The Final Battle

Tarpes hadn’t really known where they would end up at. He’d only prayed that Lady Luck still smiled upon him with her radiating happiness. When his feet touched something solid, it was only then that he opened his eyes to look about.

A white, cloud-filled sky stretched over a barren and broken terrain, where ruins of buildings that had once stood gracefully strong littered the land with its blackened trees and dead flowers. Tarpes almost didn’t recognize it, even though, right where he stood had been the very place where he’d taken lessons from the one who he would fight now. His eyes fluttered shut, the cries of young voices and then the sound of a young Aerandir scolding everybody.

Perhaps Lady Luck hadn’t been so kind… taking him to a place that made his gut clench and the lines about his eyes to increase.

“Such a fitting place, for such a fitting end, wouldn’t you say Tarpes?”

The voice came from behind him, reminding him of why he was here. The demi spun on his back foot, facing Aerandir, “It doesn’t have to be the end. You could just accept things and then life would return once more to this place.” He clenched his left hand into a fist, taking a deep breath and then letting the truthfulness of what he said read apparent upon his face.

“Hmpf. Don’t even try that frivolous plea with me again, Tarpes. I can’t die completely, you made sure of that.”

He said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say.

Aerandir continued though, dropping her Katana towards the front of her to sketch a line in the dry, dry dirt, “It’s great to think that Isis believes it hers and Anna’s fault for the destruction of this realm.” She lifted the handle of her blade up so that it ran parallel with her head with the blade pointed towards Tarpes. Her other hand came up in a blocking gesture, while her feet separated for balance. “Wouldn’t you say? ‘Uncle’ Tarpes.”

Something crossed his face and then melted away. Aerandir had told Isis about this? How come… how come she had never mentioned it before? It wasn’t her fault that the realm was out of balance… it was his fault when he failed to destroy Aerandir all the way. It… stalled the cycle, so to speak. Isis couldn’t receive her full gifts without the death of both Aerandir and Fluerria, therefore, she could not achieve anything that equaled her Sister’s strengths. At least, that was how he understood it.

“HA!” Aerandir’s sword swung down while Tarpes was in the middle of contemplation. He barely had time to duck, dive, and roll.

“Slow, slow, slow… you were always slow, always had your head in the sky.” A glow began to come to the elf’s eyes as she leaped and swung her sword once more at Tarpes.

“Well, you were a boring teacher,” Tarpes replied back as he ducked down to come back up underneath her arm. He jabbed upwards all in one movement, a resulting clack sound echoing as the palm of his hand slammed into the underside of her jaw, sending Aerandir tumbling backwards. It was enough to hurt, not enough to break the bone though.

She growled, crouched almost in half from regaining her balance. She bent down quickly and came around to swing her blade up in an arc, aiming to slice off the demi-elf’s arm. Tarpes slipped to the slide, feeling her blade pass by him as he maneuvered to land a fist in her mid region. Aerandir spun though, swinging away from him and catching his fist in the folds of her robes. This caught Tarpes by surprise, yanking him off his feet so that he fell face first into the ground.

“You’re going to have to be more violent than that sweet Tarpes if you wish to succeed.” Her foot lifted up and hit the center of his back, forcing the male back onto the ground as he struggled to get back up. Tarpes made a slight oof sound and then tried to roll so that her foot would slide off. No such luck because she placed the blade right at the edge of his neck, the tip pressed into the ground. “Is this how its to end? So easily? Come, come Tarpes… you’ve got to be stronger than this, surely?” She began to slide it across the ground, the blade glistening as the light hit it and refracted.

Tarpes pressed one of his hands into the dirt and closed his eyes to concentrate. All it would take was a quick blow and he would be gone. But he wasn’t going to go down that easily. There was a small shake that caused Aerandir to pause and narrow her eyes. Then the ground shot up underneath her, throwing her off balanced and backwards.

The demi-elf took advantage of this and scrambled to his feet, turning back around as the ground settled. Aerandir was struggling to stand, but her sword appeared to be caught in the folds of her clothing. She growled in frustration before ripping the sword free. But Tarpes had not hesitated and waited for her to regain her footing. His fist hit her in the right shoulder, sending her swinging backwards.

Again, it was not strong enough to break anything, only enough to knock her back and down. There was a sneer on her face as Tarpes brought his foot up to deprive her of her sword arm, but as his foot came down, Aerandir disappeared. Startled, his foot hit the dirt with a lurching thud. Pulling back up quickly, Tarpes spun as the sound of singing air echoed towards his face. His right arm came up to block. The knife’s edge bit into his skin, slicing down the side of his forearm as he fell away.

Aerandir dropped her hand, shifting the sword quickly to bring it back up. Tarpes shifted to his right, backing away effectively as his good arm came up.

The ice burst that resulted, caught the elf off guard, throwing her off her feet with a startled, angry sound coming from her throat. Tarpes paused and then grasped the wrist of his injured arm. Ugh. This was going no where. He needed to think of something and quickly.

Aerandir was already up on her feet, “Stop stalling Tarpes. It’s inevitable. My blade now only thirsts for your blood.”

“It only thirsts because you make it. That sword was never meant to attack,” he stumbled back a step, the warmth of his blood slowly dripping down to his elbow to splatter the dry ground below.

“And how would you know what this sword was for?”

“Fleurria-”

“HA! My daughter knew nothing. KNOWS nothing.” She stood up straight, tilting her head towards the sun. She held the blade up near her face, eyes closed as light reflected off its blade and onto her skin, “This sword brings out the truth of its wielder. It gives power in return for the sacrifices taken with it. My daughter and your niece would never be worthy of such a thing!”

A northern wind suddenly kicked up, wrapping its coldly arms around the two opponents. But there was an odd, haunting feeling to it, and as it died down, the scent of flowers, daisies in particular, filled the area. Aerandir’s eyes snapped open and her head fell forward as she looked in Tarpes direction.

The demi-elf stood with his own eyes closed, wounded arm pressed against his chest so that the blood ran down, staining his clothes. His long black hair shifted as a different, lighter breeze circled around him and nothing else.

That was when she heard the whispers. The haunting cries of the manurim (departed spirits) swept across her person, causing Aerandir to slightly flinch at their cold touch. She growled, dropping her sword to about her mid height. Her eyes glowed more and Aerandir began to transform through her levels, first lightning, then fire, next water, and finally blizzard. With a screeching yowl, she ran at the calmly standing demi-elf, her sword arched back to swing forward and cleave him in half.

Tarpes opened half slit eyes, sweat beading on his upper brow. The manurim liked him, they liked that he had called upon them. But he only wanted one of them, His half opened eyes revealed Aerandir running at him, sword out stretched as she leaped off the ground to come sailing back down at him.

That’s when things slowed down and his adoptive sister’s warmth fill the area. He felt the manurim rise up, gathering in a huge cloud above and in front of him like a wall. Aerandir’s mixed colored eyes opened in surprise as she plunged down, her blonde hair streaming out behind her.

Her robes billowed out like sails of a ship, the unseen, yet thick and tangible force, engulfing her and then finally, holding Aerandir suspended in the air, her blade aimed to cut through the center of Tarpes’ forehead. He opened his eyes, still concentrating hard, to see her sneering face. Her sword shook as she tried to apply more force to move it down and complete the stroke. But it would not budge.

Tarpes slowly pulled his arms away from himself, his voice rising up as another and then another matched his,

“Agar en amin,
Cormen en amin.

Amin ona coia,
Amin ona mela.

Amin glaka lle!”

Both of his arms were raised to his sides like wings, the blood from his injured forearm slowly dripping to a stop. Aerandir still floated above him, straining on her sword handle. Then her eyes widened as Tarpes lifted his blood stained hand and touched the top of her nose. Their eyes met, but it was not Tarpes who she saw. His eyes were green, not their usual brown. Her daughter’s eyes were green…

That was all that she had time to think as a suctioning force swirled around them in a pounding blow. Aerandir was hurled clear across the old ruins. She hit the ground with a skidding roll and then laid still on her side. Tarpes was thrown backwards as well. He came to a stop still on his back and breathing hard as Fleurria left him, leaving a few last words, .

She was right, now was his chance. The manurim had helped him combine spirit with a physical presence. It could be all over in a matter of seconds.

If… he could find the strength to move.

With much effort, Tarpes rolled onto his side and then propped himself up. He looked to where Aerandir laid… perhaps she was dead already? He couldn’t tell if she breathed.

Carefully, he pulled himself to his feet and stumbled walked towards the fallen elf. His hands shook as he drew out Isis’ dagger, having had it since she had had no time to remove her things before CCD2 fell. He stopped as he came even with Aerandir and then fell to his knees by her side.

As her daughter had died by this very dagger, it was only proper that she should die by it as well. Shaking more, his hand reached out and grabbed the edge of her shoulder, rolling her over to face him. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slack. Up close, without her glamour magic and angry faces, the age on the elf’ face revealed itself. More wrinkles than Tarpes could ever dream of achieving, creased around her eyes and mouth.

At one time those could have been considered laugh lines of happiness.

Tarpes took in a breath and then lifted the dagger into the air. He closed his eyes, suddenly not wanting to see what he was about to do. It seemed wrong somehow… to take her life while she couldn’t defend herself.

It seemed wrong for HIM to be the one to commit such an act.

His hand began to plunge down through the air and then he stopped just above her chest, his eyes snapping open. The blade shook more in his grip and his breath came shallowly.

He couldn’t do it suddenly. He couldn’t. He disliked the woman greatly, yes, but she had taught him so much.

Slowly, his eyes trailed from his grip on the dagger’s handle to Aerandir’s face. They froze there, peering into blue eyes that were clear and bright with knowing. Then the unthinkable happened.

She grabbed his hand and finished the stroke for him.

The blade bit through the cloth of her clothes, through the skin and meat of her chest and into the part of her that gave her life in the physical realm. The whole time, Tarpes continued to watch her face, shock registering on his own as he felt her manu leap through the blade handle that now connected him to her.

Her head tilted back as her spine arched with the sudden shock of metal in flesh, her eyes and mouth opening wide. And then she sank to the ground, the last air in her chest expelling, along with the last of her spirit.

Except for Tarpes’ breathing, silence began to grow rapidly thick in the air. His hand still gripped the dagger’s handle, having frozen there. Aerandir’s fingers were still wrapped around his hand, holding it and him in place. He suddenly became aware of how cold they were beginning to feel, which caused his skin to crawl. He pulled his hand away from her, ripping the dagger out of her chest at the same time. After a few more seconds, he managed to pull the fingers away before they could become to stiff to move.

As soon as he had pushed away, the wind kicked back up and the ground began to swallow her like it did all Elven kind. Tarpes lifted his head towards the sky, the sun suddenly bright and blinding as the air continued to belt him with blows. He lifted a hand to cover his eyes, a shadowy figure appearing suddenly in his vision. It lifted a hand to the sky and then what looked like a book as well. It opened both sides of the cover and the pages in between flipped back and forth before the air stopped.

“Winya coia nosta ,” said a voice, which echoed and wrapped around Tarpes. Then the figure slammed the book closed and faded away, leaving the male demi-elf alone.

“Olin?” came a too late and disbelieving whispered voice that the myth of the guardian could have ever truly existed. Then the demi-elf looked around startled. Green grass was sprouting, full length trees were rising out of the ground faster than they should have been, and flowers by the dozens filled the old ruins. He climbed onto his feet quickly, spinning a 360 to get a full view of it.

Magic prickled through the air, continuing to return life to the barren land. As quickly as it had began, it stopped, the air smelling sweetly of growing things and life.

He stopped his spinning and it was then that he felt two familiar presences. His eyes looked around, trying to locate what he felt and that’s when he saw, two dim forms, one slightly younger than the other, looking at him. One had green eyes, the other had blue. The one with the green lifted a hand giving the signal of farewell and then they both turned with matching strides and walked away, fading into nothing…