A short story: Bloody Duel

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    • A short story: Bloody Duel

      Here's a quick short story inspired by a little battle scenario between my nephew and his wife while visiting over Thanksgiving!

      Enjoy!

      Scottie ^^



      The Bloody Duel


      As the battle ends, my thoughts are of my master...

      The suns have seen the results of my anger, and the crimson sands of the Spiral Arena are all the more saturated with vibrant color than they were when I had first stepped upon them to defend the petulant insult hurled by my own lord Atuvahn. I look down upon my enemy, soaked in blood; more and more spilling out upon her gray muzzle and bared fangs, covering her breasts, splattering her eyes as they glare widely into my own. I see her in the final moments, the bright yellow of her wolf's eyes reflecting my own serpentine face as I watch her beneath me, panting on her back in the hot arena sand. She and I are no different, really; both Honor Guards in service to our lords...though "honor" may be a term that no longer applies to me.

      My uncontrollable rage has seen to that.

      "Never on the sands" my master always said, "never let your anger guide you on the sands of the blessed Spiral Arena... The Devah always know, and the price is always honor lost..."

      This day, those gathering in our city's Spiral Arena will see many battles, great and small. And disputes of honor such as ours are common. The shining grey coat of the she-wolf representing my noble lord's enemy glistened in the mid-day light of the two suns as she stepped out of the shadows of the armory's arches and took her place on the opposite side of our assigned arena circle. Her pet kelléndu chittered at her side, its mantis-like head snapping back and forth between me and its owner as I slid into place to greet her. She is here because my Aryah publicly insulted her Aryah, and honor must be defended at all costs, including the living sacrifice of warrior-caste vassals such as ourselves.

      The battle, as always, had begun so well for me. Being a viper, I am fast. And my lashing tail is usually quick to pry the legs of my enemies from beneath them, to send them crashing to the earth. All too soon she will be at my mercy, and my crystal blades will taste her life.

      At the sound of the gong we both surged forward toward the center of our circle's spiral pattern, the finesse of Duel Dancing all but forgotten in our eagerness to hear the cheering of our respective Houses, whose members no doubt watch from the seats above. The insult hurled by my lord was a vile one, driven by as much pent-up rivalry as the cries I now hear from the members of my enemy's House. Both our families want blood to soothe their bruised pride, and we, the wolf and I, are but the tools used to see it flow.

      I quickly drew my amethyst saber as I closed the distance between us with ease, my feet and tail instantly marring the delicate crimson symbols laid out by the priests just before the battle began. Her eyes widened in shock as she witnessed my true speed for the first time; always gratifying to me, the sudden trepidation I can see in my foes on such occasions. She was not ready, and her padded hands fumbled at her silken fighting net as she attempted to prepare her defense. I saw the suns' light glint across the surfaces of the many finely-crafted Amber hooks fastened to that net, the sign of a true huntress: it would have to go.

      With blinding quickness I administered four swift cuts, her net barely catching my sword for the first three, and failing entirely to deflect the fourth. Unprepared for my sudden flurry of attacks, she let go of one side of the net with her left hand to attempt to fend off that final blow, while barely keeping hold with her right: a foolish mistake. My feint to her left a success, my crystal saber swept down across her right wrist with the flat of the blade, bashing her hooked net from her grasp to lay useless upon the sands nearby.

      Disarmed and in pain, the she-wolf stepped back as I pressed my advantage once again, whipping my thick tail forward in an attempt to sweep her from her feet. Perhaps it was the choppy sands of the Arena that impeded the maneuver, perhaps I underestimated her strength, or mistook her momentary retreat for weakness. She did not fall: her legs remained firmly rooted to the ground as my tail lashed across her ankles, and if her flesh was even bruised from my attempt, no sign could be seen beneath her thick coat of fur.

      Again I circled her, now unsure if my speed would be enough. Her eyes darted along with the movements of my ever-changing stances; hoping to anticipate, hoping to defend. She had not chosen to waste time by drawing another weapon...wise girl. But her living, insectoid punch-dagger was already in place. I could see it clinging to her left forearm, its long, spiny tail rigidly projecting from the front of her fist. Would she dare use its terrible poison sting? Behind her, her trained kelléndu paced nervously awaiting its master's commands to attack.

      Such distracting thoughts were beneath me. Now my blood had begun to boil, and my blade had a yearning thirst for victory. I once again leaped forward, impatient to hear her cries. I struck low at her legs and torso several times, and though my ineffective cuts seemed to partially penetrate her swift defenses, the sharp edge of my crystal saber never dug past chitin armor, never found its way beneath shaggy fur. With a growing sense of desperation - desperate to see blood, desperate to witness her loss - I spun the pommel of my blade around to strike the back of her head, to knock the consciousness from her... And met only air.

      Still she ignored her deadly pet behind her, and seemed to have forgotten the poisonous living weapon perched on her arm. Still her movements remained only defensive. Was she toying with me?

      Frustration and shame took their toll, and my swift temper became my new master.

      I had poison of my own, far deadlier than her pet's, far more primal and satisfying to use... With the honor of my blade forgotten, with the sight of my lord and the other members of my House utterly lost in the white haze of rage that consumed me, my terrible fangs unhinged from my jaw, and my scaled maw deformed horribly as it opened wide in the expectation of meeting her warm flesh. I was all instinct now...all animal, as I threw away every martial teaching my master had gifted me with, all the delicate arts of civilized combat and cultured honor, to embrace the primitive dance of predator and prey.

      I roughly bore her down with me to the warm sands. My arm was already around her from my failed attempt to knock her out, and I held her close in a lover's embrace as I sank my fangs deeply into the scruff of her neck...

      Nothing...

      Her damned fur once again...the mane of her scruff protected her from my fury, my fangs held at bay a hair's width from her delicate skin, and in that brief moment of animalistic confusion she finally reacted to my attacks.

      Her own instincts now guided her movements, her heightened awareness revealed the mistakes I made in the midst of my foolhardy anger, and finally gave her the advantage she had been hoping for. As I recoiled from my failed bite I could see the look in her yellow eyes. In my rage I had opened the gate for her by forsaking my weapon and seeking her death by my terrible venom.

      With her honor no longer at stake, her own wildness could be unleashed. She was, after all, a huntress. And by my actions I had proven to her that I should be treated like the very animals she commonly tracked through the jungles. I had become a wild suthra that simply needed to be put down. A mercy killing, really. My lord Atuvahn's honor had already been lost...by me.

      My once renowned speed meant nothing so close to her, and I could feel her claws as they tore through my scaled chest. I watched her beautiful eyes close as her muzzle flashed upward to my neck. The flesh of my throat torn away in a great gory mass, clamped firmly between her savage incisors, as my life began to pour out upon her.

      The wildness has left her eyes, revealing a hint of mercy and warmth that I would never know, and my arms suddenly no longer support me. I fall to her breast, stained brightly with my own blood, as she welcomes me in a final embrace...and I hear her strong heart beating as the sound of my own flutters and fades.

      She does not judge me for what I have done...what I failed to do...

      But the Devah shall...this is Their arena...

      And my lord Aryah shall, who sits in a seat above, surrounded by his faithful retainers, guarded once again by the jánah who taught me all the lessons I know, and those that I failed to learn.

      The crowd cheers as the battle ends, and my last thoughts are of my master...