Fallen Empire

“This ends today.”

Despite the thunder from the iron basilisks and the screams of dying man and horse alike, his final gambit bellowed through the din. As he awaited his foe's retort, the young Emperor Maximilian IV unclasped his burning cloak. Bloody mud caked his pauldrons, and he tore them away with trembling arms; they served little purpose now.

On the surrounding lowlands, despite the basilisk's holy fire cleansing Imperium’s lush plains, his Imperial Legions buckled against the Khan’s overwhelming hordes in their desperate, final stand. The Emperor fought the urge to retch at the destruction of his Empire.

Tegujyn the Butcher said nothing. Dressed in simple black armor, he rose from beside his dying horse. No adornments heralded him as the conquerer of half the world, a demon who already ended one century-old dynasty this campaign. He slowly drew his swords, one the curved blade of his homeland, the other the thin azure blade he wrenched from the dying hands of the Imperator of Meridion.

“That blade was my cousin’s. I intend to return it to him,” Maximilian readied his longsword, but his voice betrayed his bravado. Tegujyn remained silent, rolling his neck. He was smaller than the Emperor expected, but his pale face carried the scars of a warrior as well as a domineering tactician. Stunning eyes of amber stared out through his simple but stout helm.

The basilisks hissed again in the distance, and the Khan scowled as the fireballs passed overhead like comets.

“Your cousin died bravely. Needlessly, but bravely,” Tegujyn said in thickly accented but fluent Imperial.

“As will you.”

“So noble, Emperor. I commend your arrogance. Few mortals would suffer facing me alone.”

The Emperor’s chest tightened as fear threatened to consume him. Below, renewed screams filled the air as another assault broke against spear and fire.

“We are but men, you and I. I’m tired of killing. Lay down your swords; go home. East of the mountains is yours until you die of old age under the stars.”

“So quick to bargain, yet you know nothing of our power,” Tegujyn said. He glanced down at his horse, life now drained from it. He kept his swords lowered, “I had him from a foal – bred only to bear me on this great campaign. Ironic.” Tegujyn’s chest heaved, exhausted, calculating. He opened his mouth to speak the words the Emperor so longed to hear...

The Khan’s neck twitched.

“End this!” Maximilian bellowed, recoiling at the unnatural motion.

Dreadful silence greeted his plea.

Tegujyn’s eyes of amber drained to black. A different voice, an unholy voice, screeched its command,

“Kill them all!”

Tegujyn rushed with possessed abandon.

Maximilian parried away the first assault. Tegujyn roared, and the Emperor barely parried the second assault. He struck again and again, until…Tegujyn lunged wildly, and Maximilian’s longsword bit deep into leather and flesh.

Tegujyn collapsed, his eyes returning from black to amber, and Maximilian swore he wore a look of relief.

On the fields beyond, the dying screams persisted.

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A/N

My own entry into my 500-word fantasy challenge! (details below, don't worry, I've recused myself from the prize by order of the super strict competition committee of one). Still plenty of time to enter your submission for a chance to win the prize money.

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