“You said you found a sword?”
“More like it found me,” Balak began.
“I could hear it speak in my head. Promising to make me strong enough and to find the man. It craved blood and grew in strength with every slaying. Feeding on the blood of my enemies.”
“Is that why you hate magic?”
“It brings out the worst in you. And now it has a new master.”
“The Darkblade, I’ve heard stories about it. You think Karnak has the sword?”
“I knew it looked familiar the moment I saw it. He must have picked it up the same night I left it. If I get the chance to separate him from the sword he might listen.”
“And what if magic has nothing to do with it?”
“That’s what I fear the most. That it wasn’t the sword, but my own anger. I’ll face Karnak and bring the child back.”
“I will help you. I don’t want to lose you and will be by your side.”
Balak turned to Arda and held her shoulders. “This is personal, Arda. I must face him alone.”
At first light, the two set off to the hill by the Crimson Point.
Arda climbed with Balak to the top of the hill.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked him.
Balak half-smiled at his friend. They headed up the hill. It was a blustery day and Karnak was waiting for them at the top. They approached him. The basket with the baby was an equal distance between them. Arda rushed to pick the child up and swiftly returned to Balak. They exchanged glances as Balak took a deep breath and stepped towards Karnak. He stood there like a mountain but Balak knew he was like a volcano, waiting to burst.
“I know how you feel. You are . . .” he began.
“Stop!” Karnak interrupted.
“You don’t get to speak! You don’t get to make speeches! I have waited for this moment all my life. I have dedicated my life to finding the man who wronged me and watching you take your last breath will finally end my suffering. A man who slaughtered an innocent family will get what he deserves, steel.”
“And what of the lives you have taken? You are guilty in their eyes as I am in yours.”
“Admittedly, I have killed countless men just to get to you, Balak. But their blood is on your hands. All of this is the result of your wrongdoing. You started it and I am here to put it to an end. This is what justice looks like.”
“It stopped being justice a long time ago. You are here to get revenge. We have spilled enough blood between us. It’s time to put the past to rest. Leave and have the life your parents wanted you to have.”
“You think I would just walk away? After I invested so much of my life to it? Pretend like the last couple of decades never happened? How dare you even ask a man something like this; to put it all behind me, to forget what you did to me?”
“No, I am not asking you to forget but to forgive.”
“Forgive? So, you can save your lousy life?”
“Not mine . . . yours.”
There was a brief silence in the air, then Karnak unleashed a furious laugh.
“I think your mind is withering with your age.”
Balak ignored the comments and continued. “I have seen the end of the path you are on. I don’t wish you to suffer the same fate. I . . . I really wish things were different.”
“Me too. I wish you were fucking dead!”
Karnak took a brief moment to compose himself before continuing. “And I am here to make sure of that.” Karnak charged at Balak, full throttle. He struck with his sword but Balak blocked with his axe.
“Vengeance is not the answer. Take it from someone who knows.”
“I do not need your counsel, just your head.” He swung at Balak again. He was in a frenzied rage, swiping his sword in every direction. He swung his sword in a downward motion and Balak stepped back. He probably could’ve taken his head, but instead, he sliced at Karnak’s hand and tried to disarm him. Karnak stepped forward and punched Balak hard in the face. He spun and kicked him. Balak was thrown backwards.
“Revenge will not change the past. Nor will it give the future you seek. Take it from someone who walked the same path,” Balak implored.
Balak purposely aimed at Karnak’s left shoulder in hopes to damage his dominant hand. He repeatedly made small cuts, hoping to get Karnak to drop the weapon. Balak was cautious to avoid Karnak’s attacks for what seemed like hours. Both men grew tired. Karnak was younger and had a lot of strength. Finally though, the sword grew too heavy for the young man’s wounded arm. He dropped it and dropped to his knees to catch his breath. He looked at Balak with boiling rage, saliva spitting out his mouth.
“Go ahead! Kill me just like you killed my parents!”
“No.” Balak dropped his axe. “I will not kill you.”
“Pick that up and fight,” Karnak roared.
Karnak was livid.
“Fine!” He yelled and he jumped on Balak and started punching him in the face and ribs. Balak’s wounds split open but Karnak kept on beating down on him. Balak saw Arda. She was fighting the urge to rush to Balak’s aid. Balak slowly raised his hand and stopped Arda from intervening.
Karnak thumped Balak in the ribs and penetrated his vital organs. Balak gasped. He turned pale and started to breathe heavily. His wounds were spilling with blood and he lay still.
Karnak buried his head in his hands. Karnak’s eyes filled up with tears, but he kept beating Balak. He beat him until Balak’s face was fully covered in blood.
“I hate you! I hate you!” he screamed at Balak’s bloodied face. His arms kept beating on Balak but each hit grew weaker and weaker until he stopped. He fell on the ground in the fetal position and wept. He let out a loud, excruciating cry that he had held on to for years. Even Karnak felt his throat physically hurt from the scream. Until he stopped. At that moment, a flash of realization came across Karnak’s face. He slowly got up, looked at Arda with the child and then at Balak. He spat on Balak before uttering “Only because I forgive you, doesn’t mean I have to like you,” Karnak told him.
Karnak grabbed the sword and walked away, leaving bloody footsteps behind. He swung the sword and threw it off the cliff’s edge before disappearing out of sight.
Just after Karnak left, Arda rushed to Balak’s side with the child.
“Balak. Oh no! Let me help you.” She tried to stop the bleeding with her hands but there were too many wounds. “It’s no good,” she said as the blood gushed from his injuries. “I can heal you.” She grabbed her staff but Balak grabbed her hand.
“No, Arda. You must go . . . alone,” Balak croaked. “My time has come. It’s time for me to go.”
“No, Balak. We can still make it . . . together”
“No, Arda. Just you. It was never my journey to finish.”
Arda put her head on Balak and he held her for a moment.
“But . . . but . . . I can heal you. You don’t have to die.” She whispered the words, fighting the urge to cry.
“I know you can. But I don’t want you to. I’m ready to go. I kept my promise. You are safe now.”
“Balak, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I am going to see my parents again.”
Balak looked into the distance and half-smiled. Arda looked around to see what he’s looking at, but there’s nothing there. The child started crying again and it startled Balak.
“Take good care of her,” He said, and at that, his breathing slowed. Arda couldn’t hold her tears in any longer. They started to roll down her face. With that, Balak slipped away. After grieving a while, Arda vanished into the distance with the child.
— Epilogue —
A young girl stares over the ocean from the beauty of Zagros. Her hair waves lightly in the wind as she stands looking at the massive ships arriving to the port. The sun glistens on the water’s surface and the ocean itself dips up and down.
Behind her, a white stone city gateway, high up in the mountains exposes itself. Its marble pillars are engraved in the si
de of the cliff.
To the left of the city are farmers’ fields, and lots of people plowing. In a smaller field, children are laughing and playing, and one little girl is playing happily. She smiles as the wind blows through her hair, but it’s getting dark now.
“Malika!” her mother calls.
The girl runs to her mother through the golden field, and she’s still laughing as she enters their small cottage.
Her mother lights a fire and it exposes a young, pretty face with an eye patch made of thick leather.
“Supper is almost ready.”
Malika and Arda start preparing the table when there is a loud, burly knock at the door.
Arda’s eye widens. She holds a finger to her lips, shushing Malika. The door booms open and there stands a man. He’s tall, with dark hair, and he quickly scoops up Malika.
“There you are!”
Arda’s eyes soften as he puts down Malika and walks toward Arda. He plants a kiss on her forehead.
“Ew, you smell of fish,” she whispers.
The man chuckles.
He walks to the table and sits.
“I hope you’ve been resting,” he says, rubbing her swollen belly. “The baby could come any time now.”
“Don’t worry, love. I am well rested.”
They sit together, smiling and eating.
Of Blood and Steel Page 20