A Line in the Sand

by Ryk Brown

  General Telles bent his body slightly, absorbing the force of the blow with ease. A split second later, Lord Dusahn’s same hand found the right side of the general’s jaw, causing it to whip to the left from the blow. The general quickly stepped back again, avoiding the next two punches and the rising knee headed for his abdomen.

  Lord Dusahn withdrew a step, settling back down into his ready position, a smile on his face. The Ghatazhak was not unbeatable, as rumored by many of his own infantry. Without hesitation, he charged again, swinging. Left, right, left again, all at his opponent’s face.

  General Telles backpedaled, keeping his hands at his side. After his opponent’s third swing, the general jumped upward, kicking with his right foot into the Dusahn leader’s chest, then immediately with his left, both blows pushing his attacker back two steps, forcing him to the center of the ring.

  Lord Dusahn immediately charged again, bringing his left knee up toward the general’s chest but finding his opponent’s right elbow coming down on the Dusahn leader’s knee as a counter, followed by the Ghatazhak’s left hand, which he swept away before it reached him. It was the first offensive move the general had made, and Lord Dusahn found it rather weak.

  Again, the Dusahn leader stepped back, returning to his combat stance, smiling.

  General Telles also returned to his original non-threatening stance, but with no smile that might reveal his own satisfaction at the assessment he had just completed of his opponent. The difference was that he had not experienced any satisfaction from what he had learned. Lord Dusahn was obviously well trained and likely a true master at the art of Chankarti. Unfortunately, like with so many others who studied the art of personal combat, he had obviously been more concerned with the ability to kill while not being killed than with the lessons that most disciplines sought to endow upon their students. In the general’s mind, it was a shame to waste such skill, and it explained much about the Dusahn caste, as well as the Jung Empire.

  Lord Dusahn’s next attack involved more kicks than punches, shifting from single front and side kicks to lunging and spinning kicks, all the while mixing in a few strikes with hands and knees. But none of them made contact with his opponent, who deftly countered each attack with smooth movements designed to either evade or redirect the energy contained in each strike attempt.

  Lord Dusahn fell back into his combat stance again, pulling at his upper trousers again to ensure freedom of movement. “You do not disappoint,” he congratulated his opponent. “You will be far more worthy of killing than my previous opponent.”

  Again the general remained silent, simply standing there, waiting for the next attack.

  Another flurry of punches and kicks, mixed in with leg sweeps, all while attempting to drive the general back toward the edge of the circle. Again the general blocked or redirected the blows, changing direction to stay nearer the center of the circle, finally ducking under Lord Dusahn’s high kick and reversing their positions at the center of the ring.

  “If your intention is to let me wear myself down and thus provide you an opening, you are wasting your time. I could do this all day.”

  “I am simply observing your style and assessing your capabilities,” General Telles replied, finally speaking. “Just as you are doing with me.”

  Lord Dusahn’s grin grew. “I was wondering when you would speak,” settling back into his combat stance. “It is apparent that you are quite adept at avoiding or redirecting the energy of my attacks. I wonder if you are equally able to absorb that energy.”

  General Telles nodded, inviting the Dusahn leader to attack him again.

  Lord Dusahn needed no invitation, immediately turning on his left foot as he raised his right one to kick the general in the abdomen, chest, and then face, all in a quick and fluid motion. He then came down on his now-forward left foot and jumped up, spinning around to bring his right foot into the side of his opponent’s face.

  Surprisingly, the general made no effort to deflect or evade the blows, instead allowing their full force to be delivered to his body. “Satisfied?” the general wondered.

  Lord Dusahn smiled. “Yes; a worthy opponent.”

  “What the hell is he doing?” Nathan wondered. “He didn’t even try to block his attack.”

  “Trust in the Telles,” Jessica told him.

  Nathan looked at her in dismay. “What?”

  “It’s what they always told me in the beginning, whenever I questioned the logic behind whatever training method they threw at me back on Burgess.”

  “But…”

  “I’m just saying.”

  Again Lord Dusahn attacked, launching another combination of punches and kicks, ending with a knee to the general’s left side, causing him to double over from the force of the blow. The Dusahn leader saw his opportunity and raised his right arm straight up to bring his elbow down into the back of the general’s head. Instead, he found the general dropping to his left hand and sweeping the Dusahn leader’s dominant leg out from under him, sending him onto his back.

  The general stepped back, not choosing to press his advantage further, knowing full well that his opponent would not be on the ground for more than a second.

  As expected, the Dusahn leader raised his feet and then arched his back as his feet came down hard, launching himself into a crouch, expecting another attack at any moment. When the follow-up attack did not come, he stepped back, again smiling. “Nicely done,” he congratulated.

  “One does not deserve to lead unless he maintains the very skills he requires of those he commands,” the general stated, settling back into his relaxed stance, hands behind his back.

  “Quite true,” Lord Dusahn agreed. “I suspect that you and I have many similar beliefs. Had we met under different circumstances, we might have enjoyed one another’s company.”

  “Doubtful,” General Telles replied. “I don’t enjoy the company of egomaniacal, narcissistic dictators.”

  Surprisingly, this too brought a smile to the Dusahn leader’s face. “Nice try, Ghatazhak,” he replied, after which he launched into another flurry of attacks.

  This time, the general chose to move, bend, and duck the onslaught, rather than attempting to block his attacker’s blows. With each strike, he allowed his opponent increasing levels of contact, feeding into the man’s overconfidence.

  This time, Lord Dusahn did not return to his fighting position and engage in idle conversation designed to taunt his opponent. Instead, he moved smoothly into a new style of attack, which appeared fluid and almost choreographed, with every new blow flowing into the next with minimal expenditure of energy.

  As the general parried the attacks, the words whispered to him by Preto Soray rose to mind. Finally, he decided this was the moment to test their validity. As Lord Dusahn launched into his next combination of blows, the general circled his right hand out wide, bringing it back toward his opponent’s left temple. The move happened so quickly that the Dusahn leader only noticed the approaching attack at the very last moment, barely managing to bat the general’s hand away.

  Lord Dusahn’s expression changed, suddenly showing the first sign of concern.

  The next series of attacks ended with General Telles in a partial headlock that encompassed his head and right shoulder. Lord Dusahn took immediate advantage of the lock, squeezing with everything he had. The pressure would not kill the general; in fact, it wouldn’t diminish him in the slightest. It was merely an attempt by the Dusahn leader to demonstrate his strength over the general.

  It failed.

  General Telles sent his elbow up into the side of Lord Dusahn’s face with all his might, breaking his hold in the process. He dropped to one knee as he twisted his body, freeing himself. The general then shot his leg out, kicking his opponent in the knee, likely causing him to overextend at least one of his tendons.

  General Telles stepped back, again assum
ing his relaxed stance as the Dusahn leader regained his composure, trying not to reveal the pain he was experiencing. “Well done,” he said, his confidence still unshaken, despite the expertise his opponent had just displayed. “However, you should have pressed your attack further. You might have been able to deliver a more crippling blow.”

  “I have not yet delivered my message,” General Telles stated calmly.

  “And what message would that be,” Lord Dusahn asked, resuming his combat stance.

  “You are about to find out,” the general stated, a menacing look in his eyes.

  Lord Dusahn refused to be intimidated, choosing to attack again before the general could go back on the offensive. Again he unleashed three quick jabs to the face and neck, followed by crosses, backhands, and upper cuts, finally sending his knee toward the general’s side, and then twisting about while bringing his foot into the general’s same side. Again, General Telles managed to block, evade, or redirect every blow, only having to absorb the knee to his side, which he did with ease. When the Dusahn leader continued his attack, the general simply pushed him back by his shoulders. The surprise of that simple act created an opening, and Telles leapt up, kicking out with his left foot into Lord Dusahn’s chest, then dropping to sweep his feet out from under him.

  Lord Dusahn hit the ground, then leapt up again, expecting to continue his attack. Instead, he found the general standing, firing jabs at him with such speed and precision that the Dusahn leader was unable to block half of them. Blows landed on his face, neck, and chest, blows that were harder than any he had ever felt.

  Then it came.

  General Telles delivered two lightning-fast punches from both left and right, striking his opponent’s left and right ears with incredible force.

  Lord Dusahn stumbled backward, dazed and gasping for breath, realizing for the first time since the battle had begun that he might not come out the victor.

  “Did you receive the first part of my message?” General Telles asked, pacing leisurely about while his opponent struggled to regain his breath.

  “You should……have……struck……while you could,” Lord Dusahn panted, still struggling to regain his normal breathing. “I will not make……that mistake……again.”

  “You made no mistake,” General Telles stated as he settled into his own combat stance for the first time since the fight had begun. “You were bested, as you are about to be again.”

  Telles shifted his body weight, moving his left foot forward as he dipped his shoulder. The move was a feint, and Lord Dusahn fell for it. The Dusahn leader spun around, bringing his free foot up to chest height, intending to deliver his full weight behind a blow to the general’s side. But the general ducked, allowing Lord Dusahn to come down overly rotated and out of balance.

  General Telles sprang up, delivering a crushing upper cut to Lord Dusahn’s chin, stunning him again. Taking advantage of his opponent’s temporary lapse of focus, the general quickly raised his right foot and placed it atop his opponent’s left shoulder, then jumped up and twisted around as he dropped his other foot on the opposite side of the Dusahn leader’s head. As he began his face-first fall, the general tucked at the waist, sending his head and chest between Lord Dusahn’s legs, his hold on the man’s head pulling the Dusahn leader downward and forward.

  Lord Dusahn went down headfirst, flipped over onto his back, only to find his opponent straddling him with a hold on the Dusahn leader’s right knee. There was a cracking sound, followed by pain that made Lord Dusahn’s head spin.

  The rest of the message had been delivered.

  General Telles released his opponent’s disabled right leg, then shifted, bringing his left leg out and around before falling backward and driving his left elbow hard into the Dusahn leader’s mouth.

  Lord Dusahn felt his front teeth break, his mouth suddenly filling with blood. His right leg was throbbing with mind-numbing pain, his knee completely dislocated. He rolled onto his side to spit the blood and loose teeth from his mouth, mentally preparing himself for the next blow. But it did not come.

  Lord Dusahn fought through the pain-induced fog, trying to spot his opponent. For the first time that he could remember, he feared for his life. Calling upon all of his resolve, he managed to get back up onto his hands and one good knee. Shaking, he rose, forcing himself upright despite the intense pain. Balancing on one foot, he concentrated, squinting as he attempted to regain his senses.

  A voice.

  “Did you get the message?”

  At first, the voice seemed distant, as if from down a long corridor. The effect quickly passed, and both his hearing and vision returned to normal.

  “Do you understand that you are facing your death?” the general asked.

  Lord Dusahn did his best to assume a combat stance, one that he could maintain while balancing on his left foot. His dangling right leg sent waves of pain up his body, but he managed to ignore it. There was still work to be done, and if he was to die this day, he would not go down without a fight. Even better, he would take his enemies with him.

  Lord Dusahn spat out more blood. “You have not beaten me yet, Ghatazhak.”

  As the words left the Dusahn leader’s mouth, another series of blows which seemed to come out of nowhere landed on his head, chest, and abdomen, and he found himself on the ground again, lying on his back in absolute agony. A moment later, his opponent knelt behind his head and dragged him up enough to be placed into a headlock.

  “I tire of this silly ritual of yours,” General Telles stated, his words dripping with contempt. “It is time to show your mighty Zen-Anor that their glorious leader was easily bested by a mere Takaran.”

  General Telles tightened his muscles, preparing to snap his opponent’s neck.

  “WAIT!” Nathan yelled from the side of the circle. He slowly strode over to the general and his soon-to-be victim on the far side of the circle, only two meters from the Zen-Anor.

  General Telles did not release the Dusahn leader, instead holding him firmly, ready to snap his neck at a moment’s notice.

  “Ease up, General,” Nathan ordered.

  General Telles did as instructed, easing his hold on his opponent.

  Nathan squatted down in front of Lord Dusahn, looking the battered man in the eyes. “I am about to offer you something that you denied the people of Ybara, Burgess, and Ancot.” After a moment, Nathan added, “A chance to live.”

  Lord Dusahn studied Nathan, squinting through the pain as he wondered what the young man’s angle was. After a moment, he spat out some more blood, then said, “I am listening.”

  “You, and all those who wish to follow you, will be allowed to settle an uninhabited, hospitable world, where you may build your empire however you desire. We will even provide you the supplies and equipment needed.”

  “In exchange for what?” Lord Dusahn snarled.

  “You turn control of Takara over to this man,” Nathan said, pointing to the general, “and you join our alliance, vowing never to attack another human civilization.”

  “What assurances do I have that you will keep your word?” Lord Dusahn wondered, his mind still spinning from the pain.

  “You have none,” Nathan replied. “But your only other option is death.”

  A grin formed on Lord Dusahn’s face. “Wrong again, young captain,” he snarled. “CHEKTA!” he yelled, bracing himself for complete chaos and destruction.

  But nothing happened. All he heard was a clicking sound to his left. Lord Dusahn turned his head, spotting Commander Jexx walking toward them, holding the Chekta detonator in his hand, pressing it repeatedly as he approached.

  Lord Dusahn’s eyes widened in horror.

  “I warned you that we did not have enough antimatter to waste on the SilTek attack,” Commander Jexx told his leader. “But as usual, you did not listen.” The commander tossed the detonator on t
he ground next to his leader, then turned and walked back to the magistrate and the seconds standing along the Dusahn side of the circle.

  “I guess you were right,” Nathan told General Telles.

  “I often am,” the general replied.

  “So what’s it going to be, Griogair?” Nathan asked.

  Griogair Dusahn smiled maniacally, then spat blood into Nathan’s face.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Nathan stated, standing as he wiped the blood and spittle from his face. “General, you may proceed,” he stated, turning to walk back to the Karuzari’s side of the circle, where he spotted Jessica, Kit, and Lieutenant Rezhik all smiling at him.

  By the time Nathan reached the edge of the circle and turned back around, General Telles had dragged Lord Dusahn by his hair to the edge of the circle, leaving him in a sitting position, the Dusahn leader’s back to his own Zen-Anor.

  General Telles walked around in front of Lord Dusahn, turning back to look at him. “I have decided to let your own people deliver the final portion of the message,” he stated. He placed his foot against Lord Dusahn’s chest and pushed hard, sending the Dusahn leader falling backward between two Zen-Anor soldiers, the upper half of his body landing outside of the challenge circle. The Zen-Anor on either side of Lord Dusahn drew their sidearms and took aim.

  As the general walked back over to Nathan, two shots rang out.

  “The contest is decided!” the Dusahn magistrate barked. “Lucius Telles is now the leader of the Dusahn caste!”

  “Nice work,” Nathan told the general.

  “I especially like that last little touch,” Jessica congratulated. “Inspired.”

  “Thank you,” the general replied. He turned around, noting the smoldering corpse of Griogair Dusahn. “Zen-Anor! You now serve me! Your new responsibility will be the protection of the interim president of Takara, Deliza Ta’Akar! Assemble your forces and take station at the palace landing pad. She will arrive shortly.”