Vorza strolling around the occupied village. The soldiers all cast their gaze upon Vorza, who kept his head low and marched across the muddied ground. The villagers peeked out of their cells and bars to watch Vorza approach them.
The soldier from before who had stopped Vorza and Kasar, held his hand up. “Hold.”
“I want to speak to the lives my boy might die for.”
The soldier smirked.
Vorza almost struck him for that look.
The mentor knelt next to the cells in which the villagers lay wounded, malnourished, and frightened. However, they weren’t weak of mind. Vorza saw inside their eyes a stubborn defiance he often witnessed hardened inside of Kasar as well. Vorza scoffed and shook his head. To think if Kasar died it could be for naught.
“My boy is going to fight and bleed for you,” said Vorza.
The soldier leaned to listen in the conversation. If only to ensure there was no scheming going on.
“You better make your lives worth his sacrifice regardless of if he wins or not.”
One of the elders, who could barely sit straight, so crooked and damaged was his back, wheezed and beckoned for Vorza’s attention. “He made a choice. He will suffer the consequences.”
“And you will appreciate it,” Vorza growled.
The elder’s eyes flicked over to the soldier who stood guard. Of course, the soldier’s gaze was elsewhere, but he could hear all.
“Devil,” whispered the elder, wheezing.
Vorza almost felt the presence of the soldier lean further as he could hear no more. However, Vorza still could.
“I whisper now only for your ears.”
Vorza understood. He rambled on some more hateful comments to seem like it was only Vorza who spoke.
“Your boy made a choice to give us a choice,” said the old man. “We have none now, but after the duel we will.”
Vorza’s fist tightened.
“He gave us life, because life is about choices. We are dead right now.”
Vorza wanted to roar for them to not waste Kasar’s sacrifice.
“When we live again, we will make choices. Choices to take lives and defend our home. If we lose, we would have lost as living warriors. That is our choice. Your boy’s sacrifice will give us that chance.”
Vorza stood up abruptly and stormed off.
Kasar felt Vorza’s rage simmering as he approached him.
“Vorza?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“They plan to still fight once they’re freed, boy. Are you sure about this? You get flayed, and then they repay you by dying anyway?”
Kasar frowned. “So when they get their freedom, they will continue to fight?”
“Yes. They won’t leave. They won’t live peacefully.”
“Good.”
“What?” spat Vorza.
“What’s the point of leaving?”
“To live, you stupid boy!” growled Vorza.
“To have lost your home,” said Kasar.
“Oh, the arrogance and naivety of youth. You are all meat bags in a meat grinder. And the machine of war will eat you all like nameless morsels.”
“If we were nameless morsels, we wouldn’t have a choice. If they choose to fight for their land, they should.”
“And you think they will win?”
Kasar’s eyes now narrowed and a shadow loomed over his face.
Vorza watched as that defiance hardened like it did in the pits.
“It’s not about winning.”
“Say that when you have people you care about,” said Vorza.
Kasar clasped Vorza’s shoulder. “I am saying that when I have someone I care about. It’s what makes the choice difficult.”
“You have a very warped perspective, boy.”
“Good. I’ll keep it that way.”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“I’d like to see you try.”
A blaze of renegade-fire burned inside of Kasar’s dark brown eyes. A smirk twitched onto his lip. A challenge was offered, and the challenge would be met.
“Don’t die for your pride,” said Vorza.
Kasar didn’t respond. He wanted to live today. He wanted to live more than any other time before. In the pits he’d made a choice to break free and survive. Now he dove head first to save people who could die anyway tomorrow. That was life. Life was short, and every day came at a cost. If not the cost of others, the cost of your life. All would die, and it was all about letting them live that extra day to make choices and warp the world around them.
Kasar had a warped perspective. A childish view of how to act and an idealistic sense of what should be fought, and how, and where, and why. However, that fire in his belly, the one he felt on occasions, told him to keep pushing.
Push and make those choices till you die. If you won't, no one will.
Every copper counts.
Vorza and the soldiers gathered around. The villagers remained in their cells, but could still see Kasar and Valiki arrive at the circle quartered into the dirt for their duel. Silence hung in the air, and Vorza realized how unnerving it was. Not too long ago, when blood was to be spilt, the audience would cheer.
Now they watched in silence.
The villagers knew of their fate regardless of the outcome. Vorza found himself wishing that if Kasar were to lose, the villagers would be flayed as well. That way they could be at the edge of their wits and seats just like Vorza.
The soldiers, however, seemed to stand and lounge around like they were watching a mandatory ceremony. As if it were a training drill where the outcome was predetermined. A pit formed in Vorza. Of course the outcome was predetermined.
Valiki would win.
It was just that.
****
Kasar and Valiki bowed.
“To reiterate the terms,” said Valiki. “If Kasar wins. He is let free as are the villagers. If he loses, he will be healed and then made to suffer the purification of the villagers, but the villagers are spared of their sins against Lord Torvic.”
Kasar nodded. “I accept.”
“Very well. On my Devil’s Honor, I shall hold true to these terms.”
“As will I, and submit willingly.”
“Good. Then may the duel begin.”
Both Devils drew their sabers, and advanced.
****
Kasar surged forward to not let Valiki have the first blow. The two Devils fell into a rhythmic dance where each tested the boundaries, and caliber of the other. After only three clangs of steel, and raspy hisses of their weapons binding and winding, Kasar knew just how much more skill Valiki had.
Two more clashes, and Kasar nearly lost his ear. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he felt Valiki had missed on purpose. The two circled, clashed three more times, and Kasar noted his panting and Valiki’s distinct lack of exertion.
A smirk formed on his lips.
This was a test of Kasar’s worth in a duel.
****
And Valiki was impressed. He had exchanged blows that would normally have killed a regular soldier. Kasar held true save for the last where the general had to soften the arc of his saber lest he take the boy out before he measured him.
Valiki found the boy satisfactory, and deserving of his mercy. Then again, mercy couldn’t be given to any but the undeserving. The boy could go on to live a long painful life, but during his path of daggers, he could convert hearts like he did his own.
Now to put on a show for his own men.
****
“Come on, boy,” said Valiki. “Strike me.”
Kasar settled into a defensive stance. His foot poised to retreat if needed, but aligned to hold his ground. If he was to die, he’d take the general out with him.
“Fine,” said Valiki, advancing. “I’ll have to go on the hunt.”
Kasar shared a flurry of blows with the general, but found his offensive lacking in wisdom. A sudden swipe of Kasar’s saber dug true into the general’s arm. He brought the saber around for the head.
****
Valiki might have allowed the cut, but he would not allow such a disgraceful blow to land. Flicking his head to avoid the blow, he used the new opening to strike forth and catch the boy on his undefended thigh. The two staggered back, parted further out of reach, and took a moment to gather vigor.
As much as Valiki looked as winded as Kasar at this point, the general knew fighting an opponent who you did not want to kill was more difficult. The two circled. He regarded the cheers and jeers of his troops.
They were shocked that Kasar had lasted this long. Perhaps some grew curious about Valiki’s lack of initiative as he always showed in any other fight. Fine, thought Valiki. Let’s give them more of a show. Sorry, young man. To win this, you’ll still have to suffer steel.
****
Kasar yelped rather courageously, as three shallow cuts formed on his body. He reacted with aggression, a tactic Valiki did not expect. The general stumbled as Kasar’s shoulder checked him in the chest. Kasar arced his saber around and caught Valiki on the side of his face. Valiki had dodged just in time to suffer the wound, but only to lean in close for a dastardly strike to Kasar’s underarm.
****
Valiki cursed under his breath. He had intended the cut to his face to land as to justify his loss. However, it stung nonetheless. And the strike unto Kasar had slowed down the boy as well.
“I underestimated you,” said Valiki so his soldiers could hear as well as see their general’s folly.
Kasar did not respond. He held his saber with one hand now, the other struggling to move.
****
“Listen, boy,” Kasar heard Vorza mutter under his breath, so that only the Devils could hear, even over the cheering of the soldiers. “He is going to let you win. Convince his men he lost.”
Kasar almost gasped.
****
Understanding flooded into the boy’s face. Valiki advanced. He could have killed the boy right there. It would be so easy. However, Devil’s Honor was not just about the rules. It was about doing the right thing by the human spirit. The boy reminded him of his own youth. Devils never stray off the path forever. They either die, or find it again.
****
Sabers clashed, and Kasar saw Valiki’s opening presented to him on a silver platter. Roaring, he clashed against the general’s saber, shoving it out of his way. With an upward vertical strike, his saber found its mark under the general’s arm.
****
Valiki saw the sky above him just before his head hit the ground. Pain lanced through his body, but he knew his healers would repair him. Shock forced the crowd to go silent. Wet steel touched his gullet.
****
“Yield,” said Kasar. “And consider me the victor.”
Valiki’s eyes met with Kasar and for a moment the two knew exactly the kind of men they were.
“I yield,” said Valiki.
The soldiers all collectively murmured and gasped.

