11: Over The Line

 

 

 

“You're not afraid to fight him, are you, General?” one of the officers at the fence called out.

Kahan's face went pale, her eyes widening.

“I know Your Lordship's trainers were probably too scared of your dad to give you a proper ass-kicking like ours gave us,” another soldier said, laughing, “but didn't you see him fall on his butt just now? He shouldn't give you any trouble.”

“Don't be too hard on him, he only knows how to throw around his magic.”

“We could hold him down for you like that bandit...”

“That's enough!” Sevei roared, rounding on the soldiers. “All of you!”

Urskatha was approaching swiftly now, his face as dark and icy as winter storm clouds.

“Don't mind them,” Sevei said to him, stepping into his path. “They'll be disciplined.”

Urskatha pushed him aside, staring hard at Yanek. “You stay out of it,” he said calmly. “He's given me the challenge, hasn't he?”

Yanek cocked his head and gave Urskatha an ingratiating smile. “I just wanted you to throw some magic at me so I could practice getting around it,” he explained.

“That's not going to happen,” Urskatha informed him. He kicked Yanek's sword that was still lying on the ground after his tumble. “Pick it up.”

“This is not...” Sevei began. Yanek hushed him.

“No, it's fine, Vei. I'd like to see what he's got, wouldn't you?”

Against his better judgment, Sevei retreated to the fence, glaring at the crowd there, which was growing now in anticipation of the coming spectacle.

Urskatha and Yanek took up positions and began to circle one another. Yanek took a wary measure of his opponent. It was clear that Urskatha had a mail shirt of his own under his black tunic, as well as a few strategically placed pieces of metal plate. If this were a real fight, Yanek would be looking for vulnerable openings in his armor, but this was only a spar. He took a few testing shots at the man, seeking an opportunity to disarm him, or sweep him off his feet.

Urskatha moved like a cat, with graceful precision, dodging each strike with an almost bored indifference, whereas Yanek had to contend with the imbalance of this new armor. Urskatha suddenly threw himself all in. Their swords met with a resounding crash, locking together between them as Urskatha's full weight pressed forward, pushing him backward.

Yanek leaned in, attempting to keep his ground and looking for a way out of the hold. Urskatha's weight tilted Yanek's body in such a way that the mail shirt shifted to his right side, pulling down on his right shoulder. In another split second, Urskatha swept his arm out, and Yanek's sword went flying while Urskatha brought the hilt of his own sword up and smashed it into Yanek's face.

“Yield!” Yanek called out through the blinding pain, doubling over with both hands held over his nose, blood running freely between his fingers.

Sevei rushed over, anger seeming to precede him in a wave.

“Enough!” he ordered, staring daggers at Urskatha as he went to Yanek's aid. “This is just a spar, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Urskatha gave an arrogant smirk, sheathing his sword as he turned to walk briskly off of the field. Sevei turned to Yanek.

“It's alright,” Yanek assured him. He stood and tilted his head back, pinching his nose as the blood continued to flow. “I'm fine,” he said, his voice stuffed and murky, “I don't think it's even broken. Yeah, that's just fine.”

“Go to the medics,” he ordered, turning to leave the field himself. “The rest of you report for latrine duty.” He left in the wake of groans from his soldiers and he went after Urskatha.

He caught up in time to see his fellow general disappearing into his arming tent. Sevei followed him in without invitation. Urskatha was pulling his gloves off, dropping them onto a bench when Sevei burst through the flap.

“Listen here!” he shouted, “If you want to vent your anger issues on bandits who sneak into the army, I have no problem with that, but if you have a problem with me, you bring it to me! Leave my people out of it.”

“Like you've left my people out of it?!” Urskatha retorted. “Meira can barely show her face around camp now because of you!”

“Because of me?! Who was it who came into my space, lying to me about who he was, using her name as a cover just so he could get a few kicks for a night?” Sevei was spitting in rage, not even thinking before he spoke now. “And why did you even need to do that when you brought your own piece of flesh along with you? Are you bored with her already, or is a woman with no choice in the matter not enough of a challenge for you?”

Sevei suddenly found himself slammed against the tent post, the whole structure shaking with the impact. A dagger appeared across his throat, and Urskatha's inflamed eyes bore into his own mercilessly.

“Never let me hear you speak of her like that again!” he seethed, his cold voice slithering out through gritted teeth. “Never let her hear you. If that's what you think, then you are well aware of what her kind endure from... people like my family. I brought her here to get her away from that, so you keep your filth to yourself. I won't have her humiliated.”

All of Sevei's anger instantly dissipated. He took in a deep breath, then released it slowly, staring back into Urskatha's eyes in shamed astonishment.

“I'm sorry...” he said, grasping the wrist holding the dagger to his throat to gently pry it down. “You're right, that was... over the line. I didn't mean any of it, I just...”

Urskatha flicked the dagger towards the ground and it landed standing and embedded in the tent's dirt floor.

“Just get out,” he spat. He released Sevei and backed away. “And stay away from me.”

Sevei moved toward the door, but stopped to look back over his shoulder.

“Is that... really what you want?” he asked softly.

“Yes.”

“We're going to have to figure out how to work together here,” Sevei told him. “I'd love to put in for a transfer, but the higher-ups would want a damn good reason, and short of sustaining a dire injury, I don't have one.”

Something flashed through Urskatha's face that almost looked like sorrow.

“I'm sure you'd love to give me that dire injury,” Sevei continued with a cheerless laugh, “but I'm not that desperate yet. Let me know if you can think of anything.”

He turned and pulled the tent flap open, only to stop short as he came face to face with Sergeant Kahan standing outside. His eyes widened, and a guilty expression settled over him as he lowered the tent flap behind him.

“How long...” he asked slowly, “...how much of that did you hear?”

“All of it,” she answered with a sad smile.

“I really am sorry...” he insisted.

“I know.”

They walked a few steps away from the tent, then stood in a very uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

“You know... that what the others heard - they heard me say your name... but you know what that was really about, don't you?”

“I do. And I understand.”

“That makes one of us,” Sevei grumbled. “I don't understand any of this. But... I just said it myself – he was only out for a night of kicks, I'm the one who got carried away. That's my problem, I won't bother him with it. Or you.”

Sergeant Kahan sighed, looking up at him with soft and sympathetic eyes.

“I think you have a good heart,” she counseled. “You may need to armor it a bit. He's... not easy. He's got some iron defenses up. I wouldn't like to see you injure yourself on them.”

“Right – the oyster you mentioned. Well, I don't have any interest in prying it open. If there's a pearl in there, I'll just leave it right where it is.”

Sergeant Kahan's gentle smile widened knowingly.

“Hm,” was all she said.