Spogis stood on the ramparts, the insidious gleam of blood lust emanating from his dark eyes; the excitement causing his fingers to furl in an ever tightening crush against the hilt of his weapon. He smiled wickedly at the simplicity of his tactics to gain a stronghold. Spogis was cunning; his beautiful gilded black armour and mesmeric eyes disarmed the defences of many; creating in them a need for his power. It was only after one fell into his fetid clutches that his arrogant and vicious nature would crumple his victim to his will. Spogis sneered in Machiavellian contentment; the victory would soon be his.
There had been no sign of Drow; the defender of these measly temples. The inhabitants usually waited until the last moment to call upon their protector, if at all. He reflected with distaste on his unassuming and humble opponent; the only fighting force the King had commissioned. Spogis groused ruefully, his distaste for Drow being voiced in vehement curses. He had lost many battles to the quick and powerful two-edged sword of his nemesis.
Their long fought battle had seen victories on both sides. Ironically, when Spogis won the casualties were among the inhabitants; as the tentacles of his influence would tear at the fabric of their loyalties, pitting one against the other, decimating their ranks. The more he infiltrated their society, the better he could throw it into disarray and turn them away from the King and Drow. Spogis turned back to the task at hand, the conquering of the coveted eugnot; the one element among the inhabitants that could swing this battle in his favour. He clenched his weapon anew with fervent determination to decimate yet another temple.
“Spogis!” The call came from behind him; the voice could belong to none other than the one he loathed.
“Drow,” Spogis growled. He turned to face the warrior whose white armour was stained with blood. Spogis sneered at the sight, as the blood belonged to Drow himself. What kind of fool would give himself to the liberation of these wretched souls?
“Throw down your weapon and leave. This temple belongs to the King.” Drow commanded with complete authority.
“That may be, but the eugnot is mine!” Spogis screamed with unbridled hate as he charged toward Drow, his weapon slashing wildly.
Drow countered every move valiantly, parrying and defending himself from Spogis’s onslaught of venomous rage. The air became alive with the clashing of metal against metal and the dance of two practiced warriors. Spogis moved himself ever closer to the temple, endeavouring to gain control of the eugnot, and swing the tide of battle in his direction. Yet Drow nimbly handled his sword, showing no signs of fatigue or weakness. They burst through the doors of the temple, one attacking and the other defending. The surprised inhabitant stood in the centre of the room, clutching the coveted eugnot.
“Give that to me,” Spogis hissed, his deep voice exuding control. “You know the power I can give you.”
“That eugnot belongs to your Lord and King.” Drow countered, his voice even and authoritative.
Spogis crept closer to the inhabitant, wary of his enemy’s sword. His voice continued to lull the indecisive inhabitant. “Think of how we can use that eugnot to control those around you, decimate your enemies, and make yourself powerful. All you need to do is listen to me.”
The inhabitant teetered slightly, slowly swooning to Spogis’s lies.
It was then, in a flash of steel, that Spogis knew he had lost. “No...” his trailing voice screamed; his counter move coming too late, as Drow plunged his sword deep into the inhabitant’s heart.
Drow’s sword vibrated and glowed, sending beams of light across the temple, as the truths of the King and His love filled the heart of the inhabitant anew.
Drow gently removed his sword and helped the woman to her feet, tenderly holding her as he would a child. She held her eugnot out to Drow. “May this always belong to the King.” She whispered, as tears of a submissive spirit washed her cheeks.
Spogis stole away into the shadows. He needed to simply bide his time. In another battle that eugnot might be his.
“For the WORD of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12)
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