“I moved my feet and felt the sand of the arena shift under me. If I close my eyes, I can still feel exactly how the cold sand felt on my bare toes. I can remember the roar of the crowd as my father raised his spear, greeting the crowd. As if by that signal, an elder named Cloud began making his way to the center of the arena, carrying a massive black flag. He fished a small shell out of his cloak and swallowed it. When he opened his mouth, it was like a hundred men were shouting at once. “So begins a sacred dance of a cursed people. The rules and traditions of it, as passed down by our forefathers. You have all borne witness to the justness of this Pasha through the elders and speakers that stood before you just now. The amount of such declarations has fulfilled the requirements for this young man to take part in this great tradition. Here, we do not see familial roles. It is not a son fighting against his father. It is one way of life competing against another. Here we see which way of life can survive. Which way of life is right for our cursed people? The blood that falls to the sand will decide!
To those of you watching, know that you are bearing witness to the rise or fall of our people. Treat this as something sacred and do not make a mockery of it. Respect those who fight today for they are fighting for your future. Honor he who wins, for that is the way of the Narjee. May the great dance lead us towards survival.”
Having said his piece, Cloud stabbed the large flag into the ground. The roars that had been heard earlier had fallen into dead silence as everyone listened to the elder. After he finished talking, the crowd remained silent, as everyone watched the flag, waiting for the fight to begin. The elder was already out of the ring when a strong gust of wind blew across the arena. The flag fell. The crowd roared. The fight had begun.
We approached each other slowly, I moved to his right, while he did the same. We circled each other, neither of us attacking. I did a small feint with just my feet. Father didn’t move, and I saw him smirk at me. I took a step closer, which he copied, moving us both within range of our spears. The little smirk was gone now from my father’s face, all that was left was the stony resolution that signaled his readiness to kill me. I knew that expression well. I had seen it every time he slaughtered an animal.
His first spear thrust came so fast, that I only just had enough time to dive out of the way. A sharp pain blossomed from my right shoulder, and glancing down as I rolled to my feet, I saw that he had given me a shallow stab wound. I brought my shield up, blocking the second spear thrust that came at blinding speed. I blocked the attack, but it ended up throwing me off balance.
Using the momentum of my father’s attack, I pushed myself backward, using my shield as a cushion, and somersaulted over it. Reaching my feet, I swung my spear behind me blindly. There was a clang and a hiss as my spear clashed with my father’s shield.
I sprinted forward then twisted midair to the left, stabbing. I cut air instead of the expected flesh. Father had decided not to pursue and instead was ten paces away, taking his time as he made his way towards me. Even from this distance, I could see that his face remained as apathetic as it had before our first foray.
`Swallowing hard, I approached him with more caution than the first time, moving my spear in an 8-shaped pattern, ready to strike at any moment. When we were in range, I attacked first, aiming for my father’s right leg. There was a clang as he used his shield to drive my spear into the ground.
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I twisted to the side, dodging my father’s return strike, and swinging my shield at his spear hand. He stepped back, dodging the shield. Instead of stopping, I allowed the momentum to keep me twisting, and I grabbed the spear that I had let go of, buried in the ground. The act of me spinning pulled the spear out of the ground and against my frame.
To deal with the rest of the rotational force, I leaped and pushed the spear forward with all the strength I could muster. Father’s shield met the blow, but because of the force behind my attack, instead of glancing off, it drove through the wood, metal, and animal skin, narrowly missing my father’s face.
My father let go of the shield, now pierced, and stepped forward, stabbing. Already off balance, I had to let go of my spear and protect myself as best I could. I blocked the first two thrusts, but the third sliced a good chunk out of my left bicep. As the spear pulled back, I charged forward, poking my head up above the shield. I ducked back down as the head of the spear flew towards me. Instead of slowing down, I sped up, crashing into my father and sending him to the dirt.
I drew my belt knife, hoping to take advantage as he lay on the ground. I had to jump to avoid having my ankles sliced as Father swung the spear from the end of the shaft. By the time I landed, he had rolled to his feet and began to draw an 8 in the air.
I shook myself loose, preparing for another go at it. Neither of us had scored any major damage, though I could feel blood drip down from my shoulder to my fingertips, before falling to the sand below. I took a breath, then threw myself back into the duel.
My father responded to my movements by trying to sweep my legs. I jumped back, then charged forward again. He attacked with a thrust towards my knee. I brought my shield down, knocking his spear out and stabbing towards my father’s chest with my knife. He let go of his spear and he ducked under my knife hand, punching me in the armpit as he drew his knife with his other hand.
My left arm went numb, and I dropped the dagger. In an effort to survive, I drove the shield into his shoulder. He went flying. Still feeling numbness in my left hand, I dropped my shield and raced to pick up my father’s spear. I heard footsteps behind me as I ran.
Grabbing the spear, I spun and swung the spear in an arc. There was a spark as Father deflected the spear with the knife. Taking advantage of how off-balance he seemed, I thrust the spear straight for his heart. There was a song of triumph on my lips as I struck true. Then I realized what I had done, and the joy of battle flew out of me.
I rushed over to see if my father lived and found him barely holding onto his life. Blood was dripping from my right side, though I had no idea where the wound had come from. When I reached him, I knelt, trying to think of the words to express my sorrow and guilt. I could not think of anything and probably would have knelt there dumb until he passed if Father hadn’t glared at me. He coughed then growled, “Swear to me on my dying breath. You must swear, that you will not let him rule.”
I blinked, confused. “Father, I…”
“Swear it, you useless child. Do not give me excuses, Garnachi. I am your father. And I am also the man you have killed. Swear to me on your mother’s life that you will not let him rule. Swear it, for if you don’t, your mother has already promised that she will take her own life. It is my last command as her husband, and she has accepted to do just that if it is necessary.” Snapped my father, though his voice grew faint in the end, and I do not know if he even heard me when I promised.
“I swear it. Now tell me why you did not stop my spear?” I demanded,
But my father would never respond. I sat there motionless for a while. It could have been a few seconds, or perhaps a few hours. However long it was, it was broken suddenly. And I will swear upon any god to this day, that it was the exact moment my father passed on. For I was trapped there one moment, then I was free the next.