Iron

Blood drips from his finger tips as hestands with his arms held out from his body, his chest heaving heavywith breath. He can feel the stinging of the cuts upon his left armas he clenches his fist and shakes the dripping blood upon concretewith a splatter. In his right, he grips his sword.

Looking down the length of the street,he never breaks his gaze from the figure, standing like a mirroredimage a full block away. The two looking wary and haggard aftertheir long battle, but both ready to strike like great, deadly junglecats at the first sign of the others movement.

The amber street lamps light citystreet with the sinister lights of the; their sickening glow castingcontorted shadows on the two opponents' faces. Only the sharp glintof hatred in their eyes penetrates their silhouetted visage.

He squints as he sees his counterparttense his grip on his own sword hilt, the blade glinting with theslight movement. He sneers and twirls his sword deftly in his hand ashe changes his stance, shifting his weight to his front leg, readyingto strike.

With a snarl his foe begins a mutedsprint toward him as he himself releases a growl and tears forward.

Leading with their free hands they lettheir shining blades trail out behind as they run furiously towardone another.

As they gain speed, the lights of thecity street flicker and the background shifts to a muddy, gray skylit battle field. Bodies of dead warriors and horses lay in thetrampled ground as the two run ever onward.

As pools of muddy water splash up witheach of their foot strikes, the battle field flickers and the rubbleof an ancient city surrounds them, its dusty, arid streets brightlylit as the sun beats down from the white hot sky.

Each time the scene changes, the twostill charging enemies change their grab to that of the nativewarriors that lay about them in bloodied heaps.

As they near each other within a dozenmeters, the ruins flicker away and are replaced by an empty, grassymeadow; the breeze blowing peacefully through the long, reedy stocks.

The two doppelgangers cover the last ofthe distance between them with a leap into the air. Their gray,peasant clothes stained with the blood of their wounds.

The steel of their blades clash andthey land with a roll away from each other.

He swiftly turns to face his double ashe faces him; the hateful glare mimicked on both of their faces. They round each other, the movements of their feet and blades likean intricate dance.

“This was my favourite death.” hesays steadily as he switches his stance.

“Then come,” his opponent answersin a growl, “let us die once more.”

They leap, hefting their blades highover their heads to bring them down on one another in a slashingblow. Another clash of their blades and the light washes over thescene; their never ending battle; eternal.