The Songs of Strife

33 BLADE

"No," said Pulaco. He was about to reason with the man but the rest of his answers were choked up as he saw the fire in Zullah's eyes.

"You brought this on all of us." Zullah leaned closer so only Pulaco could hear him. Then, he snatched Pulaco's blood soaked 'putong' off the man's head and pointed at the Magalos down the cliff. "You brought those devils on my shores. They weren't here for the loots of war and you know that. Deep down you know that they're here because of bad blood. The blood that you proudly spilt."

"No..."

"Every time you won against those Magalos. Against those monsters... more of them came. Striking a deal with their sultan was easy enough because every time you dealt with an enemy you created two more. You're a disease, Kalipulako. A swollen tumor that needs to be excised. You're no bagani. You're a freak of nature. An anathema born from the womb of chaos."

Pulaco shook his head. Congealed blood and sweat covered his face. He spat again and noticed that he was losing too much of the red stuff.

"All I did was fight for all of you," he said. "Fight for this land. Fight for my family. All I did was do what's right." Pulaco's lips trembled.

Zullah only chuckled but there was a note of fatigue in his tone. A weariness that came from a man who was resigned to his own fate.

Pulaco grunted. "I only lived the bagani's way."

"The heroes way? Oh, Kalipulako. Always the hero!" Zullah said. He looked older when he eyed his nemesis. Then, the honorable datu covered his face with both hands, smearing blood all over it. "You know what's worst than a villain?" Zullah reached for Pulaco's head.

The chieftain of Mandawili could still not comprehend the man in front of him. He could not see why a kinsman like Zullah could do such a vile thing against him. Against all of them.

Zullah pulled Pulaco uncomfortably close that the other datu could smell his breath. Slowly the fanged smile plastered on Zullah's face faded.

"You are simply a villain who thinks he's the hero, Kalipulako," he whispered to the man's ear before slapping him. Zullah stood tall in front of his enemy. "You're worse than any Magalos or Chi'n. You're worse than me. You're a warmonger! There's no room here for the likes of you."

Zullah paused and admired the violence he had caused as though everything he planned finally came to fruition. Then, he smiled but this time it was hallow. Just like his victory over the helpless man in front of him.

He cursed as he leaned and crouched near Pulaco. "And what did you think? That if you change and turn a new leaf everything you did would be forgotten? Or all of it will be forgiven?"

"No..." Pulaco said, doubt and despair in his voice. What he heard pulled him a part with unflinching precision. And it struck him far more painful than any sword would or any arrow could. He could've lashed at Zullah. Make him regret what he said. Make the man take it all back. But somehow it felt right. Like finding the exact missing puzzle pieces. It was all his fault. And it all made sense. Hearing it straight and without gloss made it more effectively clear. Pulaco gave a sad smile. He had to give it to Zullah. The man knew what he was doing.

The datu of Mandawili looked up at the blue sky. It looked more like a stream as whirls of cloud stained its blue hue. He remembered Angga. He remembered his children. He remembered Mingming and the Daragangans too. All of his people. The truth did hurt, he thought. But right there, he decided he wouldn't die like a dog. Zullah was not the man to end him. There was still a chance to redeem himself. A chance he was willing to bet on to.

Zullah struck the arrow wound on Pulaco's side, sending a whiplash of pain all over his body. Pulaco grunted as blood oozed out his wound. With Zullah's signal, Balat lifted Pulaco up and dropped the datu of Mandawili down the rocky surface with a sickening thud. And for a time Pulaco stayed down– half conscious and body broken. Zullah took his dirk out of its sheath to finish the bagani but Balat stopped him. He turned to his serf, scowling. "You want to join him make his way to the mud?"

He pushed his servant with his free hand but the brawny fiend would not relent. "Balat my boy you of all people should know I don't take betrayal well." He raised his blade to the man's face, its point halting at the serf's eyes.

"No, Lord Zullah! I'm not planning to," Balat said nervously.

"Good... I thought-

Balat cut him off. "But you need to look behind you!"

Zullah whirled back and saw below the Narrows a group of men approach on a steady pace. He cursed the gods. Their tattoos and the insignia of their kalasags were easily recognizable from the distance.

"The Daragangans are coming lord Zullah," Balat said to his flabbergasted master.

"Fuck the devatas," Zullah said but it wasn't the Daragangans that made him curse. He shook his head and scowled. For one of them had his son, Halang, with them.

Zullah needed to move fast before all his plans crumbled to dust. He turned and whispered something to Balat and the brawny servant nodded and made a run towards the edge of the cliff to warn the Magalos who laid waste to Pulaco's men...