Wazir arrived at the battle scene, the battlefront to be exact. He took in the destruction
and the men who caused it. They looked worn for wear, but their determination was so strong
that Wazir almost commended them.
Almost.
As that same determination would be the cause of their downfall.
He had taken in the number of casualties for that day, and fortunately, the number was
not much, and there was no death. This was all because of help from Darukï and Svetlana. And
also the female seer who had appeared to him. He remembered that encounter, not surprised that
she had known who he was but more surprised that there was another like him. He had always
wondered why he was different from the rest of his family, and at some point, he started to
suspect that his father had birthed him out of another relationship, one outside his marriage to his
wife. But then, his mother looked at him with love and berated him whenever he was stupid. She
had told him on numerous occasions that she wondered if he hit his head once she birthed him.
And even if he couldn't deny it, he had a shocking resemblance to his father. But his father
always told him he had his mother smile.
So, he was surprised to find that there were others like him, but before he could question
the female, she left after giving him the biggest shock of his life.
Another war was about to happen.
Elena would be the key player.
According to the seer, by sending her on her journey, he had inadvertently started the
path weaved out for her by the heavens. Out of fear for his little niece, he had been tempted to
look for her and bring her back. He was about to do it, but the night when the seer left, he had
visions again. Visions of the war. At first, his dreams only showed blood and more blood, but
later, he was able to see something that triggered him and gave him hope.
Elena stood boldly over a dead body, her sword drawn out and stained with blood. She
was also stained with blood, her features poised blankly as she looked over her enemies. But that
wasn't what shocked Wazir most. It was her eyes. They had screamed of power and
determination, and it had the cold-heartedness of a bloody warrior. A strong warrior, but a
bloody one no less.
The vision had left him shaking and in turmoil. He wondered if the dream was a good or
bad thing. Would she still be his little niece? Would she still be kind as he knows? Or would this
destroy her last bit of innocence? He could only watch as her fate unfolded.
He looked over at the men. They still wore their white garb, and Wazir didn't know if he
should label them as stupid. Common sense would tell them that to blend in and make them hard
to find, they should adorn the commoners' clothes. But throughout their stay, they had worn just
that white tunic, with hoods over their head and sometimes not.
They were strong warriors, he commended. Both of them had shaved their hair so close
to the scalp. They were almost bald if one didn't look too closely. They had strange tattoos
imprinted on different parts of their body. It was a combination of symbols, almost like a
language. One had it by the side of his face– which wasn't visible when he wore his hood– and
the other had his along his left arm. He wouldn't have seen it because of his garment, but the
fight had caused immense destruction to what they wore. Any more, and they would fight naked.
Already the sleeves were torn out, and their clothes were hanging limply on both of them. Still,
they stood, not shaking with fear but determination. Their eyes were deep pools of black, nothing
but vengeance and emptiness emanating from them. He wondered what kind of atrocities they
must have carried to be able to bury their conscience so deep, evil poured through every hole in
their bodies.
They studied Wazir just as he studied them, taking in his appearance and stance. Most
people made the mistake of thinking him weak before they fought him.
He hoped they made the same mistake.
"Who are you?" He called out across the field to the opposite side where they stood. They
looked at him, vengeance and menace flooding their eyes.
"You are not worthy to know who we are." The one with the arm tattoo said. His voice
was gravely and deep, but it was hoarse also, probably a result of the much fighting they had to
endure. He knew that they had wanted to call for backup at a point, using a messenger bird. But
the spies spotted it and shot it down. Ever since, his warriors have been taking turns in attacking
them, making sure that they had no time to send another letter. They probably wondered when
their backup would arrive, hence the steely determination on their features.
"You are about to die today," Wazir started coldly. "The least you can do before you die
would be to tell me who you are. That isn't such a hard task now is it?"
The one with the face tattoo laughed. Finally, Wazir thought, he talked.
"Do not think that because we stand here, you would be granted leniency. I can assure
you, that is the last of the plans we have for you."
"Oh really?" Wazir said, putting on an amused expression. "We just met, and you already
have plans for me?"
The men both growled, anger taking over their features.
"You annoy us." The arm tattoo guy said. "Prepare to die!" Immediately, both of them
ran towards him, their arms outstretched with what seemed like blue fire surrounding their whole
bodies. Wazir brought out his sword and took a fighting pose, waiting for them to come closer to
him. His sword had been dipped in ash, something Darukï said would weaken them severely,
which Svetlana had confirmed. How they knew the information, Wazir would love to find out.
But for now, he was willing to embrace the fact that it worked and use it well to his ability.
The one with the arm tattoo drew closer to him and raised his hands to a fist, drawing it
back as he prepared to knock Wazir out. The other came at Wazir from his side, blue fire dancing
on his palms. Wazir smiled evilly.
Let the fight begin.
He quickly dodged the arm tattoo guy and went over to the one with face tattoos.
Immediately, that one shot him a ball of fire. As if Wazir would let that tough him. He had seen
the destruction it could cause, but he also knew its weakness. He blocked the ball of fire with his
sword, just sat the arm tattoo guy reached his back. He quickly dodged him and swiped his side,
causing the man to fall in pain. Knowing that it had weakened him, but it wasn't enough to end
him, he focused on the one with the face tattoo. He noticed that the man's skill lies in stealth, but
Wazir thought to use it to his advantage. He attacked the man, and the man dodged, appearing
behind Wazir, a move he had already anticipated. Wazir smiled evilly and moved his sword so
quickly anyone would have a hard time deciphering how he did it. His sword struck hard in the
man's abdomen, protruding straight from his back. The man's eyes were open in shock, his arms
outstretched as the fire died in his palms. Wazir smiled as he dragged the sword out of him,
slicing him even more. The man grunted, falling like a heap to the ground. The entire field was
silent, everyone taking in what had just happened. The dead man's companion had his eyes wide
in shock and grief, and suddenly he bawled out, rage overtaking his features. He stood up,
ignoring the glaring wound by his side.
"I swear to you. I would destroy you." He said this as he took out a dagger, slicing his
palms. Using the blood that fell free from his hands, he drew something on the ground. Wazir
couldn't decipher what he was writing, so he stood, waiting for him to finish. Once the man was
done, a bright flame burned on the place he had written on. Wazir frowned.
"This is my vow to you! I would kill you, even at the cost of my soul!"
So that was what he was doing, Wazir thought, frowning. He had made a blood oath,
drawing powers from his soul. The black magic would make him powerful but at the cost of his
life. His companion had to mean so much to him to make that decision. Wazir drew out his
sword and took a fighting stance. This battle was going to be very bloody.
Before he could blink, the man appeared before him, giving him a blow strong enough to
destroy a building. As Wazir flew from the force, he thought he felt so many of his bones break.
After what felt like minutes– he still hadn't landed on the ground– he felt his feet being pulled
back and swung again. Pure brutality poured from the attack. The man wasn't fighting with skill
but with pure instinct and rage. Wazir felt another of his tendon pulling out before he could even
understand what had happened. As he braced himself again, preparing for a fall, something
heavy knocked him from above, causing him to fall fast, straight to the ground. He landed
heavily, clouding the atmosphere as he vomited blood. When the dust cleared, he saw his enemy,
standing just a few feet from where he lay. His once empty and dark eyes were then filled with
rage, the colours red and gold swirling deeply in them.
"You have committed the greatest sin against man and yourself. This would cost you
greatly. Oh I promise you, I would make you pay so badly, you would wish for death."
Wazir coughed harshly, blood pouring from his mouth. He could feel the tension flowing
from his soldiers. As he had told them before, fighting not to intrude no matter what happened,
he understood why they would not be at ease.
"My Lord, he heard one of them call out. He ignored him, looking only at his enemy. The
blood oath must have overridden his senses because his only attention was on Wazir. He strode
slowly towards Wazir, blue flames surrounding his body once more.
"Do you know what you have done?"
"I doubt I know anything. I merely killed someone who had wanted me dead." He said
suggestively, his voice hoarse as he tried to rile up his attacker. The man screamed in rage, and
Wazir swore that he heard another voice from that man. Like as if another was occupying his
soul. He frowned, looking at his enemy more closely. He was losing a lot of blood, yet his smile
was crazed, and he looked even more powerful.
"You would die by my hands today, I swear it."
"You have said that before," Wazir said with a smug smile.
"AAARRGGH!" The man screamed, running towards Wazir and kicking him so
powerfully across the other side of the field. Wazir felt another bone break as he flew and finally
landed on the ground. The impact also caused him another bone. He didn't stand up this time,
silently trying to breathe as he thought of what to do. He couldn't let his men attack him because
he was now much more powerful than before, and their record of no death would not exist if that
happened. He couldn't let his men take the brunt of the attack. From what he studied, the man's
rage steered only towards him, and he was likely to destroy anything that stood in his way.
Swallowing a gasp as he tried to move, he tried sitting up and was suddenly pushed to the
ground, the impact causing him to groan in pain. Above him, the man stood, his sword drawn out
as he looked at Wazir with intense hate.
"I told you, you would die by my hands," and Wazir watched as the gleaming sharp end
of the man's sword headed straight for his head.