The Fight to End All Fights
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Nergal was dead.
Just like that, he was dead. Ninian, though, was not. No one knew how this was possible, but she was. Eliwood wasn't arguing; on the contrary, he was too busy... welcoming her back, to argue.
And they were in the next tent over, which meant Lyn could faintly hear every cry, every moan. She wasn't jealous by any means; she just wanted a man of her own. Kent, perhaps.
But everybody avoided her, even Sain. Wallace didn't, but he was too old to do anything with. The only reason he stuck around was because he knew what was wrong with her, why everybody avoided her. Frankly, he laughed at them.
Across the camp, Kent and Sain, the inseparable duo, were arguing over Lyn. "Sain, we know something is wrong with her. Hell, we've always known. But we don't know what it is. And now that Nergal is dead and the whole business is over with, we've got to do something!" "Kent, I've told you before; she's got the Blood Rage. There's nothing you can do about that." "We don't know for sure! We've got to ask someone!"
Sain sighed; his friend, aside from being head over heels for their fair lady, was also rather blunt when it came to women. "Alright, fine. Let's ask Sir Wallace; he's like another grandfather to her, and he's old." "Hard to tell, the way he is." "Ha-ha, true! But really, if anyone would know something, he would. Let's go."
They walked to Wallace's tent, where the old man was sitting and scrubbing his armor. He looked up at the sound of their footsteps. "Ah-ha! It's the mooncalf Commanders of Caelin's 'military'! What can I do for you?" They relaxed slightly; Wallace's blustery manner, though tiresome, was nonetheless open. It invited similar openness.
Kent spoke first. "Well, sir, it's Lyn. We've known something's been wrong with her, but we don't know what it is." "What! You've traveled with her all this time and you haven't figured it out yet?!? Mooncalves!" "Sir…"
He cut them off with a wave of his hand. "Kent, I've seen how you look at Lady Lyndis. Hell, everybody has seen it." The boy turned crimson and looked down, muttering nonsense about duty and concern; Sain nudged him and snickered.
"Ha! Don't try to hide it, boy! Everybody looks at her that way! Well, not me." Kent looked up quickly, an expression of revulsion and disgust on his face, before looking back down again. It was almost too fast to miss; yet it was there. Sain just nodded; he knew it was true.
"I saw that, soldier! Look, we all love her one way or another. Not like you so obviously do, though. So here's what you're going to do: you're going to walk to her tent and confess your feelings to her." The crimson shade on Kent's face faded slightly; here was territory he could be captain of the ship in. "Well... you see, sir... I... have." Quite suddenly, the crimson hue was back in full force, and then some. He returned to staring at the ground and mumbling incoherently about duty and concern. Sain laughed openly now. "Oh look, Kent's in love but he was rejected!"
"Hush, Sain! Did you now, Kent? What did she say?"
"She didn't say anything. She... looked up, smiled distractedly, and went back to staring at her sword. When she looked up again, I... ran. Her eyes... they were..." Kent shuddered violently; he most assuredly did not want to think about those eyes!
Wallace paused. "What about her eyes, my boy?" The crimson drained completely from Kent's face, to be replaced by white, with faint green tinges. "Her eyes... were... red..." The green had suddenly covered his face, and he had to turn aside and vomit rather violently. When he was done, he looked back at his old commander. "I'm sorry, sir. Uh, permission to go clean up?" Wallace laughed. "Boy, you're the commander! What're you asking me for?"
Kent's face returned to its red hue as he realized what he had done. Not wanting to embarrass himself further, he ran off to the small river the army was encamped by while they recuperated from the fight with Nergal and the last of the Black Fang. There he threw up again, and then he washed himself.
Sain remained behind with Wallace, lost in thought. "Hmm. Red eyes, huh? You'd think he's never seen them. They're always red, especially before a battle!" Wallace turned on him, fast. "What was that, boy?"
The younger man started. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Her eyes are always red right before a battle." Wallace got a nervous look on his face. "And when did Kent confess to her?"
"Um… earlier this morning…" Sain stopped, horrified. "Oh no. Sir! You know what that could mean?!?" "I do, boy. I do."
Elsewhere, two people were engaged in a serious discussion. "Hector, I don't know what to do with her. Everybody's avoiding her and she's getting depressed. And you know what Wallace said about that." Hector nodded. "Yeah; depression makes it worse. But a good fight makes it better, he said that too."
"True. But there's no one to fight! She's too good of a swordswoman, nor will she fight her friends and comrades, you know that." "No, I don't. But you're right about one thing; she is good. But you know she isn't the only one here that suffers from..." Hector lowered his voice for the rest of their conversation.
After a while, they stood up. "I don't know about your plan, Hector; she might be killed. And she does have friends here in camp, believe it or not." "I know. But it's the only way."
"You know, maybe we should ask Lord Athos, or Canas. They know a lot." "I didn't think of that. Let's go!" So they went to Canas, who listened to their plight. "Well, you know about how the Blood Rage only mainly affects Sacaeans. I bet what you don't know is that it most frequently appears in those who are afflicted with moon sickness?" "We didn't know that. But is there a cure? That's what we want to know."
"Sorry, my lords, but I know not. Maybe the Archsage can tell you something; he is very wise, you know. He knows more than I do!" The two friends walked off, Hector muttering under his breath: "Duh. 'Course Athos knows more than him!"
So they went to Athos, who hailed them. "Ah, Eliwood and Hector. Just the men I was thinking of. Sit down, sit down." Athos had been talking with Lord Pent and Hawkeye, who turned and regarded the two young lords. Hector stared back at Pent, but he couldn't meet Hawkeye's intense gaze.
"You come because of your concern for the Lady Lyndis and her affliction. We three were just now discussing it, you know. Pent has spoken with Sir Wallace (A.N.- hasn't everybody?), and he agrees with us; Lyndis must duel with someone of equal or greater skill than she. This is the only way the Blood Rage can be broken, and even that isn't permanent. There are only four people in this camp who could stand against her in martial combat." "Four? I thought there were only two!" "So you would. But you thought of blatant, outright martial prowess, not the ability that comes from walking in the shadows. Then, there is myself."
The light dawned on the two of them; Athos was right. "But, my lord. We want someone who can stand up to her in a fair fight, not one who would have to dodge and strike from the shadows." "Indeed we do," said Lord Pent, "indeed we do. The problem is talking either of them into doing anything. You know how they are. Well, the only thing we can do is ask, right?" They agreed to the wisdom of this, and the two younger lords walked off, accompanied by Pent, to try and talk someone into possibly going to their deaths.
Their first target was Jaffar; despite what Eliwood had said, they would need him to break up the fight if it got too lopsided. They told him of what was to happen. "...", said Jaffar, accompanied by a nod of the head, accompanied by him turning around and going back into his tent.
"Um... he's in, I guess." Eliwood nodded in reply. "Well, let's go get... her."
"Hey! Hey, wait up!" a cheerful voice called out. They turned to behold Matthew, thief, spy, and assassin extraordinaire. Always with a cheerful smile and a wave, of course. Hector started and tried to hide, but Matthew went straight for his liege lord, as always. "Hello, people! I heard from the eminent Lord Athos that you are on a mission?" "We are, and you weren't invited. Now scram!"
Putting on a hurt air, Matthew proceeded to stumble forward, 'accidentally' falling into Hector's arms. "Oh, the pain! The agony! My lord rejects the aid of his humble and well-informed servant! Woe is I!" Face twisted in mild disgust, Hector pushed his melodramatic spy off of him. "Get off! All right, fine. What do you know? Make it quick." Recovering like nothing had happened, the thief stood up and assumed a businesslike air. "Ahem! Lord Athos wishes to convey to the lords Eliwood and Hector that the subject of the fight must change. Our heroine must fight... him."
A stunned silence followed this declaration. Pent was the first to recover. "Karel will be more than happy to accept a challenge. But one or both of them could die. That won't do!" "Well, he might not. He listens to his sword, you know..."
"Well, so does Lyn. What's the difference?" That made them stop and think. One by one, their expressions became horrified, for it was true; lately, one really couldn't tell the difference between Lyn and Karel. If it weren't for their hair, and other obvious differences, they might have been twins...
There was no other way. If it had been Karla, the outcome might have been more favorable; she would have listened, and held back during the fight, allowing Lyn to wear herself out until the Blood Rage ended, hopefully forever. But Karel wouldn't hold back; rather, he would fight to pull it up and make it bloom. Already the plant was tall and the bud was up, waiting for just the right stimulus to open wide and spill forth its unholy nectar. If that happened, they would have two bloodthirsty Demon Swords on their hands, at least until one killed the other. And that would be inexorable. Undesirable, as well.
But there was a slight chance, as Pent pointed out right then. A chance they would fight to some sort of standstill, and the Blood Rage would leave the both of them. If this happened, they would be uprooting two vile weeds in one fell pull. "Surely this is what Lord Athos wants. He must know what he is doing." That fixed it. Karel would fight Lyn.
They walked to Karel and Karla's tent to find Karla asleep and Karel staring into the fire, muttering to his sword and polishing it. He never looked up at the four who approached him. "Karel, we have need of you." "Nergal is dead, the Black Fang is scattered. What is left for me to do for you?" "Our friend, Lady Lyndis..." "Ah yes. That one. You want me to fight her, and in doing so extinguish the Blood Rage that consumes her, as it does me. You wish to relieve her suffering.
"Yet you do not know the nature of it, and one doesn't usually kill something without understanding it first. It insinuates itself into you, poisoning your thoughts. You start to dream of death and carnage, flashing swords and fierce battles. Your sword becomes your only friend; it takes a life of its own, even! In her case it already has life, and that merely speeds the process onward; for, holy or not, a sword is still a tool of death. That is a sword's basic nature, and nobody can deny their basic nature.
"Those blessed with the Blood Rage, no matter their normal disposition, are killers at heart. There are more of us then you know; I am different because I chose to embrace my basic nature, instead of hiding it. And that makes it easier to bear; for when you hide something that is alive, it tends to grow on its own, and without sunlight and warmth, it grows into something twisted and poisonous. The Blood Rage is no different; hide it, and it grows on you, slowly twisting you around, until it pops out from beneath the rocks you threw on it and takes hold.
"And when it does, the results are unpleasant. You go insane very quickly, and a great rage takes you, so great that you lose control and slaughter anything that moves; the more skill you had when you are taken over, the worse the carnage. Believe me, for I have witnessed this many times; my family history is choked with Blood Rage; infants left at orphanages because their mother or father fell to the Blood Rage after struggling to hide. My dear sister is an exception; her will is strong, and she has overcome it. But it left its marks, as you can see; there is no true escape from the Blood Rage once the first signs have manifested."
Eliwood, Hector, Pent, and Matthew were shocked; they hadn't ever heard Karel say so much at once. Then, Hector got a strange gleam in his eye. "That sounds fine and well, but what I think is this; you're afraid of Lyn." They all stared; Karel looked up. "You call me a coward, my lord?"
"Yes. Yes I do. You say that you are the best in the world? Well, prove it! Beat Lyn, and then we'll believe you. You know, we never really believed you anyway, right, guys?" "Nope, we sure didn't!" Pent has caught on to his ruse. Eliwood came next: "Yeah, you sounded like a braggart. We only took you on because we were desperate for men." Matthew just nodded; he had no idea what was going on, but he wanted to look like he did. Karel stood; the fire in his eyes burned brightly. "Fine. You insult me, you die. But not before I deal with the challenger." With that, he strode out across the camp.
People stood up, staring at him; Karel hardly ever left his tent. Ninian and Nils cowered before their tent as he walked by; their senses were screaming 'Danger! Danger!' Dorcas saw the little procession, shook his head, and got up to follow. He had known something like this was going to happen eventually, ever since he laid eyes on Karel. The two other Sacaeans, Rath and Guy, looked on with indifference; they knew what was happening, they knew why. Had always known.
They were stopped by Wallace and Sain. "My lords! We must warn you about Lyn! She's going to…" One look at Karel stopped Wallace in his tracks. "Oh. You know about it already. Well, then…" And for the first time anyone could remember, Wallace looked sheepish. Karel cut in: "I've no time for you, you blustery old fool. Out of my way before I cut you into seven separate pieces." Subdued, Wallace and his former protégé fell into step behind the rest of them.
They arrived at Lyn's tent, where Lyn was sitting before the fire, muttering to the Mani Katti and polishing it. Eliwood shivered; she looked so much like Karel had when they walked up to him, it was terrifying. What was even more terrifying was the Mani Katti; it was glowing in the firelight, or so he thought. Lyn looked up the second Karel walked into the light of the fire. She stood, and they stared each other in the eye for ten seconds before bringing their blades up simultaneously and rushing at each other, screaming.
There was a flash when they met; they had disappeared! All that could be seen were flashes of light, sparks, and blurs in the air as the two fighters pressed each strike home, every time to be blocked or parried, then counter parried. There were few amongst the spectators who could keep up with their speed; these few whispered what was happening to those next to them every few seconds.
Thirty seconds; a cry was heard from one of the two combatants, and drops of blood fell to the ground. But there was no pause in the furious exchange of slashes and stabs. Sparks from the two blades flew everywhere...
Sixty seconds; another cry, more blood, but still no pause, still no sign of a curtain call for this show...
Ninety seconds; Lyn broke away, knocking Karel on the side of his head with the flat of her sword to stun him momentarily. In that moment, she threw away the Mani Katti and drew forth the Sol Katti, the stronger companion to the other sword now lying on the ground, covered in blood. In the pause, the spectators could see that the Wo Dao also had blood on it; the eyes of the fighters were now burning brighter then the fire that stood between them. They went back at it...
150 seconds; two cries at the same time, more blood on the ground...
300 seconds; At last, the tempo of the dance seemed to be slowing down. But then, something in the audience flashed, and both of them stopped. They could see that Karel was bleeding from a deep cut in his arm, a stab wound in his side, and a gash on his neck. They saw that Lyn bled from two cuts in her arm, and a shallow cut on the back of her neck. Again, a flash from the audience, and Matthew stood beside Jaffar, holding two swords in his hands. Jaffar's daggers had blood on them.
Lyn and Karel never noticed their swords had been taken, all they did notice was the eye of their opponent. Slowly, the fires went out of those eyes, the twisted plants died; the Blood Rage left. When it was utterly gone, the two of them fell forward onto the ground, exhausted and weak from blood loss. Serra came forward with her staff to heal them; her face took on a dumbly horrified look when she saw all the blood on the ground.
Karel and Lyn slept for two days, and when they awoke they went to see each other. Each sized up the other in their weakened, freed conditions. Karel smiled, the first true smile he had worn in a long time. Lyn smiled back.
The Blood Rage was gone, the adventure was over; lives could be resumed.
But for those two, life had just begun.