The Duel

Both of them stood there, about 30 feet apart from each other. It was just enough distance to hear each other speak. The wind blew across the field of broken boulders and rock, causing the dying sun to wave across the swaying grass. There was no else seemingly around, just the two of them. One wearing a flowing black robe around himself whilst the other wore brown. Underneath each robe set both men’s weapon, or better said, weapons. Each carrying one loaded pistol, as well as an expertly made katana blade, customized to be best wielded by either man.

“So, what shall it be?” the dark cloaked man asked the other.

There was silence for a time before the brown robed man replied, “Whichever suits the other.”

The head of the black robe seemed to nod as another fresh breeze traveled across the soon-to-be battlefield. Tension rose almost visibly in the atmosphere of the field over what was undoubtedly to come, yet both men seemed relatively at ease, as though each was enjoying this rather peaceful place, during this seemingly endless peaceful weather.

Suddenly, there were gunshots ringing throughout the valley. Quick, loud and impacting bullets were heard. As quickly as they started, the sounds stopped, leaving the valley eerily absent of all noise other than that of the birds flying away from the sounds of battle.

Both men, still cloaked in black and brown, found themselves still standing about 30 feet from one another, neither having a scratch on them. Around them, on the boulders and rocks that naturally littered the valley, were little niches and small indentations where the bullets impacted, some still producing smoke from the bullet that it was hit by. The clang of metal on rock and earth sounded, as two empty pistols hit the ground after being thrown by their owners.

Silence reigned, as everything seemed to stand still in time. There was no longer any sounds of nature; the chirping of birds, the sounds of early night crickets song, nothing. It seemed the only movement was that of yet another breeze flowing past and rustling the grass and each man’s robe. Finally, the silence was broken.

“It seems guns are useless today,” came from the brown robed man, whilst without words, the dark robed man agreed.

It was now that the dark robe fell to the ground, no longer worn by its owner. As the robe fluttered to the ground, the sound of sliding metal echoed. The man once robed in dark robes now stood with his sword drawn, ready to strike. The sun gleamed and flashed brightly on the blade as its owner stood ready, yet somewhat loosely, as though waiting for a sign to start.

The brown robed man opened his own robe, but never took it off. A similar echo filled the air as his own sword was drawn. Stranding in a similar loose, yet battle ready fashion, he waited.

With no birds or wildlife to signal when both men would strike, silence floated on the wind. Again, both men just stood there, seemingly waiting for the moment to end with reluctance.

Suddenly, with a quick flash and fast, loud rustling of cloth, the quick sound of metal against metal rang out once. Both men stood the same distance apart from one another, but with their backs to the other, swords pointed straight out in front of themselves. It was as though neither had ever moved, as though they had both been where they were at now the whole time.

Each man stood still and sturdy, as though to stand there for hours upon end without movement. Quietly, almost with a whisper, the one with out a cloak, asked a question of his opponent.

“That was new, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but I have had it for some time. I have only never used it…”

“… until today. I am honored, and impressed.”

After a moment, he spoke again to his robed counter-part.

“I guess it's over then.”

And with that, he fell, his sword falling to the ground with a slight clutter. With a thud, he hit the ground, lifeless. If one were to look, they would see quite a few wounds from his opponents blade, and blood having spilt from them, as well as a light trail from the corner of his mouth.

Still in his own stance, the man in the brown cloak slowly stood straight, holding his sword to the side. He lightly turned his head towards his fallen opponent, not fully turned as to look at him. Bowing his head slightly, he sheathed his sword, not bothering to clean it before doing so, knowing this would be his last time using that particular blade.

As a light breeze filtered through the valley, he walked away from the battle field, now turned grave. The sun soon set, basking the valley in the darkness of night, marking the end of the day of this battle.

“It would seem so. Good bye.”

Well, i have been meaning to try and post a Word for a while, and i finally finished this one. tell me what you think!

7thEvaChild