I've been writing a pastiche in my spare time. I'm doing my best to honor Edgar Rice Burroughs' fantastic world of Barsoom.
This is a bit out of context, but maybe it will be of interest.
Here we go...
Duel With The Gydram Five
Duels. Earthly duels were stupid really. Always have been. All about saving face and empty honor. Not so on mars. Duels on Barsoom sometimes held the weigh to nations in the balance. On Barsoom, among the Barso, a duel always meant one thing, the loser died, and to the winner went the spoils, along with honor and rank.
But that day on the edges of the Thraxus’ western marches, I was to fight no duels. Duels were between two people, and I was out numbered, facing the five best warriors a horde of people who lived for war had to throw at me.
To say I was not scared would be a lie. I am very capable, but I am no idiot when it comes to a fight, and I knew that I was doing something completely beyond the pale of wisdom. But I had given my word, and by my own internal code, I was bound by it to do all I could to fulfill my obligations. Those who looked to me for protection were counting on me to prevail.
If I had with my thousand stood against the Gydram, we should have all surely died, and if by some miracle I had escaped the conflict alive, I would have failed in my mission, for the Gydram were poised to at the Thraxus, who were in a position of great weakness at the moment.
I also had an inkling that other machinations were afoot to smash Zazak Trex between the Gydram and the Vorkond. I had become embroiled in these three hordes politics in very perilous times, and some part of me was screaming that if I did not pass this test, and win the day, all three hordes, and everyone I cared for on Barsoom would suffer greatly, and most likely die.
I must also say that I believe there is a reason I was on Barsoom. It could not just be happenstance. To many things had fallen into place to just be coincidence. Look, I’m not a fellow who believes in fate and destiny, but it is a big universe out there, and who knows what is really going on, and who is pulling the strings. I just knew this was something I had to do, or otherwise very bad things were going to happen.
And so there I stood out in no man’s land, waiting for my opponents to arrive. I did not have long to wait.
From the masses of Gydram five figure emerged, and strode toward me. A roaring cheer went up among the Gydram as these five made their way to my position on the field. Presently the details and characteristics began to become visible to me, and I knew that none of these warriors were going to go down easy.
I watched them come, and saw they had stripped of all their vibrant hued regalia in favor of much more utilitarian harnesses. They varied some what in height, from fourteen to seventeen feet, and they were all lean without an ounce of fat on their amazingly and intricately scarred, well muscled frames. The fourteen footer was squat and broad, looking nearly as muscled as a great white ape. Two others, about sixteen feet tall, looked like great green bookends, so similar were they, I wondered if they had hatched from the same egg. There was fifteen footer, who though not as think as the shortest of the group was by far the most defined, literal rippling with muscle with his every movement. Finally, the tallest of the group was several inches over seventeen feet, as tall a male as I had yet seen among the Barso, and whipcord lean. It was then that I recognized him.
It was Locandral Siskra, Jeddak of the Gydram, sans all his finery.
This did not bode well.
As they came within distance of clear and unprojected speech, the halted, and Locandral Siskra regarded me gravely.
“Finn Saxon, you asked for our mightiest of warriors. You have them.”
“Locandral Siskra, you honor me by taking the field.”
“How could I not. I am Jeddak for the very reason that I am terrible and fearsome in battle beyond all others.”
He looked to his left and right at the other four warriors who accompanied him.
“These warriors would know to whom you loose your this day, Finn Saxon.”
“I would know them as well.” I replied.
The broad, squat one stomped forward like the hulking bruiser he was.
“I am Hukracathad Murshok, Seventh Jed of the Gydram.” He rumbled.
I inclined my head to him.
The two seeming twins came forward together. In synch, they proclaimed.
“We are Fockrol and Fackral Rethor, of Locandral Siskra’s Personal Guard.” Their uncharacteristically high and synchronized voices were strangely harmonious, actually the most musical sounds I had ever heard come from the mouths of any Barso. I was sure that if they were trained these two could sing with an angelic tone.
It pained me to think that I was their to kill them.
“Ah, brothers.” I surmised.
They both looked at me quizzically, almost with identical expressions.
“What are brothers? We are egg mates.”
“I stand corrected.”
Lastly the superbly muscled fellow stepped up, and said in a very straightforward voice.
“Brithil Maegran, First Jed of the Gydram. It was I who first hailed you upon your arrival, Finn Saxon. It shall be a pleasure to kill one of your fabled race. I thank you for giving me such honor and prestige by doing so.”
Sometimes I find the Barso truly bizarre.
“Uh, yes. You are welcome.”
Locandral Siskra looked to me, and asked.
“Shall we agree that no firearms are to be used?”
“Fine by me. So that leaves all edged weapons, bludgeons, and hand to hand as options?”
“Indubitably.” The Jeddak replied.
“Agreed. Do any of you have any last words?”
“Die well, Finn Saxon.” Locandral Siskra intoned.
Then each of the other warriors favored me with the same phrase. At least they were polite, and I could nary a thing, but return their manners.
“Die well, Warriors of the Gydram.”
With that they drew their weapons and advanced to circle me.
I did not draw my sword or any other weapon. I had another plan. One I hope to the Great God worked, and would do more than just win a respite from war, but build a lasting peace between warring hordes.
It is said that the battle between the Gydram Five and the Jasoomian Jed will be told ages hence on Barsoom. I do not anything about that, but what I can tell you is that it was fierce. I have fought many a battle both in single combat, and in full melee, but there have been few times in my remembrance that I have been pressed as hard or as long, as I was upon that day in no man’s land.
I will not bore you with every last detail of a fight that took the better part of an hour to see its conclusion. I will say this. I thank my stars that I had my Earthly constitution, speed and strength, and the wisdom and knowledge of years upon years of martial training, because, I needed all of them in that fateful hour.
In this time I never drew my weapons. Some may ask why? The answer was simple. I did not want to kill any of these warriors. Yes, I want to lay them low, but insensate, and count coup upon them.
If I had drawn steel the bout might have been much shorter, but my aim would not have been accomplished. So for the better part of that hour I danced, and spun, and leaped away from harm’s way, looking for just the right opening to knock out each of my opponents and not kill them.
Trust me. It is not as easy as it sounds. My strength, if not gauged properly could easily crush ribcages and stave in skulls. What I need was speed and precision, but not overwhelming force, and all the while they were trying with all their considerable combined skill to cut me to pieces.
This was no easy task. Barso warriors physical conditioning cannot be matched by any other creature on Mars. Their live of hardship, deprivation, and constant training honed their bodies to a godlike degree. Wearing them down so that I could find their weak points took everything I had. I blessed my girls for pushing me to train harder each day in Thraxus, otherwise, these master fighters might well have outlasted me, but in the end, I began to pick them apart.
Each had their strengths and weaknesses, and the first to fall was my squat friend built like a bulldozer. His speed was failing about half way through the contest as he became winded, and as I spun away from a concerted attack of the twins, he barreled at me. His guard was low, and I waited to the last instant, and leaped straight up, and landed but a glancing blow from my knee to his forehead, but my Earthly power was enough to snapped his head back, and he fell in a heap. I landed by his side, and check his breath as the twins circled back, and the First Jed, angle for me as well. The Jeddak was crouch a short distance from me and was peering at me with calculation, as I again leaped away to relative safety and the had to regroup and chase after me again. It was a tactic I used over and over that day to escape immediate danger.
But I did more than just bounce around. My muscles allowed me to run very quickly. Maybe if the Barso warriors had chosen to chase me on four limbs or six, they could have outpaced me, but in their dignity they did not. Lucky me. The less bouncing I had to do.
After Hukracathad Murshok fell and did not rise, more than like burdened by the weight of his overly long moniker, I again had to play keep away from the remaining four for the next ten minutes, before I found another opening. This time it was the twins.
The two egg mates seemed to think with one mind. Who knows? Maybe they were two halves of one brain yoke that formed to bodies. Whatever the case, they worked together to bring down their foes, link by some thick fraternal telepathy that was very hard to decoded and diffuse. But finally they made the same mistake. I was between them, and I feinted weariness, and thus let them think that they finally had me at their mercy, and the close quickly, think to strike me simultaneously, as the drew back their weapons in synch, I reach out suddenly with the speed my tellurian constitution gave me, and grasped their harnesses, and slammed them together with a thud before they could land their killing blows upon my neck. As They fell knock cold, I rolled out from under their collapsing bodies, and sprang clear as both the Jeddak and First Jed tried mightily to skewer me before I escaped again. It was a very close thing, but I was off and running again, while the remaining two warriors sped after me.
I had long since realized that these last two were the very best the Gydram had to offer, and they were no less deadly for they dwindling numbers. The only way to defeat them now was to somehow separate them enough to take them down one at a time, for neither of them would fall for a bait by which as the twins had been bested. They were both much too canny for that.
I noticed that the Jeddack was the swifter of the two, so I ran, just ever keep out of the reach of his blade. It all looked rather silly, if it had not been seen in context, with me sprinting and dodging away from the long, lean Jeddak, ever drawing him further away from the First Jed. When I had a distance between them of maybe a hundred yards, I sprang forward away from both of them in a fair sized leap, to which the Jeddak immediately redouble himself and gave chase. Behind him, the First Jed was also in the hunt, but nowhere near the rate of speed that the Jeddak was moving. I swear that Locandral Siskra almost forced himself to run on all his limbs to catch me, and might have, if I had not checked from debasing himself by reversing my direction and bound in a huge leap back toward the First Jed.
Brithil Maegran saw me coming, and I had over shot my distance by a little to much. He drew back his sword like a slugger waiting for a pitch he had read. In the air I realized my miscalculation in those last moments before I fell into his kill zone, and twisted my body so that I was flying face first toward him, and stiffened my body like an arrow. I fell toward him and he swung, and he very well might have cleaved me in half, but I was focusing on his blade. It is factions of an inch between a kill and a defeat, and all it takes is a very minor deflection to effect the difference.
In the slice of a split second, I parried his blow in midair using the cherished armlet Zazak Trex had given me to usher me into the Thraxus horde. The First Jed’s blade careened to the side of m and I slammed into him, body to body. In the momentum of our collision, he began to fall, I could see he was stunned, but not out, but if my full weigh landed atop him, I might kill him, so and the last instant before his body hit the ground, I used his body as leverage to leap from him, but a few feet away. He crashed to the ground hard, but rolled heavily, and tried in his daze to rise, but I was there on him before he could get his bearing together, and delivered a short, sharp hammer fist to the back of his skull and he sunk to the moss without further struggle.
The Jeddak was still about fifty yards away, but closing fast. I walked toward him, away from the crumple form of the First Jed, so that we would have room for the final combat. As he neared me he slowed, and regarded me with speculative eyes.
He stopped and addressed me.
“What is this game you are playing at, Finn Saxon? Why have you not drawn steel?”
I cocked my head rakishly, and replied.
“You have your agenda, Jeddak, and I have mine. Are you ready to finish this?”
“Yes. I grow weary of this endless chase, Jasoomian.”
“Then let’s dance.” I grinned, to which he frowned, and advanced on me again.
And a dance it was! He was not winded a wit, and he threw everything he had at me, as weapons filled all four of his hands. For nigh on fifteen minutes I dodged, dove, rolled, and shifted out of the paths of his whizzing and whistling blades, never once stepping out of his kill zone. With a block and a strike to one of his wrists his war axes went flying away. Then after a few minutes of frantic motions, his short sword followed. Now he had only his spear and sword. The first he grasp with his lower hands, and the second with the upper pair to secure them from me disarming them as well.
He was a cagey fighter and learn quickly from his survived mistakes as all great warrior do, but I had been waiting for such a defense. I dropped low, and as he stabbed down at me with his spear, I rolled and it sank deep into the loamy moss of the dead seabed, and I grabbed it, using its momentary stability to lever my body into a whirling kick to his long spindly legs at his ankles. The sweep of my kick took his feet out from under him and he relinquished his spear as he fell to the ground. In a windmilling spin of my legs, my momentum flipped me upright to my feet, as from his back the Jeddak aimed his sword at me in defense, as he tried to scramble to his feet again.
But I had the high ground then, and was on him in a twinkling, batting aside his long sword, and closing with him, as I grabbed his wrist, and levered his arm into releasing his blade, which I appropriated with my right hand, as I grasped his right tusk with my left hand, and set the blade to his throat.
“Yield!” I commanded.
“Never! Finish it!” He grated in retort.
“Nay, Jeddak. I have no wish to kill you.”
“You must. It is our way. The contest will not be over until blood is spilt.”
I grabbed his blade and slit my hand, and raised it toward the Gydram, dripping bright red blood.
“Your way is not my way. Blood has been spilt, now yield to me and save both our people. You are a great and noble warrior, and a wise leader of your horde. I do not what your blood on my hands. Yield.”
He looked at me, his eyes hard.
“You were but playing with us, Jasoomian. Shaming us. Why would you do such terrible thing?”
“It was not to shame, but to save the Gydram’s best for a greater battle against foes who need your steel in their bellies. Yield to me, Great Jeddak and you shall have your vengeance. I swear this to you.”
Locandral Siskra set his jaw, and growled.
“Do you not know what you ask?”
“I only ask that you do your duty and serve your horde in the best possible way. You cannot do that if you are dead.”
The Gydram Jeddak glared into my eyes, as if searching, and I saw his decision. With a savage, yet heartrending war cry, he screamed his defiance at me, and I greatly feared that I my options had slimmed to but one terrible cut.
Then his scream cut off, and the fight went out of him, and he turned his face away from me in mortification, as he whispered.
“I yield to you, Finn Saxon. The Gydram Horde is yours to command.”
There you have it. I'm trying to finish a novel of this world in between other projects.
We'll see how that pans out.
No comments:
Post a Comment