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Barnak
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Chapter Sixteen: Soliloquy of the Fallen – Part Two
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Beneath the planet's surface, Naro City, Yul Clan Assembly Hall
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My heart is heavy and cold, there is little hope in me. Only the last shards of my pride that linger force my legs to hold me upright. Even if I beat this Ulima in combat, my fate is sealed. It is a mere formality. A kindness to let this old warrior die in battle. Still, besting him might be enough for my shattered pride. I would know firsthand the depth of his resolve.
“Begin,” Nekam says.
Kalon does not move, his eyes watch me carefully. Measuring my movements as I close the distance between us, rolling the blades in my hand, trying to find an opening. If I can slay him, I will have gained back some pride for my—they are dead though—so, is this for me? My anger spurs, thinking of how Nekam bet it all on one Ulima. If he had only failed. His eyes move to meet mine as he takes his first step. It is strange though, I feel my pulse quicken. My feet step backward. What is this feeling?
Gathering my resolve, I press forward again, meeting him for an exchange of blows. He is reserved as he strikes, none of them have any true intention. His blade’s song is silent.
Our next blows produce the same result. When will his attack come? When will he…
His eyes move to my leg for only a moment, eyeing an old scar, an old injury. He will surely exploit it. That is where he will come from. His body moves in rhythm as he moves to advance again, aiming himself towards it. I ready myself.
He slides the blade outward, the glint of the lights reflecting off its sharpened edge. I turn myself to meet the strike, but his eyes—they have deceived me. I feel a shallow cut crossing my other leg, barely managing to move in time. My breath is rising in pace as he moves to strike again, I cannot follow where he goes. The melody of his blade’s song is elusive. Everchanging, he is fluid. He moves again and again, leaving marks upon my flesh. Blood forms in small drops striking the floor. None of the wounds are fatal. My teeth grind as I realize I cannot win against him as I am now.
I know that I should not waste the Maka, I should preserve as much as I can for the Clan. Yet, my pride, he is shattering it more than I thought possible. Pressing deep within my body, I pull forth my Maka, igniting my runes, and fueling my body. I will make him show me his runes. This much I can do. He never used them in any of the other matches.
“I will make you show me your runes,” I say confidently.
He does not respond, he moves as though in a trance, as though all of his will is concentrated on every single movement. As I become faster with my Maka fueling my body, I outpace him two to one. Finally managing to land glancing blows on him. He is on the run now, evading me. Why does he not excite his runes? Does he mean to shame me? Have I not already been shamed enough?
I press harder, faster, and faster. Yet with each strike, something strange happens, I feel the Maka being pulled away from me—like he is taking it. Such control at his age? Impossible. Yet his pace explodes right after, almost like he is burning the Maka as it comes. Fluid control? No, his runes would blossom with light if that were the case. His skin is bare, with no sign of even the faintest of runes. How?
Pride shatters completely as he outpaces me now, using my Maka against me, he is a monster. A demon of refined skill. I have never seen a warrior like him before. My heart beats faster as his pace dazes me again, three times he strikes, blood drips from my wounds as I slam to my knees. My eyes widen, when did he cut my knee’s tendons? I cannot even stand now. He encircles me slowly, like a beast hunting prey, his eyes meeting mine. He is cautious, even when his victory is at hand.
He bows to me now, but why?
“Adul Ak Napa.” He says, there is sadness in his tone. Does he shame me with his pity?
You fought with honor, meet your end with pride… my end? But I am not… My eyes look down as I feel warmth spreading across my skin. My hand reaches to my chest, touching it, and as I bring it to eye level… I see that I am bleeding, heavily. The room is spinning as I slump further down. He has stabbed me in the heart, between the ribs. I did not even see it. Was it before or after my knees? Were the other stabs a distraction? My vision blurs—my end comes. As I fall to my side, I feel my head and shoulders landing softly.
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Looking up, I see Nekam cradling me in his hands. He passes me the Etherium shard. Giving me the chance to honor the Clan one last time. The shard itself is weak, offering little resistance, allowing me to push all of the Maka I have left into it. I feel the heat leaving me, the cold chill of the Netheric Maka spreading in my body. My runes change from blue to red. Before my eyes have changed to match, my vision fails. I feel death’s embrace upon me, pulling me. The regret soars high in me, strangling my spirit as the whispers from beyond the veil call to me. They speak to me of my failings, telling me that my Clan will fall.
The song my mother sang to me becomes silent as the world descends into shadow.
In my last breath, I muster all of my strength to say “Thrive…”
***
Realm of Spirits
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There is darkness all around, it swallows everything. I can hear the cries of the dead that linger now as I do. So, this is what happens to those with regrets? I could not even pass in peace. Yet another failing. Did the Gods forsake me? Where am I?
Light flickers in the hazy shadows, and there are voices among the cries. The words are hard to distinguish as though muffled. Lines forming shapes fill the haze around me. The shapes become the shadows of people who still live. I can barely make out my surroundings. I am in the Clan hall. Most have left, I see Nekam speaking with a shape that is cast fully in shadow.
“We do not have enough Etherium for everyone.” Nekam says, crossing his arms “What do you offer to demand such a thing?”
“My chief, I would give up what I have earned if you will help them.” The figure cloaked in shadow says.
“You understand what that means?” Nekam asks the figure of shadow, he peers deeply at him “You will remain Ulima if you ask for this.”
“I understand, my chief.” The shadow says, there is an echo in the darkness as he speaks. It is strange, like it is resonating somehow.
I know the voice. It is the Ulima, Kalon. The one who has slain me. He gives up the chance to be a full member of the Clan, for what though? Who does he seek to help? Peering closer, why does the shadow cling to him so deeply, where are his runes? I can see Nekam’s shimmer with his heartbeat, as does everyone else’s. But in Kalon, I see only the void. Is he runeless? No, that cannot be, the runeless cannot feel the touch of Maka. They cannot survive here, the Netheric Maka corrupts them before they are even born, killing the mother.
To be runeless is to be forsaken by the Gods. All that can live here bear their marks. Yet, I see no runes, only darkness. How can this be? Is that why he did not show his runes in any of the fights? If that is true, then he has survived all these years, runeless. I find myself feeling pity for him, the one who slew me. He will never rise above his station. So much potential is wasted upon a runeless. It reminds me of something that the Sage, Artemeus once said.
When the Gods give with one hand, they take with the other
If he was runed, what could he become? Such a tragedy, to be so blessed yet so infinitely cursed. Forsaken by man and God alike. It is no wonder he has so much diligence and focus, without it, he would have died many seasons ago.
“Your prize while great is not enough for two lives,” Nekam says to him, pensively scratching his beard.
“Then I would give my reward as well, my chief.” Another says, kneeling next to Kalon, bowing his head to Nekam.
“Arrum…” Kalon says, giving a distressed look. Another ripple as his words vibrate in the darkness. Strange.
It takes me a moment, the haze making it hard to distinguish, but I recognize the young man that kneels beside Kalon. He is Nekam’s nephew. Made Ulima after his mother and father died. I remember him fighting, he fought so well I learned his name. His runes swirl, illuminating the darkness. They are strong runes, intricate, and well-formed. Who is so important that they would trade being a full member for such a price? When I was Ulima, I would have done anything to remove the shame. Being Ulima is akin to being cursed by fate itself.
“Then you accept responsibility for them as well?” Nekam asks.
“I do.” Arrum replies.
“You have my blessing then.” Nekam says, then raising them up he finishes with “I hope you both do not come to regret this.”
“Thank you, my chief,” Kalon says, bowing deeply, giving Arrum a concerned glance.
Nekam hands Arrum something that pierces the darkness, it is the Etherium shard that Keno and I… sadness stirs in me as I remember Keno is dead. As are my other children. I do not see him here, nor my other children, I can only hope that they passed in peace. My mind drifts to deeper sadness and the world becomes darker, the lines blending with shadow. If I dwell on the failings, I will become like the ones that linger and cry out to the darkness. Never able to join my children beyond the veil. Be calm, and find peace.
The world becomes clearer again. I see Nekam and the two young men Kalon and Arrum moving towards red lights in the distance. It is too hard to make out, so I move towards the lights, curiosity distracting the despair. When I reach the red lights, I see two other figures I know well, two of my old chiefs, Nekam’s allies, Dekarn and Yuri.
“We should sell them before they are too far gone.” Dekarn says to Yuri, folding his arms “We already used all of our stores on Barnak’s guard.”
Then Nekam honored his promise and helped those of my tribe recover from Netherium poisoning. He is honorable. My eyes take in the scene before me. Dekarn and Yuri hover over the red lights, only now do I realize the red lights are people. Netherium sickness, so this is what it looks like in this realm. It is the two Ulima from Keno’s tribe… again I am struck with sadness thinking of his death.
“Nekam said we are not to sell any of the tribe members,” Yuri says.
“They are Ulima, not tribe members.” Dekarn says, then turning to face Yuri he adds “The cost to heal them would be high. There might be lasting damage as well. I think we should sell them while they would still have use for other tribes, or we should use them to get more Etherium. Some value can still be had.”
It strikes me now, I never bothered to learn the names of the two Ulima brothers. I look down at them, their red hair is matted and dirty from the mines still. They fought well during the proving, but when they failed, I did not dissuade Keno from pushing them to the changing. Another of my failings…