by Jeff Gunzel
Again she was reminded of the weakness in Ozryn’s teachings. Over the years he had developed a one-size-fits-all mentality when it came to training combatants. It never occurred to him that some fighters might need customized styles to perform at their best. Or perhaps...he just didn’t care. It the end they were all dead men walking anyway.
“That’s enough,” Ozryn called out, bringing their session to a halt. He motioned everyone towards the center of the pit. They gathered round, a few leaning on their weapons for support. It had been a hard session so far today. Saying nothing at first, Ozryn’s glare lingered for an uncomfortable while. Was he angry with them? He was always sort of angry.
“You have all done well today,” came a rare compliment from the gruff veteran. “Your progress has been impressive so far, but it’s going to take more than grit and skill with a blade to survive the horrors of the pit. You have taken my instruction and grown each day, but there is only so much I can do. I can make you stronger, faster, and improve your abilities. But when that gate closes behind you, I will not be at your side. You will be alone. And it is only then that you discover what you’re truly made of.
“I’ve seen men who thought themselves to be gods soil themselves like babies in the face of danger. I’ve also seen cowards rise up to the challenge, refusing to crumble once it sank in that their lives were on the line. But in the end, they all had one thing in common: They were only as strong as the man or woman standing next to them.
“I cannot do it for you, therefore one of you must step up and lead this group.” Confused, they glanced at one another.
“When the terror grips you and there is nowhere left to run, there must be a single voice that unites you when all appears hopeless. Otherwise, you shall all perish as individuals, each in his own private hell. I cannot, nor will I, be that voice.” He turned, his eyes falling on the warrior. “Umoro, step forward.”
The others groaned softly to themselves, but their combined effort was quite audible. The warrior grinned, flipping his hair as he stepped up. Hands on his hips, he turned to face the others. His eyes gleamed with a look of triumph. “You’ve chosen wisely,” he said, head bobbing as if agreeing with himself.
“I’ve chosen nothing,” Ozryn growled. The grin dropped from the warrior’s face. Ozryn pointed. “You, step forward.” All eyes turned to Viola, shocked expressions all around. Her jaw dropped.
“Respect is not something that is given. It must be earned. We will have one more match this evening. The winner shall represent that voice I spoke of. In order to be a leader, your people must be willing to follow you through fire! Now is the chance to prove yourselves.” He eyed both Umoro and Viola. “Earn it! I will not choose for you. Show me who wants it more.” He stepped away.
“Viola, you can do this,” Salina whispered in her ear. “I know you can beat him.”
“I will not follow him,” said Kalmton, not showing the same discretion as Salina. His words were clear for all to hear, including Umoro. “But I will follow you.” Shaken by everything happening so fast, Viola looked to him questioningly.
“I will,” he repeated, nodding for emphasis. Nald stepped forward, placing his hand on Kalmton’s shoulder. He said nothing but didn’t need to.
“Traitorous dogs!” Umoro roared. “How dare you side with this...thing...instead of standing by one of your own? Look at her. Just look at her! That skin, those bloody dead eyes. She’s more monster than human! We don’t even know what color she bleeds.” He twirled his sword once before hammering the tip into the sand. He spit on his palms, then rubbed them together. “But I guess we shall see when I paint the sand with her blood.”
“He is unstable,” Salina said. “He is driven only by anger and violence. If we are to answer to him, death is the only possible outcome. You are the only one who can stop that now.”
Viola didn’t want to fight Umoro, and she certainly didn’t want to lead them either. But seeing the looks in their eyes, she knew she had no choice. Her wooden practice sword felt heavy in her hand. It might as well have been made of iron. Head down, she dragged it across the sand, each labored step a monumental chore. She felt tired, weak...frightened. She could see his face again, the man she’d killed being dragged away. Those wide-open eyes, accusing, judging.
I won’t let it come to that, she thought.
“The rules are simple enough,” said Ozryn, standing beside the other three. It was strange seeing him as a spectator with no vested interest in the outcome of this contest. Relaxed, mostly disinterested, it was clear he would not intervene in any way. “The fight is over when one combatant has been incapacitated or is unable to continue. It may also end by verbal submission. I don’t imagine I need to remind either of you what’s at stake. Begin!”
The combatants just stood there a moment, glaring at one another. Viola lifted her weapon, sand trickling from its tip. So heavy. So very, very heavy.
“I don’t intend to drag this out any longer than necessary,” Umoro said, rocking back on his heels with his blade held high. “The sooner you’re lying face down in the sand, the sooner these peasants will know which direction they should be kneeling.” He lunged, the distance between them closing in a heartbeat. It was hard to believe that a man that size could move so fast.
Viola threw up her blade, a reflective flinch intercepting his weapon at the last second. Her sword exploded from the impact. Splintered shards sprayed the air in a bloom of chips and cream-colored dust. Her palms blazed with heat as if they had been dipped in lava. She had little doubt she would have lost part of her skull had that thunderous blow landed. Even as it was, she was already in trouble.
Roaring in frustration at the missed opportunity, he backhanded a return swing carrying similar velocity. A rush of air whooshed over the top of her head, the sword edge kissing the ends of her hair as she dropped flat to the ground. Panic filled her to the brim. This was not just going to end with a severe beating, he was trying to kill her! Taking her life would be the ultimate retaliation for challenging his position if front of these humans.
She rolled to her back, only to see Umoro straddled over her with his blade high above his head. She rolled again, the tip of his sword sinking into the sand where her face had just been. “Viola!” Salina shouted, tossing her sword. Viola failed to snatch it with one hand as it bounced off her fingertips, but she did manage to knock it down.
As she scrambled towards it on all fours, her instincts screamed a warning of incoming danger. Blindly rolling again, she mostly avoided Umoro’s blade as it snapped down and grazed her ear. On her back looking up, she rolled left as it slammed down again near her other ear. With his massive legs pinned up against each shoulder, she could not roll again. She was trapped. Eyes gleaming with an uncontrollable blood rage, he raised his blade to deliver the killing blow.
Paralyzed with fear, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Time seemed to stop altogether. Faces flashed through her mind—Liam’s, Xavier’s, Thatra’s. She saw herself laughing, crying; nearly every experience she had ever had seemed to blur before her eyes. She didn’t want to die.
A large body sailed over her head, crashing into the warrior’s midsection. A surreal experience that had been creeping in slow motion suddenly revved up to full speed. Her head spun. Everything was happening so fast. “Kalmton, no!” she screamed, scrambling back to her feet.
Completely caught off guard, the warrior stumbled back several feet under the weight of the heavy man. But even that solid impact hadn’t brought him down. With Kalmton’s arms wrapped around his waist, head flush against his side, Umoro brought down the pommel of his sword, smashing the man in the back of the head. Kalmton’s grip loosened, his own weapon slipping from his grasp. The warrior smashed him a second time, dropping him to one knee. Still, he clung to Umoro’s upper leg, determined to buy Viola as much time as he could.
“How dare you choose that thing over your own flesh and blood? Traitor,” Umoro growled, bending the man’s head b
ack by his hair. “You chose wrong!”
“No!” Viola screamed.
The warrior brought down his blade one last time, it shaft fraying with a crackling sound as it broke over the top of Kalmton’s head. The big man toppled over, a line of liquid red trickling across the sand as his head leaked profusely. Without so much as a last twitch, his body lay perfectly still. With his blade held together by only a few clinging fibrous strands, Umoro tossed it aside and picked up the good weapon. Kalmton appeared to be finished, but Umoro moved in for a final blow just to be sure.
“Don’t you dare touch him again!” Viola shrieked, her eerie hissing voice echoing around the pit. Deafening, yet little more than a hissing whisper, the unnatural sound came from everywhere at once. “Your fight is not with him, it is with me!”
All her fear and anxieties vaporized like smoke. This human had just given her a second chance by paying with his own life. It was all so clear to her now. This wasn’t about her. It never was. How could she be so selfish, so greedy? She had read tales of soldiers in service, falling on their swords in the name of their kings, their leaders, those who had gained their unwavering trust. Leaders didn’t just command, they inspired. Kalmton had given up everything so she could be awakened.
And awakened she was...
Kicking Kalmton’s lifeless body aside, Umoro turned his attention on Viola. “For once we agree,” he said, twirling his new blade. “My fight is with you. You’ve been a distraction for far too long now. These fools seem to forget where their loyalties lay.”
“You are the fool,” Viola hissed. “What do you know of loyalty? I come from a world of complete isolation, yet I still know more about people than you do! The way you see the world is laughable even to me. No mother has ever forced a child’s love, but it happens naturally with no effort at all. No friendship has ever been bought, yet you are so naive as to think you can bully folks into being loyal to you? Your narcissism blinds you. You have more in common with a jungle animal than any human I’ve ever met!”
“Shut up!” he roared. “I’ll kill you where you stand!”
“Perhaps,” she admitted coolly. “But it will change nothing. No one respects you. No one will follow you. To them...you are already dead.”
She was perfectly aware of the crippling handicap strung around her neck. Her speed and ability to transform had all been restricted. Even if she could access her innate abilities, she still couldn’t match his strength. But the collar didn’t control her mind, her rage. With her fury focused like a sunbeam, all she could see was the man who had just killed her friend. A friend that died trying to protect her. Umoro would pay for that.
He rushed her like a charging bull, murder in his eyes. She sidestepped as his thrust sailed past her cheek. She was furious, more enraged than ever before. But she was still in control. She had to be against this dangerous opponent. He whirled back, his sword speeding towards her head. She leaned back, feeling the rush of air zip past her neck. Every swing was a killing blow, a fully committed attack with all his strength behind it—powerful, deadly, but clumsy and void of all technique.
He went into a flurry, an all-out assault of chaotic, hacking swings. Viola picked them off one at a time, her weapon intercepting each strike with perfect precision. Focus, she thought. Keeping the beast at bay was her only objective here. If one of those heavy shots landed, her eyes would never open again. Patience. Weather the storm. Ozryn had been watching the whole time and not once did he attempt to interfere. It was clear his plan was to let the prisoners decide their own fate. He looked on with disinterest, his blank expression unreadable.
Viola stepped left, right, her movements quick and concise while blocking and dodging his wild swings. Even with both hands gripping her pommel, the heavy blows were starting to add up. Each successful block carried with it the price of absorbing such power. But even with fatigue setting in, her hands and arms tingling from contact, she kept her breathing steady while focusing on the center of his chest. Driven by rage, his form had gone to pieces. She could see each obvious blow coming from a mile away with plenty of time to react. His strength was still a problem, but even that was losing steam with each swing.
To the others, the blazing-fast dance looked chaotic and savage, weapons slamming together at impossible speeds while Viola zipped from side to side. Umoro raged on, firing off from multiple angles as he roared. A man that size had no business moving like that. In completely opposite fashion, Viola slipped each strike with flowing, subtle movements, blocking only when needed. One step back, one step left, then a duck followed by six consecutive blocks. The dance was surreal. It was as if she knew where the strikes were going before he did. Patience, she reminded herself. He’s slowing. Even the proud lion can’t resist the temptation of a wounded animal.
With his breath coming in rasping gasps, Umoro swung his sword down as if chopping wood. She blocked, the impact rattling down her arms and shaking her very core. Wind milling around, he looped his blade down again. Crack... She blocked again, appearing to get her weapon back up just in time. Again he hammered down, saliva hanging from his wide-open mouth as he gasped for precious air. Crack... Viola dropped to one knee, both hands clutching her weapon by both the pommel and blade. He saw her weakened, helpless and beaten. She was fading fast. He was going to overpower her.
He saw...a wounded animal.
“I’ll crush your skull!” he roared, bloodshot eyes crazed with power. Looping his sword one last time, he brought it down with everything he had. Down on one knee, Viola rolled her wrists at the last possible second, deflecting the blow wide. Having overcommitted with all his weight behind the strike, he nearly stumbled down on top of her. For an instant, their faces were close. He looked into her calm eyes and saw a warrior who was anything but beaten. The feint had worked perfectly. Like a coiled spring, she launched herself from her bent knee. Driving with all her strength, the top of her head slammed the bottom of Umoro’s jaw like a hammer.
Severed by his own teeth, the tip of his tongue tumbled through the air in a mist of red. He stumbled back, spitting several broken teeth onto the sand. Not hesitating, Viola stepped in and drove the hilt of her blade into his gut. He wheezed as the last of his air rushed from his lungs. She dropped low, ducking a wild right hook while smashing her elbow into his knee. Umoro would have cried out had he any air to do so. Dropping his weapon, face contorted in agony, he toppled backward while holding his knee. Viola pounced like a cat, leaping onto his massive chest, her knees pinning down his shoulders.
She glanced up and saw Kalmton’s motionless body sprawled on the sand. The fire inside her reignited, its roaring heat threatening to consume her. Fear and loneliness she was quite familiar with, but raw hate was an alien sensation, one she knew little about. But this time it came easy. She had already killed one man, a man who didn’t deserve to die. Umoro was a different case altogether. It should have been you!
She raised her blade above his head. “Yield!” she shrieked, her hollow, ghostly voice echoing out across the pit. Without even waiting for an answer, she smashed the bottom of her hilt into his face. Instantly, his eye swelled shut. “Yield, or I’ll be the last thing you ever see!” She drove it down again, his teeth crunching beneath the weapon’s impact.
In truth, she didn’t want him to give up. That would be too easy. Nor did she care about winning. She wanted to kill him, to silence this barbarian forever so he could never hurt anyone ever again. The thought sickened her, but she couldn’t deny her true feelings either. Maybe I am the monster they say I am. But you’re worse. You don’t deserve to live!
Lost in her own rage, she smashed his face again and again. Her violence held no purpose now; it was just an outlet to vent all of her fears, all of her emotion. She had lost friends that were close to her. She had been tortured without really understanding why, and was being held prisoner because of her brother’s betrayal. She had been forced to commit murder! All her emotion, her sadness and rage, was being chan
neled into a single act of aggression. She hated Umoro, yet hated herself more. What had she become?
Sounds bubbled up through Umoro’s broken face in the form of wet gurgles slipping through a blood-filled mouth. After a sudden jolt, Viola toppled off the fallen warrior, her weapon skidding across the sand. Fists trembling, she looked up into Salina’s eyes as she lay on top of her. “Stop. It’s over,” Salina whispered, her face only an inch away from Viola’s. “He gave up. You won, Viola.”
Only half conscious, Umoro continued to mumble the same phrase. “I yield... I yield...” The slurred words bubbled from his sticky, blood-covered mouth. Healers came charging from the tunnel, each holding their vials of light-blue liquid. They needed to hurry. Their healing potions could do wonders for even the gravest injuries, but wouldn’t work on the dead. Two rushed to aid Umoro, while another one bent down near Kalmton.
Wide-eyed, Viola stared at Salina. She felt lost, confused, as if all her actions leading up to this moment had been done by someone else. It was like she was more a witness to the carnage than a participant of it herself. She looked at her hands stained with blood, her fingers sticky. With disbelief wearing off, the reality of her actions setting in, she threw her head back and wailed. Salina held her close as she sobbed. “You did it, Viola,” Salina said, rocking her from side to side, head pressed into her chest. “It had to be you. We could accept no other outcome. Viola, I am so proud of you. We are going to get through this, I promise you.”
Salina tipped Viola’s head back from her chest and wiped a tear with her thumb. Smiling, she dipped her head, gesturing to something over her shoulder. Viola followed Salina’s gaze to see Kalmton sitting up on his own, a healer adding drops of blue liquid to the rapidly closing head wound. Viola barked out a strangled laugh before her sobbing intensified again. But this time, they were tears of joy. Relief washed over her like ocean water.
