He reached forward and grabbed the razor sharp blade with his bare hand.
“A sharp blade is dangerous when it can draw, or when it can chop. When it cannot move to do either of those things, it is no longer a danger.”
“Do that for real, and you gonna get cut,” said the same annoying student.
Mikey didn’t know his name, as he was quite new. They got a lot of newbies coming and going.
“Let go,” he said to Rick.
He carried the blade over to the student, still holding it by its sharp edge.
“Hold it.”
The student was suspicious, but Mikey held the hilt before him until at last he obliged.
“Pull it. Try and get it away from me,” said Mikey.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. You think you can get this away from me, so do it.”
“Go on,” another student called out.
He took hold of it and looked at Mikey with suspicion one last time, as if expecting he was being led into a trap. Finally, he began to apply pressure. He pulled it back and forth and wiggled it violently, but he could not wrestle it from Mikey’s hands. After a few tries, Mikey rushed forward to close the distance, presenting the pommel of his saber against the student’s bare head. He stopped just short before he delivered a wicked blow. The man look terrified, yet in awe as well. He let go of the sword as Mikey backed away and passed the saber back to Rick.
“You see.” He held up his hand for all to see. There was a red line along his palm where he had held firm. The blade had left an impression on his skin, but it had not penetrated, “You know how sharp that blade is because we use it for cutting all the time. When a sharp blade is not in motion, you can take hold of it, so long as you get a firm grasp. A single edged blade like that saber, even better, as you only have one edge to contend with, and the back edge to give more purchase.”
The students looked dumfounded, as if their entire view of swords and swordsmanship has been shattered. Aside from those who had been there long enough to know better. The veterans like Rick, even though he was one of the youngest among them. It was clear they were waiting for more, to understand it all better.
“You all thought swords were like light sabers, didn’t you? That you wave a blade near someone, and their arm gets chopped off?”
None of them said it, but clearly many were thinking it.
“A sharp blade is not a magic item. It is a tool. If it’s used as intended, it can do wicked damage, but used incorrectly, or without the right intent, it’s no more dangerous than a stick. You must learn to use a sword in a way that would inflict severe damage, and learn to recognize when your opponent’s blade poses no threat to you. No matter how good you are, there will come times when your opponent manages to safely close to grappling distance. No matter how good you are at striking and grappling, you have to know how to deal with their sword at that distance, and to threaten with your own.”
“How do we?” The student who’d questioned his authority just moments before looked humbled now, and ready and hungry to learn more.
“First things first, if you are going to use the point up close, you don’t hesitate. Don’t give the opponent time to take control of the fight. If you want to use the point there, you ram it home. Aside from that, you can cut at any range so long as your blade is free to move, and never forget that you can strike with any part of the weapon. But context is everything. A pommel against the head will do wonders, but if they can smother you in any way, it’s not gonna do much to most other target zones,” he said as he closed in and grabbed the student in a grapple like scenario.
“If you get to this distance, you’d better fight like hell. It’s not like a ranged fight at wide measure where you can work your angles and tactics. Control their weapon, and strike them in a way that’ll get them out of action. Mostly, thrust to the body, and strike at the head in any way you can.”
He went through the motions against his now willing and compliant opponent. He finally let go of the man, who was smiling, and had certainly come around to Mikey’s teachings.
“You really used these for real?” He held up his training saber.
“Something pretty similar, yeah. I really hope you never have to, but if you do, let’s make sure you’re as ready as you can be, huh?”
“That’s crazy shit. I thought this was just some funny shit people did for fun.”
“People go to gun ranges for fun, yet they’re very much called to use those weapons and skills in real life on a daily basis.”
“Yeah, but that’s a gun, how are we ever gonna get in a sword fight? Who the hell carries swords these days?”
“More than you might think,” added Rick.
“Seriously, in this city? Who?”
“Us!”
A voice roared from behind the group, who separated so that Mikey could see who had spoken. Zhang was at the entrance to the hall with two of his gang, but others began to flood through until there were more than a dozen, all armed with katana and dao, the Chinese saber.
“Where is Miller?” Zhang demanded.
“He’s out of town!” Mikey yelled.
“Out of town, or gone for good?”
“He’ll be back!” Rick snapped.
“I told him to leave town or face the consequences! I also told him this joint is mine, and I’ve come to claim it!”
“Well, you’re shit out of luck, because this is ours, and it always will be.”
“Are you willing to die for it?”
“Are you?” Mikey shouted back at him.
“Zhang snarled as he paced back and forth. He was angry he wasn’t getting his way, but then began to smile, looking forward to what was coming next.
“All of you, this is not your fight. You can go home, or you can join real men. You can join us!”
None of them looked impressed, but Mikey knew he had to take control of the situation.
“There’s no need for violence here. We aren’t going anywhere, and you can’t make us.”
“Dead men are no obstacle at all,” grinned Zhang.
“He means to do this this. He’s come to fight,” whispered Rick, “What do we do?”
“I didn’t fight through Hades to let this punk take what is ours.”
“I’m with you, but they aren’t in this like we are,” he said, gesturing toward the group they’d been teaching.
Zhang was still smiling like a psychopath as he waited for Mikey to make his decision.
“This isn’t your fight. You came here as a sanctuary to learn. Anyone who isn’t a scholar, get out of here. Anyone who is, you’d better make up your mind what you want to do. You don’t owe us anything here. You do what you have to do, no shame in it. This is going to get real ugly.”
“Just call the cops on these assholes.”
“It won’t do any good. They’ll be right back.”
“Miller would know what to do,” said another.
“But he’s not here. We are. I won’t let this club fall to these assholes, not after all we have been through. If you’re up for this, then stay. If not, get your ass out of here, right now.”
Most of the group split until there were just Mikey, Rick, two of the scholars who’d fought against Hades, and the new guy who had given him so much lip throughout the class.
“What are you doing?” Mikey asked the young student.
“I want to call this place home. How can I if it’s gone tomorrow?”
“You don’t owe us this. You don’t owe us anything.”
“No, but that asshole got my brother killed.”
“What?” Rick asked.
“You heard me, a couple of years back, got him involved in all kinds of shit.”
“And that’s why you came here?”
“Little bit, Mikey. I heard you got beef with Zhang. I couldn’t touch him by myself, but I can help you fight him.”
“This isn’t about some personal vendetta.”
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“We need him,” Rick insisted as he looked at how few they had.
It was a sad reality that they’d lost so many regulars recently. Some like Aaron and Ava were far away, others were recovering from injuries in their epic battle to defeat Hades. A few had not come back since those violent days. They were weak, and they knew it. Mikey didn’t like the idea, but they didn’t have much of a choice.
“You know how to fight?”
“Yeah, my brother taught me for five years.”
“What can you use?”
“That’ll do.” He gestured toward the sharp saber Mikey had used for the demonstration.
“What’s your name?”
“Johnny.”
“All right, gear up, we’re in for a hell of a fight.” He walked toward the wall of weapons, keeping his eye on Zhang all the way.
“It’s pretty sad you know, trying to bully people into giving up what they have. Is that the Bushido way now?”
“You know nothing about Bushido!” Zhang snapped.
“Neither do you apparently,” replied Rick to wind him up further.
“There is honor in this fight, and we will take back what is rightfully ours!”
“You’re no modern samurai. You’re an asshole gangster living a lie. A piece of street trash who thinks he’s a king!” Mikey roared as he got his hand on a mighty sword.
He drew it from the wall. It was almost as long as he was tall. A broad guard encompassed large protective rings, and spikes protruded from the blade a foot up from the crossguard. It was a mighty two-handed sort, the type often called a zweihander or montante. The type a soldier would use to engage multiple opponents, and that’s just why he chose it. He needed to punch way above his weight here, or they had no chance at all.
The others could see they needed to do something similar. They equipped themselves with sabers and other one-handed swords, paired with steel round shields, except for Johnny. He drew a robust dagger to use in his left hand. This wasn’t going to be a fair fight, and they needed to even the odds. They spaced out across the training hall so as to present a single front, and avoid being encircled. Mikey took the center, with plenty of room either side of him.
“I don’t want this fight, but I won’t back away from it. This is our home, and you won’t take it from us. Walk away, and no blood needs to be spilled here!”
“You walk away, and no blood will be spilled. This is not your fight. This is not your place. Leave with your lives, while you still can.”
“These guys really gonna go all the way?” Rick asked.
He’d seen them fight beside Hades, but this was different. They had no powerful masters to hide behind.
“They’ll do it, trust me. They don’t care who has to die, not even their own. All they care about is their cred,” replied Johnny.
Mikey grimaced and sighed. The new student was right.
“Last chance…” Zhang hesitated, realizing he didn’t know their names.
“Mikey! My name is Mikey, and Miller left me in charge here, so as far as anyone is concerned, I’m him while he’s away. This is our home, and if you want it, you’re gonna have to be prepared to die for it.”
“Then die you will,” said Zhang as if he was glad they were standing their ground. He wanted a fight.
He gestured for his henchmen to go forward rather than risk his own life just yet. Mikey had the tip of his massive montante resting on the floor beside his foot. He kicked the blade, and it quickly did a one hundred and eighty-degree spin until he locked his hands about the grip, but he didn’t keep it there. He swung the massive blade in huge arcs either side of him. It was a mighty blade, but it only weighed about six pounds, and with the long grip giving him a lot of leverage, it was moving at incredible speed.
The first two of Zhang’s goons came at him fanatically with no respect at all. His montante blade struck the katana of the first and smashed it aside. The blade cut into the man’s shoulder, and the power of the blow caused him to fall flat on his face. But the blade passed through its target, and Mikey kept it in motion, spinning around and using the momentum of the blade to keep it moving quickly. The blade contacted with the dao of his next attacker, and the sword flew out of his hands. Once again the blade carried around for another strike, such a blow that would decapitate his opponent. Yet they didn’t stop coming forward and closed the distance to get inside his brutal swing. They came in to strike and grapple with their bare hands.
Mikey got the montante around in time to at least use it as a barrier to his opponent, as he placed one hand over the rings of the crossguard to try and control it, and drew a dagger from his belt. Mikey shifted one hand from the grip onto the leather-covered ricasso of the blade, the blunt section in front of the crossguard, but before the hook like spikes protruding from the blade. With the extra leverage he now had, he wielded the huge sword like a pole arm, wrenching it back with his right, and with the front pushed the blade forward. The sword was ripped from his attacker’s grasp, and the blade sliced across his face as he came tumbling forward. He drove a knee into his face and that brought him upright once again. Finally, he smashed the pommel into his face. The man’s nose burst with blood as he staggered back and collapsed, barely even conscious.
There was a look of concern on Zhang’s face, and Mikey’s success only served to spur on those beside him.
“Come on!” Rick yelled.
Six more of Zhang’s thugs ran forward. One was swept aside by a cut of Mikey’s montante and crashed into another, while a third engaged Rick. His blade crashed down onto his steel shield, causing a significant dent, but not penetrating. From under the parry he slashed quickly across the lead leg, and as he dropped with the pain, he thrust the rim of his shield into his face. It was a brutal blow that sent him crashing to the ground. Johnny parried off a cut from a katana with his saber, followed by a furious barrage. Each time he parried until finally driving his dagger into the man’s lead arm. He cried out as he dropped his sword and staggered back.
The other two students were holding their own as dao blades crashed over their shields, but they held firm and struck back as they held their ground. Another came at Mickey with his second hand against the back of the katana blade, bracing it to take the weight of his blow, and closed in. They were locked for a moment. Zhang saw his opportunity and rushed forward, drawing a wakizashi, a short Japanese sword. He launched at Mikey, as if not at all concerned for his man who was between them. The short blade narrowly passed by his own goon and embedded in Mikey’s left shoulder. He cried out in pain as he stumbled backward, but kept his grip on his sword, knowing he would be cut down if he didn’t maintain his defense. He could feel the strength of his left arm fading quickly. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.
Instead, he launched his head quickly forward, striking his opponent with a vicious headbutt. He followed it with a kick that drove him back further and launched a far-reaching thrust with just his right hand on the pommel of the montante. It cast it forward, plunging the blade into the man’s stomach. He only got an inch of penetration as the man had been falling back, but it was enough to open a vicious wound. He cradled the wound and rushed back for the protection of his villainous associates.
Mikey pulled back the montante to recover it, but the blade scraped along the floor. His left arm was too weak to lift it. Rick rushed to his side and helped prop him up in the brief respite they had gained, despite being almost child size in comparison. Mikey leaned on him as he dropped the montante and kicked it away to the side of the room. Rick looked at the short sword embedded in his shoulder with horror.
“You okay?”
“Not really.”
He let go of Rick and went to the wall to pickup a dussack, a short, but broad curved blade on a substantial basket, providing excellent protection. A thumb ring provided a lot of leverage for a one-handed sword. It was the perfect brawling weapon for a melee. He took up position in the center once again, his left arm trailing
by his side, and blood flowing down his shirt. The fighting had stopped for a moment as Zhang’s thugs had drawn back to regroup. Johnny had a bad cut across his face, and the other two were bloodied from arm and leg cuts, too, but everyone was still standing, which is more than could be said for their opponents. There was blood smeared across the floor, and the smell of salt and sweat in the air. Rick was the only one not bleeding, and he was smiling, as if they’d won the battle.
Suddenly, the door of the salle was flung open, smashing into the wall as it almost came off its hinges. Another dozen of Zhang’s goons poured in. Just as Mikey seemed to think they were getting the upper hand, Zhang’s losses were replaced with fresh fighters, and all hope seemed lost.
Zhang, feeling invigorated by his fresh fighters and the loss of Mikey’s montante, went forward to lead his fighters from the front. Mikey gasped for air. He was tired and weakening quickly, and summoned up all the energy he could as Zhang came forward with a katana in each hand. He cut one after another with a furious torrent. Mikey staggered back from the weight of the blows, but still managed to parry each of them with his blade, or the strong basket of the sword hilt.
Zhang was frustrated he was not getting through, and finally cut with both blades simultaneously. One came high toward Mikey’s head that he parried strongly. The other blade went for his leg. He slipped the leg back, but he was too tired and too slow. He got it mostly out of the way, but the blade still drew almost an inch into his thigh. His leg gave out, and he dropped to one knee.
“This is over. You are over,” spat Zhang.
He cut down toward Mikey’s head, who managed to bring up his dussack once more to parry. Yet Zhang pushed it down with the blade now bound against his, using the other to do the job the first had intended. The blade was coming for Mikey’s neck, and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t even have enough strength in his left arm to bring it up for defense. He was finished. But as the blade descended with murderous intent, there was a resounding clash of steel, and sparks flew like they would from only one kind of blade.
Fallen Gods II Page 12
