Vultrel's shoulders rose and fell, presumably as he let out a long breath. His voice was quiet and somber. "Draw your sword, Arus."
The young man blinked. "W-What?"
"Draw your sword," Vultrel said again. "You and I have known each other since we were toddlers, and we've been through much together. Yet I stand here before you today in disgrace, having faced Sartan Truce and failed only to have my life saved by bloody Kyrosen. I've lost everything that was dear to me, including my dignity, and I have nowhere to go. And the blame for all of it rests squarely on your shoulders. I followed my father to Cathymel to save you, but instead, I was forced to watch helplessly as you murdered him. His death drove me to decisions that I see now were irrational, decisions that nearly got me killed. And it's your fault. You can try to defend yourself however you wish, but nothing will change the fact that Anton escaped from the control of the implant, and you did not."
"I've told you again and again, Vultrel," Arus said, struggling to keep his face smooth, "the two were not the same. There was no way—"
"You failed to break the hold because you're weak," Vultrel cut him off harshly. "And your weakness has disgraced me."
"In your eyes, perhaps," Arus responded. "But the truth is that it was your selfish actions that disgraced you. You were never fitted with an implant, Vultrel. You can't possibly know what it is like. Yet you make these arrogant claims as though you were there when Truce invented the thing. Never make assumptions about anyone's inner struggles. Your conclusions will inevitably be misguided."
"Enough," Vultrel snarled, whirling to face him. There was a brief flash of what Arus would've called shame in his face before his eyes thinned, and his jaw tightened. "It is clear that you intend to go on in your weakness with pride, refusing to admit fault where fault is clearly yours to claim." With nothing but hatred in his eyes, he slowly reached over his shoulder and drew his sword. "And so we must settle this as we always have. But this time, Arus, we fight to the death."
Arus' eye bulged. "What?"
Vultrel's feet began carrying him steadily toward the center of the ring. "You heard me. We will finish this right here and now. You've taken everything from me. My father, my childhood, my future, even my rightful place as leader of the Keroko Militia! And all because of your weakness. Well, it all ends here. I intend to take back what is mine and show you how the universe rewards weakness!"
Arus barely managed to yank his blade from its sheath before Vultrel's sword came down. Steel rang out against steel as their weapons clashed. It was a dance the two had practiced on a daily basis before the Festival of Souls, a routine that Arus had sorely missed. Still, back then it had been a friendly contest of skills, not a bloody fight to the death. Whatever lies Kindel had packed into Vultrel's head were certainly working; the young man seemed nearly as obsessed with power as the Vezulian admiral. The Keroko citizens looked on in shock as the village's two most talented young men pushed against each other, neither giving an inch. Vultrel's eyes bore a hole through Arus, eyes like razor-sharp knives, eyes of fiery rage. But regardless of Vultrel's intentions, the duel would not end in death if Arus had anything to say about it. He backpedaled slowly before shoving Vultrel back and swinging around in one smooth motion toward his left side.
"You've never defeated me before, Arus!" Vultrel taunted, easily knocking his sword away. "What makes you think you can do it this time?"
Arus set his jaw and attacked with a series of cuts and stabs toward Vultrel's head and shoulders. A nagging voice in his mind kept telling him that his former friend would never try to kill him, but the ferocity of Vultrel's blade seemed to indicate otherwise. Things had changed since they last fought; he had to continuously remind himself of that. And when the edge of Vultrel's sword sliced a gash in his forearm, the voice all but vanished. Arus turned a yelp of pain into an angry snarl, grabbed Vultrel's blade with his steel hand, and slashed toward his extended arm. Vultrel moved faster than he expected, though, dropping beneath the swipe and driving his boot into Arus' knee. That forced a momentary distraction that allowed him to yank his sword from Arus' grip. The entire exchange brought a chorus of gasps and groans from the spectators.
"You've improved," Vultrel admitted, rolling backward into a crouching position. He retracted the compliment almost immediately. "But then I suppose it's easy to improve when all you have to do is program a new set of techniques into a machine."
"I don't rely on the implant for my skill anymore, Vultrel," Arus told him, twirling his sword around his body in a flourish. "I fight with my own hands, now. My own skill. My own heart."
"Then you may as well surrender now," the black-haired youth sneered, lunging forward. Back and forth, his blade swung, ringing against Arus' weapon with two loud clangs. "I've been training hard ever since following you into the stars. I was better than you then, and I'm better than you now!"
Arus responded with a long sequence of attacks, a fluid string of swipes and thrusts that pushed Vultrel across the length of the ring. They battled back and forth, swords twirling in blurred swaths of steel that shined in the sunlight. The Lifestone amulet bounced against his chest beneath his tunic with each movement as though reminding him of the power it granted, but there was no way he would resort to such power. Not against Vultrel. Blood trickled along his wrist and dripped from the back of his right hand. "What would Master Eaisan say, Vultrel?" he grunted, parrying two quick stabs. "What would your father say to you if he saw what you were doing right now?"
"You leave my father out of this!" Vultrel screamed, clearly perturbed that Arus had invoked his father's name. It manifested itself in the increased intensity of each strike. "He was going to kill you if he had the chance, you know! It was I who argued with him not to do so. I wish I could take it back, now."
"Vultrel, listen to yourself!" Arus yelled, shuffling forward with a stiff thrust. He followed that with a twisting slash meant for Vultrel's knees. "I don't believe for a second that you really think this way! No one raised by a man like Master Eaisan could. That you can spew such lies without your stomach turning is appalling!"
Behind the clashing of steel and grunts of frustration, a voice echoed from the crowd that Arus could not mistake. "Is it true? Please, let me through! I have to see my boy! I must see! By the Maker! Arus! You're alive!" It was the voice of Elayna Sheeth, Arus' mother. "I can't believe my eyes! Is it really you?"
Vultrel gave him no chance to reply. Two swipes darted toward his head, another toward his chest, and a forth headed for his knees. Arus twisted his sword back and forth, knocking each strike away and responding with a few of his own. As he and Vultrel circled the ring, another voice intermingled with his mother's. "Vultrel? Vultrel! What are you doing? Stop! Stop this at once!" It was Veran Lurei.
Elayna chimed in almost instantly. Her voice wavered on the edge of hysteria. "Arus, stop this! Why are you two fighting?"
In a lapse of concentration that Arus immediately regretted, he glanced toward the sidelines. His mother stood to the far left, her wavy red hair tied lazily behind her head. She was wearing one of her favorite dresses, a peach-colored fabric covered with tiny doves. Tied over that was her apron, of course, and she was using a dish towel to dab tears from her eyes. It was obvious that Vultrel's mother had dragged her from the kitchen. Veran stood beside her, hair in a tight bun above her tired eyes. A rose-petal dress had been her choice of attire for the day, a color that contrasted the deep black of her hair. She held her hands clasped together just beneath her chin, eyes full of tears as she gazed upon her son. Vultrel did not hesitate to capitalize on the distraction, and he thrust his blade into Arus' thigh.
"Arus!" Kitreena's voice carried over the gasps and shouts of the crowd. Clutching his leg, he fell to one knee as Vultrel viscously yanked his sword free. Elayna and Veran were both screaming at them, though sobs mutilated their words to create little more than anguished cries. The brown leg of Arus' pants quickly soaked with crimson, and Arus glared up angrily at the
arrogant young man across from him, someone he'd once called a friend, someone he used to trust with his life.
"What have you become?" he asked in almost a whisper.
"You have only yourself to blame," Vultrel hissed, raising his sword once more. "Perhaps if you'd followed Anton's example, my father would still be alive, and neither one of us would've gotten dragged into this mess. This is your fault, Arus. Your fault!"
Arus knocked the attack away and stumbled back a few steps. "For the last time, I was used by Truce, forced against my will!"
"Truce used you because you allowed yourself to be used!" Vultrel insisted, pounding against Arus' weapon again and again. "If you had been stronger, he would never have been able to control you!" Tears shimmered in his eyes despite his curled lips. "He never would've attacked Cathymel, and he never would've killed my father!"
Arus did his best to ignore the throbbing pain in his leg, and when Vultrel's blade rose again, Arus grabbed his wrist with his mechanical hand, and in one swift motion, turned it backward and pulled it down behind his back. Before Vultrel could even begin to struggle, Arus' blade was at his throat. "Who killed your father?"
A single tear rolled down Vultrel's cheek. "You did," he said, his chin rising indignantly.
"That's not what you said a moment ago, Vultrel," Arus told him. "You've got to stop this. You know in your heart who is to blame for all that has happened, but since he was killed before you could exact revenge upon him, you've turned your anger on me. Open your eyes! You and I both know who is responsible for the death of your father." A pair of steady streams now flowed from Vultrel's red eyes. Still, he twisted his lips together and creased his forehead in forced sneer, refusing to make eye contact with Arus. "I know how hard it is to let go of the hate, Vultrel. It feels as though doing so would suggest that you're somehow all right with what happened to Master Eaisan. You're not all right with it, and we know that. I'm not all right with it either. But nothing either of us can do will bring your father back. Nothing either of us can do will bring my father back. The best thing we can both do is take some time to deal with the pain of losing Master Eaisan and then move ahead with our lives. With everything that has happened, neither of us has really had a chance to grieve. I think it's time that we do that. Both of us."
As he spoke, Arus loosened his grip on Vultrel's wrist and gradually lowered his sword. The young man didn't move to attack or escape. His hands visibly shook for a moment before his sword clattered to the ground. Bowing his head, he squeezed his eyes tightly closed and sobbed quietly. "He took my father from me, Arus. My father, Eaisan Lurei, is gone. He won't be there to punish me when I mess up. He won't be there to teach me how to be the leader he was. He won't be there to encourage me when I'm sad, laugh with me when I'm happy, or applaud me when I succeed. Everything I am, I am because of him. And without him, I feel as though I'm . . . nothing."
Arus sheathed his sword and wrapped his arms around his best friend, tears flowing from his human eye. "I know, Vultrel. I know. Master Eaisan gave me direction and focus. No matter what I did, he always had his hand on my shoulder, guiding me toward whatever it was he was trying to teach me. I never had to worry about whether or not I was on the right path, because Master Eaisan would've told me if I wasn't. But without him standing behind me, watching over my shoulder, smiling approvingly or shaking an admonishing finger, I feel lost."
After an excruciating silence, Vultrel finally returned the hug. The gesture brought a wave of cheers from the crowd and joyful wails from their mothers. "Why did this happen to us, Arus? Why does the Maker allow such terrible things to happen to people like us?"
Arus gave Vultrel a firm pat on the back before releasing him. "No one grows without going through rough times. The struggles we face in life help us to develop into who we are. Without hardships and adversity, we'd never have any reason to improve ourselves. We have to take those trials and find the good in them. Turn them into something positive by learning from each valuable experience."
Vultrel nodded with a frown as he wiped his eyes. The anger seemed to have faded from his gaze, replaced now by what almost looked like fear. Around them, the crowd applauded the reconciliation, but beneath the ovation, the reality of an unknown future was hitting Vultrel hard. "What am I going to do? Where do I go from here? Where is my place now? Do I even have one?"
"Of course you do." Damien approached the two with a broad smile. "Your village needs you both now more than ever," he said, motioning between the crowd and the wrecked structures surrounding them.
"But . . . will they accept me after all I've done? Simple apologies cannot atone for the wrongs I've committed."
A sly grin crossed Arus' face. "If any of them can prove themselves to be without flaws, I'll let them be the ones to hang you." He laughed.
The remark actually brought a faint smile to Vultrel's lips, though even that seemed forced. "How about you? Have I squandered our friendship, as well?"
"Not so long as you want a part in it," Arus replied. "I've missed having my dueling partner beside me."
Vultrel's smile grew now, looking both grateful and humble at the same time. "Thank you, Arus. I am sorry for all of the trouble I have caused, and I promise to spend the rest of my life working to make it up to you." His eyes shifted to Damien and Kitreena. "All of you. Keroko, too."
"Arus?" Elayna called as she and Veran rushed past the guards. "Arus!"
Deliberately, Arus turned his back to his mother; he couldn't bear seeing her disgusted expression upon getting a better look at the implant. "Yes, Mother. It's me. I apologize for being away for so long, but I didn't have much of a choice."
"Arus, please look at me."
Kitreena's voice echoed in his mind, firm and clear. It's all right, Arus. From everything you've told me of her, I don't believe your mother will turn her back on you. No matter what has happened to you. He looked up at her, and her eyes sparkled with compassion. Trust me.
With a resigned nod, he drew in a breath and turned to face his mother. Tears were already rolling down her cheeks when he looked at her, but her expression was more sympathetic than disgusted. "What happened to you, Arus?"
"Truce," he said, looking down at his artificial limb. "Took my arm in battle, then fitted me with this bloody machine and used it to control me. I managed to break free of the hold with the assistance of Damien and Kitreena," he motioned to the two, who bowed politely, "but not before I was forced to kill—"
Vultrel's firm grip took hold of his shoulder and shook his head firmly. Apparently, he didn't want the true circumstances of Eaisan's death to come to light. A moment of thought led Arus to the same decision; it was better that Eaisan's death remained in the past where it belonged. But Elayna was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "To kill many innocent soldiers, both in Narleaha and Cathymel."
His mother's eyes rippled with so many unshed tears that he nearly expected them to begin shooting from her face. "Oh, Arus! I'm so terribly sorry!" she cried, wrapping her arms around her son. "That must have been terrible for you! I'm so sorry! I wish I could've been there to stop you!"
Arus knew full well that if she had made any move to stand in his way, the implant would've likely driven him to cut her down, too. He was thankful he'd never been faced with such a situation. Killing Master Eaisan had been torturous enough. "It's all right, Mother. It is not your fault. It's no one's fault but Sartan Truce's, and he's dead now. It's all over." She sobbed quietly against his shoulder, and a feeling of relief washed over him as he embraced her. He'd gone over the scenario a thousand times in his head, and every time it had ended with her demanding that he leave until a way was found to safely remove the implant. Humanity had always spoken of machines as tools of Kuldaan, so it was natural to expect that he'd be viewed as a threat to the sanctity of society. That she accepted him, flesh and steel together, lifted a great weight from his shoulders.
Then again, Mayor Randolf had yet to give his op
inion of the situation. And Lord Sarathon would have to be informed. His Majesty would have the final word, of course.
Beside them, Veran was clinging to her boy. "I am so glad you're home," she whimpered. "When you disappeared that morning, I was afraid that the Mages had abducted you! I couldn't bear losing both my husband and my son within the course of a single season!"
Vultrel held her tightly, though his eyes were unfocused and distant. "I know, Mother," was all he said. Despite the fact that he was back in his mother's arms, he still looked like a little lost child.
When Elayna finally loosened her grip, Arus stepped back and looked over the surrounding crowd of villagers. "Do you really think Keroko will welcome me?" he asked, raising his steel arm. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the policy regarding machines."
"Things have clearly changed over the past several weeks," Kitreena said with a grin. "With all that has gone on, Damien and I will have to visit Castle Asteria to officially make first contact with your king so that we may open the lines of communication and trade, if he is willing. Regardless of the outcome, the citizens of this planet have had their minds opened to a larger view of existence, a larger view of life, and as such, they may be willing to abandon their laws regarding machines."
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