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Past Death Itself
Chapter 15 – Battle of Host and Servant

Chapter 15 – Battle of Host and Servant

When the issuance of war was made, we each gave a cry and raced toward each other. Our blades struck. The sound of impact reverberated and make the steel vibrate. There was cheer from either side.

My heart raced. While I gnashed my teeth, my mind reveled in the sensations of violence. I was drunk from the lust for blood. My inhibitions left their hold over my intuition. My actions now unburdened and fully unrestrained. Free!

The sparks of friction flew side to side, as each swing and impact of one blade met the other. Salam maneuvered himself about me, looking for an opening. But I wouldn’t give it to him.

For every downward strike, I deflected it upward. For every side strike, I met from the same end. For every slash, another one met at the opposite direction.

Salam’s strikes came strong. But for all the force he mustered, it seemed he was still holding back.

“Why do you fight as such, commander!” I said. “I know you to be stronger than this; show me the strength of the royal guard!”

He laughed and said, “Then show me the resolve behind your actions, prince! Make me submit to desperation so I have no reason to restrain my ability.”

I goaded him on and on, but he wouldn’t take the bait. With little choice, I increased the power behind my strikes till they could match the commander’s output.

It seemed we were even in ability. But the commander still held back.

Closing the gap between us, I clashed our swords once more and circled them downward. I struck them into the ground, and then slid my blade along Salam’s, seeking to disarm him.

He saw through it. With his open hand, he blocked the hilt and thrust me back.

I tumbled backward. When I regained my bearing, I saw Salam rushing to me. His movements seemed faster. I could taste blood in my mouth. The taste of iron heightened my bloodlust.

Just as he came in striking distance, I held my blade with both hands and blocked the oncoming strikes. But I hadn’t the power to resist. I was slowly forced back by the onslaught of my mentor. The blade dug into my palms and blood profusely poured along the length.

My skin tore as like a fruit being peeled and bits of flesh fell into a small puddle of blood. It seemed as if I was pouring libations for the Gods. It flowed around me and made its way into the crowd, who stepped back to give way for their prince’s offering.

It pained with such might that I should think I have fainted at that moment. But my mind, focused on Salam, held strong.

When the commander saw the wound, his face became grave, and his strikes began to wane.

I became furious, and taking chance, I met his blade again. The clash was much stronger now, but not enough. I let my mind focus on the blade. With my hold fixated on the weapon of choice, I struck in similar manner against Salam.

He now was pushed back, and in my zeal, I began to strike faster. Then my blade was deflected. I was left open. He lunged with a downward slash as if to cut me in two. A burst of air launched me from my side. And my blade crashed against his.

I spun, and in that moment, I struck with my foot against his head. But it was blocked by his palm. Then his sword swung from the side. I dug my sword into the ground and blocked his strike.

I used the force of the strike to propel me upward. Using my foot, I pivoted against his palm. Now, I was above, and sought to lop his head.

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My blade reached close enough to touch the nape of his neck. But just as it was to do so, I was struck on the cheek and pushed away.

Another burst came from my side. Then a burst from his’. Our knuckles met, and it felt as if our bones cracked from the impact.

Now, steel against steel, then air, then alighted sparks, and then cries of joy and pain! On and on we repeated in like motion in our dance of death.

I hadn’t yet realized, but both our movements increased in speed. We seemed as like the flow of the air itself. Equally matched, equally unrestrained, and ever flowing against the movements of the other.

This situation reminded me of the scarce times I looked into the spars of the soldiers. I would sit on the upper balcony with those below, unaware of my presence. Looking to the matches, I would see the use of both physical might and elemental prowess displayed with nary a restraint.

In the ebb and flow of their strikes, they seemed as like dancers. Using their elements in a way to not be the sole force of their attacks, but as an addition to their already honed senses of battle.

My thoughts then wandered to a peculiarity I noticed in their sessions.

When the combatants were synchronized in their movements, they danced and flowed in such a way that the motion of their strikes would quicken in pace and seem nearly superhuman. Nay, it was so! Their ever so slight touch with the elements allowed them to heighten their senses to such a degree that the battle became one of endurance and wits, ungoverned by the constraints of power.

And often, as such, those who came victorious did so by the focus of their mind rather than by the force of their body.

I thought to my sessions of meditation. That though their purpose was to much greater ends, that I could, for now, use them in the same way those sparring soldiers had in the heat of battle. That I could indeed become as like these soldiers. As like my father. And as like Salam whose hold of my admiration never left since the time he saved me.

Now, I sought to hone that ability!

“It would seem you’re not holding back anymore!” I said with a smile.

“Indeed, it would, prince!” he said with a zeal, greater than any I witnessed. “What do you propose we do to settle this deadlock?”

The elements were beginning to issue in minute quantities from our persons.

“Let the elements roar, teacher!” I cried. “Let us bring our dance to its finale!”

His eyes lit with vigor. Both Salam and I circulated the air about our persons in regular movements. Our blades became moist and slid from each other with little resistance. Fire erupted from the shield of water and steamed on impact. The earth of the steel diffused into the water and the fire subtly melted the mixture into an oil.

The next strikes were to meet. And on impact, lo! the blades blazed as an inferno, with their fires rising high and encasing us in the dread of death.

Till now it seemed as if the battle was only a warmup. Only meant to invigorate our spirits until we could resolve to risk our lives. But now, for at least that moment, the hold of fear was gone.

Now the real battle was set to begin. The crowd gave greater distance from us. Their cheer resounded loud.

We struck back and forth against one another, with fierce clashes of the elements issuing at either end from us. The air smelled burned. The trees seemed to shudder. The animals took flight.

A great dread encased us as we awaited the next movement. The sky above seemed to darken. Perhaps I was hallucinating, but I saw my vision darken. I heard the clash of thunder and felt the slight strikes of drizzle upon my person.

When I sensed with full focus the impact of a water drop on my shoulder, I, in my impatience, burst the air behind me! I circled Salam in a whirlwind. My movements were fast. Faster than I can hold my vision. In a fury, I struck out at random intervals from the wind, only to be deflected each turn.

My movements were losing stability. Yet I saw a chance to break his guard. I took it and leaped from the whirlwind with my flaming sword. On high, I dove like an eagle to my adversary’s position.

This battle was meant to be restrained. At least, to the degree where we didn’t seek each other’s death. But that hold was lost on us.

I sought for his head!

My blade crashed against his, and fierce of arcs of lightning issued from the impact. An element that I couldn’t control, but Salam could. We each gave a cry as we pressed the blades against each other.

The lightning of the strike redirected in its motion. It concentrated into a ball at the epicenter. It grew in size with the tornado of elements. Our blades cracked, our garbs singed, our faces were cut, and our bodies dried and wasted from the heat.

And just when it seemed as if the match was to be decided, the elements all at once vanished. Two strikes landed on our faces. We were launched to either side. And our blades were broken.

Dust covered our sight. Yet it slowly cleared. And when it did, we saw that in the middle stood a woman of dark skin, clad in the saffron robes of the enlightened. The sage Yurvaonri had returned.