Amaro charged at his brother, kicking up dirt and snow. The clash of metal, the roar of fire, the crash of lightning. Amaro felt wounds open and close, he felt the rush of battle fill his body with power. The part of him which had hungered for more these past few days now gorged in decadent gluttony. Amaro did not care how much Anitus hit him because that pain made him feel alive
Anitus tried to pull back, but the static in the air chased him. A crash of lightning slammed into his brother. He staggered, narrowly parrying another erratic strike from Amaro. He tried to snap his fingers again, but Amaro snapped his fingers first. In an act of cruel mimickry, Anitus was enveloped by endless surges of electricity. He could no longer control his muscles, jolting about in a magically induced seizure.
Amaro connected a brutal hook to the edge of his jaw. Anitus’s head snapped to the side. He was on wobbling legs, stumbling back. That was not enough for Amaro, he rushed forward, bouncing Anitus’s head from one fist to the other. There was no need for weapons now. The two of them had become tangled in a hand to hand confrontation.
Anitus ran, but that lightning followed him. Fire was just an imperfect lightning in the end. No matter what, fire would always follow lightning. It would always be chasing that godly element. Amaro ate an uppercut from Anitus, but he could not even feel it. He was locked in a war with his brother, who now tried to clinch up to him. Amaro made him pay for it, sending lightning through his body. He could feel Anitus burning his skin as they clinched. Anitus gave in first, breaking the clinch and lunging to pick up his sword again.
Amaro moved in pursuit, but he stumbled. He had taken more damage than he’d thought. His legs were not moving properly anymore. His head was swimming. Anitus was the same, fumbling through the snow and mud like a drunkard.
That’s when it hit him. Why was he fighting Anitus right now? They were on the same side, this was no time for a duel!
“Oh what a shame, it looks as if the potion has worn off!” Tulos said, “But I’m glad I finally got to see a serious match, even if it was for only three minutes. I wish we had more of those potions. We could’ve done rounds!”
Amaro spat blood into the snow, “So you’re the one who bought those potions in the end. And you got Sancta to turn them into bombs. Real clever of you.”
“I hate to take all the credit for it, but I will anyway.” Tulos mused, his eyes scanning the battlefield behind them, “Seems like three minutes was the perfect amount of time after all.”
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Amaro looked back to see dozens of unconscious bodies. Standing above them all, scattering horn tips from her hand like dust in the wind, was Vilka.
“What a frightening glare. Looks like the prince’s loyal hound has their eyes on me now.” Tulos chuckled, “Everyone! Fall back! The time is almost here, I and the other captains will cover your escape.”
All at once, the remaining Tibur began to retreat into the forest. It became clear to Amaro what their goal had been. All they needed to do was buy time and sow chaos. The Tibur had preserved themselves while they allowed Vilka to destroy the traitors.
And yet despite this, Deka was grinning ear to ear as if victory was in his sight.
“Excellent, Tulos! You have done well to create a story worth retelling.” Deka said, unsheathing his blade, “Now no one can question the meaning of a victory here. You’ve provided worthy resistance to the inevitable. That is exactly why your horns belong to me. Vilka, Kaara, deal with the captains. I will slay the Xirxus.”
“You’re talking like you’ve already won.” Tulos grinned, “You’re also acting like you’re the only one who wants to take my horns.”
Anitus raised his sword to Deka’s throat, “Who are you to claim my little brother’s horns while I still stand?”
Amaro snickered, crossing Anitus’s blade with his own, “That’s right, Deka, we need to get him back for the prank he just pulled.”
“Oh my, I’m quite popular. I only wish I could be so lucky with those who didn’t share blood with me. I could use a hand here!”
“I’ll give you four!” a disembodied voice shouted as four arms burst from the ground and pulled Anitus under.
“Milord! Be careful, those Noxa are-!” Vilka shouted before a dome of wind roared around them. A figure dropped into the center, wings spread out, his eyes glowing green. He stood, tossing away his fur cloak to reveal a three pronged scar from knuckle to shoulder. What sort of monstrosity had he survived to have a scar like that?
“Pleased to be in such distinguished company, or whatever.” He said, an evil aura of malice surrounding him like a miasma. There was no denying it, this one was the offspring of a devil.
“Let’s see if any of you chrome tails know what a real fight is!” The winds around them ripped stronger than before. Amaro staggered in place. He was still fatigued from his fight with Anitus.
Deka sent a bolt of lightning his way, but a pillar of iron stabbed into the ground from above, “Didn’t you want my horns, prince?” Tulos said, dropping down next to the winged Noxa.
“Amaro, deal with the devil will you?” Deka said.
“Fine. Try not to let my brother cut your horns before I finish with the devil, will you? He’s a lot craftier than Vilka.”
Deka laughed dryly, unfastening his cloak and allowing it to be swept away in the wind, “And a lot weaker too.”