IV - The Dawn
Only one can live.
Or both will die.
Both warriors recalled this truth even as they beheld each other—beaten, battered, forlorn wretches that they were.
Brothers in every sense but the literal—forged in fire and sand and sweat and blood.
Blood ran down A'Met's mouth, as it did from Boba Fett's wounds, blessing the sacred ground they stood upon.
Tusken and human looked at each other and the foreboding red rays of Tatooine's second sun began to creep above the horizon, just as the ring of fire rapidly faltered into embers.
They then took heed of their weapons splayed between them upon the holy sands.
Their next move would be the last.
They moved as one—one last flourish to their lethal dance.
A'Met had grabbed hold of his gadderfi and swung the mace-like end into an uppercut—
The naked Mandalorian proceeded into rolling vault and retrieved the flanged pike that remained of his own staff—
A hair's breadth was all it took—but that was enough.
Boba Fett had evaded the strike that would have smashed his skull apart and his fractured gadderfi instead sheared through cloth and skin and flesh and bone.
A'Met stood stunned and then let his staff fall as if in obeisance to his victorious opponent.
The Tusken crumpled forward, one hand gingerly upon the metal spike that had rent through his great vessels and into his liver and right lung.
The Mandalorian caught his dying brother and supported him as gently as he could
Despite the barbarous mask he wore, Boba Fett knew, that A'Met must have been surprised by this show of compassion.
"T'ka a'hau ki te w'kani i a k'e, te tu'kana" Fett rasped to the fallen warrior. Let me honor you, my brother.
One last stroke of mercy.
It was the very least he could do for such a worthy opponent.
Fett grasped A'Met's bloodied gadderfi for the coup de grace, and was surprised when the Tusken warrior's shaking, bloody hand stopped him.
A'Met then took hold of a nearby h'nu amphora which had inadvertently been lit by the embers upon the sands. The smoldering amphora he then raised to the level of their faces.
"K'nei…te hua'ri", his brother growled with tortured breaths. This… is the way.
Fett understood and helped A'Met to his feet, taking care not to dislodge the shattered gadderfi from the defeated warrior's gut.
The dying Tusken regarded the rising red rays of Tatooine's second sun for a moment and alone he ambled with the amphora clasped in his hands towards the edge of oblivion, the tribe transfixed at another spectacle unfolding.
A'Met turned his back to the suns and emptied the contents of the burning amphora gently over himself, closing his eyes one final time.
Boba Fett knew what his blood-brother desired to do, but even he could not help but be awed.
The embers at A'Met's feet came to life from the burning oil he had poured—lo, a third sun rose and burned brightly within the midst of the clan.
A miracle come to life.
All fell to their knees, the m'kap'a and w'aea included.
The third sun, blazing and glorious with hands spread out like wings, fell backwards gracefully and in total silence into the endless embrace of the precipice.
Soon, Fett heard the clan roaring out both his and his fallen brother's names—proclaiming them both as victors.
His body ached with the price of triumph.
His eyes strained to keep the tears he was won't to shed for a brother.
His brother's gadderfi lay heavy in his hand with blood, steel and honor.
But his spirit was light.
This was their victory in truth and A'Met had more than earned his redemption.
This is the way.
**I loosely based the Tusken language on Maori. Forgive me if the translations are quite poor *peace*