17: Getting A Grip

I'd made a mistake. I did something that was wrong on so many levels, and I could never take it back. My body trembled, no matter how much I wanted to stop. It didn't help that my adrenaline high was crashing, either.

"It's my fault," I whimpered. "H-how could I…? I'm…sorry."

My brilliant strategy was nothing more than a series of mindless reactions that caused someone's death. I felt worse with each passing second. I smeared sweat, tears, and soot together on my face as I wiped my eyes with the back of my burned hand, but my face kept dripping.

The funeral pyre's choking smoke and heat were unbearable additions to an already sweltering day. Catching my breath was as much of a struggle as the fight I'd just survived. I needed fresh air, preferably something clean that didn't reek of a now charring corpse.

Finally uncurling from my fetal-like position, I pushed myself up. I almost couldn't do it because my hands were so blistered and raw. I stared at them. They wouldn't stop shaking from my desperate, cowardly choice. Each falling tear or drop of sweat stung. I needed to clean them, bandage them, and protect them from getting worse. I had a spare washing pot in my hovel, and I was closer to it than the fountain. Plus, that gave me a chance to check on the family of flying fennecs.

My short trip home was simple, but nothing was easy about it. I had to force myself up on uneasy legs before I even started back. Every step was slow, awkward, and a challenge all its own. My body cried out in pain, demanding I stop and rest now, not later.

I wanted to forget the entire day, but my brain refused to cooperate. It latched onto every little detail and dissected each gruesome moment. I thought the encroaching darkness during the fight came from the smoke blanketing the area, but it was gradually dissipating along with the odd humming. Meanwhile, the smoke worsened. Both of the phenomena seemed to build up to the ghostly dome and frozen moment of time, then fizzled out like something was incomplete. It left me paranoid and wondering if I missed something, but my confusion, pain, and exhaustion refused to allow my brain much else to process any of it.

My final steps home were an uphill climb. A tightness in my chest forced me to take smaller breaths, and my weak legs left me shuffling my feet. I was only a few steps away when my body quit altogether and collapsed, either unable or unwilling to continue. I laid there sweating as a chill crept through me.

"I'm almost… but a nap is… fine, right?"

I closed my dry eyes and drifted off. Not even the pain coursing through my hands kept me awake.

Soft whimpers and tickling whiskers brought me back. Sniff. Sniff. Wet noses poked at me. The pups found me.

Good. They're safe, but—

One licked my ear, tickling me.

"Hey, I'm… not dead yet, so… please don't eat me, okay?" The rasp in my voice must have startled them. They scurried into my hovel and looked back, tilting their heads. "A bad joke? Yeah, I guess so, but… You're welcome, by the way." They ran in and out of sight, diving into my leafy bed, and playing like the intrusion never happened. The larger one, apparently their mother, was curled up against my side. She licked and nursed the leg she limped away on. "How about you? Doing okay?"

Poor thing. That oaf didn't pull his punches. No wonder the other—Shit! The other one! Where is he?!

The sudden realization made me tense up. I must have put the mother fennec on alert because she growled as we both scanned the immediate area for danger. I last saw him close to where I passed out, but that was during the fight. I dragged myself into my hovel with my elbows and knees and dunked my hands in the pot of water. I clenched my jaw to hold back a scream and fought the urge to pass out.

Hurry, dumbass. He might be anywhere!

I pulled at my shirt to tear off pieces to bandage my hands. Not only were my hands swelling, the fabric strained and rubbed against the fresh injuries. I let out a sound that sent both pups diving back under the leaves to hide from me. Idiot! I used my teeth instead to tear away strips before wrapping my hands where they looked the worst. The result wasn't pretty, but the bandages had to do.

Don't forget your…  My stomach dropped, and my heart fluttered with fear. I paused, looking back at where I dropped the sword when I fell. Will I have to…? I glanced at the fire.

"Only if… he makes me."

I grabbed my sword, gritting my teeth through the pain in my hands. From what I overheard about the light they were after, he had to be at the church looking for the jewel. If I let it heal him, that was a disadvantage I'd never overcome.

The voice in my head worked hard to convince me to give up, and my body agreed. I was stupid to think I'd stand a chance. Even beat up, he had more experience. He knew exactly what he was doing from the moment he arrived in the ruins, while. I fumbled my way through everything.

He chose to be here, this… path, this… life, all for his shiny prize… but… I didn't.

I gripped the handle tighter and forced myself to focus on the pain. It was the only way to push away any thoughts trying to talk me out of my decision. I wouldn't let them stop me. Not this time.

The jumpy bandit loomed over the pedestal when I got to the church. He was bleeding and hacking at the glowing jewel with his dagger to pry it free. Thankfully, he still looked broken.

"Mine. Heh heh. All mine. I don’t have to thare it with anyone. What an idiot. He thought he could win, beat that… freak, that… creepy…" I jumped down from a piece of the church's former wall, landing with a grunt. Our eyes locked. "Wraith?"

"L-leave it! I won't…" Deep breath. "I won't ask again!"

He stopped working on the jewel, spat blood in my direction, and grinned in defiance. His swollen cheeks and missing teeth explained the new lisp—a savage parting gift from his greedy partner.

"You're… afraid? You? Heh… I can't believe I thought… Heh, heh… He wath right? You don't know how to fight. You really got no clue, do you? I watched it all. Look, you can barely thtand." We both knew the truth now. I didn't win against the wolf-beast or the bandit, not by any conventional means, but this time was different. Unlike before, I held my sword firm and didn't waver. "No fire to help you here… Freak!"

He flipped his dagger around. It danced in his hand with an expert's flourish, an obvious taunt. A sudden flick of his wrist bounced sunlight from the blade to my eyes. I reacted in kind, striking my sword on the ground.

Gong!

We both charged.

"I might not read you, but…" His blade flew by my face. It cut my cheek and barely missed my eye. "I fight dirty."

He drew first blood, but I took a risky gamble to get in that close. Lucky me, it paid off.

"Then… I'll fight dirty, too!"

I swung my blade up with a grunt. He didn't see it coming.

Crunch!

Something broke, but it wasn't me this time.

My sword got him right in the side of his chest. His raised arm and dagger worked against him. He immediately dropped his weapon and fell to the ground, clutching his likely broken ribs. Taking advantage of his former partner's handiwork didn't sit right with me, but I knew his previous beating left him struggling on the sidelines afterwards.

He stayed on the ground, wheezing and coughing up blood. I had the perfect opportunity to strike him again and end the fight for good. I stepped back and prepared to bring the sword down on him, but stopped.

Don't do it. He's hurt enough. Look at him. We weren't the same. I lowered my sword, pointing it at the ground instead of his crippled body. The fight was over. He was nursing his wounds. Let him go. You're not a killer—

My guard was down, and a handful of dirt blinded me.

After catching me by surprise, he chanced a full-body tackle and slammed me to the ground. He knocked away my sword and dug his knee into my chest before I could react.

"A freak like you don't belong in the world. I’ll do you a favor. Heh, heh, heh… You'll thank me later," he gloated. Wheezing cut his laughter short, and he gasped. Probably from the added force of his diaphragm on his ribs. I hoped he’d choke on his words.

Thanks to his new position of power, he unleashed a vicious assault that mimicked the brutality of the other bandit. He furiously attacked in wild succession, switching between swipes with the dagger and punching me with his other hand.

Idiot! You almost had him! You're not only outmatched… Now you're blind, too! I blinked rapidly to clear my eyes. What’s wrong with you?!

Letting his rage take over, he ignored my unprotected sides and stomach. He focused entirely on my covered face with a hateful flurry of slashes and thumps. Blood dripped from my arms, landing in my eyes and mouth where it blended with the earthy grit. His unrelenting dagger kept making the problem worse. I had to stop it. When he landed a punch that left my right ear ringing, I shot my left hand up to catch his wrist and stop the next slash.

Dammit! A sharp pain pierced my hand. Think before you act! Are you trying to lose your—?!

"Ah!" A painful cry slipped through my clenched teeth.

My plan to stop him was a partial success, if that counted for anything. His dagger was stuck. I stopped the blade, but not in the way I intended. I literally had the blade in my hand, penetrating it. Desperate to prevent more stabbing, I balled my hand around the hilt. I pulled the blade deeper and pressed the hilt flush against my palm to hold the dagger in place—a painful compromise.

I tried to wrestle the dagger free from his grip. He threw his weight behind it to stop me and twisted the embedded blade. Even the slightest movement shot more pain through my hand and up my arm, but the twist felt like it was ripping my hand apart. Unable to do much else, he resorted to punching me harder and faster to make up for his new handicap.

"Give up already! No one… can help… you," he growled. His muggy breath wafted past my arm with each wheeze, mirroring my own anguishing gasps from the knee digging deeper into my sternum. I hoped he'd reach his limit before I hit mine.

"W-why? Why do… you want the… jewel?"

"For the money, thtupid! I'll live like a king! Alwayth thpat on, never getting enough… I'm overdue for thomething to go my way!"

Our struggle continued, barely at a stalemate. He spewed more nonsense about how rich he was going to be, and the story he'd tell about killing a freak guarding his precious treasure. He was actually giddy about becoming some kind of legendary folk hero.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum…

My heart thumped out an increasing tempo in my ears. Behind the relentless beat was something else, a buzzing. The low hum I heard in my last fight returned, but it was different and more focused, synchronizing with my heartbeat.

Ignore it. Ignore him. Just… keep fighting. Fight harder. Fight dirtier! Fight to hurt! Fight to win! Fight… to live! Survive!

"No! Thtop!" His panicked screams pulled me out of my head. "What are you doing?! H-how are…?!" He was growing more frantic and unhinged. "Th-thtop! Thtop it!"

Don't stop. He can't win!

Something distracted him, but I couldn't tell what. My vision was dark and red, just blurry shapes. His punches slowed and weakened. It had to be the humming sound. Even the ground quaked from it. I heard the church ruins crumbling from the vibrations flowing up and into my back from the ground. I prayed for something to fall and hit him, either knocking him out or at least knocking him off of me.

"Thith… N-no… Not rethonanth! W-what kind of—What are you?!" His accusations grew into shrieks of terror.

"M-me?! I… I'm…" I'm nothing. "I just…" I just want this to end. A switch flipped inside me. "I…" My fear vanished. "I…" Something else took over, and I uncovered my head to reach for my sword. "I warned you."

"NO! Thut… up!"

Thwack!

I willingly took a punch to the jaw.

"You didn't listen."

Another punch landed. If only I'd been able to see his stupid face. I wanted to see the same hysterical worry I heard in his voice. A smirk tugged at my mouth like a twitch.

Thwack!

"Thtop it! Thtop… thmiling!"

He split my lip and kept going. His punches wouldn't stop. My mouth filled with the taste of blood from each strike, but I didn't care anymore. My only focus was what I felt with my right hand. I fought to ignore the pain and stretched as far as my pinned body would let me. My fingertips brushed against a familiar texture.

Stone.

I wasn't sure if it was my sword or just a piece of rubble. It didn't matter. I needed something to strike back with. When he wound up for his next punch, his weight shifted.

Now!

I grabbed onto it—my last chance.

The handle!

I heaved my sword over, covering my face before his next punch landed.

Gong!

His fist bashed into my sword.

"M-my hand! My… HAND!" His weight behind the dagger immediately shifted. "Y-you broke it! You broke my—!"

"Get off!"

Sight wasn't necessary. I knew exactly where he was, right on top of me. I wouldn't hold back this time. I mustered every fleeting ounce of strength left in me and swung.

Gong!

I was learning to love that beautiful, dull tone. The smirk grew into a smile as his knee slipped off my chest. Using my sword to prop myself up, I was back on my feet without hesitation. The fight wasn't over. I hammered my sword down in front of me, wondering whether he was still nearby. He had to be close.

Gng!

That was… different.

The dull tone cut short, muted by the broken ground it sank into.

Don’t stop!

I yanked the sword free and slammed it back down. One way or another, I planned to end the fight for good. I repeated the strike over and over, smashing the church’s flagstone floor.

AGAIN!

"Eeeek!" Somewhere behind the thrumming tremors and dull tones of my sword, I heard him screech. The sound of footsteps running away followed. "Y-yew… Yew monthtah!" His voice sounded farther away that time.

Ew? I paused. Did he really say—How bad do I look?

The still crumbling ruins were too loud to be sure of what he actually said, but the fight was finally over. A wave of relief rushed up through my feet, and my sword more than doubled in weight from the sudden adrenaline crash. My strength waned, but I refused to just collapse again. I let the tip of my sword fall and used it to keep myself upright. Now that both bandits were gone, I had one thing left to do.

I stumbled blindly around the church's familiar ruins as the thrumming noise and tremors eased off. The blood and dirt left my eyes heavily impaired, but I refused to wipe them. I had to rinse them or, better yet, use the jewel. I could heal everything as long as the bandit hadn't succeeded where I previously failed and actually damaged the thing.

Using my sword to poke around, I eventually struck the buried bell at the church's collapsed entrance. From there, I had my bearings thanks to my daily visits. A moment later, I stood at the jewel's pedestal. It never healed the jumpy bandit. I hoped maybe that was because it already absorbed my blood, making it useless to him.

I let my sword drop to the ground, and recalled the sense of warmth and calm the jewel instilled in me. My hand reached out to touch it. I traced the surface with burned fingers. Cold, smooth, and undamaged. I waited for the healing to start.

"Finally," I sighed in relief. "Huh? W-why isn't it…?"

I slapped the jewel with my right hand and pressed harder. The jewel had to work. I just stopped the bandit from taking it for that very reason. I needed it.

Slap!

The healing wave, the soothing touch, and the healing all remained absent. "N-no. No. No! It has to—Please? Please! Work! It—You have to…" I placed the side of my left hand on the jewel, my palm still impaled with the dagger. It was the same hand I used the last time it healed me. Still nothing. "B-but I… Why? Please, I need… How else am I supposed to… No. It's not… fair." Something caught in my throat. "Come on, why won't—?"

"Stop right there! Tell me what happened! What are ya doing here?!"

What did I—? Dammit! There can't… Not a… A third one?