Fade To Black, The Curseborn Saga, Book 1

Chapter 5 - As One

Although Caim could not see or move, he could feel. A great cold lay beneath him, yet he was surrounded by warmth. Hazily, he opened his eyes. A few feet before him was something black and crumpled on the ice. Fire flickered around the figure, and Caim realized it was Storm on the ground. Ronin's caneblade was stuck straight into his stomach.

Caim inched toward his brother. The world around him was howling as meteors struck the ice, crushing the stability of all things, including his spirit.

"Storm . . ." Caim tried to speak but could only manage a whisper. Crawling closer to him, he found that Storm's eyes were wide open, staring up into the sky, and for a moment, he thought his brother had died. Caim felt a sudden liquid warmth under his palms, and realized that Storm was lying in a thick puddle of blood.

"Sorry . . . Caim . . . I messed up our shot." Storm's breathing was heavy and worn.

"We have to go, Storm . . . you'll die if we stay here any longer."

Storm lifted himself up, painfully slow. Blood coated the blade still notched into his ribs, and his muscles spasmed as he tried to stand. Yet he did not falter. One hand at a time, followed by a knee, and then another, Storm stood to his feet, his entire body trembling. Caim gazed at his brother, beaten and bloodied, with a long silver blade protruding out of his stomach. A harsh reminder of their grandfather's victory.

"No, Caim . . ." said Storm. "I don't care if it looks hopeless. We aren't giving up." Deep down, Storm could not decide if he really believed they could win. His body was wrecked. His arms were beaten to the point of exhaustion, his hands were blistered and calloused, but worst of all, he had lost peace of mind.

A strident voice broke their concentration as a figure descended towards them from above. "A shame to have come so far, only to grow impatient in the final moment." The long black cloak of Ronin whipped fiercely in the wind as Caim's eyes fell on the blade in his hand. It was his own fallblade. Caim quickly searched the ground around him. Sure enough, he had lost his sword. Everything seemed to be getting worse and worse.

"Hey!" Caim screamed at their old man. "Give that back, you thief!"

"It would seem that I have underestimated you two," Ronin said. "Although I should have been keener to the signs. No matter. Storm can no longer fight, and I think we both understand what happens when one of you attempts to fight someone alone whose strength lies in a different realm than your own. It would seem you have reached the brink of your strength as swordsmen, and fallen."

"Curse you, old man!" Storm shouted, feeling an immediate jab of pain in his gut. Forcing himself on pure anger to continue standing, Storm glared at Ronin. He was sick of feeling weak in front of him.

Ronin sighed. "Curse me as much as you like, though we are all cursed equally. Caim, Storm, you will never find the Soul of the Swordsman. Now is the time for you to retreat. That is, if you value your lives, for if you stay and attempt to fight me as you are now, Death is the only creature you will find."

"So, what!?" Storm cried, wincing and falling to a knee. "Maybe death is better than losing to you!" A blast of fire and ice erupted behind him, bringing forth strong winds. Painstakingly, he forced himself back to both feet. "I will never give up, old man!! I will never give you that pleasure!"

"Oh?" Ronin answered, raising an eyebrow. "It seems you aren't as broken as I thought."

Caim's eyes fell on his bloodied brother. "Storm, we have to go. You won't survive another attack. And I don't know what will happen to us if the world is destroyed while we're still in it." He looked around. "If that's even possible. Who knows when it comes to this technique?"