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Talia stalked the darkness around a campsite. Punire had provided the direction. She didn’t question the blade’s knowledge, assuming Punire always knew where his brother Vincere was. The once heavy sword to Talia now felt incredibly balanced, no matter how she held it. The once creeping darkness now became a retreat, easily traversed without light.
A loud laugh promptly turning into a cough stopped Talia in her tracks as it echoed between the mountains. The image of Merlan’s beaten and lifeless face flashed in her head. Punire’s thoughts became her own. This is more than justice, this is deeply personal. Talia shook Punire away, focusing in again on scouting efforts. Finding a ledge in the mountainside, Talia watched over the camp as her new friend grew impatient.
“What are you waiting for?”
“I can’t fight all three of them at once.”
“With me in hand, you can.”
“If I die to them, you’ll be reunited and my vengeance will have failed.”
“True I benefit either way, but whoever wins is worth of our power, which admittedly selfish but sounds like a more interesting future.”
“Have one of them been granted Vincere’s power?”
“I don’t know. We can only communicate within short distances, however, always know where the other is.”
Talia left the tension between the two hanging, watching for any changes and the best moment to move into the bandit’s camp. The moment didn’t take long to appear as the heavy drinking set in between the group. Their leader and Rog remained drinking as the third wandered into the dark behind the tents to releve himself. Talia moved swiftly, as if she were just another shadow in the night. In moments she was feet away from her target, surprising herself, she might have been able to do so without Punire but would have at least taken twice as long. She gripped Punire tight. Feeling his excitement within herself. A flash of red.
A devilish figure stood on the edge of a cliff, facing outward to a hellish landscape. Talia crept forward, her body out of her control, Punire still in hand. With her left, she withdrew a dagger from the devil’s side. Suddenly stabbing it into the devil’s neck and using it as a lever to pull them back onto Punire’s waiting blade. The same flash flooded Talia’s sight. Finding her self once again dwarfed by the Ashlem Rise, and a silently sputtering bandit gasping for air from a hole in his neck and blade firmly piercing through his body. The two stared at each other in silence until his final attempt for air and life. Talia’s heart and breath quickened. She’d seen plenty of death in her life from home at the cemetery and this expedition into the war-torn landscape, but never taken a life before.
“What was that?” Talia whispered so quietly, she wasn’t sure if she even spoke it, instead just mouthing the words.
Punire’s rasp replied, “That was a memory, one of a previous wielder.”
Talia took a deep and cool breath in, slowing her stress anyway she could. Rolling the bandit’s body away, she withdrew Punire from his back. Punire’s eagerness flooded Talia, just as her stress did to Punire, bringing the two back to a balance and focus. In the peace Talia rolled the bandit onto his back, closed his eyes and place his hands together on his chest, half hiding the wound.
“What are you doing?” Punire questioned Talia.
“Praying for him and safe passage to his god.”
“Now? You can do it when others a dealt with and less danger for your life.”
“Quiet.” Talia heard his words, waiting for a moment and upon hearing the remaining two were still talking and laughing, she returned to her prayers. Punire remained silent until Talia was done. “His fate is with the gods now.”
Talia could feel Punire’s feeling. He radiated a sense of confusion but of also respect. Despite only mere hours passing, the two quickly became in tune with each other’s thoughts and feeling. Punire felt Talia’s hesitancy about their relationship, but also a curiosity to what the future may hold. Moving around the edge of camp, Talia got sight of Rog just as the boss went into a tent on the opposite side from her. Moving in the camp she tripped a wire setting off a set of makeshift chimes from scrap metal.
“Fuckin hells Glen-” Rog called out as he turned to see Talia, “Who the fucks?” He tilted his head as he rose from his position, eyes locking with Talia and then the blade. “Ah good girl, real nice of you bringing us more gifts.”
Talia placed a foot behind herself instinctively ready to run, but felt a braveness, twisting the leg and foot to be a brace. Punire drawn into a close guard.
Rog seeing the change in form, placed a hand on his sheathed axe. “Don’t be a fool, girl. You still have time to lay that iron down and leave with your life.” He took a drunken half step before recomposing himself and taking firm steps toward Talia, slowly drawing his axe.
“You’ll die for what you did to Merlan.” Talia planted her foot further into the dirt.
“The half kid? You was sweet on him? Not even the worst thing I’ve done this week girl.” His steps slowed to a stop just out of the range if Talia tried swinging Punire. “Drop it and walk away.”
Talia lunged forward attempting to slash Rog who twisted away in time, returning the failure with his axe nicking Talia’s shoulder. Using the base of the axe knocking Talia’s back, she fell and rolled. Adding a twist to the roll, she returned to facing Rog. The two locked eyes again, Rog smiling at the cutely harmless girl in his eyes.
Punire’s voice filled Talia’s mind during the stand-off. “Let him hit you again.” Feeling Talia, he continued. “I know how it sounds, but trust me a little.” Punire felt a slight ease in their shared tension.
It didn’t matter who twitched first as they began rushing toward each other. Rog had the upper hand again. Talia began to rise a block, hesitating to form a full block, instead strafing slightly during Rog’s swing. Striking her left shoulder again. In a flash, an ethereal devil withdrew from Talia, immediately striking across Rog’s chest. The two paced apart, both unsure what happened. Rog let out a cough, clutching his chest in pain, quickly throwing off his undamaged armour revealing a deep gash spanning from his shoulder across to his hip. In his state, Rog didn’t notice Talia running until too late to react to Punire entering his gut, and up into his ribcage. Falling limp his lifeless body’s weight took Talia and Punire back with it to the ground.
A sharp slow clap echoed the surroundings as Talia pulled Punire from Rog. “You kill Glen too?” Talia looked toward the voice, the bandit’s leader emerging from his tent, and she nodded. “Looks like I need a new crew, plenty of open spots now for you to fill.”
“Where is Vincere?”
“Who is Vincere?” He asked spying Punire. “You didn’t steal?” Checking his side to see the identical blade attached to his belt.
“That’s Vincere.”
“You name your swords too? Vincere, I like that. I was going to name this one Black Iron.” He patted Vincere’s pommel. “Vincere, sounds more aggressive. Think I’ll go with it, thanks. How about yours?”
“Punire.” Talia rose from the ground, pointing her blade toward him.
“Vincere and Punire.” The boss drew Vincere. “I’ll keep the names in honour of you.”
The bandit lanced toward Talia, targeting her already wounded shoulder, but with little effort from Talia, she stepped to the side of his attack. Giving a similar counter Rog gave to her she slashed his side. He turned to face Talia to see her eyes having gone fully white. She rose Punire, again pointing at the bandit.
“What kind of vengeful spirit are you, freak?” The bandit shouted to an unflinching Talia.
He moved in again, faking the same attack, twisting at the last moment to gain advantage. His sword appeared to betray him as a force held his change back. Talia retaliating with another side step, this time slashing upward, cutting off the boss’s hand. Sending Vincere into the air and Talia’s waiting hand. In a blink, the boss found himself kneeled in front of Talia, trying to make eye contact with the white void in her eyes. She lowered Punire touching the tip to the soft skin at the base of the bandit’s neck, pressing ever so slightly on his jugular. Vincere held by Talia’s side at the ready.
The bandit struggled to halt his bleeding stump of a hand with his remaining good one without moving from blade point. “I let you live girl, spirit, whoever is in there. Return the favour?”
A deep voice, one wouldn’t expect from Talia’s form replied. “You took my brother from me.” A quick flick from Talia’s wrist left the bandit on the ground, trying to stop himself from bleeding out from two spots with one hand. As the pupil-less eyes stared at his struggle until there was no movement left.
Talia’s eyes returned. “Another memory?”
“An old one.” Punire replied.
“Thank you human.” Vincere’s voice was deeper but less raspy than Punire’s
Talia nodded silently, placing the two on a table near the slowing camp fire. None spoke, but a sense of melancholy was shared among the trio as Talia found a shovel and began digging three graves.
Talia finished her prayers to Rog and their leader, hoping the three bandits are judged fairly by whoever they encounter in the afterlife. Talia returned to the twin blades, warming herself by the fire. “Now what?”
“As promised, you can walk away. I gave you power, you reunited my brother and I.”
Talia looked over at the graves. “He didn’t recognise either of your names?”
Vincere spoke “I never revealed myself, none interested me.”
“What’ll you do if I leave?”
“Only thing we can do. Wait. We’ve waited centuries without having a wielder before.” Punire answered, but Talia felt Vincere’s agreement. “You’re not the first and far from the last to wield us, from archdevils to imps. However, you’ll be the first human and first one outside of the Nine Hells.”
Vincere followed on, “If you take us up, as our bonds grow stronger, so will you. Free to leave us anytime, as we have no contract.”
Talia relaxed by the fire, thinking back to the past hours and days. Day light began piercing the mountain tops. She stood walking away from Vincere and Punire. Returning minutes later with new leather strapping for the grips, along with cloth and oil to clean the blades.
