The Seventh Swing.
"So. This is where it ends?"
She called out to her challenger, but he did not reply.
Wisps of fog clung to that shallow vale--hovering about knee height. Night was in full swing, and the moon peeked down at the pair. He came closer and closer still, the only solid shape for miles. Crowe sighed; she saw the blades in his fists already.
"Right. I suppose i didn't want an especially chatty death, either."
In one smooth motion she drew her own sword, and felt the tension in the air tighten. She dragged in a final breath, ragged and weary. Would he see the best of her?
Exhale; she lighted off on nimble toes. The grass in the field touched the hem of her cloak--made to grab at it. ~Stop, Crowe. Stay a while.~
"Not tonight, friends." The Wanderer whispered, shifting her weight and coming in for the attack-- "Tonight, I die!"
He met her with both blades--a shower of sparks lit up the gloomy eve. They grappled for a second before Crowe stepped back in a hasty disengage. She had underestimated his guard.
They both sought refuge in the mist, at least for the moment. Crowe stepped to the side as the duel blades sought to pierce her--she blocked the sudden attack, spun, and made another parry. The strength behind his blows drove her back and her balance wavered.
"Crowe!" His voice was cruel, and so was his body, "Is this all you have to offer?"
He came down with a swing that would have ended it--but she brought her blade up and braced it with another hand.
"Show me a trick, Great One!'" He mocked her.
Obliging, the Wanderer stepped back and made a rapid series of feints and thrusts. Although the blades of her opponent followed, they were unsure of the pattern. Step by step she drove the Challenger back until they were once more in the center of the vale.
He lunged in an attack of his own--a deadly response that was nothing more than an iron whirlwind. He had one blade for each hand--Crowe did not have such a luxury. The Wanderer moved with his vicious swipes, blocking when she could and side-stepping when she couldn't. He was fast.
"Where is the true power of the Wanderer?" The Challenger laughed as they again came to a standstill, "I will show you mine. I will kill you in Seven Swings."
He disengaged, but this time coming back his blades sparked with a Black Magic. She met it against her better wishes and the steel from her blade shrieked aloud. The agony of her most faithful companion was almost more than she could bear. Crowe made to pull away--but the other sword came swinging down, now.
She released the handle of her sword and jumped back. The second blade scored nothing but grass. The Challenger recovered, and his eyes glittered when he saw his foe unarmed.
"One." He counted, and came at her again.
Two scored nothing--Crowe was quicker, even quicker than enchanted blades. Three found the Wanderer armed again after ducking behind her opponent. Four sizzled the atmosphere itself, and Five disarmed her again.
Six was a horrible searing pain in her side as she flipped to the ground. Her body felt immobile and her eyes were wide and glassy. The Challenger knelt down next to her, and slammed his enchanted blades into the ground on either sides of her neck. He smiled rather sickly.
"One year. A deal is a deal, Crowe." The Challenger cooed, "I do hope it was worth it."
Crowe clenched her teeth against the white hot pain, doing her best not to thrash. Soon she found that it no longer hurt as badly as before. The edges of her vision were fading. Her grip on her own sword slacked but she did not let go.
"Immeasurably." She concluded, "Though you enjoy collecting payment...far too much."
"That's right." He said rather carelessly, standing. And then it was Seven.
nubbinownz 
