Faceless

A torrent of rain poured through the hole in the ruined cathedral’s once proud and unblemished ceiling. The icy waterfall glittered softly like crystals in the campfire’s light before it splashed on the broken stone floor where its chilling tendrils then spread amongst the pews.  

A flash of lightning made the man look up from his meal of holy rat just as a boom of thunder echoed through the sanctified ruins.

"Seems the storm is picking up strength. Best finish my oh so appetizing meal and get some rest.”

He bent down to take a bite, only to stop as his eyes caught sight of a form in the shadows. He squinted and soon discovered white hair, a blood-red cloak, and the faintest hint of jet-black armor glistening in the light of his fire.

“Ah,” he uttered as he put down his skewered rodent, “it appears I’ve been found.” The man grabbed his sword staff and rose to his feet. “So,” he continued as he stretched his muscles, “to whom do I have the pleasure of facing on this dark and stormy night? Come come, don't be shy, step into the light and let me see who has entered my magnificent palace.”

The figure stepped forward, allowing the light to better illuminate them.

The first thing he noticed were the two black longswords, one held in each hand and both looking as if they could cut through dragon scales. After the unnerving blades, the next detail that caught his eye, or caught his eye again to be more accurate, was his guest's long white hair which appeared as unblemished as fresh snow. Finally, and most importantly, he took notice of a mask of jagged black metal that looked as if it was made of broken sword points dipped in the very night itself.

“Zarrania the Faceless. I can't say I was expecting you. Oh dear, I’m actually in trouble, aren’t I?” he inquired, his tone playful, but his anxious eyes not leaving the warrior for even a second. "I suppose that's what I get for requesting you step into the light. Careful what you wish for an all that."

“Kerras of Olpia,” a harsh, but feminine voice hissed through the mask, cutting him off.

He barely concealed the shutter that ran up his spine at the venomous voice, but managed to hold onto his smile.

Though it's beginning to feel as if I were holding up a fully grown bull using only my cheeks, he mentally groaned.

“I suppose there’s no point in attempting to deceive you by claiming to be someone else. If you’re here, revealing yourself, you know well who I am and won't be swayed by hastily concocted lies,” Kerras responded before bowing slightly. “Kerras of Olpia, at your service.” 

“You are wanted for-” the faceless woman began again, only for him to hold up a hand.

“I know, I know, no need to waste time listing off my crimes and supposed crimes. I’m not a forgetful old man and you’re not a steward listing off crimes to a mob of bored and bloodthirsty peasants. My crimes are many and you are here to punish them. That is the long, short, and totality of it in the end. Given that, it would be better for both of us if we saved our breath so that it may be used for what comes next.”

The faceless figure stared at him for a moment before acknowledging his words by taking a step towards him.

“I always appreciated a straight-forward woman,” Kerras affirmed before raising his sword staff and charging his opponent.

Zarrania was unperturbed by the sudden assault and casually parried Kerras’s initial thrust at her gut with her right blade, before thrusting at his skull with her left.

Kerras quickly moved his head out of the way of the longsword, before returning the favor by jabbing at the swordswoman’s armor face. However, she dodged just as casually as he had.

Though I suspect the thrust would have glanced off that armor like a dull knife off marble, Kerras thought as he quickly pulled back.

Zarrania wasn’t about to let him gain his desired distance though, and rushed forward. Unbeknownst to her, this was something her opponent had expected and desperately counted on. 

He waited until her foot landed on an uneven patch of the cathedral’s flooring before lashing out with his sword staff.

The Faceless did not even have time to correct her footing before the blade of Kerras’s weapon struck her left knee in a wide swing that would have dismembered an unarmored man. However, Zarrania the Faceless was not unarmored and her thick plate armor took the blow with a deafening clang. 

As expected, Kerras thought.

Though the blow failed to sever the limb at the knee, it did sweep the leg out from under the warrior, sending her tumbling to the side.

Not about to let such a desperately needed opportunity go to waste, the Olpian native swung his sword staff around again, this time aiming for the neck. However, at the very last possible moment, the Faceless raised her shoulder, catching the blade on her pauldron and saving her from the intended decapitation.

Though her head was saved, the blow was still powerful enough to knock her over once more. Even that small triumph was short-lived though, for the swordswoman, with surprisingly beautiful grace, rolled all the way over and then jumped back onto her feet, her night-like blades at the ready. 

“Well shit, I believe that was my one and only chance to win this fight,” Kerras stated, his tone still filled with humor, but his eyes filled with resignation. “I suppose I could try to run, but I think that’ll only make you angrier, and given that I can feel your glare behind that mask, I’d rather not risk more of your ire,” he sighed as he laid his sword staff against his shoulder. “I guess I’m a dead man then. Pity. I always hoped to return home before I died.”

“You were always a dead man, Kerras,” Zarrania’s serpent-like voice rasped, “just as all men are dead men, and all women are dead women, all dogs are dead dogs, and so on.”

Kerras chuckled at that and nodded.

“What a morbidly philosophical statement, but I suppose you’re right. Be that as it may, if it’s not too much to ask, seeing as I am about to fulfill my destiny as a dead man, may I request that you bring my body back to Olpia? I know as a condemned man and walking corpse I have no right to ask such a thing, but it’s not terribly far from here and my soul is far less likely to haunt someone if it’s brought back home and not left in a place like this,” he gestured at the ruined cathedral.

“Very well,” the Faceless replied almost immediately, surprising her opponent.

“My my, I didn’t expect such a quick response. Your generosity is immeasurable,” he responded with genuine gratitude as he removed his weapon from his shoulder. “Well, now I feel like pressing my luck by making a second request.”

Zarrania was not so quick to respond this time, but after a tense moment, she gave the wanted man a single nod to indicate for him to speak.

“May I see your face?” Kerras asked.

The cathedral fell eerily silent as nothing by the rain and the evermore distant boom of thunder passed through the hall while the two stared at each other. 

“Why?” the Faceless asked, the harshness of her voice replaced with soft confusion.

“Curiosity of course,” Kerras immediately responded, “and to fulfill an old bet. My friends always said that you wore that mask to hide scars or some disfiguring disease. One even claimed you were a Gorgon and would turn men to stone if you removed it. I, on the other hand, always bet that you were a beauty under that armor and were just too shy or perhaps too clever to reveal yourself. After all, it's difficult chasing after wanted criminals,” he gestured at himself, "if there's an army of suitors following you everywhere you go, desperately asking for your hand."

The Faceless stared at him for a long time, long enough for him to wonder if she was going to ignore his request and continue their fight. However, just as he was preparing himself to renew the battle, the Faceless sheathed one of her swords, raised her hand, and removed her mask.

"There," she stated, her voice even gentler than before as her eyes refused to meet his.

Kerras smiled in victory.

“Seems I won that bet,” he beamed before lowering his stance and raising his weapon once more. “Now I can die happy.”