The Book of Zar, Part 10

The roaring cheers of the crowd did little to assuage my anxieties of the upcoming hastilude. I had borne witness to Rak’s proficiencies in combat before, when I was merely spectating these contests rather than participating in them. In the bouts I saw with Rak, he routinely dominated his opponents, whittling down their defenses with dodges against strong attacks, and probing attacks of his own. Then, he would strike at an opponent’s weakest moment. He fought like a seasoned tourney champion, and in a contest such as this, that was a strategy I would have adopted.
As I stepped out into the arena, the brown sand and dirt sprinkled – painted in some parts – with dried blood, I looked up at saw the throngs of peoples that populated the audience seating. Alongside Sangheili, Jiralhanae, Unggoy, and Kig-Yar were in attendance. There were also small handfuls of Humans and Yonhet in attendance, to my mild surprise. I looked to the opposite end of the arena, where, in the seats, I saw both Bronze Team, the team I formerly commanded, as well as Platinum Team, my current team of which I was a member, sitting beside one another. I could make out Verth and Karad, the respective leaders of Bronze and Platinum Teams, speaking to one another.
I would have felt most disturbed had I not more pressing matters to attend to. Or rather, one matter – Rak ‘Shathar. He stood in front of me, an energy sword’s unactivated hilt in his right hand. Like before, he stared at me, his eyes full of wroth and spite. He sought my utter ruin, my death and destruction. Obviously I needed to avoid that, but that would involve having to run through the brother of a man I saw as one of my best friends. The mental quandaries I wrangled with were of no help to me at all.
The two of us approached the center of the arena, where a seasoned veteran stood between us. We stopped short of each other, and the veteran.
“I don’t want to have to kill you, Rak,” I said. “Thon was a good man, but this has gone much too far.”
“Your incompetence is dangerous,” responded Rak with a barely-contained rage. “It got my brother killed. It’ll get more of us killed. No. I’m done talking to a failure and a fool.”
“I don’t even understand your hate, brother.”
“That is your great fault. You understand nothing.”
“Brothers, come now,” started the veteran with a rough, thick Sunaion accent. “Let’s get down to the bloody business at hand. Swords shall clash under the Code of Pelahsar the Strident. Yielding is permissible should it be offered. Do not strike down your enemy when he is not on his feet. Do not strike down your enemy while he is attempting to yield. Honor is shared by both warriors, and a loss in this contest should not be a stain on one’s honor.” The veteran looked at me. “Do you swear to abide by the rules of this contest?”
“I do,” I said clearly.
The veteran looked to Rak and asked him the say. Rak, though his gaze at me was unflinching, responded with a clear, loud, almost roaring “Yes.”
The veteran gave a satisfied nod. He said, “May the blood shed here today be shed in honor, for honor’s sake, and may honor be upheld by all combatants.” Then, he stepped back several paces. I positioned myself into a good defensive stance, gripping the hilt of my sword tight in my right hand. Rak meanwhile stood still, unmoving, like a statue, his eyes unflinching and fixed upon me.
“Begin!” shouted the veteran with gusto. He made a gesture to the control room of the arena, and an alarm sounded. The crowd roared into excitement.
Initially I felt like entertaining the crowd, and so I activated my blade, thrusting outwards towards Rak as the blade itself was summoned into being, almost as if my own force of movement willed it into existence. Simultaneously, my movements made the impression that I had projected the blade out towards Rak, even if reality was nothing like that. Nevertheless, it garnered a reaction from the crowd, where there were more cheers from Sangheili, along with some laughter, and I think I heard one fellow grumble in annoyance.
I seemed to have only angered Rak, who glared at me with a malevolence that, admittedly, checked my flippancy. I recomposed myself into a more typical defensive posture. I had also noticed that Rak hadn’t even moved one muscle yet. Then, I saw one of his fingers move to the button on his sword’s hilt, and he activated his blade and moved to the side, attempting to find an angle of attack on my flanks. I repositioned myself accordingly. This quickly evolved into a sort of circular dance, where we wandered around the arena for a few seconds. Apparently he thought like me, wanting to avoid being the first to attack and thus expose himself to a counter. But we had to get the show moving, so to speak. After all, there was a reason we both held swords and stood against one another here.
I was the first to engage, with a probing thrust attack at Rak’s midsection, primarily to finally break the tension and give the tacit reminder that we should start trying to kill one another now. Rak deflected the attack predictably, pushing my blade aside and to my right, and as expected, he replied with a quick slash, going across my stomach. I jumped back, dodging the attack narrowly. I backed away a few paces more, but Rak quickly closed the gap and maintained a constant distance with me. He would not let me rest so easily for this engagement, it would seem.
I kept my blade ready as I expected some sort of advance, and surely enough, Rak attacked with an uppercut. I quickly and lightly deflected the upward thrust, brushing it to my right with my sword as I backed away. I continued to fall back, though, and Rak continued to stay on me. A quick slash to my head from my right was blocked, and a slash towards my left side was checked, but I felt no progress was being made against my foe, while he was studying my defenses and forming a plan of attack. I needed to gain the initiative.
When I deflected an overhead swing from Rak, I suddenly rushed forward, locking his blade with mine and going right up to him. We grappled, where I used brute strength to push through Rak’s defenses and cause him to stumble back. He made a wide defensive slash which I had to avoid, denying me the chance to strike him while he was defenseless. I nevertheless did, making a swift slash towards Rak. He deflected the blow.
We circled each other for a few more moments as we took in some deep breaths and made new plans. Again, I was the first to strike, this time hoping to disrupt whatever machinations Rak had in store for me. But perhaps that was the point.
As I made a left-to-right diagonal upward slash, Rak blocked the attack, stopping it dead. He pushed forward, grappling with me much as I had with him. Then I noticed him leaning his head back, no doubt for a headbutt attack to try and stun me. So, I replied with one of my own. The synchronous impact was mutually damaging to the both of us, and we both stumbled back in stunned pained. The crowd emitted noises mixed cheers and laughs. Rak and I managed to recover more or less at the same time, and we refrained from launching attacks until we both recovered, merely circling one another for a few more moments.
This time, though, Rak was the one who opened the engagement. He made several quick thrusts, which I deflected, followed by quick downward slashes from different directions, followed by upward clashes, also from different directions. He seemed to be attempting to whittle away my defenses with these light attacks, and worriedly, I felt it working. Thus, the situation was no different from the beginning of the duel.
I changed tactics, and executed a swift swing of my sword diagonally upward, from right to left, twisting my wrist to turn my blade so that the bottom of my hand faced up as my weapon swept forth. Rak parried the attack by first maneuvering to block my sword with his own, the fellow’s blade facing downwards. Then, Rak made a tight circular motion, bringing our swords up over us and back down, towards my left. At this point I guessed his next move, and it happened as I had expected: when Rak completed the motion, forcing both our blades’ tips to touch the ground near my left foot, he swung his blade upwards, its edge racing towards my head as it was guided along the length of my own blade, and then my arm.
I bent backwards, enough to narrowly dodge the slash, and my untimely death. Nevertheless, it scraped against my armor and I felt the searing hot plasma burn some of my arm. Now, Rak was in a vulnerable position, but he attempted to make this moot by immediately responding with another slashing attack, this time from my right to my left. I quickly ducked, again avoiding a fatal blow. I responded with a rapid thrust from the side, an attack Rak parried.
We backed off from one another, giving both of us a few moments to think and recuperate somewhat. However, Rak would not give me much time. He once again assaulted me, this time with a strong stab to my face. I parried the attack, following it up with a sideways slash at Rak’s head, which he avoided by ducking, and I responded with an overhead swing down onto his head, an attack which he deflected to my right. Then, he responded with an upwards slash towards me, an attack which I blocked. But here is where I found that Rak had made a mistake, and in contests like this, mistakes can be fatal.
Rak’s advance against me proved too successful. My footwork was slightly slower, allowing him to accidentally close the distance too much with me to the point where we were within arm’s reach of one another. That was not good for him. I grasped Rak’s left arm as I stopped his attack cold with my block. With brute force I pulled Rak towards me, who could not respond out of sheer shock. I thrust my sword into his thigh, a blow which landed true. I pierced him there, the sword easily puncturing all the way through his leg. Rak screamed in agony as I withdrew the blade, with blood flowing from the wound before much of it was cauterized shut. Still though, the blood remained, and some still continued to pour onto the ground.
As I quickly backed away, Rak went down on his left knee, grasping his thigh with his left hand while his sword was still gripped with his right. He shuddered, muffling any cries of agony and pain, but any man with some experience in warfare could see that this wound was possibly a debilitating blow.
The fight commanded my focus, and so the crowd did not even come to my attention until this moment, when its deafening cheers hailed me, while others within it recoiled in surprise. I heard a handful wince and groan at the wound. I looked at Rak with great interest, wondering to see what he would do next. He looked up at me, and I, standing motionless, turned the inward-facing portion of my blade to him, as a sign that I was willing to accept his surrender in this bout. Rak responded by getting back up onto both his feet. I shook my head, silently pleading with him to stop. He wordlessly brushed aside my peace offering as he assumed a defensive posture, although with a somewhat shaky stance.
I grumbled as I went on the offensive. With Rak’s physical status compromised, his defenses were noticeably weakened. I attacked with strong, powerful swings, movements which his blocks could barely stop. Then, as one of my downward swings, a particularly strong one, contacted his blade, the force threw him off balance, and he stumbled. I made a quick slash against his chest, landing a second blow, albeit a rather shallow one. Blood sprayed from his chest, with most of it landing on the ground, and some landing on me, my face, and my own armor. Rak fell onto his back, uttering another pained cry. I walked away, turning my back to him as I took in large, deep breaths of air. I was exhausted, and Rak seemed to get worse and worse. I turned back around to face him, finding the lad pulling himself back onto his feet. He faced me once more, breathing heavily, blood flowing from his wounds. He looked down at them, and roared in anger.
I must confess a certain… enjoyment at seeing Rak in this state. His wounded, battered, bloody body hobbling forward to try and fight me was a most fascinating spectacle. I… I can’t quite describe it. Every time I wounded him felt… exhilarating. A rush of energy flowed into me, and I silently celebrated as I retreated, which also allowed me to more comprehensively examine my work with a blade. A surprising outcome so far for me, since I never considered myself to be an excellent swordsman. I let my shotgun speak for me instead.
But the blood of Rak’s fathers, and his fathers’ fathers, spilled from him. His essence was draining from him, torn from him by who he saw as a dishonorable coward. He would not let this stand, and so he charged me. Well… charge me as best he could.
Rak’s powerful swing was easily blocked by me. I pushed his blade to my left, returning him to the same position we were in when I attacked his thigh. I had complete control of his sword-arm, and raised my blade, preparing to thrust downwards, into Rak’s now exposed right shoulder, killing him quickly. But the enthusiasm I felt when I saw him wounded and almost beaten was gone. It had left me, and in its place there was nothing but sorrow as I saw not the face of Rak, but of Thon. I paused, and Rak, far too wounded to muster the strength to completely break free of my grip, could only writhe.  His eyes gazed upon me with… with resignation. I felt such an intense anguish in my heart when Rak’s eyes spoke nothing but the words, “Enough. Do what you will. Let me join my brother.”
In that single, solitary, fleeting moment, I saw Thon. Not Rak, but Thon. My comrade-in-arms, he who was with me ever since I was granted my freedom by the Banished all those years ago. The pain I felt at Thon’s loss would no doubt be repeated twofold if I were to cut Rak down as well. I… I just couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to land a killing blow. And… I could sympathize with Rak’s wroth. His anger. His hatred. His… his melancholy.
“Do you yield?” I asked in almost a whisper.
Rak stared back, but his death glare was replaced with a look of deep shock and considerable shame. If I was a foolish man, I’d say that he was on the verge of tears. There was no great outburst, though, and he replied with a quiet, almost undetectable, “Yes.”
He released his sword from his grip, and it fell to the ground. I deactivated my own sword and backed away from Rak quickly. By now, I had noticed the crowd had at first gone completely silent, then erupted into raucous cheering as the outcome became clear. The veteran and the rest of Bronze Team quickly approached. The others surrounded Rak, while the veteran came to me. He gripped me by the wrist and raised my arm. He gestured to me, shouting, “Zar ‘Yorin has won this contest, for his foe has yielded before his great might!”
My name was chanted. But as I looked upon Rak, writhing in pain, several Unggoy medics attending to his wounds, the acclimations poured upon me were hollow. I no longer felt the joy of combat, the rush of battle, and the excitement at seeing my enemy slowly sapped of his strength. I handed over the inactive sword I wielded to the veteran and approached Rak. By now his wounds were dressed but he needed a great deal of medicine and rest. No doubt the veteran would’ve looked upon this with disdain, but we could not afford to be frivolous with our numbers, especially with men of such talent as Rak.
He and I looked at one another once again, our eyes meeting. There was no more hatred in his eyes, but I saw in them a sense of loss. Of purposelessness. His cause had ended in failure, and although this bout should not be a stain on his or his family’s honor, the feeling of shame no doubt dominated his heart. I approached him, making sure to be as reconciliatory as possible. I extended my arm, hoping he would grasp it in friendship. I waited for what seemed to be ages as the crowd continued cheering and its general commotion. Rak looked down on my arm, somewhat shaking in pain from the burns, then looked back up to me. Slowly, he gripped my arm with his hand at the inside of my elbow. Then, he brought his other arm, with a pained look on his face, forward, grasping my elbow with his left hand. Then, I grasped Rak’s elbow proper with my own left hand as my right hand grasped his own inside elbow. Rak sighed deeply, closing his eyes.
“My heart still aches at the loss of my brother,” he said with a shaky voice. He was close to tears it seemed, a sentiment I would not hold against him.
“So does mine,” I responded. “But we can honor his memory by living on. For him. Thon would want that, no? Not his brother clashing with his friends.”
There was a pause. Then, Rak opened his eyes. “I acted in haste with you,” he said.
“I lay no blame on you,” I quickly replied. “Come, Rak. Let away from this place together, not as enemies, but as brothers.”
Rak slowly nodded. His eyes spoke to me with sincerity even though no words came from his mandibles.
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