The man clad in black has not spoken since he stood, his eyes remain closed. He has a deep scar over one of his eyes. His head is shaved clean, almost polished in the light. There is an air in the room, a deafening silence as all begin to grow quiet. They can all feel what I feel, he has an intimidating presence. His eyes slowly begin to open, he takes stock of the room, there is no inflection in his face, it is placid like water. He steps down from the raised centerpiece and begins to walk amongst the hundreds of us. His eyes piercing us looking at the way we hold ourselves, most look away when he meets their gaze. When he comes to me, I feel my heart quicken, my senses telling me danger is near. I do not avert my gaze, he does not seem to care either way. Something else catches my attention, there are many Bipki drones. They float above us, always watching.
“I am Dargo, master of blades. I am your Keeper.” He says moving back to the center of the room “Most of you will have questions, perhaps questions about sponsors.”
There is a small murmur in the room, he turns towards it, silence follows.
“Your questions are irrelevant, at least until you prove yourselves worthy of asking.”
There is a larger murmur in the room now, eyes beginning to glow from anger.
“Yes - you will need that anger. True ability lies between anger and calm.”
People have begun to speak louder. Our group does not, we pay heed to his words.
“All of you, all at once.” He says raising his hands beckoning us to come “Those who have been marked will sit on the edge of the room. Training weapons are on the walls.”
There is laughter in the crowd, still we do not speak. We watch patiently.
“Or are you all afraid?” he asks, a smile begins to form on his lips as the first among us takes the bait.
A group of seven men move towards him swinging their fists wildly at him, not even bothering to grab a weapon, there is no teamwork, no cooperation in their movements. He dodges them with ease smacking them on the back with the sheath of his weapon, a painted mark on their clothes where he struck. Some do not listen to his instruction, so in a flurry he marks them head to toe, his movements unnaturally fast. It is slow at first but the crowd begins to descend on him. Only then does he quicken his pace, his is like water, flowing through people with ease, taking the path of least resistance.
“We go.” Nekam says after a time.
I do not question, I follow in his shadow with the others. We move swiftly cutting through the group, grabbing dulled blades from the walls. Our eyes focused on his movements, studying them, searching for their weakness. More than a quarter of the room has been marked by now.
“Left, low.” Nevari says.
“Right, low.” I say.
“Right, high.” Nekam says.
“Left, high.” Neeba says and we are off.
We move with a swiftness, hiding in the shadows of others, converging upon him at the same time. He moves out of the way of Nekam and Neeba’s upper swings, diving between us, I move my knife to his thigh, less than half a second before it connects, he pivots and strikes Nevari and Neeba with his off hand, not even turning to look.
Nekam and I double back moving into the crowd as his children move to the edge to watch. Some people have different colored markings I realize. There must be meaning behind them, he does not seem like the type of person to do things on a whim.
“Sekat. We go again, move in my shadow.” He says.
We rush back into the fray, I hide my movements behind Nekam. More than half of the room is marked now. We are upon him again and we move from his backside. Nekam feigns right then moves left, I come from his shadow to move in the man’s blind spot as he addresses Nekam and another man, a woman coming from behind him. My blade mere inches from his back. I have him, he is mine. Suddenly his foot kicks backwards right as I am about to connect, I roll to dodge, the wind rushing past me. He twirls a blade behind him and I dodge it just barely. He turns his gaze towards me now, a grin upon his face as he turns fully to meet me. Sekat.
I am on the defensive now backing away from him, rushing between people, using them to try and stop his move. Twisting behind their backs to avoid the flurry of blows he sends to me. My heart is beating out of my chest but I feel a smile forming on my lips, I have never seen footwork and finesse like this before. He adapts as the battle progresses with a brilliance. I feel myself growing with each exchange, pushing past the plateau. Nekam moves in his shadow now, taking advantage of him chasing me. Less than one fourth remain unmarked now.
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He turns from me just as Nekam comes. He bats away the blade with ease and strikes him on the back. Nekam’s jaw flexes but he moves to the edge giving me a look. A look I have learned over the years that means, do not fail. The man has lost attention on me now. I use this to my advantage as the numbers dwindle still. Someone throws their blade at him, he kicks it sideways knocking into another person. How do we beat him, what am I missing, everyone has a flaw. There is always a way. Is it my weapon? There were many others on the wall I did not choose. Perhaps I should change, no - I go again.
When I reach him he turns and strikes my blow out of the way.
“You’ve already tried that.” He says to me as I pass, the end of his sheath grazing my bangs “Try something new.”
Sekat. He is not wrong. What else can I do, he is a monster. Calm yourself. Moving to the edge I breathe deep closing my eyes and focus myself, my eyes open and I grab a spear from the wall. I have seldom used them, our cities tight spaces made them impractical. In this large open space however they may give advantage in reach. I hear people whispering Ularak, a word I have heard very rarely, they look to Dargo when they say it. In the old tongue it means simply - Bringer of Death.
I see another object on the wall, a chord of thin rope, it is not a weapon, not really, more of a tool. I have an idea sweep over me recalling how he moves. I take note of the floor, it is smooth, smoother than I am used to. Moving towards him now, I have some new things to try. Testing the weight of the spear in my hand it is perfectly balanced.
My shadow follows another, the spear behind my back and in position, as he dances between the mere thirty that remain I stab from between their limbs as he fends off attacks trying to get him. Sekat he is a demon. Even from behind he feels me coming. Soon there is only ten, and then seven shortly after. No one has landed a blow on him yet, no one even coming close.
He rolls and strikes two men at the same time, one in the inner thigh the other the armpit, both spots filled with arteries. There are five of us left. We circle him warily, my brow stricken with sweat. He remains calm and collected, his forehead dry, his breath steady. We move as one coming at him, I sweep with the spear he jumps it, kicking two men in the process then rolling between them and marking them. It is three now. Sekat.
The three of us that remain all wielding spears, we stab and sweep hitting nothing but air, he grasps a spear of one of the men and pulls, sending the man off balance into the other. He slaps them both on the rump with his sheaths. His back is to me now, slowly he turns.
“You are persistent.” He says with a grin moving to me now.
Sekat, I roll backwards, he only uses one arm now, the other behind his back. It irritates me.
“You mock me?” I ask as I grab a shield from the wall and throw it at him.
He does not reply, he steps out of the shields way. His pace quickening. I will make him use his other arm, I will wipe that smirk from his face. There is a quiet rage that builds within me. I throw knives from the wall at him, he deflects them with his blade. He is pushing me towards one of the large pillars in the room. I must find a way to use it to my advantage.
“You’ve already done that, try something new.” He says to me, his grin half faded now.
I throw another shield, a knife directly after, angled to where he will be, not where he is. I throw my spear high into the air as he turns to dodge the shield and the knife that comes behind it. He follows me around the pillar now almost upon me. I slide on my knees taking advantage of the slick floor, I grab the thin corded rope from my waist, there is now a dulled blade attached to it. I throw it hard around the backside of the pillar in his blind spot.
The spear falls towards him, he stows his sheath and catches it. He opens his mouth to speak when the knife at the end of the cord spins around the pillar. He catches it a fingers width from his face. His eyes blink quickly looking to the cord tied around the blade, then to the spear, then to me. My mouth a full grin seeing that he used both hands.
“Among you a prodigy begins to grow roots. Whether it will fully sprout remains to be seen.” He says dropping the spear and blade to the floor. He points downwards to my chest.
Looking down, I see a series of three marks across my chest and side, my grin fades quickly, how - when did he strike me. I begin moving to the edge since I am marked, my mind filled with questions. My body sore. As I approach, Nekam claps me on the shoulder, there is pride on his face, but not mine. It will not be until I can mark this man. Silence falls over the room again as the Keeper moves towards the center.
“Well done all of you. Some among you have great potential.” Dargo says standing back up on the center stage “You’ll notice that each of you have different colored markings.”
Nekam and I both have black markings on us. Neeba and Nevari both blue.
“Those with red markings please step forward.” He says motioning in front of him.
A score of some thirty people move towards him now, their heads low, among them I see the men that attacked without weapons.
“You betray yourselves by letting anger control you, it is a tool, not a guide.” He says talking to those marked in red, he waves a hand dismissing them.
He begins speaking to each color group and explaining their deficiencies. Each color appears to be tiers, with the higher ones receiving more explanation. When he gets to blue Neeba and Nevari depart from us. Nekam comes to me now grasping my shoulder.
“You did well little demon.” He says to me.
“Not well enough, my chief.” I say pointing to the markings on my chest “He marked me three times, I did not even see it.”
“Have you not seen your back?” He asks me, a chuckle coming from him. It is the first time I have heard him laugh since before the attack on our homes.
My eyes widen as I remove my shirt and look upon a tapestry of lines, hundreds of small black lines all over my back in my blind spots. I look at my pants and see where my arteries lie, more lines tracing their path. The word the crowd whispers rings in my mind, Ularak - Bringer of Death. Looking upon the markings I find myself agreeing. I have been marked more than anyone else that I can see, a deep shame begins to rise in me. Am I really that easy to kill? Why did he not strike me harder so I would know it, did he mean to shame me? Just who is this man that he can take on hundreds of people by himself and shatter the pride I have built over a lifetime. How is he so fast, it is unnatural…