“Really old man,” sneered the young, brash leader of the invaders, “Did you think it could end any other way?”
A slow grin crept upon his face as the smell of salt air entered his nostrils, the gray sands beneath his feet shifting ever so slightly as the breeze blew by, caressing his weathered features. He could almost smell the worn leather worn by the leader of the invading force, the cold steel that he now held in his hands, and of course the crimson stains that had already been spread upon the shadowed coastline.
“I trained a young man to roar like a lion, not to slither back like a snake.”
That hit a nerve as the younger, more able-bodied man reddened like a tomato on the vine. This one had always walked a fine line with his temper, never in control of the raging beast that always rode his back.
“Watch what you say old man, or I will cut you down where you stand!”
He tasted blood within his mouth where he’d been struck already, not by this young man, but by another who’d thought himself his better. Leather and hide armor creaked slightly as he shifted, well aware that these might be his last moments. Better he died upon his homeland than on some distant battlefield he supposed. At least here those left would see to his final rites, as was expected.
“You’ll try to kill me anyway student,” he almost laughed, “so come forward and try, or go away, I’ve had my fill of fools today.”
The red-faced leader, once a student now an enemy, clenched his teeth so hard that the old man could see his jaw creak, the grinding of teeth behind his lips leaving him to wonder how the young man had not sheared his teeth off at the gum line yet. He’d always been unable to
control his temper in the past, but despite his best teachings, nothing had worked to calm the
tempest inherent within the young man. He had feared for nearly a decade and more that it would come to this. And now, here they were.
As always he was acutely aware of the moment and all that lay within it, from the subtle shift of his opponent’s feet and hands to the great ships that still sat just off the coastline, their dark hulls foreboding and ominous as they bobbed up and down. The decks had been cleared from each ship, as evidenced by the fallen that littered the gray sands. He had lost a good number of his own students and friends as well, but his former student turned enemy had lost more. It was fitting that it had come down to the two of them he guessed.
“Prepare yourself,” his student remarked, assuming his own martial stance as he raised his blade high, the metal glinting in the faint light of the moon overhead despite the dark look it possessed. He did not feel fear in that moment, only a resigned sense of finality, a need to be done with this bit of drama once and for all. No matter the outcome, the final battle would be ended here.
“Come forward,” he almost snapped, settling into his own stance as he felt his old, wrinkled legs set firmly as he raised his own weapon, its long, curved length dripping with the blood of its own victims. He had taken life this day, and he had saved life. There was only one more act of violence to commit.
With a great yell his former student came running at him, blade still held high as the old man stood his ground, never moving until that final moment, that one, defining second when everything went quiet, and the only sound to be heard was the sudden gasp of surprise. His blade struck true, entering and exiting the body of his student, but he felt a burning inside that spoke of another strike, the very same one he had been expecting. It was done then, as he’d hoped.
