The Last Breath (far future...or is it?)

Atka exhaled deeply, focused on her brother. She knew it was frustrating him that the mantle she had found, borrowed from Sadachbia’s knowledge of magic protection, prevented him from using his magic on her. Mamnen wouldn’t be able to just freeze her in place now. He’d have to use cunning with his scrawny body. Atka thought she had been smart to lead him to a grassland essentially without people, buildings, or objects to throw. To subdue him would be easy.
 
“You’ve gotten sneaky, Atty,” he said. “That is a wonderful trick.” He was referring to her mantle. Atka shifted the ball of her right foot into the ground, steadied her breathing, and watched him through her greatsword’s blade positioned ahead of her across her body, ready. “But,” he continued, “You still constantly underestimate my ability.”
 
Nothing was provoking her at this moment. That was truly all he had on her…
 
“Well, say something!” he shouted abruptly.
 
“I want you to abandon this mission of yours. Trying to get me, end my contracts, kill my associates must stop.” Atka said without hesitation. Her form was loose, ready to strike or act; she didn’t want to get too frozen or rigid.
 
“It must run in our family.” He said, looking at the ground. Mamnen ran a hand through his hair, throwing his bangs over his horns as he ripped his head back up to look at her. “Seems we both have trouble abandoning our supposed ‘missions.’ You’ll have to end me.”
 
Atka looked at him sadly, because she knew he meant it. “So be it,” she whispered and shot off her back foot, charging full-force at her twin.
 
***
 
A nine year old Mamnen and Atka sat, leaning on each other in the moonlight. They had finished a long day of sword play, brawling, and general shenanigans. Sitting in silence was the name of the game now, one that Atka didn’t like or play well. She shifted uncomfortably, and looked up at her brother, trying to get him to say something, anything. He looked down at her briefly and then back out at the scene.
 
The moonlight showed the stream they sat overlooking, glistening and rushing with playful gurgles. The trees of the forest cast dancing shadows around them, and it was truly serene, beautiful. Atka was getting bored from it, though. She was not very into the reverence or meditation of nature. She was still nine. She thought, and thought, and thought.
 
Mamnen started to chuckle and shake his head. “You’re incorrigible, Atty. Why can’t you just sit still after a day of movement?”
 
She wrinkled her nose and shifted against him, beginning to pick at the imaginary dirt under her nails. “Whatever. I’m not incorrigible.” She pressed against him and stared out over the stream, imagining how her life could be more exciting. What if they saw little lights floating around? Fey? Wouldn’t that be neat? She knew not to give them her name, but she wondered what else she needed to know? Ultimately, her boredom and lust for adventure knew no bounds. Inhaling deeply, she held her breath and tried to count how long she could do it. Not long, because she exhaled loudly, and Mamnen nudged her.
 
“Why do you even try, little Atty?” he laughed. Atka leaned over, propping herself up away from him at being called “little.”
 
“Do you think I’ll be happy when I’m older?” she asked him.
 
“You’re not happy now?”
 
“Well, sure. But grown-ups are different. Mom and Dad aren’t always happy like we are.”
 
“You won’t have to worry about that, Atty. You’ll always have me. And we are going to make each other happy for a long, long time.” Mamnen hugged her close. “We just have to be careful. Follow my lead, and I’ll never steer you wrong.”
 
***
 
Atka cried out in surprise as Mamnen met her charge by whipping his hand up and a mound of dirt flew into her eyes. The sword dropped from her hands as she felt the dirt pierce her eyes. Quickly rubbing it out, she got her bearings and looked to see him wielding the greatsword now.
 
“Been awhile since I fought with something so grotesquely oversized, but let’s see how fast you can dodge and run.” Mamnen didn’t wait and swung a hard swing that would’ve landed on her head, but Atka pulled two handaxes from her sides to catch the blade with them. “You’re full of surprises, sister! Just how many weapons do you wield?”
 
She pushed him back adeptly, and twirled the axes in her hands. “All of them just take attention. I wield whatever I want to.” Mamnen grit his teeth and swung with both hands again, Atka dancing agilely to its right and coming down with axes toward his back. He dropped the sword and somersaulted forward, jumping back up to face her. She was met with a pointed greatsword to her face, it suspended in mid-air.
 
Suddenly, she watched the sword dismantle itself. Mamnen had willed it apart and rendered it useless. Atka gritted her teeth at him and twirled the axes again. “You’re a special kind of stupid, aren’t you?”
 
“I don’t want to hurt you, Atty. I want you to fall in line–”
 
“YOUR line. Not mine.” She sheathed her handaxes and smacked her chest. “When will you see that what I want is not what you want for me, and that it’s perfectly okay?”
 
“Because, Atka, it isn’t okay. It’s going to get you killed; it’s already gotten you enslaved, what more proof do you need?”
 
“I’m happy!”
 
 
“You aren’t. You just think you are, because that’s what you’ve been conditioned to feel.” Mamnen hissed and began to approach her. She jumped back a few steps and snapped,
 
“Conditioned? You’re a conditioning agent yourself. You want to mold me into something I’m not–just as much as you think Lord Dagult does!”
 
“Please don’t call him by his first name. It’s–”
 
“Dagult, Dagult, Dagult!” she erupted, eyes closed, and suddenly she was tackled onto the ground. This will be too easy, she thought, and whipped them both around on the ground, being the obviously stronger one. She pressed her forearm into his throat. “I’ve got you, you–”
 
“Atty,” he choked, “I know Ire’s real name…” Atka pressed harder and called him out as a liar. “No, I do…” He coughed. “Let me up and I’ll tell you–”
 
She had been distracted long enough not to notice his arm grip the mantle around her neck and rip it with every ounce of might he probably had left. It ripped off! He tossed it away and she was instantly frozen. He threw her off of him and she landed like a ragdoll beside him. He stood up, walked around her, cleared his throat and spit down on her.
 
“You’re pathetic. Predictable, one-track-minded, unwilling to do right by yourself. And here you’ll die.”
 
“Not very brotherly of you,” said a deep, raspy voice behind Mamnen. Before he could turn to react, a blade bore into his back and twisted without hesitation, mercy, or remorse.
 
Tears streamed down Atka’s face as she was able to push herself up and catch the fallen figure of her twin after the blade was firmly ripped back out. Blood gushed from the unclosable wound. She stroked his cheek and whispered to him,
 
“You’re pathetic. Thinking I would come alone…”
 
Mamnen was already gone, the life in him sucked out. Atka rolled the body off her blood soaked lap. “I’m sorry,” Nomad said. She shook her head and accepted a hand to help her up. Standing now, she replied,
 
“He was never going to stop. He and I have similar patterns, but he succumbed to his.”
 
“Let’s get you cleaned up–”
 
“Stay with me for a prayer?” she asked. Nomad smiled and nodded. Both of them knelt before the lifeless twin, each saying words to their respective patrons in silence.