Blood of the Brother - Chapter 1

The field ran red. Blood, it was blood, she could smell its coppery tang. A shiver totally unrelated to fear ran down her spine. Excitement? She wasn’t sure. Why would the smell of blood excite her? She moved forward, slinking silently through the dark shadows of the night. All was quiet now; whoever had fought this battle was long gone. Bodies lay strewn about the clearing, like toys left behind by a careless child. A sick, macabre child who’d broken all his toys just to see if he could. For the simple joy of seeing them shatter in his tiny hands.

            She slipped down a slight incline, slick with blood, more shattered, broken bodies. So many of them. Why had this battle been fought? For what purpose? Who’s enjoyment? She moved further out into the field. Nothing moved. None had been left alive. When she’d made it to the center, she turned a small circle, staring out over the destruction. The voice sounding behind her made her jump. Fear raced through her. She spun to face the voice.

             “Why have you come here girl?” Girl? He was no older than her how dare he!

Her face hardened into fierce lines at his words. “I could ask you the same question, boy.”   

            He raised an eyebrow at her. “You could, but you won’t.”   

            Insolent, that’s what he was. Her hand itched to smack him. She wondered from where he had appeared. No one had been here a moment ago of that she was certain. She studied him. He was taller than she was by several inches, his head crowned by coppery blond hair. It was overly long, hanging down over his forehead, almost into his eyes and it curled at the ends. It was too dark for her to see what color his eyes were. He smiled at her, almost as if he knew what she was thinking.

              “What happened here?” To avoid his smirk she glanced out over the bloodied field as she asked the question.   

             “A battle, even you can see that.”   

            Again, she wanted to smack him just to wipe the smirk off his face. “I meant the reason why.”    

            He shrugged one shoulder. “Who knows? Why do they ever fight battles, land, money, religion. Women.” The last was said with a huge smile on his face. Looking her up and down.

She took a step back; he took a quick measured step forward. Not letting her put space between them. She raised her right hand flinging it back over her shoulder, drawing the sword the rested in the baldric across her back.

            The grin was firmly in place on his lips as he watched her reach for her sword. “Do you even know how to use that sword, Rachel?”

Her eyes widened. He knew her name, but how? He took another step toward her, a sword appearing in his hand, his broader and thicker than her own was. The hilt set with jewels and a scorpion. She shuddered at the sight of it. He swung, driving her back. She blocked his blow, but it cost her, sending shock waves down her arm. He kept raining blows down on her, driving her back further, across the field. She had to step over the bodies of the fallen. Stumbling slightly as she did.

             “You can’t win, can’t beat me. I’m better. Stronger, he made me that way.”

            He was insane, that was the thought that raced through her mind. Yet there was nothing that marked him as such. His gaze was steady. Voice measured the words even in tone.

            She had to win this battle; she knew it. If she lost something bad would happen, something worse than the battle that had raged here in this field.

            “Who are you? Why are you doing this?” she asked desperately.

            He laughed a sick cackle that sent cold chills down her spine, straight to her soul. “Don’t you know, can’t you guess? Can’t you see it, Rachel? When you look at me, can’t you see who I am? Look at me, really look at me!” He stopped suddenly, his sword held loosely at his side. The tip brushed the ground.

            She stood and stared at him. At the hair, his stance, the way he held the sword, the way he had fought. He stepped closer and she looked up into his eyes. His eyes, she gasped and stumbled back a step. The eyes told her everything she needed to know.

             He smirked down at her in a superior way. “You see, you know now, don’t you?”    

            She stepped back further, shaking her head at him. It couldn’t be it was impossible! “It can’t be,” she mumbled in a gasping little whisper.

            He laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh, I assure you its very possible. I’m standing here aren’t I? Only, you see, I’m so much better. And in the end, you will die, which is a shame really. You are so fun to look at after all, given the reasons for it.”    

            She staggered back from him, tripping over her own feet and the bodies strewn about the field, in her haste to escape him. She had to run, get away from him.

             He caught her before she’d gone only a few feet. His hand latching onto her arm and hauling her close, so she was forced to look into those eyes of his. “Tsk tsk tsk, Rachel, no running. He wants to see you�"before I get to kill you�"that is.”

Her eyes went wide as he raised the sword, bringing the jeweled hilt down with crushing force on her temple. The world spun dizzyingly and then went a sickly shade of black. Before she lost consciousness her last thought was that she’d lost and just as she thought, horrible things were going to happen because she’d failed.