The pressure lifted as suddenly as it had come and Venic burst to the surface with a gasp.

Hooves narrowly missed his nose as he hacked water. He had somehow been spared the front hooves, but was now positioned under the horse's belly.

Venic rolled out from the path of the horse. A few steps away, one of the Wylfaren men fell into the creek and was speared by the horseman that towered over Venic.

The horseman had not noticed Venic. Not yet, at least.

Worming his way forward, Venic reached one of the fallen who had a sword still in hand. Not being able to see the bindings was difficult, but Venic flipped onto his back and pressed the rope against the blade.

All around was a flurry of movements. Blood splattered the gray plant life and tinted the creek.

Venic watched the red go by with growing dread.

His gauntlet saved him from gashing his wrists as his hands were cut free.

The swordsman burst to his feet and found he was being watched from across the battlefield.

Jaten. He sat on his horse, and his back arched as he recognized Venic’s armour, and the person wearing it.

‘Blast.’ Venic felt his stomach lurch.

They locked eyes; he watched his friend’s expression narrow with rage.

‘Not you,’ Venic took a step back.

Jaten urged his horse forward, and Venic dashed for the forest.

The creek fed into the roaring river, and reaching across it was a narrow bridge that was no more than three long logs lashed together.

It was too narrow for a horse, but could he get there? The space between the slope he was on and the bridge was wide open. His limbs felt sluggish from the icy cold waters still weighing him down.

He ran for it anyway.

Brush nearly took his feet out from under him.

If he could just reach it, then—

The spear blasted him in the back. Despite his armour, Venic felt pain surge.

Venic dove to the side in time to avoid being trampled by the horse. His armor clicked as he hit the ground and rolled back onto his feet.

The horse came back around. Both horse and rider faced him.

Venic still did not pull out his sword.

"Jaten, stop! We do not have to do this," Venic said, shaking his head. "Please don't do this. Think of your wife! Think of your family!"

"This was your choice!" Jaten yelled, pointing his spear at Venic. "This was your doing. I trusted you; we all did! When I heard what had happened, I did not want to believe it. I thought ‘Venic must have some sort of proper explanation’ and yet here you are, selling off our kingdom's treasure to some peasants."

There were no words that could change his friends mind.

Venic moved into a fighting stance.

Jaten adjusted his spear.

They had both been instructed in how to fight mounted soldiers, and that was what Jaten expected Venic to attempt. Instead, Venic darted for the bridge again.

Jaten’s surprise only lasted a second. He spurred his horse back into action.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

The horse thundered closer.

Venic dove onto the wooden bridge and the horse snorted and reared back from the wooden logs and the raging waters.

“Fine,” Jaten said, sliding from the saddle. “Have it your way.”

“Jaten,” Venic stepped backward across the creaking bridge as Jaten stepped onto it. “We do not have to do this.”

His friend's face twisted with pain. “Do we not, Venic? Really? After you stole the king's greatest treasure, and for what? Some money? Is it worth it, Venic? Is it worth betraying everyone?”

“You do not understand.”

“No! You are right! I do not understand!” Jaten yelled, stepping forward until they were halfway between the two riverbeds. “Is this who you were the whole time? Was it all fake?”

“Listen! My sister—”

Jaten attacked in an instant. The spear lunged forward.

Venic deflected it, but only barely. The spear bounced off his armour and Venic brought down his elbow against the shaft.

The spearhead, and Jatan with it, tipped towards the river.

The current caught the spearhead, and rather than be tipped further off balance, Jaten released it. The spear was carried away with the current. He grabbed his sword instead.

“Stop this!” Venic begged.

“I had you at my house!” Jaten screamed. “I let you eat with my family! What? Were none of us good enough for you, Venic? You had to go and betray us? Sell us out?”

“It is not that simple!”

Jaten screamed with rage and slashed at Venic again and again. They clashed, dancing on the thin bridge in a series of blows. The clangs of their hits on armor vibrated through the forest.

‘Don’t hurt him,’ Venic’s mind screamed, but his friend clearly did not feel the same.

When Venic hesitated a hit, Jaten’s sword bashed his armor in again and again.

“Stop!” Venic screamed as a blow crushed into his arm, cutting into it.

Jaten had a crazed look in his eyes. He was not going to stop until Venic was dead, or near to it.

“I trusted you!” Jaten screamed. “I trusted you!”

Venic felt his chest clench with dread, knowing full well if this one-sided fight continued, it would be the death of him.

So, he stopped holding back.

Venic could feel himself slipping into a concentration that commonly came in tournaments. It was a numb sort of feeling as he gave into the movements.

All pain and noise disappeared, it was just him and his opponent.

Jaten started coming at Venic harder, faster.

With light feet, Venic danced upon the logs. He deflected or dodged what hits he could and delivered his own blows.

Jaten had always been stronger, but Venic was nimbler and clear of mind. It was a dance of blades, and Jaten wasn’t in the headspace to know the steps.

He slashed and slashed repeatedly, until Jaten stumbled, falling back onto his rear.

Jaten’s hand shot back to catch himself but hit only water, almost toppling sideways into the current. As he balanced himself, Venic put the tip of his sword to the other man's neck.

Both were breathing hard. Both had badly damaged armor.

“I do not want this,” Venic said, and he meant it. He lowered his sword and stepped back. “I do not want to hurt you, Jaten. I will leave it at this. Go home to your wife. Go home to your little girl.”

Jaten’s eyes fell, his expression conflicted.

Venic turned to leave and heard the movement behind him.

Instinct had him whirl with his sword.

By luck, his turn deflected his opponent's sword blade off his breastplate.

Venic, on the other hand, did not miss.

Jaten stiffened.

Venic felt an icy cold shock wash over his body.

They both stood in a horrible moment of silence, balanced on the bridge.

His sword had hit Jaten in the collarbone and had managed to slide up the space between his helm and his breastplate and it went deep.

His friend's blood slid down the blade, and Venic started to tremble.

Gasping, he dropped the sword and it fell, balancing on the edge of the bridge.

Jaten staggered, then started to fall sideways towards the wild torrent.

Venic lurched forward, caught him, and somehow managed to stop them both from falling.

“It is alright,” Venic told his friend as he dragged him off the bridge to the riverside they had come from. “You will be alright.”

He lowered Jaten to the ground, and the blood on the armour almost made him freeze. There was too much of it. There was far too much blood.

“Remove his helm,” Venic told himself. “Remove his helm and stop the bleeding!”

Venic yanked off the helm, and Jaten’s head rolled back. Venic reached for something, anything he could use to press against the wound, but the glassy eyes looking back at him made him pause. Jaten lay on the riverbank, immobile

“Jaten?” He whispered, but there was no response.

No movement.

No breath.

“Jaten?” he asked again, but this time it came out as a croak.

Slowly, Venic looked from his unmoving friend, then to his own hands.

He was covered in his friends' blood.

His trembles became violent quakes.

Then the reality of what happened hit him like a wave.

He screamed, then screamed again.

His pain echoed throughout the forest as he clutched his head and rocked.

‘No, no, no, no!’

This was not happening. This could not be happening.

He was wrong. He had to be wrong!

“Jaten!” he screamed, desperately shaking his friends' shoulders. “Jaten! Wake up!”

But his friend was dead, and Venic had killed him.

“Jaten!”

The friend who he had rivaled with, the friend who Venic saw marry, the friend who Venic had fought alongside, was no more.

Venic felt a sob catch in his throat right as he heard shouts approaching.

He did not want to leave his friend, not like this, but he also could not stay.

“I am sorry,” he told Jaten. “I am so sorry.”

The apology did nothing to soothe his soul.

He staggered to his feet and ran. The weight upon him seemed to grow with every step.