Content Warning: Violence, Blood, and Death
"Duran?" laughed Mikel in shock. "Who would have thought you turned up here!"
"I heard stories of someone out in the Vinkus." Duran replied as he crossed onto the bridge. "What are you doing with the Yunamata, Mikel?"
"They pay me to kill people. Can't want more than that." The other man shrugged. "What are you doing with the Arjiki?"
"I'm not." Duran shook his head. "I got caught up in a little adventure that led me here."
"Led?" Mikel tsked. "That's not the Duran I knew. The Duran I knew despised being forced to do anything."
"Unfortunately it was not my call." Duran shrugged. "But that still doesn't tell me how you ended up with the Yunamata. I can't imagine they approached you themselves."
"Unfortunately," Mikel mocked, "I don't feel like telling you. You were always too nosey for your own good."
"So I've been told." Duran replied. He stopped far outside sword range.
"Oh! I almost forgot! Did you know I killed Dorian? Not a decade ago." Mikel laughed.
"I did not." Duran smiled wanly.
"Never much liked him, did you?"
"Not as much as I liked you."
"And now I get to kill you." Mikel smiled. "What a treat this is! I thought I was going to kill some unwashed barbarian. Instead, I get to finish this."
"It does end here." Duran nodded. He held his blade in a salute in front of his face. Mikel laughed and followed suit.
"To us honored few." they spoke in unison. "Until death."
Duran slipped into a mid guard while Mikel slipped into a high one. The both held perfectly still. Mikel's face held a slightly too wide smile while Duran's was set in fierce concentration.
"Who is he?" Fiyero spoke quietly to Glinda.
"I'd like to know as well." Elphaba agreed.
"Mikel. One of Duran's companions." Glinda answered.
"Oh." Elphaba blinked.
"One of his companions?" Fiyero asked as he watched the two men judge each other. "Why would they fight, then?"
"The same magic that makes Duran and Mikel what they are can cause them to slip into madness." Glinda replied. "Not long ago he told us there were three left. His rival Dorian, whom Mikel just said he killed; and Mikel himself, his closest companion."
The two men clashed. The ring of steel and the change of position were the only thing that told the observers it happened. Both men held steady again: Mikel smiling and Duran's eyes boring into him. They clashed again, glints of light moving between them faster than those watching could track. They pulled apart. Mikel laughed.
"I couldn't follow any of that." Fiyero muttered. "No wonder Duran insisted he fight."
"Someone moved him to this moment." Elphaba said. "It is even clearer now that someone with long reach is working against us."
"But who has the vision and reach to do so?" Glinda wondered.
The former compatriots attacked. Their blows struck and feet covered distance quickly. They were warming up now. Neither had to use such skill in a long time. Duran feinted, which Mikel bought, but the other retreated before Duran's blow could land. Duran followed a bit too eagerly, and barely blocked the return blow.
"Almost got me there." Mikel chuckled.
"Almost." Duran answered.
"Why so serious, Duran?" Mikel asked. "You should be having fun! How long has it been since you've fought someone your equal?"
"I take no relish in this, Mikel."
"Well, more fun for me then." the man shrugged.
Mikel came at him in a flurry of strikes probing for a weakness. Duran held him off until a particularly good feint drew him out of position. He recovered, but Mikel's sword cut a light gash across his shoulder. The bright red blood shone in the morning light. Mikel's eyes took on a manic look.
"First blood to me, then." he growled.
"Many more to go." Duran retorted.
The pace of the duel quickened. Their movements were still just as fast, but neither man backed off the other easily. The only judgement was the blood being spilt beneath them. Glinda flinched as Duran's shed again, and again. Mikel had not taken a scratch. Until he cried out and lept back. A cut across the bicep, and Duran's blade was red.
"Guess I'm on the board now." Duran hissed.
"But I still lead." Mikel snapped back.
The observers could tell now the duelists moved with grim earnest. No more did they need to warm into it, or gain their judgements. Now it was pure skill and determination. Blood flew quicker, vivid splattering across the drawbridge. More streamed from Duran than Mikel, but the other was not untouched. Those watching wondered how the two kept fighting. One who knew wondered at Duran's movements.
Glinda thought they were not as sure. No, that was not it. They were not as fluid, tense. Something was on his mind. Something weighing on him, holding him back. As Mikel struck Duran again and laughed, Glinda noticed the tightness in the man's face. It was not doubt, but there was something missing that had always seemed present. As the two pulled apart, Glinda saw the deep gash across Duran's chest, causing his shirt to fall open. The man stepped back as Mikel licked the blood along his blade.
"What is that scar, Duran?" he asked, pointing to the one above his heart. "Did you get bonded?"
"We are what we are, Mikel." Duran growled.
"What a fool!" Mikel laughed again. "You chained yourself to someone for life. A man who never said he would be chained again."
"Times change."
"Yes, but I do not." Mikel gave him a feral grin, baring his blood covered teeth. "I like what I am."
Duran set himself again, and the two were off.
"What can a man do against such a monster?" Fiyero asked, shaking his head.
Monster. The word rang inside Glinda's head. Monster…
"Brother Dervel?" Elphaba asked incredulously. "He's a brother now?"
"Not officially no. But he attends service regularly enough to be well known to us." the Head Maunt responded.
"Dervel? I'm not familiar with that saint." Glinda asked.
"He's an early one. He helped cleanse the Lurlinists from Gillikin."
"A butcher saint. How appropriate." Elphaba spat.
"You think me weak." Elphaba said hoarsely but the disgust was there. Glinda glared up at him in warning. Duran simply smiled sadly down at them.
"No; I think you are strong. It is easy to take life; especially when we can fool ourselves into thinking it is justified. It takes a much stronger person to preserve it, even when the person is not worthy of the consideration."
"Jackals." Duran said from up ahead. "They've been following us for at least an hour. Most likely attracted by the blood Elphaba is dripping. They'll stay back as long as we stay together."
"Why?" Glinda asked. "If there's that many, why won't they just attack us?"
Duran stopped and turned to the women. In the dim light, the only thing visible were the white of his smile, and the shine of his eyes. Elphaba squeezed Glinda's hand, or perhaps they squeezed each other.
"Because they know a fiercer monster is among us." he turned again, and continued on. The women shivered, only partially from the dropping temperature.
"However, it is interesting that she could not scry you." Elphaba looked at him. Duran smiled and shrugged.
"One of many talents."
"Natural and unnatural?" Elphaba retorted.
"Mostly unnatural." he glibbed back.
"Yes. Many of us wonder if you are a Rakasha, a demon who takes on human form." the Scrow warleader spoke firmly. Duran laughed but glanced around as he did. The eyes were on him.
"I am not some demon come to kill you." he said. "I am a man; maybe not like any other, but from a mother just as well."
"We kept fighting, Gods of War all." Duran told his tale of the last stand of the Makelean Knights. "My closest compatriot, Mikel, was to my right wielding a spear that cut many a throat. My rival Dorian on my left, two handed sword cleaving through warriors. I had two maces at that point, little more than steel bars, as all our shields had been split and my swords bent and broken."
Duran laughed in joy at the memory.
"I said there's nothing you can do about it." Duran answered as he came closer to Glinda who was holding the dying Elphaba. "However, as we previously discussed, I'm a monster made to be bound to a master whom I protect."
"You had to twist that knife." Glinda hissed at Duran. "You're a right bastard, you know that?"
"Of course I am." he agreed. "I thought that was clear long ago."
Monster. The word rang in Glinda's head. He thinks himself a monster.
Watching him, it was clear to her now. He was holding himself back from feeling the joy of the fight. Mikel, his dark reflection, had even pointed that out at the beginning. But if Duran knew that - which he must - why was he gambling so much by doing so? He already thought himself one.
Her.
It hit her like lightning, with the last ring of steel the thunderclap afterwards as the two duelists stepped back from each other. They were clad in their own crimson now and, for the first time, breathing harder. The number of cuts on Duran dwarfed Mikel. At this rate, he would lose. And that was something that could not happen.
"Durandal!" she cried out. Duran edged away from Mikel. The man laughed.
"Durandal, huh?" Mikel grinned. "So she knows your real name. Is she your lover? "
"Not a lover, no." Duran hissed.
"Perhaps the one you bound yourself to? Either way, go ahead and look. I won't kill you in a sneak attack. Not when I'm having such fun." Mikel rasped in manic glee.
Duran withdrew further, eyes never leaving Mikel. Once he was well out of range, he turned to look at Glinda. Striding to the front of the crowd, she met his steely gaze with one of her own.
"Cry Havoc! And let slip the Dogs of War!" she called out. Duran blinked, his face going slack. Mikel laughed behind him.
"Your stupid old phrase! Come now, Duran, she must be something to you." Mikel giggled. "Perhaps after I kill you, the Yunamata will let me kill her. I don't think they will allow either to live very long."
"I think I'll have to ruin your fun, Mikel." Duran sighed. He turned back to the man, his face serene. "For she is something to me, and that is someone who understands and accepts me for not only what I am, but for what she believes me able to be."
"What sort of milksop drivel is that?" Mikel scoffed. "This is no fable, Duran. There is no sudden comeback."
"Of that you are quite right." Duran answered, and raised his sword into his mid guard. This time, a smile grew with it. "But it does not need to be. You see, Mikel, I've been holding back on you."
"Have you now?" Mikel's grin got wider. "And why would you do that?"
"Because to kill you means showing who I really am to the world. And that is a terrible thing."
"You always simpered too much on morality, Duran." Mikel bared his feral grin. "I should like to never have to hear it again."
"After I'm done here," Duran answered with his own smirk, "you won't have to worry about that."
The pair clashed again. Even catching their barest movements, the crowd could tell Duran was now more of a match for Mikel. Glinda could tell he had relaxed into the fight. There was a cry as Duran scored a blow against Mikel, and two more that followed. Mikel retreated, his face an annoyed grimace. Duran's grin parodied Mikel's earlier one.
"Three more on the board for me." Duran taunted. "Perhaps that fabled comeback isn't far off."
"You're dreaming if you think so." Mikel growled.
The duel continued, no longer a one sided affair. Mikel's growls of frustration and rage were almost drowned out by Duran's laughter. The man had started counting the blows he struck on the other, stoking his former friend's rage. But that did not make Mikel a worse swordsman by any means.
"Ah! Good blow!" Duran laughed as Mikel's blade cut his side. He hammered the hilt into Mikel's face, sending the other man stumbling back. "Too close, though! You always liked to grind too much."
"And you dance like a harlot!" Mikel snarled before advancing again.
"How do they continue?" Fiyero asked. "The blood on either is more than enough to kill a man. And the bridge is coated with it."
Mikel stumbled back. Duran followed, moving quickly at angles. Mikel took several cuts from Duran before advancing with a strike himself. Duran sidestepped and laced another cut at his side. Mikel cursed at him.
"Your footwork is too linear, Mikel! Some Destreza would have helped!" Duran taunted.
"Their blood is enhanced to be better than ours." Glinda explained. "They are able to clot faster, carry more oxygen, and need less of it."
Duran took another cut, this time across the thigh. His return blow was deeper, thrown with a taunt. "And some Thibault for your range!"
"But time tells." Elphaba warned. The other two nodded, watching the combatants.
Their speed, once prodigious, had started to slow. It was still faster than most warriors, but it was observable now. What really told the story of their approaching fatigue was that the duel became quieter. Mikel did not snarl or snap at Duran. Duran did not taunt or laugh at Mikel. The only thing the two focused on was the other.
The duelists pulled apart, breathing heavy. They were swaying slightly. Both stared the other intensely down. For once, neither seemed eager to go on the offensive. The timidity was the sign that the end of the duel was near. Neither group of observers knew who would be the victor. Both men were crisscrossed with cuts - clotted and bleeding - as well as blood.
Duran knew he was at his limit. Despite his boasts, Mikel's earlier dominance had left him drained. Both of them knew he was slowing faster. It would only be a matter of when Mikel caught him. With his mind set, Duran moved forward. He cut from the outside, a strike he knew Mikel would block and would draw a thrust in return. Instead of blocking the return thrust, he spun to advance and tucked his own blade under his opposite arm. Mikel's blade tore through the left side of his torso, sending burning pain through him. His legs weakened, but Duran had counted on that. The momentum of the spin carried him through.
Duran's tucked blade pierced Mikel diaphragm and up to his heart and spine. Duran was so close he could feel the surprised gasp from his ex-compatriot as the air was forced from his lungs. Both men went down in a tangle of limbs, sprawling across the bridge. From where he lay on his back, Mikel weakly attempted to pull the blade from himself, but could not. His arms fell back to the bridge. Neither moved. After long moments, Duran's arm suddenly jerked forward, and he dragged himself to his companion. The crowd waited.
Duran looked into the eyes of his once compatriot. Though clouded in pain, they were clear of the madness that had overtaken him.
"Is...it...over?" Mikel managed to rasp.
"Yes." Duran breathed. "It...is."
"I'm...glad...you...are...here…" Mikel inhaled, a terrible sucking sound coming from his chest. "At...the...end."
"Until...death."
"Until…"
The last exhale was not a word, but Duran felt it nonetheless. The world slowly closed in. A warmth came over him. Perhaps now he would be able to rest peacefully. Perhaps he would see all his compatriots again. Perhaps…
The shaman overseeing the ceremony rapped his staff on the bridge.
"If neither combatant is able to rise, then the duel will be declared a draw, and will go to seconds." he declared.
Fiyero grit his teeth. They had no second after Gawae had gotten sick, and he could not mark a new one.
"Durandal!"
Fire lit his veins. It burned from him the warm blanket of eternity. Gasping, he felt his limbs jerk and begin to move as if on their own. The flame became a pillar, forcing him upward. He needed to stand. Grabbing Mikel's discarded rapier, he planted it into the bridge's soft wood. His right arm levered himself up, compensating for the weakness of his left side. The crowd watched him rise to his feet. Swaying, he opened his eyes and leveled his sword at the Yunamata.
"I, Duran Fanel, claim victory for the Arjiki." he called with strength he did not know he possessed. "Let none dispute this."
A pregnant pause held the air. Finally,
"So it is. The spirits have proven the Arjiki's word true." intoned shaman.
Like a match, the fire inside him was snuffed out. Duran idly had time to wonder if the sky had always been that blue as he crumpled. There were worse skies to die under. Though he had his boots on, as he always suspected he would. The world darkened above him, and he felt that warm embrace again as he closed his eyes.
"Durandal!" Glinda sprinted past Fiyero as the moment the shaman finished speaking.
The man fell before Glinda could reach him. Sliding on her knees, she lifted his head off the bridge. His brown eyes were unfocused as they closed. Glinda felt for a pulse. It was weak, but there. Looking over his wounds, she quickly whispered the spell to clean and disinfect them. She almost wished she had not as the extent of his injuries were laid bare. They were not even bleeding anymore, but still were a terrible sight. Glinda pursed her lips, trying to think of what to do.
"Hold him steady." came a firm command. Glinda turned to see Elphaba by her side.
"Do you have a healing draught ready?" Glinda asked, voice quivering slightly. Elphaba shook her head.
"No, and the way his body is it would take too long for it to work. So I'm going to have to weave one straight on him."
"His counterspells-"
"Are weakening, and I can maneuver around them well enough." Elphaba took a deep breath. "Just hold him steady."
As Elphaba began to chant the spell, Glinda leaned down to whisper,
"Stay with us, Durandal. Just a little longer and you'll be fine."
As Elphaba finished, Duran jerked into motion. Eyes wild, his hand grasped the rapier at his side. He attempted to rise, but the two women easily restrained him.
"Durandal, relax, it's me." Glinda soothed. The man's eyes focused, and his face grimaced in pain. However, he let the rapier go.
"So...it is." he breathed. "There...are worse sights...to see...as one dies."
"You're not going to die." Elphaba insisted. "Not while I am here."
"Always so...stubborn." Duran tried to laugh. "But I can feel it."
Both witches could see his spells begin to gutter and die. Glinda watched his aura start to fade. She looked at Elphaba, who searched up and down his body.
"His wounds are clean and closed. He is not bleeding anymore. His fingers are cold, and seem to lack feeling…" Elphaba muttered, trying to figure out something. Glinda looked back down to see the man himself smiling slightly.
"You're not going to die, Durandal." she sniffled. "Just stay with us."
"All things pass…including me." Duran replied. His eyes fluttered but stayed open. "The time with you was nice, but I'm only a small part...of your story."
"Come now, Durandal." Glinda's voice was thick and she felt her eyes start to prickle as she struggled to hold back tears. "You can stay with us. With me. Just stay."
"Sounds nice…" Duran's eyes fluttered again, and they stayed shut for a moment before slowly opening. Glinda glanced at Elphaba. She was a pale green, but was still muttering under her breath. Glinda looked back down.
"Yes, it does sound nice." her voice cracked. "You can stay here with me. It would be a nice life, wouldn't it? We could be together and we could be happy and in love."
Elphaba's head shot up and looked at Glinda. The blonde did not notice. A smile weakly twitched on Duran's lips.
"Don't...lie, mi amor." he responded. "While sweet, it's not me you love. It's...her."
"No, it's true." Glinda could not stop the tears now. "Stay and I swear it's true."
Duran lifted his hand to stroke her cheek, but hesitated as he saw it was covered in blood. Glinda grasped it and put it against her face. He smiled.
"Such pretty lies." he managed to breathe out. "Almost wish…"
His eyes fluttered one more time. They stayed closed. Glinda inhaled sharply.
"Are you with me, Durandal?" she begged. For a moment there was nothing, but his eyes slowly opened. Unfocused. His lips moved silently for a moment, and Glinda waited.
"Always…" his eyes closed again. A deep inhale of breath rattled him. "But there are...other worlds…"
Glinda felt his arm go limp.
"Durandal!" she pleaded. "Durandal, please! Please stay with me! Durandal!"
He did not respond. Glinda looked at Elphaba. The woman's eyes were wide.
"No. No, no, no, no, no. Not again." Elphaba muttered.
Elphaba still looked frantically for something, anything to help. She recalled and discarded spells, incantation, and techniques galore, but there was nothing. After a few moments, both knew it was hopeless. Glinda let out a cry of pure anguish to match Elphaba's howl of impotence. Neither side moved as the sobs echoed across the chasm of Kiamo Ko.
On a bloody bridge next to the corpse of his last friend, so passed Durandal Fanel, Sword of Witches.