Well... here I go..

A dozen Zangon Erapelean guards stood before her, ready for a fight. They had the upper hand. Or so they thought. The leader advanced, none too humbly. He was tall, and looked down on Spenfalla. His fire-blue eyes burned as he spoke threateningly.
"Katak leeth tôr-treek, sat ônt." The others laughed. Spenfalla paused. She knew only one word of their tongue. She smiled, amused. Calling on yellow Exallia, she stepped back a pace. The Exallia emerged. She thrust it at them with all her might, yelling, "Scôntal!"
Thunder, lightning, wind and rain flew at them at the speed of an arrow, flowing from her and from the sky through a hole that was broken in the roof from the weather. She savored their shocked expressions as it hit them. Some were knocked over by the wind. Some were battered down by continuous rain drops. Some, probably the most unfortunate, were shocked by lighting in bright bolts of gold.
Spenfalla did not allow it to hit the leader, however. It parted, then rejoined behind him, wreaking havoc among the rest of his men. When he and Spenfalla were the only two still standing, the commotion subsided. He realized that his sword was useless against her power. He sheathed it, calling on his own power. Spenfalla cursed herself silently. She should have seen the mark on his forehead.
Out of his hands flew green Exallia; dreams and thoughts. It hit Spenfalla powerfully. There was no physical pain, but Spenfalla knew what he had done. She couldn't defeat him. He was powerful, even more than she. He could kill her in an instant. He could kill the whole army in one flash of black Exallia. It was useless to resist him. It would be like fighting Unya. Wait. Unya. No one could fight Unya. This was an illusion. No, it couldn't be. Spenfalla heard herself speaking to her own mind, but it wasn't her thoughts. He will kill everyone unless she joined him. No, he isn't that powerful. Of course he is! Sh was confused. She couldn't tell the difference between her thoughts any more. She called on purple Exallia; virtue.
"Give me truth!" she yelled to the sky. From the dark storm clouds overhead came purple light. It flashed like lightning, hitting her whole body. Then she knew. He had used green Exallia to convince her of his power. False power. He was merely a beginner.
His face fell when he realized that she knew of his pretense.
He didn't even bother a second attempt. He just turned and ran. She let him go.
........................................................
The sound of metal against metal surrounded the ears of all present. Mixed in were cries. Cries of pain, cries of loss, cries of war, cries of victory, cries of death. Broken, bleeding bodies lay everywhere. Some were friends now gone. Others were enemies defeated. Sacrifice. Gain.
Almost everyone and everything had blood externally. Dirt, dust, and debris flew in the air, stirred by the constant motion. It swirled about, choking and blinding. But none stopped; that would mean death.
Swords, crimson with blood swung in all directions. Some hit flesh, others armor, and still others enemy weapons. There was no rhythm; no beat. It was a free-for-all massacre, for king and country; death and glory. The ring of steel was the last sound heard by many. broken spears and arrows still in bodies protruded dangerously, prohibiting reckless movement.
The sky was dark, casting angry, shadowy darkness over everything. Many would not know another sunny day. There was no shine, no gleam to the proud armor of kings and queens. Even the gold hilt of Leara's sword could bring no cheer as it danced in the air, partnered with good aim and strength.
An even darker shadow flew overhead as Unya landed, ridding himself of passenger and weight. Spenfalla quickly dismounted, allowing him immediate escape from soaring arrows and sharp blades. She had just enough time to unsheathe her own sword to parry a blow from an assaulter and return the favor, more successfully. Leara slashed her way over to who friend, who faced more foes. Spenfalla gasped for breath as she attempted communication.
"Zallé... is missing..," she slayed yet another enemy in defense.
"What?!?" Leara spun on her last move, facing her.
"Look out!" She turned back, blocking more attacks. "It's stolen!"
"The shard..," she said. "...is supposed to... help you... find it!"
"I know... I don't understand it... the sendings are still strong!"
"Then it's... here!" Leara stabbed downward at a stumbled enemy. Too busy to reply, they both continued fighting until no more attacked them.
From a few yards away, Tolké noticed Spenfalla's return. He hailed Legremen, amidst her own battle, and they joined the two after they got themselves out of the crowd.
"Is it done?" Tolké asked, panting slightly from constant activity. Spenfalla shook her head, allowing Leara to explain.
"Zallé was not in the underground chamber. It was a trap. Spenfalla was ambushed, but instructions from Unya brought Ellesänya and a team of well-trained Arisene warriors to her aid. We've decided that-"
"Hang on!" Tolké used his war scythes to take out a soldier behind Legremen.
"Thanks, Tol," she said. "I owe you one." He shrugged, dismissing it.
"Well I owe you several. Le, where is Zallé?"
Spenfalla answered for her. "Here."
"But where is here?" Legremen asked, rhetorically.
"Here." A voice behind them caused them all to turn. Jayor stood there, in Zangon Erapelean armor and war paint, holding an apparently glass orb with a chip out of it. The shard in Spenfalla's sword hilt was so cold, it hurt to touch. Jayor tossed the globe as he would a steedball, casually letting it fly off his fingertips. Tolké sheathed one of his war scythes in the holder on his back and caught it. By feeling it, though, he could tell that it was hard and would not have broken had it fallen.
"Nice," commented Jayor. "You'd be an asset to the team."
Tolké ignored him, and stepped back, guarding it.
"Why are you giving it to us?" Leara wanted to know.
"Because, Lady," he bowed slightly. "It doesn't matter if you restore it or not. It matters if you kill me.... or not," he added.
"I suppose you don't want that to to happen," Legremen quipped.
"No, Lady," he bowed to her this time. "That would not be at all beneficial. For me at least," he returned the grim humor.
"What do you propose?" Tolké asked suspiciously.
"A duel," he responded, straightening. "A one-on-one fight between Dansal and Kantak."
"Who-" Leara began, but he cut her off.
"I am Kantak. It is my duty to kill the one responsible for Zallé, as is the duty of Dansal to kill the so-called 'Anti-Zallé'." He waited fro them to nod understandingly before continuing. "Now who is your Dansal? I must know."
The others glanced at each other, but Legremen stepped boldly forward. "I am."
"No!" Leara touched her arm.
"It is all right, now that I know," Jayor said. "Are you, Lady, ready for a fight to the death?" Legremen nodded, and the others stepped back. Jayor drew his sword, ans Legremen poised herself with her axe. He looked at Spenfalla apologetically, who ignored him. Legremen made the first move, advancing quickly and swinging at him from the right. Hurriedly judging the weight of her axe against his sword, he ducked instead of blocking. He swiped at her left, which she blocked. She swung a left, which came so fast he couldn't duck. It hit the side of his head with a sickening sound. He staggered, using his sword to support his stumbling body. His blood was on her axe and pouring from the side of his head. Spenfalla knew that she needed to watch him die. With tears in her eyes, she forced herself to look at the wound. But there was hardly a wound at all. There was a scar that looked like he had been hurt by her a long time ago. The skin was pulling itself together, and the blood stopped coming. Legremen paused in wonderment.
"You are no Dansal," he said, thrusting his sword forward. It sliced between plates in her armor. She gasped, dropping her axe. He pulled his own blade out, red dripping off it. She exhaled slowly, falling first to her knees, then forward to a laying position. Jayor stepped back, triumphant but humble.
"Oh, no..." Leara rushed forward, followed by Tolké. Jayor looked at Spenfalla. She had her hand in front of her mouth in horror.
Leara and Tolké rolled their cousin over, but it was too late. Her eyes still open in surprise, her face was pale.
"Oh, no..." she said again. "Oh, no, no, nooo..."
Tolké swallowed, closing her eyes with his hand. There was a long silence. Leara sat, weeping quietly and holding Legremen's limp hand. Tolké stroked Legremen's hair and closed his own eyes. Jayor wiped his sword, sheathing it. Spenfalla was so angry at him. He had just killed Legremen, knowing that she was not Dansal and couldn't have hurt him. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She couldn't stop herself. Raising Anya, she charged him. He pulled out his sword again, blocking her initial attack.
"No, Spenfalla! Stop!" She attacked him again. Once more, he stopped it with his own blade. "Spenfalla, you can't kill me! I'd only end up killing you. Only Dansal can harm me!"
Their swords were locked together, and both were pushing with all their strength. They were face-to-face.
"I am Dansal!" she hissed. He pushed himself back in anger. His expression turned to remorse.
"No... no, that's impossible..!" She stepped back, refusing to look him in the eye. He dropped his sword. She sheathed Anya as he dropped to his knees.
"Spenfalla!" Leara stood in a rage. "Kill him! Kill him now!"
"I.... I can't..."
"Lady Dansal, you have a duty; fulfill it!"
Spenfalla whirled on her. "Kill Jallés then!" Leara clamped her mouth shut. "And you..." she spoke to Tolké. "Kill me!" Tolké remained silent. He glanced at Jayor, who was still kneeling on the ground. He looked up and the two made eye contact. Tolké sensed that Jayor had just learned for the first time his feelings for Spenfalla. Through his hatred, he felt a connection to this Kantak.
Spenfalla bent over and picked up Jayor's sword. She walked over to him. He closed his eyes, but not in fear. She slid it into the scabbard on his back, then stepped backwards. She turned around and walked away, disappearing among some fighting. She was in the middle of a battle with no weapon ready. An enemy slashed at her as she passed, but she kept walking. The wound healed itself as she moved. A scar remained, just like Jayor's head wound. This happened several times as she was hidden in the center of the crowd. Then, from the middle of the group came a cry. It was a cry of hatred, rage, grief, and revenge. Blackness exploded in all directions from the center. Cries of pain and death accompanied he bodies flying, erupting from her. She was suddenly all alone, surrounded by dead foes, who had been alive only seconds before. Black Exallia still danced on and around her as she stood perfectly still, asking to be used. She released it to do it's bidding, and it flew off her and disappeared against the dark clouds. After a few moments of stillness, she drew Anya. She just looked at it, with anger and almost fear. She finally returned to her friends, who were joined by Jallés and Droln. No one said a word. Maybe they were afraid of the wrath she had just revealed. She walked over to Jayor and stood over him. His golden locks were still tinted red with blood where Legremen had hit him.
"Get up,' she said to him. "One of us must die today." He said nothing, averting his eyes. "I say get up!" When he did not respond, she got down to his level. "Or will you let yourself fall?" He looked into her eyes.
"I will."
She was silent. In his eyes, she saw something she hadn't seen in a long time. Love. He still loved her, and would rather die than harm her. Then she realized that she too loved him.
"Then I will not be the one to do it," she stood, looking away.
"You must!" He also rose, and made her look at him.
"I cannot!"
"Then Zallé is dead."
"No!" She attacked him, reminded of the task she had yet to complete. He was forced to block it to save himself, and he instinctively returned with another move. She also blocked an attacked.
They parried and slashed, soon caught in a furious fight. One of them would be the victor. And the other dead. Their momentum quickened as they moved faster and faster, an unstoppable battle amidst fallen bodies.
Both were full of emotion. Anger, grief, rage, sorrow, and passion were vented through the flash of steel. They spoke occasionally between strikes and defensive motions.
"I never wanted this!" Jayor cried, swinging his blade.
"But here it is anyway!" She swiftly blocked his move and made an attack of her own. He dodged her, scraping her arm as he passed. This was the first time she was in actual, lasting pain as she bled for more than only one or two seconds. Her arm burned with this new feeling. She was slightly dazed, but attacked him again, crying out.
"I'm sorry!" he apologized, parrying her blow. The weight of her sword was two much for her recent infliction. She passed Anya to her left and continued in silence. Jayor took this as her ignoring him.
"I didn't mean to hurt you..," their blades met, but neither would yield. This was extremely difficult for Spenfalla, who was using her opposite hand. Under the pressure of each other's force, they finally slid their contact lower and broke off. Neither made a move. They said nothing, holding still except for their labored breathing from exertion. Now the battle was without the sword. They stood silently, looking each other square in the eye. She could tell in the blue depths of his eyes that he really did not want harm to come to her on his behalf. She too did not wish to hurt him. Both knew that this was impossible, but there they both stood, both unwilling to befall pain to one another. They stood there, weighing their choices, communicating without the aid of words or Exallia.
He looked as if he would cry, but gave no sign of actually breaking down. Sword still in hand, he stepped forward and kissed her tenderly. She relaxed in his arms, basking in his love for her. It was then that she remembered her duty. She lifted her sword, praying for forgiveness. As quickly as she could, she closed her eyes tighter and stabbed him in the back.
He gasped in surprised, breaking away from her. He opened his eyes, seeing tears in hers.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. He looked down, only to see the point of her sword protruding from his abdomen. He struggled to breathe. She pulled her blade out again as he gasped once more and fell backwards.
She knelt beside him, stroking his blonde hair. He looked up at her.
"I love you," he smiled. The he was still, his eyes still open, looking at her. There was no life behind them. They were the same eyes that had seconds before held so much love and now were empty. She closed his eyes and sat there quivering. At first it was in loss and grief, from saying goodbye forever. Then she realized that it was because of her. It was her fault that no breathe came from him. She was full of anger. She was angry at herself. She had to release this rage before it consumed her. She grabbed Anya from where it lay on the blood-stained dirt, swinging it as hard as she could against a nearby boulder. It smashed, sending countless dangerous pieces flying everywhere. The sea serpent on her hilt seemed to mock her with its glittering opal eyes. Pulling the shard from its place, she flung the hilt with the remaining piece of attached blade at the same hulking stone. It made a clanking sound as it dully bounced off, bent out of shape.
All that remained was the shard. She turned to look over her shoulder, tears rolling down her cheeks like raindrops. Tolké rolled the globe towards her. She picked it up and thrust the missing piece into its proper place.