The Dreamer Part Twelve

Adialon crested the hill first. As he took in the battle taking place below, his anger began to swell.
‘Wait,’ the Boy said sharply.
Adialon looked over at him.
‘Why do you halt on the verge of destruction, Boy?’ he said angrily. ‘I fight now! They shall not prevail against me; I shall sweep them aside as though they were autumn leaves before the north wind!’
‘This war is ours to fight, Adialon,’ said the Boy bluntly. ‘We are born to fight together. Take your sword, warrior!’
Adialon gasped in astonishment.
There in the Boy’s hand was his magnificent weapon, blazing brilliant gold as it had before, in the instant he had lost it so long ago.
Adialon reached out to take it. Silently, the Boy placed it in his waiting hand.
And thus it begins anew!
Adialon tore down the hillside, the sharp rocks and treacherous frozen ice powerless to slow him or make him fall. Within his breast, the war cry was kindled once again, and began to build as he rushed toward his enemies.
The Boy’s pure green eyes followed him, knowing all that burned in Adialon’s heart, knowing the power that emanated from Adialon’s keen, battle-trained mind; knowing that nothing would or could stop him now.
Adialon would fight a new battle, armed with his ancient, powerful weapon, against an enemy that had defeated him time and time again. But the heart that had fought and lost those battles of old was now new. It was more powerful than it had ever been before, and it would never surrender.
And so it would never fail.
The Boy’s pure green eyes gazed upon the war below. He knew the part he was to play in this dance of death and glory. He had spoken the truth, he and Adialon were born to fight together. But whereas Adialon would be numb to the pain of his many wounds, he, the Boy, would be given wounds innumerable. And he would feel every one.