Capítulo 13: Chapter 11 - Brothers
Rodrick put his cleaver on a pair of hooks on the wall, he went into the back.
Argo changed his sword position to his side, and left his coat in the cottage, leaving with a white button-up dress shirt, and a pair of black pants, that were tucked into boots, that were above the ankle.
He waited outside.
The spirits that were left here, were calm, young spirits, whose bodies weren't those great redwoods, but rather the small saplings along the ground.
He couldn't help but be reminded, as he looked at them, that this place was old, very, very old.
Amongst these spirits, how much knowledge was there that man would never be able to possess, for those who could commune with them, if there were ever any, were long since dead.
Priceless wealth lost to time.
One of the small spirits flew close, he had not seen this one before, it still had not taken a shape, and was but a mere glowing orb of incandescent light.
It circled him.
He looked up, at the canopy, where these infant spirits frolicked like stars against the darkness and closed his eyes.
The breeze touched his skin through the trees, giving him pleasant goosebumps.
He heard a heavy step.
He was reminded of his purpose here, once again.
Rodrick had his Half Moon Ax, its blade as wide as he was, and its handle made of thick redwood.
His arms were harry, and underneath his floppy black hat, his eyes peered at the forest ahead, a path, opening up, as the infant spirits danced.
The Southern Forests were all connected, but only this area had Redwoods, that were native to the West, and not here so close to the sea.
The locals called it the Maw, since those that entered rarely came back out, its nature that of a devouring woodland.
But more than that...
Argo flicked a look at a bush ahead where a small nose peeked out, and a cold stare hide behind.
He looked back up.
....There were predators behind every leaf, in this place blessed with life, it would inevitably be rife with death.
But so long as one followed the path, then, nothing would dare to attack.
The spirit's rule here, absolute.
"Hello."
Argo shook his head, "So it seems."
Argo's gaze slowly followed the figure running as fast as she could toward them.
He was honestly, impressed, the spirits were extremely fast, and yet they hadn't caught her yet, in a full ten minutes or so.
Which means she had been running at a full sprint for that long, casting magic and divine miracles, to escape, and still wasn't completely gassed.
"...Hello."
"I wouldn't recommend it. She's a headache."
In Loch, Argo had the last say, but this whole woodland, was Rodrick's home, and he respected that, thus he only gave the information, but never made a move to order or demand.
Rodrick shook his head.
Rising from his gut, into his chest, and finally out of his mouth there came a bellows-like a thunderclap, "HELLO!"
Constance, who was fighting for her life, and had just used a tree as an anchor to whip around quickly, locking in on the sound.
Argo had his hands resting on his sword, while Rodrick had the butt of his ax on the ground.
Both were staring at her.
She had almost passed right by them, if not for Rodrick's shout, her senses would never have caught onto the path, that was disguised by the ancient magics of the spirits and the woods.
Following the path, meant being accepted by an infant spirit, to be allowed into their parade, and seen as a guest, and not an intruder.
Though one could get the acceptance of an actual spirit, it was like the earth and the moon, in difficulty difference.
A pair of cracked red eyes behind a massive open jaw came rocketing straight at her!
A silver flash creased her vision.
Blood sprayed everywhere and the creatures fur body collapsed and broke apart.
She looked up, to find Rodrick had chopped with that giant ax, cleaving it in two.
The spirits that were chasing her, stopped just outside of the infant's parade.
Several small incandescent flames came down, to inspect her.
The spirits watched on emotionlessly.
Some were wolves, some were bears, some were goats, some were humans, some were leaves, some were owls, others ravens, cats, and dogs, they took many forms.
And some, were simply formless, like wind, or a light breeze.
Escaping them, was both the kindness of the woodlands and also, the strength of the hero.
Constance felt like she was being sized up, and inspected.
Those little lights were critical, and as infants, they had no biases, only looking at her for what aura she gave off.
For what kind of person they perceived her to be.
A little light hovered in front of her face.
Argo turned away.
Rodrick smiled grandly.
Constance looked confused.
It hit her forehead!
"Hello!" Rodrick laughed jubialy, and pinched Constance's clothes, picking her up, and throwing her onto his shoulder.
Her heart was still beating like a racehorse, and she had no idea what had just happened, but as she was falling, she was forced to lock in, and land it, holding onto Rodrick's hat for dear life.
She had never experienced anything like this, in her whole life.
Trying to understand this feeling, she inadvertently ended up looking at Argo for clarification.
But he was walking without looking.
Rodrick leaned his head at her for a moment, to catch her attention, and she looked into his eyes.
And he looked into hers.
She then turned back to Argo, and cleared her throat, "Hello?"
"...Life and Death, are also a part of the natural cycle. Rodrick vouched for you. Do right by him." Argo looked at the cliffs of the cape, coming into view ahead.
Constance's mind moved quickly, as she was leaving prey mode, and coming back into her own skin.
Life and Death were also a part of the natural cycle.
Did that mean the Spirits could have killed her, but didn't?
And if Rodrick vouched for her, then, she was indebted to him.
She looked at him, but he didn't catch her gaze.
And that, she understood, was him telling her to forget about it.
"What would have happened if they caught me?" She swung her head back at Argo.
He stepped into the gradually clearing edge of the woodlands, his lips parting, as he touched his sword, "You would be sent directly to the Goddess."
"Hello..."
Argo smiled at Rodrick's rebuke, and spoke again, after a short breath, "They would place you into an illusion, causing you to wander out of the woods, and making your memories here hazy. Unrecoverable."
Constance looked up.
This place, with its spirits, was certainly beautiful, but, it was equal parts deadly, as well.
She understood that now on an instinctual level, if she came back, after having been forced out once, it was likely she would be sent into an eternal wandering.
They broke the tree line.
The vast sea of the south, given the moniker, 'Endless', stretched out before her.
But before that crystalline sea, where waves crashed against cliffs, and the smell of salt was thick, there was a simple burial mound, with a single foot on it.
Day and night, inside the Redwoods, was impossible to know, since the sun nor moon could pierce the fearsome canopy, thus distorting time for those inside in that forever night.
She was certain it had been day just a little while ago when they entered the woods, but now, it was night.
The three moons above, were shining brightly.
The Summer Moon.
For an unknown reason, every summer, there would be three moons in the sky, perfect copies of one another shown to the whole world, for but a single night, before they would return to becoming one.
Rodrick let Constance down and walked towards the central mound, though he was still a little ways away, and kneeled.
He set his ax down in front of himself.
Argo stood back.
Constance looked between them.
She had not seen Argo so serious, before, and in complete silence.
He closed his eyes, and made a sign of faith, to the Goddess, creating the moon on his body, in a circular motion, before shutting his eyes in prayer.
She didn't know how to feel, about him being in the same religion as herself, since she had assumed he was an atheist by his demeanor.
She shook her head and reminded herself to judge people, from her own eyes, ears and heart, rather than that of others.
And so, she made a quiet marking on her body, of the Goddess of Life, she who holds the lamplight for all things that enter the world.
Her prayer did not shine more than theirs.
Nor did it bring down some, holy intervention.
In the eyes of the Goddess, all her children were equal.
Tears slid down Rodrick's eyes, as he held his ax up.
She didn't know what he worshipped, or if he worshipped at all, if this was religious or some sort of traditional ritual of his culture.
But she didn't need to be a hero, to see the agony he was in.
He couldn't breathe straight.
She felt a heat next to her and turned.
Violet Aura had engulfed Argo's sword and left a light-outlined hue around him, that rippled and burned, like a valiant flame.
She didn't know what was going on, but if he was going to attack Rodrick, who had saved her life, she was determined to save him.
She drew her sword and stood in front of Rodrick's crying form.
A great shadow was cast by the moon's light over her.
She half turned.
A giant ax approached like a falling star!
A violet sword rose from the depths like a serpent to meet it!
Her pupils shrank, she was in the middle!
Without hesitation, she threw herself unceremoniously to the side!
She was powerful, but after being chased by Spirits and on such short notice, she was not willing to take those two attacks! Even full power she wasn't sure if she could.
She watched as Argo's whole body buckled under Rodrick's inhuman strength!
She blinked, and the lights turned on.
…They had every intention of killing each other, but her instincts told her, not to get in the middle, or else, she would end up dead instead.
Rodrick's half-moon ax came down like lightning!
Argo deftly dodged it, and cut at the handle!
The brutal battle had begun.
Constance felt a warmth on her shoulder, and slightly looked over, a familiar little spirit was standing there.
She could have sworn, she had heard a whisper.
She shut her eyes, and focused.
It was something in the air.
The winds snaked through the trees.
The leaves shook upon their branches.
The Spirits watching in complete silence, didn't feel so silent anymore.
"...er…w…n…"
Her eyes widened.
She could hear little letters, but couldn't make out the full words.
It was as if she was being blocked off by something.
Something wasn't allowing her to hear them.
But she could feel them.
They were cheering.
They were screaming out.
The woodlands roared, in support of Rodrick.
They demanded his victory, and bore witness to his battle.
They clashed again, even more brutally this time.
Argo nearly lost his arm, but managed to cut open Rodrick's wrist, making his arm incapable, but that didn't stop him from wildly swinging his ax in a horizontal cut.
She flinched not wanting to see but being unable to look away.
Argo barely ducked underneath in time, and cut Rodrick again.
The more blood was spilled, the greater the howling of the woods became!
The roars of beasts rose in the depths of the woodlands as if hearing that cry, and joining in the cacophony of noise.
Wolves, bears, cats, dogs, owls, ravens, coyotes and rabbits, the whole woodland was watching now.
Argo was sent flying after blocking a sidelong swing!
He flipped several times through the air, and his aura flickered.
He was getting tired, and his soul was being exhausted.
Her heart sank.
Rodrick didn't look like he was done yet.
She didn't want to see the end of this.
She didn't understand why, they were being like this.
Didn't they trust each other to the maximum?
Were they not like family to one another?
Was this the Goddess' love, that she grew up reading about?
How could she allow these two brothers, to fight this tragic battle?
How could she watch this all unfold, and do nothing to stop it?
Did the Goddess not care?
Did she feel nothing, for her children killing one another?
Falling to her knees, she put her hands together and prayed.
She prayed amidst the bloodthirst in the air, and the roar of the woods, she prayed, honestly, and sincerely.
She didn't want this battle to go on.
She wanted it over.
She wanted it all, to stop.
Argo lifted his sword, knowing this would be the last one, his body covered in blood, and in extreme pain, hardly able to move anymore.
Rodrick used his bad hand and wrapped it around his ax, using his top, torn now,, to tie it together, before putting his good hand on and raising it.
This would be their last.
Argo's sword was more Aura, than sword, left in tatters from Rodrick's titanic strength.
Rodrick's handle was shredded by Argo's precision cuts, making it barely usable.
They watched each other without moving.
The woodlands quieted, on baited breath.
There was a slight hum, in the air, that came off of Constance.
That was all the signal they needed.
Argo dove forward!
Rodrick struck down!
The golden aura around Constance diffused into the air!
Argo buckled under Rodrick's ax, but his Aura managed to split the steel!
Rodrick's ax shattered, the splintering metal flying out like shrapnel, cutting Argo up, but even so, his sword didn't stop its approach, and Rodrick didn't dodge either.
He had laid all his strength into that attack.
He had nothing left.
Yet, suddenly, Argo gave out.
Like all the tension in his body had been cut, he rag-dolled, unable to sustain his own body anymore.
His sword turned into nothing but metal dust.
Seeing this, Rodrick's fatigue hit him all at once, the countless cuts on his body, and the amount of blood he had lost, it was all too much for the big fella.
The woodlands roared!
The two fighters were down.
It was a tie.
Constance opened her eyes, as her prayer ended.
They were both still alive.
A relief she couldn't describe filled her, and she thanked the Goddess.
Rodrick was already healing, and Argo's bleeding was slow.
She rushed over, casting miracles to heal them.
"...why... survive... this..!"
A faint aura responded.
Argo's world went black.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
Wordlit_Sonata
Wordlit_Sonata For myself, a fight is not only about fists and swords.
I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter.
Have a wonderful evening, and,
Thank you for your support.
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