Sorry if the diverse titles are bothering you. :D I'm trying to keep the site problems down to a minimum.
Remember, point out any mistakes (I've noticed that less people are doing so. C'mon, you know you have it in you!)
Okay, the suspenseful part. You're going to find out what the title means this time around. :D
The Dark King
Haas and Jarz whirled around and found themselves face to face with a twisted, black shape that flickered gray colors. Again, Jarz had an overwhelming urge to flee.
“The Dark King...” Haas said boldly. “I've heard of you. Nothing good, of course.”
Jarz stared incredulously at Haas. Was he trying to get them killed?
“You are responsible for the death of my kinsman.” the Dark King hissed.
Haas smiled. “No, really, it was Saar acting through me.”
The Dark King screeched, making Jarz cover his ears. “Do not say that name!”
“Saar.” Haas said impudently. “Saar.”
The Dark King screeched again and drew his sword. Haas drew his as well.
“You shall pay.” the Dark King hissed.
“Saar shall destroy you.” Haas returned.
With an unearthly shriek, the Dark King slashed at Haas, almost faster than the eye could see. As fast as the Dark King was, Haas was faster. Haas sidestepped and gave the Dark King a gash on the shoulder. “That will give you something to think about.” Haas spat.
The two exchanged furious blows of black steel and white blade. The Dark King may have been stronger and more skillful, but Haas was quicker. He seemed to be everywhere at once, always on the defensive unless the Dark King made a mistake. Then, Haas would strike a blow.
Jarz stood on the edge of the heated battle, watching. Something told him that it was between Haas and the Dark King alone.
All of a sudden, Haas finally made a mistake, and the Dark King leaped forward to deliver a strike. Haas twisted, but the blade gashed his cheek. The Dark King was carried forward by his momentum, and Haas saw his chance. He slashed swiftly at the Dark King's back.
A howl came from the Dark King as the blade struck, and he suddenly dissolved like water and disappeared.
"That," Haas said, panting, "was for Saar."
Haas was breathing heavily, holding a hand to his slashed cheek. Taking his shirt, he ripped a strip off of it and made a crude bandage.
“That'll leave a handsome scar.” he said, wincing.
Jarz rolled his eyes. “Come, let's get out of here. Did you kill it?”
Haas shook his head. “No, but the Dark King has lost his strength and will hide somewhere and recuperate. He will not bother anyone for a long time.”
Jarz wanted to ask more questions, but he knew that if he asked, Haas would find away to avoid it in a way that Jarz couldn't press him for more.
The two made their way to the woods, and didn't encounter any soldiers. The camp was deserted.
As Jarz walked, he realized, startled, that the light was dimming, and he could hear crickets chirping in the underbrush. The battle had taken longer than he had thought.
When they made it into the woods, the villagers appeared from nowhere and began asking what had happened. Szifa was among them; he had been with the archers most of the time.
Jarz let Haas tell the tale, too tired to do anything but walk.
When they finally made it to the village, Haas, Jarz, and Szila plead weariness and retired to bed after taking a bath and a change of clothes.