The Oath of the Vayuputras
Page 100
Qa’a turned towards Swuth, unsure.
Swuth stared at Qa’a. ‘You know the law.’
Qa’a nodded, throwing his knife away. He drew his sword, pulled his shield forward, and waited.
Sati wrenched herself free from the assassins who were holding her. She bent down and ripped out some cloth from a fallen assassin’s cloak, tying the strip of cloth across her face, covering her mutilated eye in an effort to stem the blood from flowing across her face. She hoped this would give her unimpeded vision and not disturb the good eye. Then she slowly pulled out the knife buried in her upper arm and tied another strip of cloth around the injury, using her teeth to tighten the bind.
She then drew her sword and held her shield high. Ready. Waiting.
Qa’a suddenly threw his shield away. All the assassins standing around burst out laughing and began to clap. Clearly, Qa’a was taunting Sati, suggesting that he didn’t even need his shield to combat a stupid woman. Much to Qa’a’s surprise, Sati threw her shield away as well.
Qa’a bellowed loudly and charged, swinging his sword at a high angle. Sati smoothly leaned back and swerved to the left as she avoided the strike. Qa’a turned swiftly and swung his sword high again, catching Sati by surprise. The Egyptian’s sword cut through Sati’s left hand, slicing off four fingers. Much to his surprise, Sati didn’t flinch from the injury but swung her sword from a height at Qa’a. Qa’a swerved and defended Sati’s blow with an elevated strike.
Sati, meanwhile, had surmised that the swinging strike was Qa’a’s standard attack. She played to that as she kept swinging at Qa’a from a high angle and the Egyptian kept striking back. Both of them kept changing the direction repeatedly to surprise the other, but the strikes were almost typical and therefore, no serious injury was caused. Suddenly, Sati dropped to one knee and swung hard. The strike hit home. Her blade hacked brutally through Qa’a’s abdomen, cutting deep. He collapsed as his intestines spilled on to the ground.
Sati stood up, towering over a kneeling Qa’a, who had been paralysed by the intense pain. She held her sword high vertically, and thrust it through Qa’a’s neck, straight down, deep into his body right up to his heart, killing him instantly.
Swuth stared at Sati, dumbfounded. It wasn’t just her skill with the sword that had surprised him; it was also her character. She hadn’t beheaded Qa’a when she could easily have done so. She let him keep his head. She gave him an honourable death; a soldier’s death. She had followed the rules of the duel of Aten, even though the rules were not her own.
Sati pulled aside and ran her bloodied sword into the soft muddy ground. She bent over and ripped another piece of cloth from the now dead Qa’a’s cloak and tied it around her left palm, covering the area where her fingers had been amputated.
She stood tall, pulled up her sword from the ground and held it aloft, careful not to look at Nandi. Just a few more minutes.
‘Who’s next?’
Another assassin stepped forward, reached for his sword and then hesitated. He had seen Sati battle brilliantly with the long blade. He drew out a knife from his shoulder belt instead.
‘I don’t have a knife,’ said Sati, putting her sword back in its scabbard, wanting to fight fair.
Swuth pulled out his knife and flung it high in Sati’s direction. She reached out and caught the beautifully-balanced weapon easily. In the meantime, the assassin had removed his mask and pulled back his hood. He didn’t want to suffer the disadvantage of a restricted vision against a skilled warrior.
Having lost four fingers of her left hand, Sati couldn’t battle this assassin the way she had battled Tarak in Karachapa many years ago, where she had hidden the knife behind her back with the aim of confusing her opponent about the direction of attack. So she held the knife in front, in her right hand. But she kept the hilt forward with the blade pointing back, towards herself, much to the surprise of the gathered assassins.
The Egyptian adopted the traditional fighting stance, and pointed the knife directly at Sati. He moved forward and slashed hard. Sati jumped back to avoid the blow, but the blade sliced her shoulder, drawing some blood. This emboldened the assassin to move in further, swinging the knife left and then right as he charged in. Sati kept stepping back, allowing the assassin to draw closer into the trap. The assassin suddenly changed tack and thrust forward with a jabbing motion. Sati swerved right to avoid the blow, raising her right hand. She now held the knife high above her left shoulder. But she hadn’t moved back far enough. The assassin’s knife sliced through the left side of her abdomen, lodging deep within her, right up to the hilt.
Without flinching at the horrifying pain, Sati brought her hand down hard from its height, stabbing the Egyptian straight through his neck. The blow had so much force that the knife cut all the way through, its point sticking out at the other end of the hapless Egyptian’s throat. Blood burst forth from the assassin’s mouth and neck. Sati stepped back as the Egyptian drowned in his own blood.
Swuth was staring at this strange woman, the sneer wiped off his face. She had killed two of his assassins one-on-one, in a free and fair fight. She was bleeding desperately, and yet she stood tall and proud.
Sati, meanwhile, was breathing slowly, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. She had been cut up in too many places. A pulsating heart would work against her, pumping more blood out of her body. She also needed to conserve her energy for the duels that were to come. She looked at the knife buried deep in her abdomen. It hadn’t penetrated any vital organ. The only danger was the continuous bleeding. She spread out her feet, took a deep breath, held the knife’s handle and yanked it out. She didn’t flinch or make any sound of pain while doing so.
‘Who is this woman?’ asked a stunned assassin standing next to Swuth.
Sati bent down, ripped a part of the bloodied cloak of the assassin she had just killed, and bandaged it tightly around her abdomen. It staunched the blood flow. While doing so, she’d seen from the corner of her eye that the Meluhans who were running towards her were probably a third of the way through. She knew she couldn’t stop the duels now. She had seen the killers. They couldn’t leave her alive. Her only chance was to continue duelling and hope that she would still be breathing when the Meluhans reached her.
Sati drew her sword. ‘Who’s next?’
Another assassin stepped forward.
‘No!’ said Swuth.
The assassin stepped back.
‘She’s mine,’ said Swuth, drawing one of his curved swords.
Swuth didn’t approach Sati with both his curved swords. That would have been unfair according to the rules of Aten, since Sati had only one sword hand. He held the sword forward in his right hand. As he neared Sati, he started swinging the sword around, building it into a stunning circle of death just ahead of him, moving inexorably towards her. Even as Swuth’s sword whirred closer, Sati began to step back slowly. She suddenly thrust her sword forward quickly, deep into the ring of the circling blade of Swuth, inflicting a serious cut on the Egyptian’s shoulder. She pulled her sword back just as rapidly, before Swuth’s circling blade could come back to deflect her sword.
The wound must have hurt, but Swuth didn’t flinch. He smiled. He’d never met anyone with the ability to penetrate his sword’s circle of death.
Swuth stared at Qa’a. ‘You know the law.’
Qa’a nodded, throwing his knife away. He drew his sword, pulled his shield forward, and waited.
Sati wrenched herself free from the assassins who were holding her. She bent down and ripped out some cloth from a fallen assassin’s cloak, tying the strip of cloth across her face, covering her mutilated eye in an effort to stem the blood from flowing across her face. She hoped this would give her unimpeded vision and not disturb the good eye. Then she slowly pulled out the knife buried in her upper arm and tied another strip of cloth around the injury, using her teeth to tighten the bind.
She then drew her sword and held her shield high. Ready. Waiting.
Qa’a suddenly threw his shield away. All the assassins standing around burst out laughing and began to clap. Clearly, Qa’a was taunting Sati, suggesting that he didn’t even need his shield to combat a stupid woman. Much to Qa’a’s surprise, Sati threw her shield away as well.
Qa’a bellowed loudly and charged, swinging his sword at a high angle. Sati smoothly leaned back and swerved to the left as she avoided the strike. Qa’a turned swiftly and swung his sword high again, catching Sati by surprise. The Egyptian’s sword cut through Sati’s left hand, slicing off four fingers. Much to his surprise, Sati didn’t flinch from the injury but swung her sword from a height at Qa’a. Qa’a swerved and defended Sati’s blow with an elevated strike.
Sati, meanwhile, had surmised that the swinging strike was Qa’a’s standard attack. She played to that as she kept swinging at Qa’a from a high angle and the Egyptian kept striking back. Both of them kept changing the direction repeatedly to surprise the other, but the strikes were almost typical and therefore, no serious injury was caused. Suddenly, Sati dropped to one knee and swung hard. The strike hit home. Her blade hacked brutally through Qa’a’s abdomen, cutting deep. He collapsed as his intestines spilled on to the ground.
Sati stood up, towering over a kneeling Qa’a, who had been paralysed by the intense pain. She held her sword high vertically, and thrust it through Qa’a’s neck, straight down, deep into his body right up to his heart, killing him instantly.
Swuth stared at Sati, dumbfounded. It wasn’t just her skill with the sword that had surprised him; it was also her character. She hadn’t beheaded Qa’a when she could easily have done so. She let him keep his head. She gave him an honourable death; a soldier’s death. She had followed the rules of the duel of Aten, even though the rules were not her own.
Sati pulled aside and ran her bloodied sword into the soft muddy ground. She bent over and ripped another piece of cloth from the now dead Qa’a’s cloak and tied it around her left palm, covering the area where her fingers had been amputated.
She stood tall, pulled up her sword from the ground and held it aloft, careful not to look at Nandi. Just a few more minutes.
‘Who’s next?’
Another assassin stepped forward, reached for his sword and then hesitated. He had seen Sati battle brilliantly with the long blade. He drew out a knife from his shoulder belt instead.
‘I don’t have a knife,’ said Sati, putting her sword back in its scabbard, wanting to fight fair.
Swuth pulled out his knife and flung it high in Sati’s direction. She reached out and caught the beautifully-balanced weapon easily. In the meantime, the assassin had removed his mask and pulled back his hood. He didn’t want to suffer the disadvantage of a restricted vision against a skilled warrior.
Having lost four fingers of her left hand, Sati couldn’t battle this assassin the way she had battled Tarak in Karachapa many years ago, where she had hidden the knife behind her back with the aim of confusing her opponent about the direction of attack. So she held the knife in front, in her right hand. But she kept the hilt forward with the blade pointing back, towards herself, much to the surprise of the gathered assassins.
The Egyptian adopted the traditional fighting stance, and pointed the knife directly at Sati. He moved forward and slashed hard. Sati jumped back to avoid the blow, but the blade sliced her shoulder, drawing some blood. This emboldened the assassin to move in further, swinging the knife left and then right as he charged in. Sati kept stepping back, allowing the assassin to draw closer into the trap. The assassin suddenly changed tack and thrust forward with a jabbing motion. Sati swerved right to avoid the blow, raising her right hand. She now held the knife high above her left shoulder. But she hadn’t moved back far enough. The assassin’s knife sliced through the left side of her abdomen, lodging deep within her, right up to the hilt.
Without flinching at the horrifying pain, Sati brought her hand down hard from its height, stabbing the Egyptian straight through his neck. The blow had so much force that the knife cut all the way through, its point sticking out at the other end of the hapless Egyptian’s throat. Blood burst forth from the assassin’s mouth and neck. Sati stepped back as the Egyptian drowned in his own blood.
Swuth was staring at this strange woman, the sneer wiped off his face. She had killed two of his assassins one-on-one, in a free and fair fight. She was bleeding desperately, and yet she stood tall and proud.
Sati, meanwhile, was breathing slowly, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. She had been cut up in too many places. A pulsating heart would work against her, pumping more blood out of her body. She also needed to conserve her energy for the duels that were to come. She looked at the knife buried deep in her abdomen. It hadn’t penetrated any vital organ. The only danger was the continuous bleeding. She spread out her feet, took a deep breath, held the knife’s handle and yanked it out. She didn’t flinch or make any sound of pain while doing so.
‘Who is this woman?’ asked a stunned assassin standing next to Swuth.
Sati bent down, ripped a part of the bloodied cloak of the assassin she had just killed, and bandaged it tightly around her abdomen. It staunched the blood flow. While doing so, she’d seen from the corner of her eye that the Meluhans who were running towards her were probably a third of the way through. She knew she couldn’t stop the duels now. She had seen the killers. They couldn’t leave her alive. Her only chance was to continue duelling and hope that she would still be breathing when the Meluhans reached her.
Sati drew her sword. ‘Who’s next?’
Another assassin stepped forward.
‘No!’ said Swuth.
The assassin stepped back.
‘She’s mine,’ said Swuth, drawing one of his curved swords.
Swuth didn’t approach Sati with both his curved swords. That would have been unfair according to the rules of Aten, since Sati had only one sword hand. He held the sword forward in his right hand. As he neared Sati, he started swinging the sword around, building it into a stunning circle of death just ahead of him, moving inexorably towards her. Even as Swuth’s sword whirred closer, Sati began to step back slowly. She suddenly thrust her sword forward quickly, deep into the ring of the circling blade of Swuth, inflicting a serious cut on the Egyptian’s shoulder. She pulled her sword back just as rapidly, before Swuth’s circling blade could come back to deflect her sword.
The wound must have hurt, but Swuth didn’t flinch. He smiled. He’d never met anyone with the ability to penetrate his sword’s circle of death.
