Lost in Plain Sight
All I could see were the sparks dancing against the haze of the night sky, but could tell I was winning. As our crossed blades reflected the moonlight onto the battered walls of the stronghold, time seemed to freeze with every strike. After what felt like an eternity, the battle ended with a perfectly timed parry that sent the bandit’s longsword out of his hand, to land several feet away. Before he could react, the pommel of my blade met his chest, toppling him and incapacitating him.
I sheathed my sword and continued through the citadel to the courtyard. I slipped into the dungeon under the cover of darkness and proceeded to the cells where the prisoners were kept. After dealing with two more brigands who were guarding the cells, I began searching the room for what I was looking for. After nearly a quarter hour, and one fruitless search, I heard many footsteps coming from a corridor in the far corner of the room. I quickly doubled back the way I came, knowing that I would never be able to confront the many men on my own.
I managed to make it out of the dungeon, although my cover had surely been broken when the men discovered that the two guards had vanished. I crept around the walls of the fort to the keep, and after searching carefully for any men who could be a problem, I quickly ran in. Upon entering I heard three guards talking near a fireplace at the far end of the room. I managed to slip passed them unnoticed, but I would have to find another way out as one of them nearly spotted me. I wasn’t going to risk that again.
I quietly checked every room in the keep as I searched. I was sure he must have been there somewhere, and with every empty room I passed, my hopes grew ever dimmer. As my search of the keep came to an end, I found myself in a dead end hallway, staring into the crumbling bricks of the wall. He wasn’t here. All of the risks, time, and hopes had all been for nothing.
I turned to leave the keep when I heard the brutish shout of a bandit calling out to everyone, warning them that I was here. They had me. Outnumbered, out armed, outsmarted, and out of time. I had no choice but to fight, so I drew my sword. It was one step above suicide I thought. Seven or more on one? I was finished. After I collected my thoughts and mumbled some random last words, I readied myself for what was probably going to be the shortest skirmish I’d ever fought.
The brigands drew nearer. I took one last look at the hilt of my sword: the intricate designs on the guard, the masterfully crafted blade, and the beautifully inscribed words on the edge of the pommel. May the flames be always at your back. This was the motto that my twin brother inscribed into his sword. The same sword I now held in my hands. The same man I had been looking for in this run down marauder camp. The reason I now seemed to be at the end of my ropes.
I ran towards the bandits coming for me. As they came into view, my focus was scattered. The many men in front of me became little more than blurs as I flailed my blade violently, hitting everything that moved. Three of the fuzzy outlines had fallen and another knelt down clutching what looked like a bad wound on his arm. The remaining figures attacked me all at once, yet somehow I countered every blow.
My mind began to shift in and out of reality, fighting on pure impulse, without the faintest mistake. After what could have been hours or mere seconds, the fight was over, and with me, untouched, on top. Only one blurry figure was left standing amidst the crimson hued walls. As my mind regained its lucidity, I saw that what was once just another bandit to fight, now seemed to take the same appearance as me. This made more sense after I realized that I was staring into the face of the man responsible for all of this. My brother.