They say a proper duel should be fought at dawn, but I could be dead by dawn, Turin thought as he gazed at the Western sky. The sun dipped beneath the horizon and at last the great zealot could see his beloved Holy Blood Stars. He breathed deep as he gazed upon them. One last look, the thought, then I will be with you. I’m coming Boreal, Rowan all you heroes and martyrs of old.
Out of the corner of Turin’s eye a glare disturbed his reflection, there could be no doubt in his mind what he saw. This was aura of a living legend. He’d seen it in years past shining across the battlefield like a beacon. This was the victor of innumerable tournaments. How many mighty knights had been slain by his hand in duels such as this? The name of this ancient warrior struck fear in the hearts of foes and admirers alike, Karibash ka Habb.
Behind the great swordsmen marched a troupe of warriors eager to see their master in action. Karibash sneered at Turin upon approach.
“Well if it isn’t the sniveling whelp Turin, seems your fear of ignominy has finally overcome your fear of death,†he mocked.
“Lord Karibash, your hatred is as constant as the light of the Blood Stars, it warms my heart,†Turin replied.
He drew his sword. He thought he’d abandoned its ways years ago when he took up the cloth, he’d even broken if off at the hilt to signify his dedication to the church, but circumstances had changed. The smiths of Astrum forged it anew and now he was ready to do battle. One last time, Turin thought. Karibash drew his sword as well.
“Well then, shall we have at it or do you need someone to drop a mace,†Karibash taunted.
“I think that’s proper,†Turin replied
“Captain bring forth a mace!†Karibash bellowed.
His man strode forward. He held the weapon aloft and let if fall. Turin’s foe seemed to be upon him the same instant he heard sound of the mace hitting the ground. Turin staggered backwards, his sword flailing wildly to deflect Karibash’s many deadly blows. In the course of the melee he lost his balance and dropped to one knee, his blade still held aloft.
“Get up weakling!†Karibash demanded.
Turin rose, he had scarcely a moment to gain his footing before Karibash was upon him again. This time he side stepped. Karibash deftly pivoted. Now Turin could see the Bloodstars over his foe’s shoulder. He breathed deep again and a great calm washed over him.
Karibash lunged again and their blades clashed, but this time both found flesh. Karibash’s sword grazed Turin’s thigh, and as it did Turin brought his own blade down on Karibash’s wrist, severing it in twain. Hand and sword clattered to the ground in a spray of blood. Without a cry, without even a wince Karibash reached for his sword with his left hand, but Turin stomped on the weapon so it could not be recovered. He hesitated a moment, the tip of his sword aimed at Karibash’s throat.
“Do it you coward!†Karibash shouted, “you are only killing a man!â€
Turin clenched the hillt of his sword ever tighter until his hand shook, then with a cry of rage he plunged the blade into Karibash’s heart. The blood spatter mixed with his crimson robes. He panted unable to believe what had just happened. Turin looked to the Torens, fearing they might slay him in turn.
“No matter,†their captain said.
Turin stared back, puzzled
“do you not understand his last words?â€
Turin shook his head.
“You have only slayed Karibash the man, Karibash the legend, the god, lives on,†the Captain explained.
And with that the troupe gathered up the body of their fallen leader, leaving Turin to watch, bewildered and lost.
