The Divided Region

They were led through the hamlet with an urgency unlike before, their boots echoing off the damp surfaces like harsh voices. The guardsmen didn’t care how hurt or weary they were. If anything, they appeared offended by their survival.

Darius was made to walk unassisted, his torso wracked with pain as he placed one foot in front of the other. Droves of villagers poured out of their tents with lanterns, their faces painted with horror. It was as if they were watching ghosts being escorted through their town.

“I cannot believe it,” one said.

“The Spirit Mother spared them!” said another.

A few brave souls pushed their way to the front, only for the guardsmen to force them back. Darius and his company staggered through the village as more people flanked them.

When Alyssa appeared, he halted. A torrid of feelings rose to the surface as her gaze met his. She reached for his hand discreetly and he met it with a squeeze that spoke what words could not at that moment.

A guard struck his bad shoulder, immediately causing Darius to withdraw it.

“Move!” he barked, shoving him along before turning his attention to Alyssa. “Step back, healer!”

They were escorted to a part of the hamlet Darius hadn’t seen until now. A group of people gathered below one of the cavern’s gaping holes in the ceiling. While fresh air swooped in, it did not take the damp odour with it.

“Halt,” the guard commanded, bringing the group to a shuddering stop.

Darius and the rest of his cohort shared a fleeting glance with one another. It was one of dread and foreboding. A large trench sat between them and a group of silent spectators.

Rigma and Roos stepped forward from the mass, their faces nothing more than cemented frowns. It was clear they would have preferred corpses standing before them rather than the living.

Darius surveyed the ditch. It could have easily housed a dozen men. Just one look at the slick walls and sheer depth suggested that it was designed to prevent one from escaping.

When he came upon dark splotches of dried blood, the realisation suddenly dawned on him—this was the pit. Bile rose in his gorge, his mind and spirit reeling. He was far from ready for this duel.

“It’s so good to see you all breathing.” Rigma’s face glowed from the guard’s bright torches. He looked directly at Darius. “You have made my task infinitely easier. I feared you would die before I could have my fun with you, but your gods have looked kindly on my prayer.”

The crowd of villagers gathered around in sheepish silence. Alyssa pushed her way to the front, her face awash with worry.

“Can this not wait one more day?” Darius shifted his weight onto his right leg. “I am tired, hungry, and in need of rest.”

“Do you not want a chance to win back your freedom?”

The elder had him right where he wanted—cornered and low on spirit and energy. It was deviously opportunistic on his behalf, but nothing less than what Darius expected.

Rigma went on. “Alternatively, you can nominate one of your men to fight me instead.”

Collective gasps sucked the air out of the place. Darius jerked backwards. He wasn’t ready for that. The others looked at him, Alere watching the most closely.

“While you deliberate, tell me…” Rigma continued, a grin stretching from ear to ear, “what happened to the other two? I heard you had a run-in with the resident zile. A terrible shame. I should have warned you about him. He’s a ferocious reptilian.”

“Quell that mouth of yours, or I’ll do it for you!” Helmund spat, a hand hovering over his hilt.

Angry murmurs ripped through the crowd. For many villagers, this was the first time they had witnessed such rebuke against their leader.

Rigma’s white robe settled around him as his gaze found Darius once more. “Will you put this man forward?”

Darius stood silent as his men gathered around.

“Brother,” Alere whispered. “I am half the swordsman you are, but I will gladly fight this fool.”

“No, let me face him,” Helmund declared. Going by the red lines in his eyes, this was personal for him.

Darius stood in a daze as their voices rose into a storm of competing wills. Jangar was next to offer his weapon.

“I’d gladly choke the life out of the weasel,” he said. “But I think this fight belongs to Helmund.”

“He’s right. I should avenge my brother and Gauwalt.”

Darius cast a weary glance at all three of them. “I will ask none of you to fight on my behalf. I made this pledge, and I shall honour it.”

Helmund bared his teeth at the suggestion.

“With the utmost respect, tittling, you look like a bag of shit,” Jangar said.

“Think about this, brother.”

Darius took a deep breath. “My decision is final.”

Rigma held his head high. “Then it is time.”

Darius turned to Alere and placed a hand over his shoulder before leaning into his ears, and his ears only. “Look at me. If the worst happens, I need you to carry the torch. Travel to Kladstin and raise the alarm of Vraqor. Tell the mage about me, the seer, and our journey up to now.”

“And if he disbelieves me?”

“Then all of this was for nothing.”

Alere sighed, displeased with such a grim forecast. “Fine, I will carry your message. But just so you know, I have no intention of doing so. Finish him—or else be known as the fierce warrior who succumbed to a withered old fart.”

Darius smiled, resting his forehead on Alere’s. They had been through a lot together and overcome many things, especially over the past several weeks. It was their troubled backgrounds that brought them together, but it was their loyalty that forged the brotherhood they had to this day.

His face tightened as a surge of vigour and life swelled within him. He glanced at Alyssa and then back at Rigma, nodding with purpose but not haste. “Let’s get on with it.”

The elder half-bowed and brushed his lips together in a sign of agreement. “As you wish. Guards! Let us down.”

They brought two wooden planks before them and slanted them into the pit. Rigma was handed a scabbard, the hilt wrapped in black leather. He freed the blade, admiring its clean curve before tucking it back into its sheath and descending the slope.

Darius nodded to his men before also climbing down the planks, which creaked and warped under his modest weight. His feet had the steadiness of a drunken man, but he made it down without toppling over.

The pit was much deeper than it appeared from above. He searched for the hilts of his sword and dagger, ensuring they hadn’t deserted him. A wall of shoulders and faces bared down on him, their eyes glistening in the torchlight.

Everyone stood on the tips of their toes to catch sight of the duel. Their demeanour wavered between hope and hopelessness. This fight was more than just settling a grudge or gaining freedom—it was about them. Alyssa. Samu. The entire community.

When Darius strained around to meet his opposition, the planks had been withdrawn. It was just him and the elder.

“There is only one rule.” Rigma twirled and stabbed the air as if testing the weight of his blade. “Kill by any means necessary. Any last words?”

“Yes. Are you ready to die?”

Rigma sneered and charged forward with the agility belonging to a man fifteen summers his junior. Darius sluggishly sidestepped, dodging the tip of his sword.

Portions of the crowd erupted into cheers and jeers as Alyssa remained locked in fear. The elder thrust his blade at Darius once more, grazing his leathery midsection.

Darius staggered back, pain screaming from varied parts of his body. He swapped the sword to his left hand and answered Rigma’s attack with one of his own.

His mind painted images of him bursting forward, slashing and blocking with minimal effort. Instead, every movement felt like it took a day to complete. His sword sweeps were slow and costly, allowing Rigma to counter many of his attacks.

The elder’s face lit up. It was clear he became emboldened by this. His sword whipped out in a long arc, and Darius could barely raise his sword in time to catch the blow.

It was a good strike, and he felt the burn travel up his forearm and into his aching chest and shoulders. The crowd grew increasingly animated and uncertain of the outcome.

Rigma grimaced and struck again. Darius moved out of the way, throwing him off balance. Had he not been reeling from his injuries, Darius would have capitalised on the opportunity.

Rigma regained his footing and swung his sword wildly back around. Their swords clashed, sending metallic shavings into the air. Darius bared his teeth, his eyes locking with Rigma’s.

“Do you regret challenging me now?”

Darius shook his head. “Why, when I have the Spirit Mother on my side?”

Rigma’s eyes glazed over, his smile fading into a menacing frown. “We shall see about that!”

Darius roared and kicked the elder’s kneecap, sending him staggering backwards. He swung for Rigma’s head, but the older man batted it away.

Darius struck again, crying as pain ravaged him. This time, he dislodged the elder’s sword, sending it to the dusty earth. A brief stand-off ensued, where both panted and eyed their options.

Instead of picking up his sword, Rigma tackled Darius to the ground and bit into his injured shoulder like a rabid animal.

Darius writhed as his teeth sank deeper into his exposed wound. He tried pushing Rigma to the side, but ungodly pain pinned him in place. Without warning, Rigma rolled off him, his face wild with glee.

He picked up his sword and arched it down on Darius. He grabbed his dagger, but the parry sent it flying to the other side of the pit.

“You should have sent someone else in your place. You doubted my ability,” Rigma panted, raising the sword above his bald head again. “Now I will send you to your gods with great pleasure.”

Time slowed as Darius gazed up at the crowd. Many cupped their eyes and mouths, waiting for the final blow. Among them stood the muted figures of Alere, Jangar, and Helmund. They wore a look of sorrow, defeat, and even a hint of disappointment.

His focus moved away from them and shifted to Alyssa, who stood at the edge of the crowd. She blinked back tears as her jaw and hands trembled like she had a fever. They each traded subliminal thoughts as the surrounding noises faded to a muffle. Memories of their brief encounter came to the forefront. It hit him like a cold snap that he may never see that warm smile again. Never get to ask those questions he wanted.

Just as Rigma was about to deliver the killing blow, Helmund called out, tossing something into the pit. “Darius!”

A short sword lay beside him. He glanced down, his mind having trouble grasping the small mercy. Rigma’s downward arch halted as he regarded the object, his eyes filling with panic.

Darius clawed the dagger and, with a roar, sliced his Achilles tendon in one swift movement. Rigma wailed, his face twisting in agony as he crashed to the ground.

Darius staggered back to his feet, falling several times in the process. A gasp of astonishment whipped through the crowd like a spear of lightning. Roos and the guards drew closer to the edge, their eyes wider than shields, their skin paler than a pint of goat’s milk.

“Finish the weasel!” Jangar yelled.

“Do it, brother!”

Darius turned to Rigma, who sat in a pool of crimson, clutching his ankle. The elder looked at him, raising his quivering hands in surrender.

“I yield! I yield!” he pleaded.

Darius limped forward and kicked away his sword.

“You do not need to do this! I will return your freedoms and have my men escort you wherever you must go.”

“You’ve never begged in life. Don’t start now in death.”

“I am not begging! I’m merely making an offer in return for my life! Guards!” Rigma glanced beyond the pit, but the guards did nothing.

It was clear they were concerned for their leader’s life, but they also understood to rules of the duel. Roos was the only one who displayed a genuine desire to help, but self-interest motivated how much of that? He would stand to lose most from the elder’s demise.

“Spare yourself some dignity.” Darius readied the dagger.

“Dignity?” he scoffed. “It’s nothing but a fallacy men with egos believe in. Once you’re dead, so too is your pride and the virtues you upheld. Nothing escapes the Void. Not even the most glorious legacies.”

“Are those your last words?”

He snickered. “Enjoy this victory—you will not have many more.”

Darius plunged the dagger into his chest, all the way to the hilt. The elder’s eyes bulged, his mouth hacking and coughing. Killing was never something he liked, but he took joy from this one.

The crowd fell silent as the life extinguished from Rigma’s pupils. Darius pulled the dagger from his lifeless body and let it lay in an ever-swelling pool of crimson. A wall of shocked faces stared down at him. Not a single breath could be heard.

“I am Darius Rarkez,” he addressed the crowd, barely able to stand. “I am not your liberator, nor am I your enemy. I’m merely a man who fought for my freedom and the freedom of my men. I thought surviving the Grilythia would be enough to secure that, but it wasn’t. Sadly, that meant blood had to be spilt. But in death comes rebirth.” He stumbled sideways, able to avoid toppling over—just. “With winning our freedom, you, the Gali-Gali people, now also have a chance to forge a new destiny.”

“What do you mean?” a faceless villager called out.

Darius looked around for the man, unable to see him. “I mean, you are no longer enslaved to Rigma, nor his ideas. You are free to choose your own path and elect a leader you believe in.”

The crowd was stunned into silence. Never had such power been placed in their hands before.

“I will lead.” Roos stepped forward.

Darius’ eyes narrowed over the sheer audacity. “No, you will not!” he barked.

“Then who else? I am—was—elder Rigma’s adviser. There is no one better than I in Silk Hall who understands what it takes to rule our tribe.”

“That’s the problem.”

“How so?”

“Change must come from the people, not within Silk Hall.” Darius’ gaze settled on Alyssa, who shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks twitching. “If you would all allow me… I have a suggestion.”

Alyssa shook her head vigorously, begging him to stop before he said words that could not be unsaid.

“No!” Roos barked. “You are a foreigner and have no right to meddle in our affairs!”

“Let him speak!” a villager complained.

“Silence!” Roos ordered without a slither of authority.

Darius staggered once more.

“Someone help him!”

“No, it’s fine.” He held up a hand and waited for the crowd to simmer down. His eyelids hung low, but he was determined to put forward his suggestion. “The person I speak of knows the Gali-Gali people well. Like you, they weren’t born into the Silk Hall. She was raised by honest parents—”

“She?” someone complained.

“A woman has never led this tribe before!”

Roos added, “It’s preposterous.”

The guards shifted. Even they had an opinion on the matter. Darius waited for the groans to dissipate before continuing.

“She may be a woman,” he said. “But she has the strength and heart of a warrior.”

Portions of the crowd were deeply unsure, but he could see the seeds of curiosity sprouting.

“Who is this woman you speak of?” Roos’ shrill voice still irked Darius, even while enduring so much pain.

He glanced at Alyssa, offering a smile that said it would all be okay. “Your sister.”

“Alyssa?” Roos spat. “I have never heard so much nonsense in my life!”

Darius pointed towards him, his eyes firmly fixed on the villagers. “Have you ever wondered why he stands in a white robe and she does not?”

Everyone shared confused glances.

“Would you like to share the story of Samu, or shall I?”

Roos’ cheeks turned red as he darted hateful looks at Alyssa. “Do not listen to this foreigner!” he scorned. “He has murdered our elder and is trying to endanger our way of life.”

“Endanger your way of life?” Darius countered. “This so-called protector of yours betrayed his own brother. His reward? A seat in Silk Hall.”

Gasps flooded the pit.

“Lies! Don’t believe him.”

“Samu wasn’t a traitor! He tried liberating this tribe—to offer you all a life out of servitude. But this lump of filth told on him.”

“We’ve heard enough!” Roos insisted. “Guards, seize him!”

Darius waited for the guardsmen to come down and arrest him, but neither came. Instead, they acted against the adviser by detaining him instead.

“W-what are you doing?!” Roos stammered. “I am your chief adviser! Release me with immediate effect.”

“It’s over,” Darius coughed. “No one in this tribe wants to live in bondage any longer.”

Roos snarled and was taken away, leaving behind a stunned crowd. A taste of revolution and lasting change hung in the air.

“As we stand here, we are in a unique position,” Darius breathed heavily. “It would be wrong of me not to warn you that a great evil is rising in the south-easterly corner of Estos.”

“What?” came a panicked voice.

“The dark lord. Vraqor.”

“You jest!”

“I do not. I have seen the dark lord with my own eyes. In my dreams—in this very forest! I have been told he will raise an army the likes this realm has never seen before. You must be ready to act when it’s time.”

“Who told you this?”

“A seer.”

Angry murmurs broke out.

“When will he strike?” came a frail, elderly voice.

“I’m not sure. It could be today, tomorrow, or a year from now. All I know is that he will strike.”

Alyssa wore a distant, terrified stare. He knew that look well, for he had worn it many times, too. Alere and Jangar, both of whom had been reserved and serious until now, were suddenly deeply shaken.

Their faces reacted to the news in opposite ways. Alere’s face twisted into a frown and he shot a piercing glare at Darius, while Jangar’s crinkled in confusion. Helmund remained mostly unfazed by the revelation.

“I say this not to scare you, but to warn you that you cannot afford to be in disarray when the time comes. You can spend weeks deliberating your next leader or you can elect Alyssa. She may be unproven and without high standing, but she holds a deep love and loyalty for her people.”

He glanced at her as she waded to the front of the crowd, her timidness subsiding for matters more important than her feelings. It was as if she had grown from a shadow into a pillar of strength, all in a matter of seconds.

“I am Alyssa,” she said softly. Her cheeks reddened as the crowd stared at her, but they soon melted away as she found her voice. “I am the daughter of Ismeria and Elex. They were honest, hard-working Gali-Gali. I was raised to value my fellow man and care for those around me. My greatest fear is that I would grow old and see this tribe continue to suffer under Silk Hall—under elder Rigma and Roos’ rule. I don’t know how good an elder I will be for you, nor can I promise changes will happen overnight, but I do promise you this—I will give my everything to protect and serve you.”

The crowd mumbled approvingly.

“If what he says is true…” she paused as the gravity of his forecast weighed in once more. “We must be ready. We must be strong. Flee or fight, I assure each one of your voices is heard!”

Darius mustered a smile, a warmth radiating inside. “Raise your hand if you want this woman to be your leader.”

One by one, the men and women of the village raised their hands until a sea of arms surrounded Alyssa’s slight frame. The people of Gali-Gali had spoken.

She was now their new elder.

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to access new chapters early, subscribe to my Ream here:

https://reamstories.com/page/lhfdi95cq7

———————————————————————

For story updates, musings, and more, join my 3x weekly author newsletter:

https://djjwatson.com