Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

They had sparred before, of course; but always under the watchful eye of a torke, who could step in if a wayward stroke began to fall. Realizing he had gone too far, Saviar relented. "I'm sorry, Subi. I didn't mean any of it. It's just I'm so sick of-"

Subikahn was not so forgiving. "Draw, you sniveling coward. Or are you afraid to face a man half your size?"

"Fine." Saviar could no longer back down without appearing craven. "But, if I win, you have to tell me everything."

"All right!" There was acid in Subikahn's tone. "But, if I win, you have to shut up about Talamir. And about my having secrets."

"Fine!"

"Forever!"

"Forever?" Jarred completely from his rage, Saviar stared. "You mean, you'll never tell me anything?"

"Maybe never. If you lose." Subikahn added in that same searing tone, "You're just worried because you know you're going to lose, aren't you?"

"Not a chance!" Saviar drew his swords and lunged at his brother.

Subikahn met the attack with a deft in-and-out dodge and parry maneuver that put Saviar instantly on the defensive. Saviar freed his left sword and threw up the right to catch Subikahn's blade. Steel rang against steel, driving the birds into sudden silence and sending the squirrels scampering.

Saviar threw off Subikahn and stepped back to realign. Suddenly realizing they had never chosen an end point, Saviar announced, "It's first would-be fatal touch that wins it."

"Agreed." Subikahn dove in with a vicious offensive that left Saviar scrambling to defend. He met each blow with a block, dodge, or parry but did not manage a single riposte. Finally, an opening presented itself, and Saviar thrust for Subikahn's gut. He met empty air as the smaller man skipped aside, then disappeared into the brush.

Surprised by his brother's odd, hiding tactic, Saviar spun to prevent an attack on his flank. "You're running away, you coward? Come out and face me like half a man."

No reply followed, and Saviar abruptly realized he had absolutely no idea where his brother had gone. He lowered his body weight, moving constantly, graceful but erratic. He did not want to leave any openings for Subikahn to catch him unaware or from behind. Though rarely invoked, the Renshai maneuvers did include stealth and forest movement, lessons Subikahn had nearly single-handedly revived. Where in Hel is he?

The answer came as a blazing kidney stroke that Saviar barely dodged. For an instant, he lost his balance. A flurry of sword strokes followed as he sought to regain it, wedded only to defense until he was back in control. The strategy paid off. Soon, Saviar found himself not only stable and ready for attack, but in the superior position. Now sword to sword, he used a deadly combination of quickness, agility, and strength to batter at Subikahn, herding him steadily backward toward a waiting clump of nettles.

Now, Subikahn found himself wholly on the defense, only dodging the lethally accurate hammer blows of his twin because blocking sapped his strength. Pounded, his expression turned from cocky to concerned. Only his lithe movements spared him from two well-aimed blows, one to the side of the head and another to the throat.

Only then, as Saviar bore in one more time, did Subikahn blaze in a thrust for Saviar's gut. He moved like lightning, but his foot mired in detritus, slipping. His stroke went low, opening his upper defenses. Saviar slapped a triumphant, side of the sword "killing stroke" against Subikahn's ribs with bruising force.

Then, agony seared Saviar's left thigh as flesh parted before a line of exquisitely sharp steel. Against his will, his leg folded under him. He rolled from instinct, stopped short by pain so achingly intense it stole all focus. He found his swords raised in his defense without any conscious memory of hefting them, and Subikahn stood over him with an expression of helpless terror.

"Modi!"Trained to wall up pain and keep fighting, Saviar struggled to a stand. Subikahn's left-hand sword skewered the outer part of his thigh, resting solidly against the bone. "Mooodi!"

"I'm sorry," Subikahn said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

They had both seen many wounds before, as well as death itself. Yet, the image of his own leg encasing a sword, knowing his brother had inflicted the injury, left Saviar stunned for several silent moments. "Get it out," he finally said.

"But-" Subikahn started. Renshai training included only enough herbal lore to help prevent infection. They battled to the death, and survivors' scars were considered badges of honor. Nevertheless, they both knew to leave a penetrating object in place. Its removal would start bleeding they might not be able to staunch, the usual cause of death in combat.

Saviar did not care. The pain encompassed his entire being, and the area where steel wedged against bone was so excruciating it made coherent thought impossible. "Pull it out, damn it! Pull the damn thing out! Pull it out!"

"Savi, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I swear I didn't mean to-"

Saviar found himself incapable of concentrating on words. "Pull… it… out!" He braced his hands on the protruding hilt, his breathing turning to ragged gasps of anguish, "Subikahn, pull it out, or I'm killing… both of us."

"All right. Lie down." Subikahn gave his brother a light push.

It proved too much for Saviar's delicate balance. He collapsed, and the impact sent another shock of pain through his thigh. He tried to shift position, but his injured limb would not obey. "Gods! I can't move my leg."

Subikahn dropped to the ground beside Saviar. "Of course, you can't move your leg. It's pinned to the ground."

Pinned… Realization struck Saviar in a jolt. The blade had not just penetrated his thigh, it had run him through completely. His fall had buried the point in the dirt, fixing it in place.

Subikahn knelt over his fallen brother. "Savi, you know we're not supposed to remove-"

Saviar had taken all he could stand. He lunged toward his brother, seizing the fabric of his tunic, near the throat, in both hands. "Pull it out, Subikahn; or I'll pulverize you!"

Apparently wise enough to shut his mouth, Subikahn did not mention that, affixed to the ground, Saviar could not pulverize a butterfly. "All right. Just let me prepare some bandages to stop the bleeding."

"Hurry," Saviar growled, releasing his brother. Torke's lessons had often left him with a myriad of bruises and contusions; but, all of those together did not equal the pain he suffered now. He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of cloth tearing and rustling, invoking the Renshai mind techniques that usually allowed them to fight past the agony of even a fatal wound. "Hurry," he whispered.

"Ready," Subikahn announced. Something cold and sticky flooded the wound, its sting a welcome contrast to the blaring, biting agony. Then, the pain intensified, and Saviar felt steel slide backward through his thigh. The sword clanged against rock or wood, freed from his leg, and the sound shocked Saviar into opening his eyes.

Subikahn took no notice of this new distress. Instead, he stuffed wet rags into the hole in Saviar's leg, then wrapped it around with bandages so suffocatingly tight they rivaled the pain already in his thigh.

Saviar glanced to where he had heard the noise. Sure enough, Subikahn's sword lay in the dirt. The sight scandalized Saviar, even through his pain. "Your sword is… it's on the… ground."

"Yes." Subikahn acknowledged the most terrible crime in Renshai law. "I thrust it through my own brother. Nothing could dishonor it worse."

Subikahn had a point. He already needed to atone to the weapon, yet he made no move to do so. It was a process that would take weeks or months. Hoping to speed it along, Saviar sat up and said softly, "If it helps, I forgive you."