The Kingdoms of Blue and Green.

Part 63

The golden sand dunes rose and fell as if the beach were breathing in front of him. The wind had become the orchestral conductor of the sea. All was the perfume of the salty water and the mellow scent of Calla Lillis that filled the air; drifting across the sand. Azrael forced his fingers into the sand. The warm splinters of yellow and pink rubbed against his calloused hand. Retracting it and forcing his hand closed, the granular texture scratching his skin. He rose from his kneel and looked over the crest of sand. The distant blue aura lingered over the final dune before the delta sang. The small squares flew high over the dune. Azrael squinted his eyes making out the distant figures. He slammed the visor closed and drew his sword, sending a scattering echo of his army doing the same. His powerful thighs thundered as his booted feet met the sand, creating a footprinted path behind him.

High above her bright blue banner waved in the wind, taunting the enemy as she stood over the first crest of the dune. Plastering her colour along the hill of yellow. Her people coated the horizon from behind as she stood in front of the army which continued down the dune, hiding behind her. Her eyes struck the single green speck among the green. Over the final crest before the cold water that lurked below it.

The blistering heat grew as beads of sweat dripped down her neck and the speck of green transformed into a line that waved along the crest. The wind carried a sweet tune of the crashing waves and salt. Evelynn widened her stance, wrapped her fingers tightly around her hilt and place it in front of her face. She lifted her head to the sky, embracing its blue gaze upon her. Shifting her eyes to the green line that remained posed on the crest. She closed her visor with her left hand and charged. Her scream rattled across the sand, picking the fragments of salt that were wisped from their boots into the air and across the sand. Her echo over the golden-crusted hills rattled the blades and feathers of green. With that, they rose over the dune.

Evelynn skidded down the hill of sand, the metal of her sword melting into her hand. Becoming one weapon. Her scream echoed with her own sea of blue behind her. Each drew their swords and skidded down the hill behind her.

It was all in the palm of her hand. The crown, the kingdom, and the life that she needed to be slaughtered. It was all in her calloused hand that wrapped around the blade singing to cut into the men that stood in her way. The wave of green bled over the dunes, seeping over the yellow sand. Evelynn glanced behind her. The blue feathers covering the path out, the yellow stars lingering in the forest break. Their calm faces and hollowed eyes watched as the people ran down the dunes; running to their slaughter. Death was a sense of peace for these men. The stars would agree as they gathered supplies for the long battle. Stretchers and bottles of liquor sprawled at their feet.

Evelynn swallowed, listening as she continued over the dunes, marking the tracks and fauna. She singled to the sky. The two posed fingers cross over one another pointing to the left. A small brigade broke off from the sea, creating a river around the dune. Evelynn held the signal to the right and a river appeared over the dune as the soldiers drifted to the right side of it.

Azrael climbed up the final crest of the dune. Latching onto the sand with his gloved hands, hurling himself up, closer to the blistering sun. He gritted his teeth and swallowed, letting a deep, powerful war cry escape from his throat. Forcing his army to run down the hill.

As the two waves met, the clattering of metal and the intertwining of colour stained the yellow dunes a bright blue, silver and green. Azrael with the golden-dusted armour slid through the silver and blue puddles of blood and sand. What seemed like hundreds of narrow spears shot through the air, ultimately landing in the hearts of men. Blood mixed with sand; gritty, filthy fragments of death. Evelynn's sword danced, and cut a path of blood through the battlefield, slicing through weak, brittle armour.