Warleader: A Blood and Tears Short Story

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Warleader

A wad of spit struck Tobin’s cheek as he stumbled backward. The back of his free hand came up and wiped away the insult. An echo of jeers sounded around the practice circle. One of the loudest voices came from the big Kifzo warrior named Durahn. “It looks like he may cry this time.”

Tobin clenched his jaw and worked the grip of the practice sword with his hand. He had just begun to gain an advantage against his brother, when Kaz caught him off guard and spat at him. Both he and Kaz stepped back to compose themselves but their eyes never left the other’s face. It would be like him to cheat, Tobin thought.

Tobin watched sweat roll down the black skin of Kaz’s face. His brother sneered across at him as the two circled. “Are you going to cry, brother?” Kaz used the word “brother” as a curse. Tobin ignored the question. He focused on the subtle movements of his brother as he tried to determine where Kaz’s next attack might come from.

“Like you’re any better, Kaz? I would have ended this long ago,” said Durahn, turning his taunts toward Kaz. The brash fifteen year old tried to get the other young Kifzo warriors to join him in ridiculing Kaz just as they had all been heckling Tobin. However, most of the warriors respected Kaz or at least feared him enough not to add their voices to Durahn’s.

Only in the last month had Tobin been able to gain the support of a few of his fellow Kifzo. His rapid improvement with the sword, followed by proving himself a capable squad leader, helped his cause. Tobin’s skills had improved so much that sparring sessions with Kaz were no longer the lopsided matches that they once were.

In a blur, Kaz came at him, moving to his left just as Tobin knew he would. But the attack had been feigned and Kaz pivoted and brought his practice sword around at the last moment to strike at the right side of Tobin’s head. Tobin hadn’t expected the move, but he quickly shifted and met his brother’s blade with his own. The two wooden weapons clacked off each other. A flurry of slashes and thrusts followed. Shuffling backward and kicking up dirt with each step, Tobin swore to himself for not being more ready for Kaz’s deception. Kaz pressed the attack while Tobin fought to keep his balance. Tobin saw Kaz over-commit to his next strike and he quickly ducked under it. Tobin came up leading with the top of his head, slamming it under Kaz’s chin. Kaz reeled back and Tobin saw the look of surprise in his brother’s eyes.

As the two separated briefly, Tobin heard his Uncle Cef’s voice call out. “Point to Tobin. The match is over.”

“The match is not over!” snapped Kaz, spitting blood. “We cannot end the match until one of us has reached five.” Shouts of agreement from the other young warriors followed.

Cef stomped to Kaz’s side and grabbed him by the arm to wrench him close. “I say when a match is over, not you. Your father has summoned me to discuss matters of the tribe. I was going to give the Kifzo a rest and cut off training early but it would seem that you all have too much energy remaining.” Cef released Kaz’s arm and looked out at the young Kifzo warriors. Most were smart enough to put their heads down before Cef’s piercing stare caught them. Tobin saw his uncle look out over the training yard and then down toward the shore on the outskirts of the village. “Ten laps around the training ground and then a mile swim in the ocean. Only then may you return to the barracks for dinner and rest.”

Kaz wisely held his tongue until their uncle left the yard. He shouldered past Tobin. “This isn’t over, brother.”

Tobin watched him go with a sigh. I didn’t expect it to be.