Chapter 20: Convictions

Chapter 20: Convictions

I stand in front of my adversary, my nemesis, my enemy.

He must die.

My chest rises and falls slowly as I steady my breathing. I have only one chance. I need to put everything into this single strike. The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

To destroy him.

I look down at my new sword and study it. The unadorned pommel, the hilt wrapped beautifully, a red cord base with black cord wrapped over top in an intricate pattern. The scabbard is rectangular and wooden, with a flat metal tip. More black cord is wrapped around the top portion of it, a plain metal belt clip ensnared within.

The blade slides out, slowly. No ringing sound, just the scrape of metal on wood. My hand rests comfortably on the raised cord of the hilt, feeling the patterned X's. There's no hand guard, just a small raised rectangular portion, separating blade and hilt. The blade is straight and double-edged, 35 cm long and 4 cm wide of polished mirrored metal. Two grooves run along the length of the blade, the light causing a wavy diamond pattern to be reflected within them.

It is a wonderfully crafted weapon, beautiful in its simplicity. It is mine. It is a part of me, in body and spirit. I will use it to cut down my enemy. I breathe in, and out, closing my eyes.

I reach for Balance. The Energy of the Heavens surges into me, like waves crashing against the cliff side, gradually slowing until calm as mirrors surface. The still energy is directed towards my sword, controlled as easily as breathing.

I slowly swing the sword at my nemesis. It strikes, encountering resistance, a slow jagged path, furrowing path through.

My eyes open, and Balance is lost. I study my work before me. The wooden log has a small chunk missing, about the size of a finger.

Mediocre. Baatar is same as always, direct and unvarnished. The cut is shallow, the path erratic. You are not projecting enough chi into the blade, nor is it uniform. Again.

Three years of training can be summed up into that one word: Again. Fail, and try again. Succeed, and do so again. Its been drilled into my head by every one of my teachers. Again.

My second attempt is the same as the first. So is the third and the fourth. An hours worth of attempts and the log has been reduced to kindling. My energy is spent, sweat dripping down my body, head aching from the strain, breath panting.

Baatar snorts and walks over and places a metal bar, 30 cm in diameter, into the stand. He takes my sword and casually swings it in a backhand slice. The metal shrieks and is cut in two.

The twang of my bow and hiss of an arrow, and a shrill squeal sounds out. Birds fly off and the forest goes silent for a moment, before resuming its normal sounds. Pafu drops his pup into Suret's paws and runs off to grab my kill. He comes back with a big fat rabbit in his paws and mouth, handing it to me proudly. Roosequins seem to be man's best friend around here. Useful for all sorts of things. I set about bleeding and skinning the rabbit, removing the offal and tossing little bits to the quins. My catch so far is three water birds and two giant rabbits. One more bird and I can head home. Having free afternoons lately is pretty good. The rabbit goes into the basket with his partners in deliciousness, and off we go a hunting.

Pafu and Suret go alert, noticing something I've missed. My eyes focus in the same direction, drawing another arrow. Out here, you aren't always the hunter. I strain my ears and eyes. Normal forest noises. No moving bushes, shaking trees, no sounds of movement. Just a false alarm.

An ear-splitting cry puckers my asshole, and I freeze for a split second before bolting away. Pafu and Suret react faster than me, well ahead and gaining distance. Fucking furry traitors. I should get a dog. Dashing through the forest, jumping logs and crashing through bushes while behind me I hear it crash through logs and rip through bushes. Fuck. Breath deep, find Balance. A root catches my foot, and I stumble a few steps, losing precious seconds. My options limited, I turn and snap an arrow off before diving to the side.

It crashes through the trees, unable to stop. A second arrow is nocked, but I'm unable to get a clear shot. A shrill, pulsating cry sounds once again. It stalks out one slow step at a time, revealing it's meter tall body slowly, glaring at me with its tiny yellow eyes, mottled green feathers ruffled, my arrow in its shoulder. The giant, yellow beak snaps threateningly once, twice. A fucking Terror Bird. It charges once again.

Shooting again, I dive aside again, but it's waiting for it, stepping diagonally, long neck extending, beak snapping centimeters from my leg. Thank god it doesn't corner well. Or fly at all. Dropping my bow, I draw my sword. More like knife. If only Suret didn't run off with my spear and shield. Not that it matters.

The bird is wary of my shiny weapon. We stare at one another, it taking my measure, me trying to glare it to death. Maybe I should have held onto the bow a bit longer. A third cry, beak opened wide, toothed gullet displayed. It steps forward, snapping at me. My sword in both hands, I bat its head away, dodging around trees and rocks. It's beak snaps through them like chewing butter. My arms start to feel like noodles, its head like a steel beam, I lose ground before it, my life flashing before my eyes with each snap of its beak.

Pafu springs out from behind, latching onto the bird's leg and pulls back. It turns to snap at him and I charge, focusing my chi into the sword. One chance. Become one with the weapon. Swinging my sword at its thick, muscular neck, the steel bites deep. A scream sends needles down my spine.

Nope. A failure. Try again? I pull the blade free and ready a second swing.

The air is squeezed out of my lungs, a large clawed foot kicking me in the chest. My body flies back a few meters, landing on my knees, gasping for air, my forehead striking the dirt.

I need to get up. I can feel it's footsteps coming closer. Step. Step. Crash.

My head still in the dirt, my breath comes in pants, with sharp pain accompanying each breath. Unable to stand until they subside, I lift my head to watch my impeding death.

The Terror Bird lies on the ground, its red blood pooling the ground, bursting out in pulsing spurts, each one weaker than the last. Its mouth open, pitiful gurgling cries coming out. It's dying screams almost sound like its heartbroken. I curl up and wait for the pain in my chest to subside, watching the bird die.

I don't know how long I passed out for. Something wet and furry nuzzling me wakes me. My eyes are greeted by Pafu, face covered in blood, dripping from his whiskers. Struggling to sit up, I look around. The furry little hero has been eating the Terror Bird. Suret and her pups are still there, nibbling away at the corpse. I scratch Pafu on the neck and he purrs in delight. Who's a good roosey-goosey? You are, yes you are. You saved my life, didn't you? Ya you did. My face is buried in his fur now. If Pafu or Suret ever turn into an Ancestral Beast, I hope they don't tell anyone about my 'cute animal' voice.

My legs are shaky as I stand and find my bearings. The sun will be up for at least another three hours, so I wasn't out long. Making my way slowly to the dead bird, I shoo the quins away. This is my kill. Pafu gets an assist, so he can snack, but you other furry little traitors don't deserve the best bits.

I hope this stupid bird is delicious. It would have been embarrassing, dying to a giant fucking parrot.