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Kalon

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Chapter Seven: Sekat

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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The muggy air is made thicker with anticipation as the other tribes finish their fights and come to watch. Our ally Dekarn steps forward and bows to the Clan Chief Barnak.

“My tribe withdraws with our sixty-seven spots, my chief,” Dekarn says.

Barnak nods to him, waving his hand dismissively. Yuri moves forward next and gives the same customary bow to the tribe chief.

“My tribe withdraws with our seventy-one spots, my chief,” Yuri says.

Both of our allied tribes fought against one of Barnak’s blood tribes and won soundly.

Again, the Clan chief waves them off dismissively. His expression is less suppressed than before, he is irritated, but he does not go back on his word and take the spots. There is commotion in the crowd at this. With both of them leaving the bout it removes more than one-third of the spots that are left. Of Barnak’s blood tribes, only Keno’s still has enough to keep. The desperation intensifies now for those left.

As the two allied tribe leaders walk by Nekam, they embrace arms and give grins. Further inflaming Barnak who taps his foot waiting for them to leave the center. Once they have, Keno steps forward and meets Nekam in the middle. His jaw is clenched tightly as his pride struggles against Nekam’s grinning face. Across the mats, I see Keno’s son Henek wearing the same face as he stares me down. He is still angry I shamed him, revenge lingers in his eyes, I can tell that he wishes me to become a notch upon his blade.

“You seem upset Keno,” Nekam says, provoking him further.

Keno loosens his jaw and gives a fake smile as he crosses his arms.

“No special deals to offer?” Nekam asks, raising his arms to the crowd “It is strange, no?”

There is laughter at this, much to the Clan chief’s displeasure.

“What do you propose?” Barnak interjects before his son Keno can speak.

The room falls silent, Nekam is almost taken aback by Barnak speaking, but he tries not to show it.

“Your three blooded tribes versus mine,” Nekam says, leveling his eyes to Barnak.

“Sixty versus twenty, in one-on-one matches?” Barnak asks him carefully.

“Yes, my chief,” Nekam says.

Keno and those who support him laugh profusely at this. There is laughter in the crowd, people whisper insults about Nekam’s intelligence. Calling him a fool. It is a ludicrous proposal. While we are better fighters, fighting so many, back-to-back. They will be able to rest more between fights and spread the burden on three times as many. Such a disadvantage, why does he seek it?

“You ask for much yet only have one spot to give.” Barnak says astutely, then petting his beard “I will require all of the spots you won yesterday in exchange if you lose.”

The crowd murmurs at this. Usually earned spots from previous days are protected.

“We accept your challenge, my chief.” Nekam says, carefully ensuring that he has the right of refusal if he needs it, then thinking quickly he adds “On the condition that if either side uses Etherium, they forfeit.”

A smart move. One we need, once we get fifty, we should withdraw. Surely this is Nekam’s plan. Without an Etherium disadvantage, there may be a chance that we can succeed.

“No other rules?” Barnak asks, after a moment.

“The regular rules and no outside help, my chief.”

“That goes without saying,” Barnak says with irritation at Nekam’s insinuation that he will somehow seek to cheat with such an advantage already.

“Then agreed. Again, we accept your challenge, my chief.” Nekam says, giving Barnak a deep bow.

Barnak’s blood tribes move to their side of the mats. Sixty of them, versus twenty of us. His firstborn has forty-nine spots, as does the thirdborn. Our allies left them with exactly one spot below keeping. Was that part of the plan as well? What is Nekam’s goal in all of this? With Keno’s sixty-three, that makes one hundred and sixty-one spots on their wager. Against our one left from today and thirty-three from yesterday.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Sekat.” Arrum curses quietly. He turns to me, his eyes wide. I think he just realized it too.

“One hundred and ninety-five spots,” I whisper. My heart beats quicker at the thought of it. If our tribe won those, we wouldn’t need to touch the mines at all for at least a year, maybe more. I calm myself quickly, Nekam will not risk taking all of those spots. He will likely stop when we begin to lose matches. I am confident that we can get close to fifty easily. At least two-thirds of Barnak’s blooded tribes have fought hard matches today thanks to our allies.

“Gather,” Nekam says to us all.

The tension is palpable, many eyes seek answers. Yet we are all loyal and do not question our chief in front of the other tribes. Even if we wish to.

“Arrum, you will fight the first three rounds, Nevari the next three,” Nekam says, then tells the others their order.

When he is finished, he has not told me when I will fight. Anger froths, how can I prove myself if I cannot fight? My lips betray me as I begin to speak.

“My chief…” I say, almost surprised that I spoke out of turn.

“Patience.” He says to me before I can continue.

“Understood, my chief,” I say, giving him a bow.

When the others move towards the mats, he grabs my shoulder and leans in.

“Save all of your strength. You will need it.”

My eyes search him for meaning, but he gives little with his expression as he moves forward to the center of the mats. Keno steps back as his father Barnak takes command directly of the three tribes. He is risking nothing to his incompetent children. A smart move, one that I do not think Nekam fully expected. He will not be able to trick Barnak as easily as Keno. Our Clan chief has held power for nearly twenty seasons. Even though he has made many mistakes with Nekam’s provocations, this match-up is not one of them.

When Nekam withdraws after we hit fifty spots, he will have lost face with the other tribes for not seeking more, after provoking so much. This is the win that Barnak seeks. He seeks to damage Nekam’s pride. He is confident that we cannot gain all of the spots from him, as am I.

“Fight well, Kada,” I say to Arrum as he steps forward.

He gives me a nod and then moves fully onto the mats, stretching his body as he waits for Barnak to inspect his blade.

His opponent is much larger than him, a man in his late twenties. Arrum is used to fighting larger opponents though. I am sure he will win, there is only one thing that Arrum is better at than fighting. Thieving, I have never met anyone who can steal as he does. He kept our bellies full on many nights before we joined the tribe. He was always better than me in this aspect. Fighting, however, is my greatest skill. It is seldom that he beats me in a fair sparing match. He is the only one in our tribe I have lost to this year. Though I have never fought Nekam in earnest. I have always wanted to take measure. He is the single greatest fighter in our Clan. There is no one who matches him, with blade or fist.

Arrum bows to the man as is the custom, the tight knot of hair on his head bobs as he does. The sides of his head are clean-shaven, and his light gray eyes contrast with his dark skin as he looks up toward the man he is meant to fight. There is calm in his stance as he moves slowly around the mat, examining his prey.

“Begin,” Barnak says.

The man rushes forward, but Arrum stands in place. Conserving his energy, as he must. He knows that Nekam will have him fight ten or more times before the night is over. The man tries to lunge when he is in range, but Arrum turns on one foot. Sliding his blade down the back of the man’s thigh as he stumbles forward.

Barnak says nothing to the injury, it could be argued that it is not a fatal wound. Though I know it would be, the line traces the artery. Arrum is unfazed by having to strike the man again. He soundly beats him in three more exchanges, having covered him in so much ink that Barnak must wet Arrum’s blade again before the next match begins.

The next is much like the first, Arrum stands upon a mountain above them in skill alone. Not to speak of his athleticism, he is agile, more so than he looks.

His third fight causes him to drop a few beads of sweat, after trouncing the shorter red-haired brother. The brother’s skill seems to have declined since the fight yesterday, his anger is fueled by Arrum’s earlier mocking grin when we arrived in the hall.

We now have four spots and they have one hundred fifty-eight. Some breathing room if we lose. Arrum comes to stand next to me as Nevari moves to the mats.

“Well done, Kada,” I say.

He gives a weak smile as he catches his breath.

“Fifty will not be a problem, more than that, I am not so sure.” Arrum says, then looking to Nevari’s fight he finishes with “Between us three I think we can get twenty-five. The others must carry the rest.”

Twenty-five between three fighters is a tough margin. I will reserve my opinion until I see the others fight at least one match. Though, I think he is right.

“Begin,” Barnak says.

Nevari is fluid with her movements, her opponent is much larger than her. He tries to use his size to bully her, but he soon learns that will not help him. Were it a battle of strength she may lose, but it is finesse that decides these matches. Something she has an abundance of. Her dark braided hair bobs as she rolls behind the man, sliding her blade across the back of his knees and stabbing where his kidneys lay under the flesh.

Barnak rolls his jaw as he announces “Nekam tribe, winner.”

Her next two matches go smoothly, she dances outside of their range as they overextend she strikes them flawlessly. When she finishes, we are now seven spots. Her breath is still even as she leaves the mats. She moves towards Arrum and me, looking me in the eye as she comes. Her grey eyes dance off her tan skin. Even though her whole family has eyes of this color, I cannot help but feel that hers are the most striking. The dark ring around the iris brings greater contrast.

“Well done, Nevari,” I say.

She gives me a smile and nods, then turns to look at the next matches. My eyes turn to watch as well.

***

In the course of three hours, our tribe has won most of the matches. Though the wear on everyone is beginning to show. Even Arrum and Nevari look exhausted. Drawing on their own bodies Maka reserves to fuel their movements so they can push harder. The other tribes are doing the same as well. Though much less efficiently, there is so much Maka in the air that even from the edge I feel my skin drinking it in. There have been many runes seen during the matches, I cannot help but feel inadequate in the face of those who are blessed. If I had… no, I should not think of what if, I should use the tools I have. I am more than enough.

Nekam calls up the next fighter, their feet almost sluggish as they move. Their matches were hard for them. However, the end draws near. We are nearly at fifty spots. Yet I still have not been called to fight, I cannot help but be upset by this. Arrum has won seven of his seven bouts, Nevari six of her seven. Why will he not call upon me? Frustration is rising in me rapidly.

When we reach fifty spots, my hands clench. I am happy for my tribe, but I did not get a chance to prove myself. Nekam steps forward onto the mat towards Barnak now.

“My chief…” Nekam starts, but Barnak interrupts him.

“I accept your withdrawal,” Barnak says, turning his back on Nekam.

Nekam’s smoke-gray eyes dance with the fire of defiance as he looks toward the Clan Chief.

“My chief, we do not yield.”