Part 2: The GodsBlade

Chapter 10

The Rush

The dream gets some details wrong. The crowd was a lot smaller for one, just a few gamblers and fanatics. Not the roaring mass I see in the stands of my mind. The Pit in question is wrong too. We fought in the HighSail arena just outside their compound overlooking the docks. Closest I've ever been to the ocean.

This is some other place, an amalgamation of all four of the primary pits. A dream arena indeed.

The rest is just how I remember it. Resh is still short now, but back then he had been tiny. A slight little thing, but with each step he took from the opposite tunnel he seemed to grow, and transform until what stood before me wasn't a rat boy, but a towering mass of shadows, teeth, and claws. Its blades shine with razor lethality.

I had seen him fight before. He had won four tournaments back to back. All without taking a scratch. It is hard to conceive anyone could ever hope to challenge this monster. I take a deep breath. For once my snicker doesn’t start up the second I get nervous.

Pawing at the arena floor with my left foot I focus on the sun-warmed sand, the feeling of it under my claws. And slowly I manage to calm down a little.

The creature I see is only in my mind. He's just a boy like me. We are both thirteen. I am not fighting a monster, not fighting a win streak. I am fighting a boy. That is all. Just a boy holding two short uneven swords.

We spoke then for a few moments. I don't remember the exact words, but he had seen me fight and said he was looking forward to our match. I said something along the lines of “Go fuck yourself.”

Then the yell to start comes, and he vanishes. I knew what was coming, but it was impossible to be prepared for Resh in earnest. He's so fast it defies belief.

Keeping my axe close to my body I dodge to the right. Of his swords, Thread is the longer, and he likes to attack with that first. Which means he will go to my left. Even knowing it's coming he opens a line along my jaw. And is past me before I can even consider a defence. ‘Just a bit lower and...NO!’ Don't waste time thinking about it.

He comes at me again, and I lash out with my axe at his legs, he leaps over it and is past me again. Who does that? pitters that jump tend to be pitters that die. Still, only a quick jerk of my head downwards saves me from losing an eye. As it stands he opened another gash across my head, where his blade scraped along my skull.

‘He's too fast. I can't…SHUT UP’. I tell myself. I knew he was going to be fast. Stick to the plan. No one can move like this forever. He will slow down. He will!

I spin to face him swinging my axe blind as I do. Good instincts. He dances backward, abandoning whatever assault he was about to begin.

I can't let him pin me in place like this. He will use that speed to build a cage of empty air around me. Force me to focus only on defending while he blitzes past me again and again. So I pursue, even knowing I can't catch him. I have to keep moving. Staying in one place is a death sentence.

He comes at me again. That monstrous speed and solid footwork mean he can always attack me from a favourable angle. I'm ready for it this time. Leaning back a little I thrust my axe forward. It won't cut him like that but Resh still crashes into the weapon moving too fast to stop himself.

Hopefully, it broke something in his midsection. Even if it didn't, the top of the weapon knocked the breath out of him and the pain will make breathing hard.

The rat manages to keep his feet. And even maintain his balance enough to retreat again. Pitty, if he had fallen I could have ended this right now.

He's watching me now. Eyes wide with shock. " Thought you were too fast for me to time huh?" I taunt. He grins but I think he's trying too hard to regain his breath to respond.

‘Keep pushing.’ Don't let him breathe. Don’t let him decide the flow of the fight.

Before I can get back in range he begins a series of testing dashes that no one else would even attempt. A rush of air, and suddenly he appeared just inside my range, but just out of his. Another rush, and he has dashed back out again. Practically materialising out of thin air about ten yards away.

Leaving me hitting nothing but arena sand.

I feel the whoosh of air, and he's back. Swinging for my neck. I deflect. He's gone again before I can even begin to counterattack.

Where usually I would use my axe like a dance partner, the two of us whirling around the pit feeding off each other's weight and momentum. Against Resh, the gaps it would leave are too big. Today I keep the weapon tight and disciplined.

‘Keep moving forward’ I remind myself. Don't get mesmerised by his movement. If you can force him against the arena wall. You can take away his room to move. If I can cut off the arena, I can Build a cage of my own.

He might be faster, so much faster. But you can counter speed with a good sense of timing. Mine is better than good.

I blink and he's back in range. Not a test this time. Fully committed. Needle thrusts at my face, and Thread sweeps toward my stomach. I smash both blades away with the haft of my axe. Then step forward countering with a diagonal slice towards his face.

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Resh stumbles backward, hurling himself into a roll before neatly coming back to his feet. I'm breathing hard, and I can taste the salt of my own sweat. Or is it the iron of blood? Doesn't matter. If I'm getting tired, he must be exhausted.

He certainly looks tired. His hair sticking to his face with sweat of his own. It still doesn't seem to be affecting his movements.

Am I wrong? Will I wear out before he does?

At the thought, I start to snicker. Resh looks taken back for a second then he too starts to laugh. Like we are sharing some grand joke. We aren't.

"This is the best," he says in between hard breaths. " I hoped you would be good, but this might be the most fun I've ever had."

I feel very differently.

"You're broken in the head" I pant. He doesn't deny it.

“And you're amazing" he replies with utter sincerity.

Suddenly he's jabbing both of his swords, point down into the sand of the arena.

I frown. What on the seven worlds is he doing? "Honestly" he continues" I wish this could go on forever"

while I watch warily. He Pulls a length of twine from somewhere and ties his hair back. I snort with amused bewilderment. Is this for the crowd? It has to be. No one does this sort of thing in real life.

I guess I should be grateful. I'm not good at riling up the audience. This however has gotten their attention.

"But I have to win this tournament, when I do my sisters will own their store for themselves." His grin fades, and his black eyes go hard.

"I have to beat you."

I consider his words. Then glaring I spit on the ground.

"Beat me then"

From that moment the fight changes.

No more dancing around for the rat boy. Now he moves like debris tossed before a cyclone. Random and awkward, but hard to predict and still possessing a lethal velocity.

Suddenly we are face to face once more. Needle and thread are all but invisible as he launches flurry after flurry.

I block, I parry, I counter, But mostly I bleed. My skin is thick, and his attacks are light.

But he is still tearing flesh from my arms and chest. While he uses that speed to dodge everything I send back his way.

Still… I was right. He is getting tired, I can feel it in the force of his blows, see it in the way his face is turning red. That's why he is fighting like this. He has to beat me while he still has the energy left to do it.

Swinging my axe out in the briefest moment while he is recovering from a missed attack. I force him to block. Well, sort of. Small as he is even with both swords my axe will smash through any block he attempts. A deflection however is possible, if difficult. He lashes out with the blades together to knock the attack away from his body. He uses the momentum of the clashing weapons to spin in place, rather than fall back or over.

Got him.

Lunging my upper body forward I lock my jagged teeth around his shoulder and collarbone whilst he is still mid-spin.

With a jerk of my neck, I lift him from his feet. He screams. I bite down harder. I can feel flesh tear, and bone start to give way. Blood fills my mouth. It tastes like victory. Salty disgusting victory.

I fling my head back and forth like a dog trying to break a rat's neck. I suppose it isn’t that far from the truth. I feel his collarbone snap, and my teeth dig further into the soft flesh of his neck.

This is the end.

A sudden flash runs through me. A lightning bolt of utter weakness.

The jaws I'm so proud of fail and to my shock I release him. Resh goes tumbling onto the ground. That was weird, but it doesn't matter. I all but tore his throat out. The fight is over.

And yet…

With one hand pressed to his neck desperately trying to arrest the flow of dark arterial blood, he uses the sword 'Thread' as a cane. Slow and laboriously, Resh climbs to his feet. His face is still set, still determined to win.

"I have to beat you" he pants. Again and again " I have to beat you." I don't think he's talking to me. Not really. It's a chant, a prayer to the gods above and below to keep him standing.

"I have to beat you"

So be it. If I have to kill him to win. Then I'll kill him.

"Suit yourself" I pant back at him.

I take a step forward and heft my axe. Except I don’t, I can't. The axe feels heavy, unbearably so. Like some great force is pulling it downwards. I fight against it with every ounce of my strength, but I can't even bring the head of the weapon past my waist. It slips from shaking fingers.

I look down at my axe when I see the issue. The shorter of Resh's two blades, Needle. Is buried hilt deep in my chest. I don't recognise what I'm looking at right away, as not a speck of blade is visible. But then I see the little metal charm shaped like a dress he keeps tied to the weapon. Understanding dawns on me.

‘When did he?’

The spin I realise. When he spun on the spot he must have reversed the shorter sword, slamming it into me blind.

I look back up at Resh in shock and horror.

Blood is still pouring from between his fingers, but he continues his chant. More importantly, he continues to stand.

There is no pain, but that's only because I'm dreaming. When this happened for real the agony was so great I could barely see.

I can still beat him. I can! It doesn’t matter that I can’t breathe. I take a step forward. Axe or no, if I can get ahold of him again I will end this in an instant. And he doesn't have enough left inside to move, let alone avoid me.

But there never was a force pulling at my axe was there? It's simple. My strength has fled. I'm dying. I take another step towards him. He's close enough to reach out and touch. But my legs buckle. Buckle then fail.

‘No!’ It isn't supposed to be like this. The plan was working! Just a little longer, I can see him sway. He's barely standing. No one can keep fighting with an injury like his. No one can.

I manage to catch myself on my knees but no matter how I try to force myself back up. My body refuses to obey. One after the other my muscles are giving in to shock and blood loss. They can't even hold me up anymore. I search for any glimmer of strength. Some spark of will to drive me on

I can beat him… I'm the best...I ca- the world goes dark and the last thing I remember is the taste of sand and the ragged crowd cheering his name.