hair and pink blouse. Her smile was perfect, never having the common problem of crooked teeth.

She looked up, no longer laughing, but mildly worried. It seemed she was gazing at him, but turned to face something behind her. A soundless scream erupted from her chest. Pure terror painted the brown face. Weakly small arms pulled her back, away from the predator. It was in vain, for she could not escape. A shadow crept towards the fallen girl.

Its wispy tendrils reached for her, holding her kicking legs. They crawled up her body to pin her fighting arms to the ground. Still she screamed, on she cry, hoping for anyone to save her. A last, thick, rope like, tendril slipped around her throat. Her screams stopped as the pressure increase. The esophagus caved and the girl fell limp. A burning symbol etched itself into her dead skin of the forehead.

Stop this at all costs.

Those were the only words of an unknown speaker.

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Jeric bolted from his mat. His chest heaved at the memory of the blood. Could Logan have truly been so inhuman? The death that surrounded his mind was terrifying. And, dear lord, Mezera. He fell into a sort of shock as the picture replayed inside his head. Her echoing screams without sound. The simple rag-doll that was left after her very life was squeezed unceremoniously from her body. That voice...

This was more than a nightmare. He did not know why it came to him, but it would be told to someone who could save Mezera. Dashing out the door, still in only his pant, he ran as fast as his over-grown legs would carry him. Jeric blindly searched in the darkness, hoping to stumble upon the cabin. Either he had been desperate enough for the gods to lend assistants, or he hand a much better sense of direction then formally thought.

Banging rudely on the locked door he thought in the far reaches of this mind. When does Logan lock his doors? The answer was not to be found as with muttered curses the door opened showing a highly unpleasant Erilika. She glared at the boy with half closed eyes, golden slits not masking her discontent. "What do you bloody want?

"I-I need to speak with Logan. I-Its im-portant." Out of breath he gasped out as much as he could manage. The realization that Jeric had run here, and was not disturbing them on a whim changed her demeanor. She swung the wooden door open to allow the boy entry. Walking briskly over to Logan's sleeping form she spoke softly. The sleeping man, who wasn't so asleep, muttered something in response and stood groggily.

"Jeric, as much an I like you, this had better be important." The boy flopped into a chair, still attempting to recover his lost breath. He quickly nodded, though he could not speak. Erilika handed him a tin full of water, watching as he downed in only a few gulps. Coughing slightly he began his message.

"I say a battle, in the desert somewhere. Both sides were at a stand-still, until someone shot a mad man. I do not think anyone knew which side he was from. Then a man... You," He watched as a haunting gaze covered Logan's face. "Let out the command to attack. All hell broke loose, people loosing limbs, lives, everything. A much smaller fighter, not much bigger than me was nearly beheaded before you killed the attacker." Erilika exchanged troubled glances. "He-no, She fainted from the shock, woke hours later and saw that the man that had saved her was still fighting. She fought until he retreated. After they had won, Erilika tried to thank you, but she was held against a pole by her neck. After releasing her, she followed you berating you for your behavior." He stopped, the faces f the companions becoming dark.

"Continue." Was the only word spoken to him.

"Then the dream changed. I-it had no sound." Fear caused him to stutter. The memory was still haunting. "It was Mezera playing with some small animal. Nothing unusual. Then she looked at me, but through me. It was after she glanced behind her that things happened." Jeric swallowed, him throat refusing to carry on. The company sat in silence for a matter of minutes until he attempted speech again. "A shadow attacked her, I cannot think of another was to describe it. It restrained her arms and legs then..." His breath caught again, but he forced himself to finish. "Then it strangled her. A symbol was burned into her forehead after it killed her. A creepy voice ended the dream with 'Stop this at all cost.'"

His eyes were downcast. It shocked him when Logan passed him an ink jar and a scrap of paper. "Draw that symbol."

He etched it as clearly and precise ass he could manage before handing it back. Logan frowned, handing it to his friend. While Logan had seemed effected slightly by the character, Erilika shook with fury. "Shit!" Balling the paper up in her rage she threw in into the dying flames. After yet another moment of pregnant silence she made the decision they were waiting for. "If she's after Mezera there is only one thing we can do." She turned to Logan, her arms holding herself as if the room had suddenly become colder. "We must take her to the Demoian Temple. Tomorrow."

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A/N - Ok once again, need of input here. Couples people, what do you want?



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