"Goodbye, old friend," said Artemis, without a hint of warmth in his words. The next moment, he was gone, the door to the lodge hanging ajar as a faint breeze blew.
Tarrow remained in his chair, one finger idly tracing the rim of his glass. He took a few dry breaths, drained his glass, and returned it to its place on the table, the remaining drops of wine pooling at the bottom. The lich stood, donned his cloak, and exited the building, closing the door quietly behind him.
His steps carried him down the hill, around the pond, and across town square, past the old goddess statue. As he passed the tavern, uncharacteristically empty for this time of night, he stopped abruptly. He stood, raising his chin ever-so-slightly.
"Two chance meetings in one night," said Tarrow, staring off in the distance. He was acutely aware, as he had been since the moment he left the lodge, that the wind had stopped. There was no sound, no movement. Nature itself held its breath. "I never thought I would be so lucky."
"I will give you one chance to redeem yourself," came a voice Tarrow had not heard in a long, long time. The lich turned around in one smooth motion to face Fru'al, standing in front of the statue's empty pedestal, his ancestral staff in hand, onyx raven amulet around his neck, and the robes of his priesthood draped over his elderly figure. His eyes, dark as a stormy night, stared straight at Tarrow, his gaze piercing with determination. "Despite your deeds, you deserve that much."
"Long time no see, Fru'al," replied Tarrow, an empty smile on his face. "We have much catching up to do. How is the afterlife treating you?"
Fru'al's jaw clenched. "Even you are not beyond redemption. You can end this, right now."
The lich let out a short, sharp laugh, casting aside his sarcasm. "Redemption? For what do you assume I need redemption? And by what authority do you offer such a service?"
The wizard shook his head. "I knew it would come to this. I prayed that you would see the err of your ways before this day, but it has come." He raised his staff to the dark sky, and a gust of wind whipped through the square, blowing clouds of dirt and dust in Tarrow's face. But the lich did not flinch, nor did he blink. He drew both of his swords, each shining like the summer's sun, and let a grin cross his face.
An arc of lightning pierced through the cloud of dust, easily deflected without even a thought by Tarrow's magical defenses. But the lich knew it was merely a distraction- he dove to one side as a massive fist of blue energy slammed into the ground from behind him, shaking the earth with its impact. The fist dissipated as Tarrow shot a bolt of darkness through it, and through the haze he felt his blast strike a magical barrier- Fru'al was protected as well, after all.
A barrage of magical arrows flew through the air at the lich, who deflected some with his magic and some with quick slashes from his shining blades. He knew that some day a minion of the Raven would take it upon himself to challenge him; the fact that is was Fru'al, if anything, gave Tarrow the upper hand. He knew his old ally's tactics, and he knew his strengths, his weaknesses. He clanged his swords together, creating a crackle of thunder which echoed in the dark sky above.
"What's the matter, Fru'al," shouted Tarrow through the wind, once again putting on an obvious facade. "You challenge a trusted ally to an honorable duel, and then you hide behind a smokescreen? That's not like you at all."
Tarrow's gaunt form rolled again to one side, another mighty fist of magic smashing where he once stood. Before he could stand, however, another immediately appeared behind him, grabbing and trying to crush him. He struggled to get free for a moment, but then he saw Fru'al, staff in hand, walk into view.
"You have the ability to end this, Tarrow," repeated the old man slowly, obviously concentrating as hard as he could to sustain the magic holding his opponent. Tarrow continued to struggle, knowing it was fruitless. "You have become a mockery of life, a pawn of the very evil we vowed to vanquish so many years ago. Do the right thing and rid the world of the taint you have become."
Tarrow let out as loud of a belly-laugh as the magic fist's grip would allow. "A pawn? You think me a pawn?" He bared his teeth in a wide sly smile, and vanished momentarily from existence, having never been in danger at all. The fist faded away, its possession no longer there. Thunder crackled overhead once again, and drops of rain began falling in the dusty square.
As suddenly as he disappeared, the lich rematerialized behind Fru'al, one glowing blade at his throat and the other jabbing into his back.
"I am no pawn," he spoke in barely more than a growl, his demeanor once again void of sarcasm. Fru'al stood still, one hand still gripping his staff tightly. "I create my own path, old man. If anyone is a pawn, it is the sorry excuse for a hero you call yourself. I hold in my hands mastery over life and death, and you tell me to give it up for some false notion of-"
Fru'al let out a grunt, and with a quick movement of his staff, the air around him exploded, knocking Tarrow backwards with a burst of flame. He kept his balance, his momentum leaving a long rut in the dirt before he came to a stop, and he looked up to see Fru'al, wrapped in an aura of fire, the look on his face one of pure fury.
"Only one being is worthy of holding power over life and death," began the wizard, "and that is my goddess, the Raven Queen. Hold your tongue, Tarrow, and speak not your blasphemy."
Tarrow felt drops of rain hit the dry skin of his face as he stood, feeling the heat from Fru'al's shield of flame. "You speak of gods and goddesses? If she ever existed, your 'beloved goddess' is no more. The gods themselves are nothing more than children's stories, old man. I am worshiped as more of a god than the Raven Whore ever was."
"ENOUGH," shouted Fru'al, his fingertips erupting with blast after blast of magical energy. Tarrow's own defenses absorbed them, and he charged forward, shining blades slicing through the air. Another massive fist smashed into the rain-spattered ground behind him, arcs of lightning danced across his shields, and magical arrows bounced off him. He slashed through the air at the old man, fire wrapping around his blade and crawling up his arms with each strike. Tarrow could feel his blades connecting, but whether he was striking the old man's flesh- or whether the old man's newly-living form could even be damaged- he honestly did not know.
Fru'al created another burst of energy, once again throwing Tarrow backwards. The moment he had his balance, however, the lich fired off a blast of dark energy at the wizard, only to see the old man's image flicker and disappear. Another appeared, at which Tarrow fired again. And another. And another. He shot blast after blast of eldritch power at the illusions, each one capable of stripping soul from flesh, diverting most of his attention at what he couldn't see- the rain, coming down in sheets now, betrayed the position of an invisible figure standing off at the edge of the square. Tarrow shot one more, concentrated blast at an illusion, only to divert it at the last moment at the invisible mage. The bolt of darkness struck the shapeless form, and Fru'al's body came into view as he fell to his knees. Blades in hand, Tarrow walked steadily towards the old man, the old fool, ready to end this confrontation and take his place as the god of life and death.
But as he neared the wizard, he heard the chanting, and he realized too late what was about to happen. As Fru'al uttered the last word of the incantation, he threw his hands up- and the spell, a powerful wave of intangible anti-magic, rippled through Tarrow, shattering the temporary protections surrounding him. Even through his withered skin, the lich could feel the cold rain against his body, the wind whipping against him, the vibration of the thunder crackling above. For the first instance in a long time, he was vulnerable.
He tried to dodge what he knew was coming, but Fru'al anticipated it. A giant fist of force smashed into him, crushing him into the muddy earth. He pulled himself to his feet the moment it dissipated, only to be hit by a dozen magical arrows that pierced through his physical form. His blades of light, still gripped tightly in his fingers, stabbed through the rain to kill his old companion, but the wizard's aura of fire rekindled just in time, sending burning lashes of fire up Tarrow's arms. He dropped the swords, smelling his own dry burning flesh, and was knocked to the ground once more by a bolt of lightning called down straight from the heavens. Pain wracked his body, greater than anything he had felt since his apotheosis, and for the first time since, he felt himself gasping for breath.
"I am truly sorry, Tarrow," came the mage's voice, weary and pained. "But we cannot let you continue to be what you have become."
Tarrow climbed to one knee, and looked up- Fru'al was no longer alone. Behind him stood the pale and colorless forms of dozens, if not hundreds of men and women- some whom Tarrow recognized. Friends, family, allies, rivals- everyone who had given their lives in the service of their king and country. They stood behind Fru'al, knights, lords, ladies, servants, masters, all armed and armored to fight for their cause.
Still feeling the pain shooting through his unliving body, the lich pulled himself to his feet once more.
"If it's a war you want, Fru'al," he said, taking a deep, dry breath, "then it's a war you'll get."
He clenched his fists, and the ground began to shake. From it sprang the hands of rotting corpses, piles of bones that assembled themselves into skeletons, and the ghostly forms of tortured wandered souls. They stood united behind their master, hungry for the eternal war that can only come from war between gods.
Fru'al and Tarrow let loose battle cries, and the two forces collided in the town square, swords and bones and claws and fists tearing and beating upon each other. The wizard's hands burned with magical fire, and the lich's touch drained the life from any they touched. Hurricane winds pushed and pulled the droves of the dead to and fro, and the ground shook with force enough to destroy mountains. Magical energy erupted from the two beings at the center of the conflict, exploding and burning and freezing any that came near.
The two wrestled in the mud, surrounded by battle, trading blow after magical blow. The skirmish around them raged on. The storms crackled and boomed, and lightning tore apart sections of countryside as the world itself cheered on the fight.
"Tarrow," grunted Fru'al, the two of them locked in a deadly grapple. "You…. you can end this. You… you must end this…"
"Yes," he responded, seeing one of his blades stuck in the ground within arm's reach. "I can. And I will."
He grabbed the grip of the shining sword in his blackened and burnt hand. Raising it up, he plunged it into Fru'al's chest, straight through his onyx raven amulet.
A shockwave rippled along the surface of the ground, and all went silent except for a light patter of rain. Tarrow, breathing heavily despite his body's lack of a need to do so, looked down at the muddy earth below him. His sword was stuck in the ground, and around him were thousands of footprints, but nobody but himself in the dark town square.
He stood up and retrieved his twin blades, and noticed the statue of the Raven Queen, once again standing on its pedestal. Tarrow stepped up to it, his eyes darting around for signs of a trap. Seeing none, he lifted a sword, and in a swift motion, sliced the statue in half diagonally. Her upper half slid to the ground and shattered.
After cleaning his blades, he sheathed them and walked away.