Partisan Saga, Chapter IX - The Morning: A Nightmare of Reality

                “Do you agree with Counsel, Brother?”
                “I do not,” Cagneidu replied. He let his eyes sweep over the surging crowd that had gathered. “But I trust his judgment among his own people.”
                “And what of my people?” Oddriser asked. His vision followed his brother’s. “Did they return safely?”
                “And with everything you sought to reclaim.”
                “Then this is the only course of action, isn’t it, Brother?”
                “I would have to say so.”
                “You have to understand, Brother,” Oddriser pleaded. “I truly did not want this.”
                “You may not use Anima Tsesheydung. Nor Anima Khurbn, nor Anima Fartraybn.”
                “I would never, Brother. But understand—”
                “I understand. And I might believe you, Oddriser. But regardless, this is where we stand as a result of your actions.”

                Where they stood was nice enough for the time, Oddriser might have argued.  Beside them, great stone blocks of perfectly chiseled marble, nearly as tall as they were. A canvas of hide had been stretched over them. Collaborator laborers had spent half a day hauling the blocks out into a relatively level stretch of the desert well beyond the city. Oddriser had offered to move them, but they refused; he might very well tamper with them, had he his way. It did him little harm; watching them struggle so arduously with the stones was entertainment enough, and it had allowed him to forget the significance behind it, at least for the time.

                Two.

                Across from him, already standing upon the makeshift ring, Counsel paced idly back and forth, sporting the same cool ease he had with every time Oddriser had seen him. Just as tranquil as he had come to greet Oddriser’s party before the gates. Each step carried the same harmony he’d expressed – first at the lodging with Oddriser’s men, again upon entry into the First Library. Oddriser was convinced that if he lay dying at Counsel’s hand, or even if the reverse occurred, the latter would stare at him with those same unwavering eyes even as one or the both of them bled out.

                “Mistakes were made, brother,” Oddriser admitted. “I did the best I could.”
                “Did you?”
                “I could not have prevented the attack that spurred this on. It happened beyond my notice, while I oversaw the receiving of our knowledge.”
                “Perhaps you should mind your subordinates more carefully.”
                “Indeed. And perhaps the Collaborators should not provoke them as well.”
                “Brother, it is their house in which we stand.”
                “All the more reason for them to be on their best behavior! We are the guests, are we not?”
                Cagneidu looked across the ring to Counsel. “After today, I am not so sure.”
                As if on cue, Counsel turned. “Pelomect Oddriser! The sun rises ever unto midday! How long do you intend to wait?”
                Oddriser moved to climb onto the blocks. Cagneidu grabbed his arm. “Remember—”
                “I know, Brother,” Oddriser muttered. “The soul must remain intact.”

                Oddriser hoisted himself up onto the platform as Counsel watched from the far end. The large rectangular stones had been laid end to end, forming a larger rectangle. The longer portions of the shape stretched the distance between them; less a ring, more a gauntlet, even accounting for the lack of rails or bars girding the edges.
                “How would you like to proceed, Counsel?” Oddriser asked.
                “You are the challenged,” Counsel replied. “You may decide the terms of this bout.”
                Oddriser looked to Cagneidu. The latter shook his head slowly.
                Oddriser returned his attention to his opponent. “We shall battle using all of the forces at our respective commands, save for those involving the command of men and their subsequent forces. Agreed?”
                Counsel offered a light smile. “I find your terms agreeable.”

                If the crowds determined the strength of their respective combatants, it was a battle beyond lopsidedness. Much of the city had followed their champion out into the desert to do battle with the Selector, whose supporters had fled home. Now that the terms had been decided, the inhabitants of the first city roared, hard, loud, for Counsel.

                “To be thrown from the ring is to be declared the loser,” Oddriser added. “Otherwise, we fight until one of us yields, or dies.”
                “Agreed, Oddriser. Shall we begin?”

                Upon his capture, Oddriser had been stripped of his dagger; it had been returned in time with his  brother’s arrival and his subsequent release. Now, he removed it once more, tossing belt, scabbard, and blade into the dirt. Counsel watched the weapon go with only the slightest of surprise.

                “Draw your weapon, Cousin,” Oddriser insisted.
                “Where is yours, Lord Oddriser?”
                “Do not doubt that I am ready.”
                “As you wish.” Counsel gestured, and streams of sand rose up from the desert. The sand compacted upon itself again and again. Under the heat of the sun, it began to blaze so fiercely that Oddriser could feel the added warmth even at a distance.  Convection, sand, pressure, wind. Counsel consolidated the matter into a sleek, hardened blade.
                Counsel shook out the sword in his hand, scattering further heat and stray bits of earth. The weapon gleamed and simmered in the midday atmosphere, catching light at odd angles, a strip of silver in the pale desert. Then, Counsel uttered a word—

                —And the space between them vanished, Counsel falling upon Oddriser, his sword set in a lethal arc. The blade tore through Oddriser with brutal efficiency, scattering the upper right side of his body into bits of flesh, blood, and bone. The lower half of the Selector fell to knees. The gasps of the crowd turned into roars and applause—

                — but then Counsel resumed his position on the far side of the arena, his sword pointed at the remains of Oddriser. As quickly as they had come, the cheers dissipated.
                The viscera that had been tumbling through the air halted and rolled back together. “No?” Oddriser asked. He climbed back to his feet as the remainder of his body reassembled itself.
                “You triggered your spell too early,” Counsel told him.
                Oddriser rubbed at his jaw. “That I did. Though I suppose with a blade as finely honed as yours, you would know immediately that you had not cut me.”
                “There is that, as well.”
                “Are you going to try again?”
                “Naturally.”  Even before the Collaborator had finished speaking, the air caught fire as more swaths of sandforged blades shot in to skewer Oddriser. Oddriser burst again, this time more thoroughly. Streaks of blood stained the canvas.
                As the pieces of Oddriser drew together once again, Counsel appeared over the downed Selector to finish him.
                Oddriser caught the sword in his fist, and though blood and steam streamed from between his fingers, the blade burst into the sand it had once been. “That hurt.”  With his other hand, he made a grab for Counsel’s throat,
                —but the latter had regained the safety of the space between them.
                Again, sand rose and sharpened, but this time, the shapes would not hold, tumbling away as soon as they came.
                “No,” Oddriser commanded. He surged to his feet and bolted toward the Collaborator.
                Counsel flicked his gaze to the piles of inert sand scattered about the arena, and then settled his attention back on the approaching Selector. “I have other weapons.” His right arm gleamed for a moment, and he shoved it clear through Oddriser.
                The crowd was cheering again. Around Oddriser, the air seemed to simmer more than ever, the dunes seemed to spin. He knew it was not entirely a product of the heat, even accounting for Counsel’s ability. Yes. As expected. Yes, even now, buried elbow deep in Oddriser’s flesh, Counsel’s face remained the clear and perfect mask- unflinching even for the specks of Selector blood upon it.
                For Oddriser, it was invigorating. The smell of blood in his nostrils, the taste in his mouth. Beyond the shores of the arena, the crowd’s noise had matched the soothing calm of ocean waves, rolling over his ears in exquisite rhythm. He felt so light on his feet, as though he might be able to float away at any moment. His head fell back and his body slumped as he stared into the sky. Even one as powerful as he….
                “So do I.”
                Blood shot out of Oddriser’s chest and tore its way up Counsel’s arm, shredding flesh and cleaving bone from forearm to shoulder to collarbone. The force of the attack threw both men to the floor.
                Silence. Clear vision returned and the ocean no longer lapped at his heels. What flesh had not been honestly lost began to mount upon him, taking its place once again. Painfully, he pushed himself into a sitting position.
                Were it not for the sight of Counsel’s good arm clutching the bad, Oddriser might have thought him unharmed- his face remained nearly as stoic as always- the alarm present an indication only of depleted blood and absent motor control. Fear of death and pain did not factor. This was, for Oddriser, most disappointing, and yet admirable.
                “It is over, Counsel,” Oddriser said. He climbed to his feet with a feigned spryness. He hid a wince behind a playful chuckle aimed at the crowd.
                Counsel pulled himself upright as well, though not with the haste of Oddriser. “I am not finished.  He blurred for a second, but it faded. The blood dripping from his mangled arm slowed momentarily, then resumed running full course.
                “Your power is incredible, Cousin,” Oddriser continued. “In fact, I am jealous, for I have never been able to accomplish the organization that you and my Brother bring to your incantations.”
                “Because… you lack… will… focus…”
                “Focus perhaps…” Oddriser admitted. “But it matters little now, and you know that as well as I. As long as I lay my power over this space, yours will not activate.”  He cast a rueful gaze over his shoulder toward the sand that would not quite form daggers, then back to the blood that did not quite clot, and the bones that did not quite mend. “Therefore, you can neither kill me, nor preserve your own life, unless I will it.”
                “Let us end this then.” Counsel broke into a run, and quickly so, given his injuries. Oddriser tore up shards of the arena between them with the power from his fingertips, but Counsel leapt over the obstacle and swept his foot around midair to catch Oddriser’s skull with his heel. Predictably, the Selector’s head ruptured and fell away, only to recover as Counsel’s foot safely departed the space.
                The scuffle continued for several moments, as Counsel delivered additional attacks, which Oddriser parried in the conventional manner or avoided through self-separation. Finally, Oddriser snagged Counsel’s torn arm and twisted it hard. The pain didn’t deter the Collaborator; Oddriser had forgotten. He took a fist across the face for this oversight, but did not relinquish his hold.
                “I’ll tear it off,” Oddriser warned.
                “I will manage.”
                “You will die.”
                “If it comes to that.”
                “Yield.”
                “Kill me, if you can!”
                “No.” Oddriser relinquished his hold upon Counsel’s arm, shoving the man away as if disgusted.

                Immediately, sand shot into the sky and the heat became unbearable. Countless blades swirled in circles around Oddriser.

                Seeing this, Oddriser grinned a bitter grin. “Do it.”

                Counsel closed his fist, and the blades shot in.