The Bitter twist of dark 2

I walked out into the hall and was assaulted by the utter silence. I felt the anxiety as well as the excitement thick in the air. I took a very deep slow breath and looked at my master who stood at my side. I didn’t show it but I was scared but that was not the only emotion I felt, I was also angry.

I took my place in the center of the combat area across from Riori and concentrated on my breathing as Master Anadiav handed us each a combat staff. They were beautiful weapons, carved from dark, heavy hard wood. I tested the weight of mine and studied it carefully, then shook my head. He accepted it back and handed me another one. This time I nodded after, once again inspecting it carefully. There actually wasn’t much of a difference between the two but I knew that doing that would put Riori on edge. I could tell that while he was very good in the art of pure Teräs Käsi, he wasn’t so comfortable with a staff in his hand. I was pretty sure he had studied sword art instead. Most students were exposed at some point in the training to all the possible weapons forms but few choose to follow any, especially the archaic ones. I owed my love of this form to Jyrki. He had wielded a combat staff with such ease and grace that it was almost dance like. The sudden image of Jyrki as he had been when I had known him on Tatooine made me sad. I swallowed that emotion down. I needed to think clearly not get caught up in self pity and maudlin memories. I didn’t play with the staff I just stood waiting calmly for the signal.

“The rules are simple. No other weapons. You can discard the ones you have and fight hand to hand only, if you wish.” Master Oskarii said. “This fight is to the death, unless either of you wish to forfeit the match and suffer the consequences only one of you will leave this hall alive. There are no other rules. Do you understand?”

We both said we did.

Riori glanced at his younger brother who nodded. I could feel their anger, sense their hatred but it was unfocused. I looked only at my opponent. He was muscular and well proportioned. He played with the combat staff, testing it, learning its balance. A weaponless fight would have suited him better. I drew a deep steadying breath. Focus only on the moment at hand; let nothing distract you from the goal. Master Kjestyll had said.

Master Anadiav gave the start command and both Riori and I saluted the other with the traditional hand gesture and bow, even here in this arena, some sort of honour was being observed.

We circled around each other, staves held with both hands, defensively. I watched his eyes; he was waiting for me to swing so that he could judge my skill. I twitched the staff in my hands a little making his shift to defend and then swung out at him in the opposite direction.
He had to move quickly, awkwardly to block me and the loud crack of wood on wood was like thunder in the silent hall. The first attack made, the first block completed. We circled again this time more aware of the other’s gait and stance. He grinned at me.

I moved again, spinning on the spot, swinging my staff around letting it slide through my hand so that as it swung I lengthened the end that would strike him, sweeping low. He did not anticipate this move and the staff caught him on the arm, but he stepped backwards enough that the blow landed softer than I had hoped. I ducked as he swung, and felt the air part as his staff swept over my head. He had put a lot of power behind that blow. There was no sudden stop so his follow through recovery gave me time to get a better grip on my own weapon and ready my stance. I swept low, dropping to a crouch and caught him on the shin knocking him down. He rolled and recovered swiftly, as we had been taught. Use the momentum of the fall to pull you back up.

We moved back and forth, wood smashed against wood and our eyes never left each other. Sweat beaded down my back. I could see it glisten on his face, running in rivulets down the sides of his jaw. We were too well conditioned to be tired, but my muscles were starting to tell me they wanted a rest. From the way he kept flexing his fingers I knew that holding the staff was starting to wear on him, He gripped it too hard, white knuckles showed the strain.
We circled. He grinned. I kept my face emotionless but anger coiled in my belly. I could feel it reaching upwards, testing me, and teasing me. It wanted to be set free.

Let me loose, it whispered, let me loose and let me kill…

I gritted my teeth, shutting the seductive voice in my head out. If I gave into that I might not lose the match but I would lose my soul. Some of this must have shown on my face, Riori snickered and grinned at me, taunting me. I swung at him hard. He was expecting such a move and he countered. The sound of the Kanaka wood smashing together ricocheted around the silent hall. He swung around and used the staff to counter my next move but he was second too slow and I caught the side of his leg with a glancing blow. So far we were just testing each other. Our moves were guarded and mindful but it was getting tedious. If he hoped to tire me he was failing, instead he was touching that anger I wanted to keep locked away.

Let me go, let me go … it sang to me.

For a single moment I thought I heard Jyrki’s voice in my head and my concentration was, for a second, broken and as he sensed this he came at me in a sudden flurry of motion. I was instantly on the defensive, he was very powerful but as Master Kjestyll had often drilled into my head strength could be turned against its user and I dropped into crouching panthac position and swung at his shins. I connected and he went down but recovered faster than I had hoped to swing about and once again I was on the defensive. I don’t know how long we went on like this for, it was probably a lot shorter than it seemed and we were both now sporting what would be some pretty impressive bruises under our clothes. He had good power behind his blows, then again so did I; we just came to it from different places. I twisted from the hips, and he used his upper body strength. I knew that he would tire if he kept that up but it was a common mistake with people not used to swinging a big stick.

I annoyed him when I caught him with a surprise move, one I had learned from Lord Vader and hit him on the back of his thigh. It hurt him and I could see he would now have to favour that leg. But his ire made him fast and I wondered if he was not just the smallest bit Force sensitive and just did not know it.

Anger snaked upwards, it curled its fingers about my belly and I had to swallow to fight it back. It was seductive, and I could feel the power it would give me. Join with me, let me make you strong… it was like a lover’s touch, that ache of lust. I reached down and caressed it just a little. I felt a renewed strength, half hidden, flood through my limbs and I smiled.

Again we circled. Unlike me, he used his darker emotion easily. It came off him in waves; it made him stronger, impervious to the pain that he must now have felt. He swung at me hard and fast. The terrible sounds of wood against wood, wood against flesh filled the hall. I countered and fought back. I should have been in pain but I didn’t feel it.

The anger in my belly became a fire in my heart. Yes, yes it sang to me as I tapped into it, just a little, just enough. Momentum helped me shift against gravity as I flipped about and almost caught him on the side of the head with the end of my staff. He saved at the last minute but it cost him, a muscle wrenched trying to absorb the blow. He winced, and then he got angrier.
He came at me furious and with a move I would have considered dirty, had this been a normal bout and managed to catch me left shoulder, thrusting with the end of the staff. I heard the pop before I actually felt it as he dislocated my shoulder. Pain flared and I gasped with it but had no time to consider what to do about it because he smelled blood and came in for the kill.

I am here, part of you, pain is fleeting anger is strength….

My arm hung wrong and the pain coursed up and down it was exquisite. I gulped air and swallowed the agony down.

I heard master Kjestyll’s voice in my mind. “Pain was a moment, get beyond it.”

Fury wormed its way upwards. It warmed in my gut. This time I didn’t push it away and the joy that coursed through me outweighed the pain.

Yes…yes…

I could fight with one arm if I had to. Sparring with Lord Vader had taught me that. It was a technique I had learned through necessity. I swallowed the misery that wanted to break past my fury, adrenalin made that easier to do and I touched the anger that desperately wanted to break free. It coursed through blood and it gave me strength. While I could fight with one arm not working right, it would be easier if it wasn’t hanging like a limp flag. If he caught it with a blow again he could tear it from my body or at least do permanent damage. I caught my breath and in a move that surprised him and everyone else, I threw myself at the floor, praying I got the angle right. My shoulder found its way back into the socket messily, noisily. I cried out in pain and rolled over on to my knees then staggered to my feet. I wasn’t sure why he had not attacked me in that moment. Perhaps sheer surprise at what I was doing rendered him momentarily stunned. I would never know. When I turned to face him he was smiling openly. I gave him a tight smile back and focused on breathing which was very hard to do.

I could no longer control how I felt. It was choose between pain or anger and anger won. It turned into a wild fury. I laughed as I let it flow through my limbs, flow through me. I opened up to the universe. The force and my rage collided and began to dance.

He was expecting me to be an easy target because he was higher in the levels than I was and I was now seriously hurt but I had some advantages he didn’t know about. I moved slower now more carefully, he could use my pain as a weapon against me and I wanted to avoid that. I watched as he flipped in a spin to whirl around and went to hit me on the head. I had to brace my staff with my body as I dropped into one kneel. The staff took the blow not my head but in crouching on one knee I lost the advantage and when he swung again I wasn’t ready. The staff smashing into my right side and broke not only the rib that his brother had cracked earlier on, but two others as well. I think I screamed.

For a moment we eyed each other and he grinned. He was certain he had won, certain I would lose and for the first time I wondered if he was right. Then, he made the worst mistake he possible could right then and there. He laughed. Like a solar flare, my rage leaped upward and I welcomed its burning warmth. I got up. The pain vanished as I rode the wave of fury. It was my turn to smile and that put Riori off guard. Power rippled about me, power that was deep, dark and seductive, Lord Vader’s power. I stopped thinking.

I swung my staff upward, parallel to the floor. Using my body as a brace I pirouetted about, a dance move and I caught his left arm on the elbow. With a terrible sound, the arm broke. I didn’t stop as he staggered momentarily shocked by the pain. I coughed and spat blood out of my mouth. I had to end this now or else it was going to end me. I spun around again and swung low catching him on the side of his leg. The crack was loud. He went down on his knees and I kicked him hard in the solar plexus. Watching as he flew backwards and lay winded and momentarily stunned on the mat. My anger sang to me and the force ran with it. I was having a hard time controlling this, I laughed because I liked it even though a part of me knew this was not good, this was not good at all.

I watched for a second or two as Riori struggled to get up but that kick had hurt him and he was struggling to catch his breath. I moved in for the kill. I laid my staff across his throat and braced one end with my knee while applying pressure with my good arm so that I slowly began to crush his neck. The dark anger that writhed in my gut screamed at me to end it now, all it would take is one quick motion and I would walk away the winner, but I hesitated. Somewhere deep inside me a voice that was not mine, a voice I knew only from my dreams, whispered past the fury, past the pain, past the fear. ‘No Merlyn, don’t’. I looked into Riori’s eyes and my anger suddenly receded. His eyes were wide and full of fear. I felt his grief. I understood it. This boy wanted to stop feeling empty. He wanted to find a way beyond his sorrow. He did not want to die and suddenly I didn’t want to kill him. My anger screamed at me as the power I had felt stirring my blood into a frenzy slowly receded. Suddenly I had Thrawn’s words from almost two years ago whispering in my head.

‘Everyone has the capacity to kill, some more so than others. It is a choice many must make on a daily basis, whether they wish to or not, those who choose not to often die because of that decision. But it changes you and it makes you harder, colder in ways you cannot imagine. I am certain that if it came down to the blade’s edge and you had no other avenue available, you would choose life over death, there is enough steel in you to do that, but I should hate to see that happen.’

I took as deep a breath as I could without starting cough and I staggered to my feet using the combat staff to brace my weight, shaking my head.

“No.” I whispered, “I won’t kill him.”

There was a stunned silence in the hall as I backed away from Riori who was starting to sit up. He stared at me with a bitterness, a hatred that I didn’t understand. I looked around leaning heavily on my staff and caught sight of Master Kjestyll looking at me. He gave me one of his rare smiles that reached his eyes and then he bowed to me deeply, a sign of great respect. I turned to walk away and Master Oskarii looked at me.

“If you leave this hall with Riori still alive you know what will happen.” He said quietly.

I nodded. “I know.” I looked over at my Master who just acknowledged with a single slight nod of his head. He knew, he understood and he had accepted it. I think he had expected this from me should I get the upper hand.

I hurt and I wanted to go home. I no longer wanted to be in this place. I straightened up as much as the broken ribs would let me and went to walk out of the hall but a gasp from the crowd and a warning shout from Makki made me turn suddenly to see Riori leaping at me. I didn’t think, I just acted, leaning on the staff and using it as a brace, I sprung up with all my power in my legs and just as he reached me I kicked at him with every ounce of strength and force that I could muster. I felt that last flare of anger surge and coupled with the force I caught him squarely on his jaw with such brutality that his head was twisted violently sideways. The sickening sound of his neck snapping was like Tusken gunfire in Beggar’s Canyon. We both crumpled to the ground at the same time and as I inhaled a deep, painful breath so he exhaled his last. My staff clattered dully on the floor. I laid my hand on his body but there was nothing, no heart beat, no life force. That last move had done something in my chest and I was having real trouble breathing. I coughed and there was blood, lots of it. I looked around but could not focus on the sea of faces swimming about me. People tried to pull me off Riori’s body, I think I was screaming or at least trying to. I had not wanted to kill him. I had not wanted him to die. Pain and fear wrapped around me. I fought against the blood in my lungs, the sensation of drowning from the inside out. The last thing I remembered was hands on my face, my Master’s gentle hands, and the sound of his voice but I didn’t understand what he was trying to say. The world around me swam and when the blackness came I was grateful.