The Last Two

This is the end. I’ve finally found my soul mate, and we’re going to die to a horde of ravening shadow-beasts. Figures. I never thought I would be able to find someone who’d understand my gift, let alone share it. And for that someone to be a strong and capable warrior, allowing me to stand on my own two feet at his side, is an indescribable feeling. I’m certain that we will die here today, but if it’s at all possible, I will try to ensure that he has a chance to escape. It’s the least I can do for the one who showed me that I was not just a weapon, but a beautiful and vibrant woman, with the right to be loved.
 
I am crouched and ready to spring, the man coiled at my back. The horde is growing restless. As soon as one of them breaks, they will descend on us with force. All I have is a spear and my gift. He doesn’t even have a weapon - he fights with his fists. I have a vague hope that if we can kill enough of them in the first flush of battle, we can push through one flank and outrun them, but it is a futile hope in the face of the swarm that surround us.
 
There, the break in the standoff - the drop of water that breaks the dam. The first of them leaps at my face, and I burst upwards and thrust my spear through its open mouth. I spin the staff, throwing the beast off even as it dissolves back into shadow, and then I’m ducking and dodging and weaving between attacks. I am lost in the throes of bloody war, and my heart revels in the dance. In the moment, there is only the joy of doing what I was born to do. Each movement is calculated and efficient, yet graceful. In my quiet moments, I hate that I am this way, but as much as I try to supress my nature, I am fluent in the art of battle. Skilled in the rhythm of killing. As is the man behind me.
 
It’s a strange and wondrous feeling to know that he’s guarding my back, as I am shielding his, deflecting those that try to get between us, killing those in front of us. There is a bittersweet enjoyment in this. This is the fight of my life, and regardless of our peril, having him with me is a pleasure. We move in perfect synchronisation, each of our movements flowing around each other. Never before have I been so connected to another. If only we could capture the beauty of the song our bodies create in this glittering moment.
 
But it cannot last. The horde rises and falls, but still more of them pour towards us, and finally, with the snap of my spear, the moment ends. Behind me I feel him stumble. I am out of weapons, out of ideas - there is only one last thing that can save me now. Ironic to think that my curse will extend my life, however briefly. Even as I feel the shiver of his change, I fall forward into my own shadow form, and the dance begins anew, more intense than ever. This form is lithe and strong. It comes at great cost, but the rewards are many. Each move is filled with power, with efficiency, and the horde fall before my claws and my teeth. At my back, I sense the power of his great new form, killing the enemy with powerful swipes of his paws. It seems that even in different forms, the rhythm remains between us.
 
We dance for what seems an eternity, until our movements slow, our reflexes dulled. One weapon finds its mark in my side, then another and another, but I fight on, moving on instinct alone. Blinded by pain and exhaustion. And still they come. Unending, unchanging, the enemy swarms us without mercy. The blur of the dance has become a haze of exhaustion, and I am swinging wildly at anything that approaches me. Until suddenly, they stop coming. They still encircle us, their numbers seemingly endless, but they are frozen, watching us. Any other beasts would have left a wall of corpses, but shadow-beasts dissolve back into the shadows they were created from when they are killed.
 
To our right, the circle opens, and a new beast approaches. One of their kind, but larger than any of them. Then I see the signs. This is one of us. A shadow-form. As I realise this, the beast convulses, shifting into human-form – a wild-eyed female, clad only in a loincloth. I transfer into human-form in response, anticipating a verbal confrontation. She taunts us, but we don’t respond. She sneers and throws down a challenge. “Defeat me, and I will let you walk away with your lives.”
 
“No deal. You’ll simply have your minions attack while we’re distracted with you.” She giggles, an eerie counterpoint to the waiting army. “They will not interfere. After all, what use is a leader that cannot win a fair fight?” Funny, I can tell she was lying about letting us go. But she’s genuine when she says that the challenge lies in defeating us without help. Not that we’ll be much of a fight. We’ve been battling for what feels like hours, and both of us are severely wounded. But this may give us a better chance of survival than continuing to engage the horde, so we agree. And just like that, the fight is joined.
 
She is a masterful opponent, and we are weakened and slow. Regardless, we beat her down. As he pins her to the ground with the bulk of his bear-form, a rumble travels through the watching masses, and we look at each other in desperation. I ask her to provide us safe passage. “You gave us your word that we would be free to go.” She laughs hysterically. I see the intention in her eyes, and before she can form the words, I lunge forward, shifting instantaneously, and rip out her throat. As I watch her die, the horde stills into absolute immobility. Both of us leap up and to the side, putting our backs to each other, facing down the creatures before us. I feel a tension in the air unlike any form of battle fever I’ve experienced, and I wonder what new horror this heralds.
 
A ripple goes through the ranks in front of me. From the tensing of the bear behind me, I assume it has travelled through the whole ring. Suddenly, one of them changes, shifting before my very eyes into a panther, resembling my shadow-form in almost every manner. This starts a chain reaction, and the entire horde in front of me shift. When the flurry of shadows stops, they are in my form. I can feel a pressure in the back of my mind, as if there were a thousand voices whispering to me all at once.
 
Directly to the side of me, the beasts are panthers up until a clearly delineated line. From there they are in the form of bears. They seem to have split almost perfectly in half. I relax slightly, and the voices come into focus, almost drowning me in sound. Then they stop, as if someone raised a hand for silence, and as one, they bow, one leg stretched forward, one curled back, head down. Only one remains standing, stepping forward and meeting my eyes.
 
“We welcome you, master. Command us as you will. We are Legion, bound to your bidding until parted from you by death. If your death is at the hands of another, we will pass to them. But if you are to die a natural death, we will be released to wreak havoc on the world.”
 
The shock has shifted me back into human-form, and I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn and look into his eyes. He whispers, “Marry me.” All else falls out of my mind. It’s too much, and I can feel myself start to lose consciousness. I collapse into his arms, almost crying from pain and fatigue, but I manage to get one word out before the darkness claims me, “Yes.”


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Originally published in Volume 2 , issue 7 of The Australia Times Fiction eMagazine.