Right of the Victor
Chapter 13

My sword met that of the man with a violent clash, followed by several more as our blades danced, going in and out. No contact was made as we struck, parried, and dodged for minutes straight, all full of stress and effort like I’d never put in before. I didn’t feel myself tiring at all; adrenaline rushed through me and kept me going, fighting almost better than I ever had. Still, I was being pressured intensely from the other side, and before I knew it, the tip of his weapon slipped past my defenses and slit a clean line on my left shoulder. I gasped from the sudden cut, lowering my sword and backing off. There was a slight pause to catch a breath, and while my enemy would wait for me, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to take a break. Turning my gaze to where Allazo was watching us, I noticed he didn’t look concerned at all. His face was an image of calmness and conviction, as if he knew the outcome already. Confident suddenly, I turned back to the man I was supposed to kill. It was time I lived up to my reputation.

I reentered the fight with a vigor that hadn’t been there before. My blood felt like someone had set it alight, blazing with energy that could hardly be contained by my skin. Everything I did felt faster, while the world around me seemed to slow down. This included my current rival, although he was certainly still quick. Now in the proper mindset to truly fight, the second round was tilted in my favor. I put on pressure fast and didn’t relieve it, keeping the man in front of me constantly retreating from the bite of my blade, swinging at speeds that would certainly be fatal if a full hit landed. A shame that moment never came, but at least a hit of sorts was gained. When I advanced after a successful feint and stabbed for the sword arm of the man, he failed to get back in time and ended up with a hole leaking blood in his forearm. It wasn’t as deep as I had hoped, but it would still be to my advantage. Letting out a breath for what felt like the first time in ages, I stepped back and moved into a neutral stance to wait, giving the customary allowance of time after my successful strike. This was it.

If I lost now, I would lose my life. If I won, years of striving for vengeance would come to an end and my family’s deaths would be avenged. Their faces flashed across my mind as I inhaled slowly, ignoring the sting from my previous wound and focusing only on one thing. Knowing fully that I was the only one who had a chance at this and that more lives than my own may be on the line now, I stepped into battle for the third and final time.

Nothing could have prepared me for the intensity of the duel than ensued. We went back and forth, cutting and slashing, blocking and deflecting as we moved across dirt, grass, and rubble. Sweat drenched us both under the hot sun, but it was the least of my concern. Neither of us were going for simple cuts and draws of blood anymore. Because this was the last of the three rounds, we aimed to kill. As my enemy’s sword flashed across my wrist, blood splashed out and my life flashed before my eyes. It wasn’t my dominant hand, but it still hurt like hell and would be a serious risk later on. Choking down the pain, I kept fighting as if nothing had happened and pushed forward in the slight gap of time left open after I was cut. The other sword had swept past me, and now I had a perfect chance to go for a stab at the throat. Swerving slightly, the opposing swordsman barely got his neck away from the cold bite of death, ending up with only a thin slice on the side of it. Both of us backed off after the quick interaction that nearly ended us both in a couple of seconds, breathing heavily and hoping our wounds wouldn’t kill us before we had a chance to slaughter the other.

“You’re already better than your father was,” he laughed as red ran down his clothing. The voice sounded strangely familiar, even when muffled.

“You don’t have the right to talk about my father,” I grimaced, not lowering my weapon for a second.

“Don’t I? I killed him, I’d say that gives me the right.”

That was enough to send me at the man again. The reminder was not appreciated, and I was going to kill him for it. Except, he’d known precisely what he was doing in taunting me, and he was prepared very well for my approach. After being repelled with fearsome ease, it was my turn to go on the defensive. A rock saved my life.

Due to all the wreckage of the explosions the Torris had caused here weeks ago, there were plenty of hazards on the ground to trip on. While I was struggling to defend my life, I stepped back specifically onto one of these unstable stones and fell under the strike that would have removed my head. I didn’t stay down any longer than necessary, rolling through the dust and picking up a few scrapes as I went. Better than dying. Scrambling back to my feet, I felt a current of air and gasped as metal slid over my left shoulder again, cutting deep into the top. My left hand reached up to grab the sword, giving me a painful slice in my palm but keeping a hold on the weapon. With my enemy unable to block now, I shoved my own sword directly through his stomach. He went down with a grunt, blood staining his clothes and the floor beneath. Both of us let go of his weapon, and it clattered to the earth wet with red.

Somehow, I stayed standing and set one foot onto the chest of my rival, pressing him down as I poked my blade up near his face. The mask was too strong to be broken, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t knock it off him. When I did, I almost regretted what I saw.

It was my uncle. A man of my own blood, the brother of my father, and the one who had taught me most of what I knew about combat. I’d known something was off while we were fighting; our styles were too similar. Now as I stared down, deep and terrible loathing filled me. He’d never been the best of men I knew, but I’d never truly hated him until now.

“How could you kill your own brother?” I asked as my voice shook with anger, “How could you kill the rest of your nephews? They were your family…”

“I wanted-” He coughed up blood in the middle of his sentence before continuing, “I wanted a challenge. And I got one, didn’t I?”

Each of his words made me feel more and more sick about the situation. All of this was just a game for him, a chance to get someone he would struggle to fight against. It didn’t get better after that.

“Besides, do you really think that was your father? Everyone else in your family had green eyes, Lengin. Think about it,” even beneath me and on the brink of death, he knew exactly where to poke at me with his words. “You have purple eyes. That wasn’t your fami-”

The words were interrupted as my uncle’s head rolled away, severed by a final stroke from my sword. Tears flowed from my eyes freely while blood exited my wounds and those of the dead man below me. What he said very well could have been true, but the people who raised me would always be my family. My mistake was in thinking that the pain would end once I avenged them. It didn’t, and they were still just as dead. The emptiness remained.

I didn’t move for a very long time, aside from to sit next to the corpse. Covered in sweat, dirt, and blood, nothing mattered to me in that moment. My sword had long since fallen from my hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to pick it back up. The members of the Larua who had lined the walls to watch didn’t do anything, fortunately. They knew the right of the victor. Allazo moved, but not much. He was standing near me quietly, but eventually the time came that he set his hand on my uninjured shoulder and leaned over to quietly say something into my ear.

“Lengin. It is over, and we must go.”

Knowing he was right, I shifted and raised myself to my feet. Between the corpse, the mask, and the two swords on the ground, I almost wanted to leave it all there and never see it again. Deep within I knew that wasn’t possible, though. I picked up my father’s sword first of all, cleaning it off and returning it to its sheath before I moved on to do the same with my uncle’s weapon, taking his sheath as well. It was slow work with one hand and shoulder injured, but Allazo helped where needed. At the end of that process, I lifted the mask from the floor and stared down at it, not realizing I was still wearing my own. The longer I stared, the more I hoped I’d never see anyone wear it again. Lost in my thoughts and grief, I hardly noticed when Allazo slipped the mask from my hands and put it within his cloak. Reaching up, I removed my own mask, dark hair falling back around my face. Letting out all the air in my lungs, I turned to face the man who had accompanied me here and nodded.

“Yeah. It’s over.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. I may be recovering forever, but it was time to go home. And so we did.