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The Games that Gods Play	By : Ristul Category: DC Verse Comics > Wonder Woman Views: 16896 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Wonder Woman,nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 29
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Ares, we are NOT a happy band of brothers, just a bunch of selfish jerks. So drop it, okay?
-Phillip Delacroix
Ares stared at Cronus, the Titan waiting quietly to go into Tartarus. He had assigned himself to this odious duty, but he felt it was only proper.
Cronus said in a calm tone, “Ares, do you know what I had been thinking about these few days?”
“How to while away your time in Tartarus?” Ares wished the magical transporters would hurry up.
“No!” Cronus laughed, “No, I was thinking about that minion of yours.”
“Phillip?”
“Who else?” Cronus leaned back on his bench languidly, as though unconcerned about his impending incarceration. “I know who, or more accurately, what he is.”
Ares’ interest was piqued. “Tell me.”
Cronus waved a hand, “No, I will not tell you. If you do not know yourself, go and find out on your own. But the next time you see him, please convey a message to him. You shall have my gratitude.”
“Depends on what message it is.”
Cronus’ eyes gleamed, “For every great legend, every great adventure, every great story, there are always two main actors, in opposition to each other. Tell him that in my story, my legend, he is my nemesis. He is my enemy, the foe I was destined to fight, the one obstacle I have to surmount before I can claim the world for myself. Tell him that one day, soon, I shall try again, and that he had better be ready by that time, because everything I’d do then, will be directed towards defeating him. Tell him that our story is only just beginning.”
Ares shuddered at the confidence, the promise in Cronus’ voice. “Very well, I shall tell him that when he awakes.”
“He’s still asleep?” Cronus raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. We’ve healed his body, but his mind refuses to leave Morpheus’ realm.”
Cronus stroked a chin speculatively. “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. After all,” he cackled gleefully, “He has to be hearty and hale to oppose me.”

The goddesses of Olympus had taken one look at the badly scarred body of the Lion of Ares on the bed, and averted their eyes in disgust. He was still unconscious, but every few hours he would flail his arms and scream in such agony and hatred that they had felt like crying themselves, trapped in some hideous nightmare that none of them dared to probe. Aphrodite had tried, and the Goddess of Love had ran screaming from the healing chamber in tears, not even sure of what she had seen that caused such distress.
While his face was decidedly handsome, the scars on his body were not. They spoke of terrible pain, of battles beyond reckoning, and foes that tugged at the collective memories of the Olympians, whispering of enemies and powers that predate their existence.
Zeus had ordered the healers of Olympus to heal Phillip Delacroix, and they had done so, removing the many shards of the Sickle of Adamant, patching up the numerous holes, and sealing the wounds all over his body, though they were surprised to find that they were unable to remove any of the scars. His body was mended, but his mind was another matter. Wracked with so much agony, and faced with betrayal, would his mind remain intact at all? The screams and nightmares suggested otherwise, and many of the gods thought he was a lost cause. And why should they care so much about one measly mortal anyway? Plenty more where he came from.
Ares didn’t even bother to confront them about the fact that if not for Phillip, they would still be languishing in the dungeons to which Cronus had consigned them. They owed Delacroix too much. Hell, he knew that he owed Delacroix too much. He also knew that the nightmares were normal for Phillip; he’d have been really worried if the King of Pain didn’t scream in his sleep.
Morgan, Jake and the others had returned to their lives. Jake was busy renovating his café with Gawain and Ramon’s help. Morgan had needed some fast talking to convince his superiors at the Pentagon that he had not gone AWOL. Stan and Joshua were bosses of their own companies; they didn’t need any excusing. Phillip’s absence from Ares Macrotech wasn’t a big deal either; the company practically ran itself, though a few deals would be delayed.
After he had settled the business with Cronus, Ares headed back to check on his minion. Maybe he’s already waken up, and is itching to get off Olympus. Ares smiled at the image of Phillip terrorizing his useless siblings and the other inhabitants of the godly realm.
Ares greeted the various gods and goddesses who crossed his path, before entering the healing chamber where the King of Pain was. He was surprised to see an Amazon in the chamber, Princess Diana of Themyscira, also once known as the goddess of truth, dressed in the uniform of the Champion of Themyscira. She rested one hand on Phillip’s feverish brow, and the other was holding his hands together as he wrestled with his inner demons. What was most striking though, was that she had used her lasso of truth to bind his hands together. His screams were full of rage and fear, his teeth clenched and his face pale. It was far worse than any of his previous spasms.
“What are you doing?” Ares stormed into the chamber. He pointed to the lasso. “Take that off! Now!”
Wonder Woman was startled by his reaction, “I was trying to calm his mind. He was screaming in such pain…”
Ares yelled, “Whatever it does, it’s not working! The lasso burns all who are impure, and forces them to see their own truths!” He grabbed up one end of the lasso, and said, “Unleashing his own truths will only destroy him. He’s burning all right, Amazon, but in the inside of his mind where you cannot see!”
It was only a guess, but Ares truly believed what he said. From everything he knew of Phillip, he knew there were demons lurking in the man’s psyche that he kept well hidden, because they were too painful to face, and impossible to remove. The lasso would free them from their captivity. Phillip’s screams were an indication of that. Not all fires burn on the outside.

His nightmares ran in one unending stream. Everything that he had ever feared, ever encountered, the foes he had faced, came trudging back into his dreamscape, screaming their hatred at him. Well, that was fine, he screamed right back at them. Cronus was added to his list of enemies, but that was no big deal either. The number of people who wished him dead was a large one; Cronus would just have to take a number and wait in line.
The final nightmare was different though, something new. It started like so many others, with himself in a narrow corridor, filled with the screams of those he had killed, coming from numerous doors on both sides of the long passageway. Some of them were innocents, many were scum, but all died at his hands.
He fled down the corridor, seeking refuge from the cries, from his sins, from his many mistakes. A hallway, filled with a lifetime of regrets. There was so much he wished he had done differently, so much that he wished had turned out differently.
He entered the nursery, dread building in his stomach at what would happen next. But this time there were differences. Instead of a gun, on top of a book, there were two wooden swords. He leaned down to look at the book, and the book was also different. It was the Book of Paths. He picked up the two wooden swords, feeling strangely calm. The dread was gone. Instead of the sinister changing tune that he would hear whenever he entered this room, there was strangely only quiet. In himself, he could feel a serenity that he had never experienced before.
No, that wasn’t correct. He’d had that feeling once before, when facing Cronus at Asgard, when he had walked away. He didn’t quite understand it, couldn’t quite understand how he had acted then, why he had felt so peaceful before his own death, or even how he had managed to disarm the Titan. Before, he would have fought with a rabid intensity, trying to maim and dismember his opponent. But against Cronus, he didn’t. Why?
He closed his eyes, searching within himself for the answers. There was nothing, but the edges of the sense picked up something in the room. He opened his eyes to see the familiar darkness reaching for him. The two swords had turned into Glory and Infamy, Glory’s light repelling the darkness, however slightly, and the darkness of Infamy warring with the evil that sought to consume him.
He slashed his weapons at the darkness, cutting off the tendrils. Inexplicably, the calm remained with him. Even when the darkness overtook him, despite the swords, he did not give up. Neither did he shout his defiance, nor give into his own despair. Not this time.
The darkness claimed him, enveloping him in complete shadow, but he held onto the swords, still fighting back as calmly as possible. Then in the darkness, he saw a distant light. A golden glow, warm and welcoming, driving away the darkness. He fought through the darkness towards the light, straining to reach it.
It was redemption.
It was hope.
The darkness roared silently at his escape, struggling to pull him back into its midst.
He entered the light.

“Hey.”
Wonder Woman looked down at Phillip, who had stopped shouting, his pale eyes flicking open. His voice was weak, but at least his screams had stopped.
“Thank Hera, you’re awake.” She ignored Ares’ glare. She gently brushed away an errant strand of blond hair from Phillip’s cheek.
He licked his dry lips. “Water.”
She quickly raised a cup of water to his lips, which he drank eagerly.
“Where am I?” Phillip was already pushing himself up. “And Princess, why are you here?”
She shoved him back down. “You’re on Olympus. Take it easy, you’ve just recovered.”
Ares stood behind her, peering over her shoulder. “She’s right. Take it easy for a while. Zeus will announce a feast in your honor. Stay here and rest.”
“I don’t want any honor, Ares, and you know it.” Phillip tried to fight against her hold, but he was no match for Amazon strength, and soon gave up, lying on the bed in resignation. “Look, I feel fine.” He looked at his hands. “And why did you tie me up with the lasso?” He frowned at her.
Diana sighed, and quickly unwrapped the lasso from his hands. She explained, “You were screaming in your sleep, and I thought to calm you down by using the lasso’s power.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think it worked.” He saw the hurt on her face, and quickly added, “I have truths I do not wish to see. I’m really sorry, but that’s the way it is.” He seemed uncomfortable in her presence.
She realized he was naked, and quickly got up, her cheeks reddening. “I am glad you are healed. I have duties to attend to. Excuse me.”
The Amazon Princess was almost out of the chamber when she heard Phillip call out after her, “Diana, thank you. For trying, if nothing else.”
“You’re welcome.” She turned her head, and smiled warmly at him before walking out.
She headed for Athena’s domain, and found the Goddess of Wisdom conversing quietly with her mother.
“Diana!” Hippolyta greeted her daughter joyfully. “Where were you?”
“Yes, where were you?” Athena’s grey eyes inspected her carefully.
Diana steeled herself. “I was in the healing chambers, visiting Phillip Delacroix.”
“The Lion of Ares, he is well then?” Athena seemed calm, but Wonder Woman could sense that the goddess was actually testing her, and that she had failed that test.
“He is awake, and he appears well.” Diana replied carefully. She could not understand why Athena held so much animosity against Phillip. Just because he’d humiliated the goddess back in the base? He’d done the same to everybody else.
No, it was something else, and she suspected it might have to do with her rivalry with Ares. Ares had changed, was changing, and with Phillip Delacroix as one of his agents, there was no telling what the God of War and Conflict might do, and even accomplish.
Hippolyta sensed the obvious tension, and said, “Diana, the Goddess had graciously interceded with Hades on my behalf, and it seems that what has been done will not be undone.”
Diana’s eyes lit up with elation. “You mean that you will be returning with me to Themyscira?”
Hippolyta smiled, and lifted a hand to clasp Diana’s shoulder, “Yes, my child. I fear I may have to trouble you and your sisters with my presence once again!”
“Oh no, mother!” Diana protested, “We’ll be more than happy to have you back.” She grinned. “We’ll have to find some way to find a place for you on Themyscira though.”
“I’m fine with whatever you and Phillipus come up with. She has really done well by our people.” Hippolyta turned to Athena, “Mighty Athena, I thank you. I shall endeavor to honor your name, always.”
“Very well.” Athena nodded. “I am confident that you shall do so.”
“We shall take our leave now, Goddess.” Diana and Hippolyta bowed to their patron before they left.
Finally, walking in the halls of Olympus, Hippolyta asked Diana, “Daughter, why is Athena displeased with you?”
Wonder Woman sighed, “She does not like Phillip Delacroix, and apparently she wishes that I have nothing to do with him.” And she isn’t the only one, Diana thought, thinking back to Ares’ reaction when he found her by Phillip’s sickbed. Ares does not want me to influence him either.
“She must have good reasons, even if this man did defeat Cronus.”
“But I was just visiting him.” Diana shook her head. “Compassion and justice. He had fought for justice, and was wounded in its service. Showing my concern for him was only natural.”
Hippolyta looked at her shrewdly, “I think there’s more, Diana. Are you attracted to this man?”
Diana blushed, “Mother…” She sighed, then spoke before her mother could reply, “He works for Ares. He has proclaimed himself to be my enemy in the past, and I don’t think that has changed.” They stopped at a small fountain, marveling at the beauty of their setting.
“Then why did he take those blows for you during the battle for Asgard?” Hippolyta smiled.
“He might be taking the longer term view, that he needed my aid to defeat Cronus.” Diana admitted reluctantly. She did not want to read too much into the King of Pain’s unpredictable actions.
Hippolyta disagreed, “When he seemed to handle the Lord of the Titans so easily?” Her voice softened, “You like him, don’t you?”
“Even if I do, what does it matter?” Diana hugged her arms to herself. “He shuts himself off, and tries to maintain his role as my enemy. He’s a good man, I can sense it, but he seems determined to do whatever Ares might ask him to do. I think that he wants to stay away, remain my enemy, because he’s afraid that one day, Ares might ask him to do something against his wishes, or even worse, his conscience. He doesn’t want me to influence him emotionally, and maybe that will make his job easier.”
The Queen of the Amazons sighed in disgust, “Men. They just have to be so stupid.”
The way her mother said it made Diana giggle. Hippolyta, who had done it on purpose, continued, “I cannot tell you how to handle this. But I can tell you to be careful. Listen not just to your heart or your mind, but both. Only then can you be sure that your decision is the correct one.”
Diana hugged her mother, “Thank you.”
“Anytime. I would hate to see you get hurt.” Hippolyta asked, “Meanwhile, what happened in Man’s World during the time I was away? Tell me everything!”
They sat down on the edge of the fountain as Diana told her mother. For long hours they talked, until they were summoned to the hall for the banquet in Phillip’s honor.
The King of Pain seemed obviously uneasy, fidgeting even as he took the seat of honor near to Zeus’ seat, signifying the Lord of Olympus’ favor towards him for defeating Cronus. He wore his two swords in a special back scabbard Hephaestus had made for him, rather than the two plain and battered scabbards he had used at Asgard. He looked dashing in the medieval style dark green tunic and cloak ensemble Ares had arranged for him, somehow managing to blend in with the mix of deities who wore either contemporary attire or togas.
“To Phillip Delacroix!” Zeus declared, raising his wine cup in salute. The gods of Olympus followed suit, and Diana raised her wine cup as well, noting Phillip’s embarrassment. He raised his own cup reluctantly as Zeus feted him.
The feast proceeded without incident, though Diana saw that Phillip did not feel comfortable at all, and did not eat much. Still, she tried to engage him in conversation with the other gods, trying to put him at ease. It did not work.
A drunk Zeus started moving about the table, having drunk too much wine. He grabbed Wonder Woman and pulled her out of her seat without warning. “Princess Diana, how about a night with me, eh?”
“Lord Zeus!” Diana, Hippolyta, and Hera exclaimed at the same time, scandalized by the amorous behavior of Zeus. Hera was extremely angry, and Diana tried to push off the King of the Gods as he groped at her.
“Lord Zeus, you are drunk!” The Amazon Princess pushed back with her own strength, but the Lord of Olympus was also immensely strong. Hera stormed up to the inebriated god, and tried to drag him off. Her own patron gods and goddesses shouted at Zeus to stop, but the god did not seem to heed their pleas. Some of them sat back to enjoy the show, others cheered Zeus on, while yet more tried to interfere, only to be blocked by those who wanted to observe the scene.
Irritated by Hera’s constant pulling, Zeus lifted an arm and flung her away, while his other arm continued to hug Diana close to his body. Wonder Woman shuddered in revulsion, and wanted to push off, but he was holding on too tightly, and she dared not hit the King of Olympus. Neither did any of the gods in the room. They had too much to lose.
Diana moved her head away from Zeus, trying to avoid his caressing kisses, “Lord Zeus, please! Do not force yourself on me! I am not your toy!”
That was when the blade suddenly appeared next to Zeus’ neck. “Unhand her, Zeus.” Zeus froze when the blade touched his neck. “You get the idea.”
The commotion stopped as they all saw the King of Pain holding Infamy at Zeus’ throat.
Zeus seemed to sober up immediately. He released Diana slowly from his grasp, and she escaped to the reassuring embrace of her mother. All the females in the room glared at Zeus, but he paid them no heed.
He turned his head to look at Phillip Delacroix. “You dare hold a blade to my throat? In my realm?”
Phillip grinned darkly as he withdrew the blade, sheathing it in his scabbard. “The presence of metal near the neck is extremely sobering, isn’t it?”
Diana saw Ares standing in one corner impassively, and felt a sinking sensation in her stomach as she watched the scene between Phillip and Zeus. Oh no, he’s going to antagonize another god again… The list of enemies Phillip made seemed to be getting longer and longer by the day.
“You insolent mortal.” Zeus faced Phillip, his body tense. “Just because you saved the pantheons, and obtained my favor, does not give you the right to threaten me on Olympus.”
Phillip shrugged nonchalantly, “I didn’t care for this banquet. And I didn’t care for your favor. You think I didn’t know what you were trying to do? Recruiting me to your service?” He shook his head, “Sorry, but I’ll tell you this in advance: Not interested.”
Zeus trembled in anger. “How dare you! Perhaps Odin was right.” He hissed, “You are a viper.”
Phillip laughed, “Odin was right. Why did you think he wanted me dead?” He started to walk off. “I won’t work for you, Zeus. I work for your son. And by the way,” he flicked a glance at Diana, “I stopped Cronus because he was a sick bastard. But you know what? You’re not much better.”
“Stop right there.” Diana gasped when she saw Zeus raising a lightning bolt in his hands. “There are consequences for defying my will. Prepare to receive your punishment.”
Phillip spun round, and held out his arms to his side. “Oh really? Come on then, hit me! Show the world, your children, your wife, your worshippers that you’re nothing but a petty little thug with power that he has never earned! And worse yet, a thug who forces himself on women and has next to no gratitude for those who’ve helped him!”
Zeus roared and flung his thunderbolt at Phillip. Diana moved at that moment, flying in front of Phillip to block the thunderbolt, only to realize it did not hit her bracelets.
She turned to see Phillip, a tiny red scar across one cheek from the bolt. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed gently. “Princess, I am fine. Thank you.”
He stepped to one side, and bowed sarcastically to Zeus. “Your Highness, I take my leave.” He left the hall. Ares nodded to her, and departed right behind Phillip.
Diana saw Athena looking at her disapprovingly, while Hippolyta seemed strangely smug. Hera was haranguing Zeus loudly, and he was shouting right back at her. The area around the squabbling couple was rapidly vacated of Olympians.
The Amazon Princess sighed in frustration. It was not the first time Zeus had tried to take her, and it would not be the last, but most of the time, he would be drunk when he did so. Hera or Athena would stop him before it went too far, and tonight they would had done so, just not as bluntly as Phillip had.
She also wondered about Phillip. What was it about the man that cared not a whit about making enemies of gods? Was he insane?

“Hey, wait up!” Ares shouted at Phillip as the other man, somehow changed into mundane shirt and pants, walked towards a nearby portal. His scabbard with his swords hung on his back, since he wasn’t going to be returning to Olympus any time soon. Especially not after he had insulted Zeus.
“Shouldn’t you stick around back there?” asked Phillip.
“Bah! Not interested.” Ares fell in step with Phillip. “I never held much affection for my family. Maybe because of a negligent and womanizing father, a crazy mother, and a lot of siblings vying for power. Let them rot.”
“Heh, at least you have a family. That’s more than some people can say.”
“So, where are you going?”
They reached the portal. Phillip said, “I got into contact with Jake a short while ago. He’s inviting Morgan and the others to dinner at the café. Something about a DIY buffet, then a small party with cards and TV.” He grimaced, “Didn’t eat too much back there, the food’s too damn rich. So I’m heading to the café. They should have enough.” He smirked, “Want to join me?”
Ares grinned. “Never thought you’ll ask. I could use a second helping.”
They reached the café, which had been completely repaired. They pushed open the doors to see Jake and the others seated around several tables put together, with a big pot shaped like a moat in the middle, filled with steaming soup. Around the pot were several trays of uncooked food, like slivers of fish, meat, and stalks of vegetables. Most of the men had beer cans next to their personal plates, except for Ramon who sipped from his cola while casting covetous glances at beer cans.
“Hey, you’re here!” Stanley Burnside remarked, tossing in several pieces of beef into the moat with a wire spoon that allowed the food to be cooked while preventing it from floating off. “Come on and join us!”
They made space for Phillip and Ares. Morgan made some joke that Jake laughed at, and Joshua pressed a can of cold beer into Ares’ hands. Ramon went to the kitchen and got two more plates, with generous helpings of rice and potato.
Ares enjoyed the novel experience. He realized that for all of his time with his minions, they had never sat down and had a meal together. They ate noisily, while swapping stories and opinions on everything from their own adventures to politics. They talked for a long time, even after they were full and the soup almost finished.
Then all of them pitched in to help clear up. Ares was bemused by the fact that Jake did not seem to consider his status as a god at all, and assigned him to cleaning the tables they were using, while the others washed dishes or mopped the floor. Once he would have felt it beneath his dignity, denigrating his status, but he had changed. After the duel with Ramon, he had promised himself that the old Ares was gone. From then on, he would earn respect instead of expecting it.
They gathered for a poker game, taking turns to play. When not playing or observing the poker, they could play video games on the Xbox console Ramon had set up. Once, Ares found himself jabbing fiercely at the controls, laughing at every boneheaded move made by either Ramon or himself in the extremely violent Def Jam. A few days ago, they had been trying to kill each other for real, and yet here they were, trying to defeat each other in a video game.
The irony of the situation was not lost on him.
After being cleaned of more than a hundred dollars by the sneaky Earl of Greed, Ares realized it was already eleven o’clock. Jake had to force a reluctant Ramon to go to sleep, while the others said their goodbyes and left. Gawain stayed with Jake.
Ares left with Phillip, feeling better and happier than he had for a long time. They walked out of the café, just as Jake switched off the lights in the café. Phillip said he wanted to walk to the bay to clear his head. Ares accompanied him.
“You think Gawain and Jake would work for me?” Ares asked as they walked. He knew they were old comrades, and he hoped to leverage that connection into enticing Jake and Gawain to his banner. With them, I shall be unstoppable!
Philip belched loudly, causing Ares to look at him crossly. “Sorry.” He stretched his neck for a bit. “Well, as for your question, I don’t think so.”
“Why not? With both of them working for us, it’ll be even easier to carry out our plans. Jake seems to be an experienced soldier, and Gawain is Angle Man.”
Phillip’s eye were distant as he explained, “Jake has had enough of fighting. He’s sick of it. Why did you think he decided to be a café owner? Not for the money, that’s for sure. He’s barely breaking even every month.”
“Then why did he fight in Asgard?”
“Because he had no choice.” Phillip sighed. “He’ll fight only if he’s forced to. Otherwise he’ll prefer to stay out of it. No, Ares, leave Jake alone.”
“Why about Gawain? He doesn’t seem to be settling down any time soon.” Ares chuckled, “Although I would be very interested to see how his meeting with Hippolyta on Themyscira next week will turn out.” The god laughed. “Meeting the prospective mother-in-law indeed! He’ll be lucky if she doesn’t execute him for seducing Donna Troy!”
Phillip grinned at the thought. “Heh. Gawain might work for you, but you said it yourself. He’s more or less going to be connected to the Amazons, because of his relationship with Donna. More than that, he’s always been unpredictable.”
Ares arched an eyebrow. “And that’s bad?”
“I didn’t say that. What it means is that he might just change his mind when you’re relying on him. Face it Ares. There’s nothing you can really offer either of them that they can’t get for themselves.”
“Unlike you?”
“Unlike me. Or Morgan. Or Joshua. Or Stan. We’re working for you because it benefits us.”
“And they say self-interest is dead.” Ares smiled wryly. “Are you always this tactful?”
“I see no reason in being otherwise.”
“Good. Because I have a request.” Ares stopped, forcing Phillip to look at him.
“What is it?” Phillip asked warily.
“Swear brotherhood with me.” Ares said, his tone deadly serious. “After what happened, I can trust you, and you’re the one person who will not hesitate to correct me if I’m wrong. I think we understand each other well enough by now.”
Phillip shook his head, “No, you don’t understand me. You have no idea who I am.”
“Then why don’t you tell me?” Ares folded his arms. “Anyway, I believe that both our interests will be served better.”
“And then what? What if you go off on some crazy whacked out plan like you did in the past? Would you expect me to stop you?” Phillip seethed. “And if so, how? You’ve killed millions, maybe even billions throughout history, instigating conflict after conflict. Brotherhood relies on trust, and sorry, I don’t trust you.”
“You trusted me a few days ago.”
“It didn’t matter then. If you had betrayed my trust I would have killed you.”
Ares was shocked. “Then my fight with Ramon…”
“I was confident it would be a draw. Just not the way it turned out.” Phillip laughed bitterly. “I can’t trust you, and to tell the truth, you can’t trust me either.”
“I can.” Ares said with conviction. “If nothing else, let this be the foundation to build our trust. If we can’t trust each other, we can’t win.” He stared at Phillip. “Come on!”
The King of Pain stared down at the floor quietly for several long moments. Then he raised his head, his eyes piercing. “Okay. One condition. We keep our secrets to ourselves.”
“Done.” Ares raised his right palm. His left hand held a knife, and cut a deep line in his palm. He handed the knife to Phillip, who did the same to his right hand.
They clasped their right hands together, blood dripping down onto the pavement. Ares said, “We now share the same blood. My blood flows through your veins, and your blood flows through mine. As your brother, I’ll raise you to glory.”
With fire in his eyes, Phillip replied, “As your brother, I’ll help you conquer Olympus and the world.”

Darlgren Wynsynski, also known as Darwin to his friends, ambled down the street in the city of Boston. He was tired, but satisfied. The takings from his magic show performance at the night club had been good. Another few months of this, and he’d have earned enough to open the magic shop he’d planned for. He headed down the street, unwilling to spend money on a cab. Besides, walking was good for health.
He was deep in his thoughts when a sudden explosion shook him into the present. Old instincts took over; he dove to the ground, hands over his head. He wished he’d brought along his gun; he had no weapons on him right now.
He raised his head, seeking out the source of the explosion, and saw nobody on the street. It was damn late at night, and most people had gone to sleep, leaving the street completely deserted. Well, almost completely deserted, except for a little purple haired girl, of about three to four years old, her back to him. He frowned. Why was she alone at such a late hour?
She petulantly raised her hands towards another car parked along the street, and there was another explosion.
Darwin gaped in surprise. He shifted his sight into the astral plane. Sure enough, the little girl was packing heavy mana. The strange part of it was that she also seemed terribly distressed.
She was crying. “Mama! I want my mama! Somebody bring me my mama!”
Darwin felt a sudden sensation of déjà vu, as though he was replaying his past. He quickly spoke an incantation, a simple defensive spell that formed a protective shell about him. He began to crawl along the ground closer to the kid, keeping a low profile so that she won’t see him, and to prevent the clack clack of his shoes on the road surface.
Hah, as though his present position on the road itself hid him very well. He just hoped she won’t turn round.
Then it got worse. It began to rain around the girl, literally pouring down as she cried, the weather reflecting her mood. Darwin groaned. It was apparent that the girl had a vast amount of magical power, but no way to control it. He was soon crawling in puddles of water, reminding him of his days as a soldier. Those were miserable days.
Creeping slowly to the kid, Darwin managed to get about five meters behind her when she abruptly turned around. Man and girl stared at each other for long moments before all hell broke loose.
She screamed at him, pointing a tiny finger at him. Darwin leapt to his feet, his mind going into overdrive as he desperately cast every screening spell he knew of, all the while shouting, “Calm down! Calm down!”
Energy shot out of the girl’s finger, slamming into his shields in a spectacular display of pyrotechnics. Darwin widened his eyes. Those blasts had real punch behind them. Who the hell was this kid?
The storm of energy stopped, and he saw the girl trembling, tear tracks staining her cheeks. “I want my mama…”
He raised his hands, showing that they were empty. “Uhm, hi!”
She raised her hand at him, and Darwin took a step back. He said, gesturing with his hands, “Nonono. Calm down, calm down.”
She looked at him, ready to burst into tears again.
“Where’s your mother?” Darwin asked, an instant before he kicked himself mentally. She was shouting for her mother, so of course she doesn’t know, you dolt!
She started to sob, and Darwin nearly fled for his life right then and there. “I don’t… know… I havva seen her for a long time.”
“Okay… so where were you?” Darwin finally got close enough to touch her. He lowered himself into a crouch, so he wouldn’t appear too threatening. He asked gently, “I mean, your mum wouldn’t abandon you, would she?” Not like other mothers who would push their sons off cliffs to kill them, he remembered sourly.
“I was… in the sea for so long.” The girl sobbed. “And then they were gone, and I came here to look for mama. And I can’t find her!” Sobs turned to wail, and Darwin fought down his panic. He couldn’t make sense of what she said, but it didn’t really matter.
He held out a hand. “Come with me. I’ll help you find your mama, okay?”
The girl stared at him, and sniffed, “Mama told me not to follow strangers.”
Darwin wanted to roll his eyes at the last remark. “My name is Darwin. What’s yours?”
“I’m Lyta.”
“Okay, Lyta, we know each other now, don’t we? So we aren’t strangers anymore. Come on,” he observed her scraggly state, the torn dress hanging limply, “you must be hungry, aren’t you? I have pizza at home. Do you like pizza?” He held out his hand again.
She nodded, and took his hand. He grasped her tiny hand, squeezed gently, and slowly led her down the street. He still wasn’t sure of what he was doing, or how he was going to deal with a child with her level of power, or even how he was going to find her mother, but he couldn’t leave her alone. Goddamn if I’m going to leave her on the street to blow up cars!
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Interlude 9
Master your fear, or your enemies will master you.
-Ereskel
The years sped by, and Baryn McCleon had grown old. His hair had turned completely white, and his withered skin even more weathered from the elements. He remained in remarkably fit condition for his age though, but that was because of his daily routine at the training grounds and working at the farm. And something else that he had no say in.
He stood on the familiar pathway back to his home, holding his and Gawain’s food wages for the day. He looked down the pathway to the figure kneeling on the ground.
“I will not teach you the sword.” Baryn said to Gawain, moving his head from side to side in a stretching motion to loosen up the stiff muscles there. Then he stooped down to place his basket of food on the ground, before pulling out his own wooden stick.
They had gone through the same ritual for the past seven years. Every day, he would return from working at the farm, and find Gawain kneeling to him before their small hut, after the boy had finished his own work at the farm. And every time, he would have to beat Gawain, to force him to put down the sword.
Gawain always came back the next day.
The boy was no longer truly a boy, almost a man. He had grown big, towering over Baryn, with a leanness gained from the hard rural life and tanned from long hours on the farm. He was still deaf, but he was somewhat more knowledgeable about the world than most of the village kids because of his books.
They faced each other, father against son, would-be student against master. Gawain attacked first, his stick whipping down with violent speed. Baryn parried the blow to his left, then stepped in for a coup a coup, not giving Gawain the chance to disengage, and trying to shove the boy off balance. Gawain stood his ground easily, but Baryn had other tricks up his sleeve.
He had placed a hard nut into his mouth before the fight started, and at that instant he spat the nut out at Gawain’s face. The nut hit just below the eyes, and the boy flinched away. That mere instant was enough for Baryn to step beside Gawain, place a leg behind the boy’s left leg, and trip him to the ground. Gawain fell with a painful grunt.
Baryn crouched over Gawain, his stick aimed at Gawain’s throat. He was breathing hard, and said, “Know that I will not teach you the sword.”
He slowly got up. “When fighting, sometimes you will be distracted. Sand, dust, your own sweat, poisoned needles, all capable of stealing your sight. Even the sun. And as long as your opponent is skilled, he will not neglect that single instant of opportunity! You will die! So Gawain, don’t learn the sword!”

Ereskel woke up, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and the other ready to draw his gun. “Who the hell is making such an awful racket!”
He stood up from his position amongst the rocks on the sandy beach, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. The night was occupied by the gleaming spheres of both of Crimond’s moons, and the beach was well lit. The desolate scene was filled with grunts and snarls, probably by the same person.
There was a lone figure on the beach, a boy, almost a man by the looks of him. Ereskel watched the boy swing around a heavy bundle of several sticks tied together, moving with incredible and deadly speed on the beach, slashing and hacking at imaginary foes. The boy roared as he fought, and Ereskel could sense the emanations from the boy’s fighting spirit from where he was standing.
The boy waded into the water, his bare feet moving confidently on the slick wet sand as he practiced, moving his feet against the strong resistance of the slowly rising tide. A black dog ran along the beach, searching out food. It looked at the boy, who barely noticed as he gasped for breath. The dog seemed to think about approaching the boy, but changed its mind when the boy went into another series of rapid moves, fighting with a raw ferocity that Ereskel appreciated. The dog raced away from the beach. His experienced eye could see that the boy was good, damn good. Ereskel knew he had not been half, or even a quarter as good as the boy at that age. Still, some of the moves looked familiar…
Ereskel realized in surprise. “I see, that must be the little boy I saw at Master McCleon’s home more than ten years ago! The kid of my fellow student… something Sharpe, I think.” He shook his head in admiration. “Sir, to think you had actually managed to raise this child into such a fine swordsman! I am impressed beyond words!”

Rudel hefted his load of corn onto his broad shoulders, ready to take to the market for barter, and if he was lucky, maybe even a bit of cash.
In the years since Ygles Scartorn’s death at Baryn McCleon’s hands, the village had prospered quietly, slowly becoming if not exactly rich, at least less poor. Just two years after Scartorn’s death, the village elder had earned enough to buy a television set and a receiving unit with the communal funds. The TV might be old, but it was serviceable, and it was in color.
They saw the world outside of Crimond, the interstellar conflicts waged on a grand scale by vast armies of men and machines. The abortive civil war that pitted sibling against sibling, parent against child. Crimond wasn’t spared, but the rural regions weren’t affected much. Well, beyond losing markets for whatever surplus food and simple goods they had been able to produce.
Rudel, on the other hand, was seized by the stories and news they managed to receive on the TV. He yearned to strike out on his own, sign up with the military, and tour the galaxy, even if it was with guns aimed at him. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life farming crops and plowing fields.
He wanted excitement, adventure, glory. To make his mark on the universe, be something.
Lost in his daydreams, Rudel did not notice the tall, heavily armed man walking towards him down the dirt path until he was just twenty meters away.
The middle-aged man was tall, standing about Rudel’s height, wearing an open long coat over a slightly torn white shirt. A plethora of weapons hung from his belt. Guns, knives, and a beautifully crafted sword, along with a small bag slung over one shoulder. He strode with a steady gait, confidence literally dripping off his body. Rudel could feel the sensation of power within the man, an overwhelming pressure held back by a dam. Even the tattered, worn state of his clothes seemed to add to his aura.
All thought fled from Rudel’s mind as they walked past each other, sweat bursting out all over his brow in response to the stranger’s terrifying presence. His old wounds, suffered at Ygles’ blade, suddenly started to ache, something which was new to him. In his mind at that instant they were next to each other, he imagined himself drawing his sword in a swift motion, standing over the man, ready to strike him down. The man never reacted. And Rudel’s imaginary self never brought his sword down.
He was too scared. He was also completely outclassed.
Seemingly oblivious to Rudel’s musings, the stranger walked past. Rudel found himself with one hand on his own sword, gripping the hilt tightly, and sweat pouring into his eyes. It was only when he thought it safe to look back that he turned his head.
The stranger shocked him by turning back, and stood behind him with a wide smile on his broad face. “You must be a student of Master McCleon!”
Rudel blinked in surprise. How did he know that? “Uh yes! I’m his most senior student, Rudel Wainwright!”
The man frowned, “Hey, you’re wrong there, kid.” He pointed to himself. “I’m the most senior student!” He looked away while Rudel digested the new information in awe. “Master McCleon must have changed a lot, eh?”

Gawain swiped down in a feint, but Baryn took the feint, turning the stick out to one side before Gawain moved it back in, trying to get in a hit. The boy stared at Baryn blankly.
Baryn scolded, “Huh! What are you looking at? After attacking, you either disengage or continue with a close move! Or else…”
He spat out another nut, but Gawain seemed to be wise to his trick this time, twisting his head to one side, neatly avoiding the nut with a wide grin on his face.
Baryn had other tricks up his sleeve. Their hands so close together with their interlocking sticks, Baryn was able to reach for Gawain’s hands, and he grasped one of the boy’s index fingers with his own thumb and finger, trying to dislocate it.
Gawain pushed off, for once using his much greater strength. Baryn tumbled back onto the ground, his body relaxing to reduce the impact as he rolled backwards. He quickly got to his feet, and made a horizontal slash with his stick at the approaching Gawain. Gawain leaned back almost languidly, avoiding the slash at his chest by mere millimeters. Baryn was impressed despite himself at the dodge. That was a very good dodge!
But… Baryn followed up with a big forward step with his right foot, along with a wide circular backhand slash, which Gawain leapt back to avoid. The boy did not land on flat ground as he expected, but found his left leg suddenly sinking into a hole.
Baryn yelled, “I dug that hole this morning!” Gawain, with one leg stuck in the hole, could not move or defend himself properly. He was soon flat on the ground, with Baryn pointing the end of his stick at his neck.
“Dead men tell no tales. No matter what tactic was used, no matter how dishonorable, only victors write the history books. That is why,” Baryn panted for breath, “I will not teach you the sword.”
He raised himself tiredly to his feet, and rested on his stick, breathing hard. It was only then he realized they weren’t alone.
He looked to one side of the hut, and exclaimed, “How long have you been here?”
Ereskel, sitting on a rock, grinned widely and said, “But Master, you are teaching him the sword, and doing an excellent job of it!” He continued, “To see you in such good health, makes me very, very happy.”
He stood up, and walked over to the two. He stood before Gawain, and raised a hand, gauging their heights. “Woah, he’s taller than me!”
Then he suddenly yelled, “HAH!” into Gawain’s face. Gawain was only slightly startled, because he couldn’t hear.
Ereskel reach down with one hand, and grabbed Gawain’s testicles and penis, inspecting them by feel. He nodded approvingly, “Hmmm… yes. You’ve grown a lot in these ten-plus years! Hehehe…”
He said to Gawain, “He can never repay you for you’ve done for him.”
Baryn frowned. What did he mean?
Ereskel spun around to face Baryn. “Did you think you were raising a kitten?”
“What?”
“Every day, you teach him how to fight, while shouting at him ‘I won’t teach you!’” Ereskel mocked Baryn by saying that last phrase in a thin reedy voice. “Because you wanted to keep him with you till the day you die!”
“I never…” Baryn was cut off.
“But Master…” Ereskel smiled slyly. “This kid is a tiger! Just like you and me… He’s a tiger!”
“Ereskel, I will not have any more of your bullshit! You’ve only been here for a few minutes, what do you know?” He clenched his fists. “I’ve died once before, sixteen years ago. Only my meeting Gawain gave me…” He sighed. “Forget it. You won’t understand anyway.”
He asked, “So why are you here, Ereskel?”
Ereskel smiled nastily. “I’m here tracking down a band of fugitives, accused of crimes against humanity, genocide to be exact. My companions got caught in an ambush, the fools, and now I’m alone to take them. I’m good, but not that good. I thought of getting help, and the first person I though of was you, Master McCleon.” He added, “The reward money’s very good. I’ll split half of it with you.”
Baryn shook his head, “Sorry! Not interested! Now get lost! Don’t look for me again without a damn good reason!”
Ereskel did not reply, and walked over to pick up a small wooden stub, broken off from one of Gawain and Baryn’s daily fights. He tapped the stub on his chin speculatively, before looking at them. “Tigers should live like tigers. They should also die like tigers.”
He walked up to Gawain, who did not react and just stood there impassively. Baryn shouted out, “Ereskel!”
The bounty hunter lashed out with his stub, smashing it right across Gawain’s face, the boy reeling back from the sudden blow. Ereskel roared, “How could you hold back when fighting your teacher! Do you realize just how disrespectful that is?”
Baryn felt a cold chill wash through his very soul, as though his heart had been replaced with ice, sucking out all the warmth from his limbs.
Ereskel tossed the stub behind him, muttering, “You can’t hear me anyway, poor bastard.”
Gawain clutched his bloodied jaw, then looked up at Ereskel, incandescent rage in his eyes. Baryn was too stunned from Ereskel’s revelation to do anything. Gawain leapt for Ereskel with a roar, toppling the older man onto the ground.
They grappled for a few seconds, Gawain using his thumb to poke into one of Ereskel’s eyes. The bounty hunter kicked him off, and before Gawain could recover, Ereskel slipped behind him, and placed his head into a painful headlock.
With one eye swollen, Ereskel looked up at Baryn, and grinned, “I was right, wasn’t I?”
Baryn looked at the seething, struggling Gawain held in the lock, Ersekel’s words sweeping through him. This kid is a tiger! Just like you and me… He’s a tiger! Then the even more shocking news. How could you hold back when fighting your teacher! Do you realize just how disrespectful that is?
Of course, they never invited Ereskel for dinner, leaving the bounty hunter outside the hut cursing and pleading for some of their food.

Night fell, the glowing moons lighting up the beach. Ereskel sat before his smoldering fire on the beach, his senses tingling, warning him of people approaching. He quickly scooped sand over the glowing embers, then scurried off into the rocks. He peeked out cautiously, whipping out his Sternsnacht pistol.
Six men prowled warily down the beach, scattered into two small groups. These were the fugitives he had been assigned to hunt down. And if they found him, there would be no mercy from any side in battle. After all, the red, green and blue tattoos on his arms and torso marked him out as one of the Thousand, somebody a great deal responsible for their present predicament.
They had obviously caught wind of the hunters tracking them. Instead of waiting and hiding, they had elected to counterattack. That was how the group of agents assigned to Crimond had been killed, before he had arrived to take command. He had sent a faster-than-light message to command for reinforcements, but any help would take weeks in coming. He had to either take the fugitives on his own or recruit help on Crimond itself.
He slipped away, using the rocks as cover as he maintained a safe distance from the fugitives. It was clear they were looking for him. The hunter had become the hunted.
Ereskel was about to sneak off into the woods nearby when he saw Gawain appear, one hand holding the bundle of sticks which served as his practice weapon. The fugitive men saw him, and Gawain was taken back as he emerged from the forest near the beach. They were heavily armed, with a variety of blades and guns.
They looked at Gawain for a moment, and then gathered around him. Ereskel grinned as he heard them speaking to the deaf boy, trying to ask him certain questions, but obviously failing as they grew more agitated. Ereskel tried hard not to laugh as he watched the irritation on Gawain’s face, before the men walked off in frustration, complaining about Gawain’s rudeness and not realizing at all that he was deaf. It was also clear that they were asking Gawain if he had seen Ereskel.
The bounty hunter stood on top of the rocks as the men walked off, staring at the scene. “Master McCleon, look at the boy now! In the face of that bunch, anybody would have known they were probably not decent folk. But Gawain, because of the way you had brought him up, wouldn’t challenge them about their business here.”
“But…” Ereskel scratched the back of his head. “When those men, confident and full of themselves, walked past him, would he not feel a stirring in his soul?” He smirked. “How do I describe it? He must feel like cursing ‘Dammit!’ Furthermore…”
Gawain was starting his warmup, but Ereskel could see that he was still preoccupied with the men who had tried to talk to him, his movements slow and half-hearted. “He wants to fight them. With his sword, and the strength of his arm! With everything he is, everything he has! And find out the answer to that age old question whenever men meet: Who is left standing at the end of a fight?” The boy would sneak glances at the departing backs of the men, and Ereskel knew those glances were ones of desire for battle.
Ereskel grinned, “And of course, he would want it to be himself! The hot blood under his skin will not stop raging! For that is the nature of tigers, isn’t it, Gawain?”
He watched Gawain turn away, and start moving the sword. He sighed. “Looks like you leave me with no choice.”
He raised his pistol in the direction of one of the men, and fired. The man dropped to the ground, clutching his shoulder. The other five spun around to face him, their weapons raised in his direction, charging right at his position.
Ereskel smiled slyly, and noted that Gawain was facing the sea, his back to the rocks. More importantly, he could not hear the gun shot, not the cries of the men. Ereskel dropped one hand to the hilt of his sword, gripping it and preparing to draw it. Gawain turned around at that instant, confirming Ereskel’s suspicions once and for all. The boy was born for battle, with all the instincts of that rare breed. Battle and steel called out to his soul.
The men roared. Ereskel drew his sword, pointed it at Gawain, and laughed. “Gawain, get ready to fight!”
They must have thought Gawain was in cahoots with Ereskel, and fired off several shots in his direction. The boy stumbled back as the bullets nipped at his feet, his wooden stick raised in defense. Fear and puzzlement was plain on his face.
Eeskel waved his arms, “Over here!”
The boy spun, and quickly dashed for the rocks, more gunfire biting at his heels. He scrambled up the rocks with ease, and Ereskel tossed him a pistol and a spare blade. The boy caught the weapons, but looked blankly at Ereskel.
He explained, hoping the boy could get the gist even if he could not hear the words. “These are bad men. Evil men. They think you’re with me, so they want to kill you.” He pointed a finger at Gawain, and drew a thumb across his neck. “So prepare to defend yourself.”
Gawain nodded numbly, and that was when the first two men appeared above them, snapping off shots from their guns.
Ereskel stepped backwards, firing back. Gawain fumbled with his gun, before giving up and tossing his bundle of sticks at one of the figures. It hit one of the men on the head, and he went down with a yelp of pain.
Gawain couldn’t hear a thing, but Ereskel supposed it was a minor mercy in such circumstances. They dove for cover amongst the rocks, while more gunfire sprayed around. Ereskel fired back wildly, to keep their heads down. He was wasting ammunition, but he had a sneaking feeling the bad guys didn’t exactly have a lot of bullets either.
For the next five minutes, the combatants played a deadly game of cat and mouse.

Baryn was dreaming, and he dreamt of the time when Ereskel had beaten him.
“Ereskel! You dare to say I have nothing left to teach you?”
“Master McCleon, that is the plain truth. If you wish, I can show you right now.”
One of the other students yelled angrily at Ereskel, “You arrogant bastard! Watch your words!”
Ereskel disregarded the man, and closed his eyes, as though savoring the moment. But Baryn was puzzled when tears appeared a the sides of Ereskel’s eyes.
“What the…”
Ereskel said, “Master, if you are indeed the best, then after I’ve defeated you, what is left for me? The game shall end soon, and to think of this… I shall be very lonely.”
Lonely… Just like Gawain!
Baryn sat up on his straw mat, shocked by the last realization. He looked around, and saw Gawain’s empty straw mat.
Then he heard the abnormalities. Distant pop sounds, sounds that made his blood run cold.
Gunfire.

Ereskel fired off his last clip, and slid out the magazine, making sure to tuck the empty holder into pocket. He crouched behind a rock, and saw Gawain squeezing off several shots. He saw Ereskel, and was moving towards the older man when a bullet ripped through his left thigh.
Gawain screamed in pain, but managed to fling himself to Ereskel’s position. Ereskel noted the boy was sweating hard, and fear was etched on his face. Tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks. Good.
Gawain tried to scramble away, but he grabbed Gawain by the neck, and pulled the boy close to him. “How do you feel now, huh?” He smiled viciously, “Scared? Are you scared?” Gawain tried to move away again, but Ereskel flung one arm around his neck, and put him into a lock. “ARE. YOU. SCARED?”

Gawain was frightened beyond belief. He had wanted to fight, but… this wasn’t how he had envisioned his first battle. Pain streaked through his leg, and here was this terrifying man yelling into his face.
He could read the man’s body language, the sinister grin mocking his fear. He was taunting him, challenging him. Ereskel was teaching him about fear. The lesson was not fun at all.
The boy recalled many years back, to the old monk who had cut him on one arm. “Hmm… Looks like this sword has brought much joy and color to your life. But… it can also kill you.”
He lowered his gaze to the sandy ground, breathing hard. He could see the distant body of a dead man, killed by Ereskel, on the ground. This was real battle, where a fighter puts everything on the line. His life, his skills. The ultimate high stakes gamble.
He looked at Ereskel, who was still smiling incongruously, and using a piece of spare cloth to staunch the bleeding in his leg. “Remember, young man. Those who ignore their fear or are slow to react to them will die.” He picked up the sword Gawain had dropped, and put it back into his hands. “Once you understand that, go out and show them real fear!”
Gawain looked around, and sure enough, the men were rushing them with blades, guns by their sides. The muzzle flashes of weapons fire had stopped. They had run out of bullets, and it was down to melee combat, the age old method of settling disputes.
He pushed past the pain in his leg, and met their charge head on with his sword, his mouth open and yelling unconsciously.

Baryn was breathing hard when he finally ran out of the forest. He saw the dead bodies on the ground, and could smell the blood and offal hanging heavy in the air. He shouted desperately for Gawain, overcome by his concern for his child.
He saw Ereskel, standing by one side, while two men faced off. One man was a hulking brute, wielding an axe and weaving unsteadily on his feet from blood loss. The other figure facing him was a man with brown hair and black eyes, exhaustion and pain on his young face. Yet mixed within those was determination and a steely ferocity as the man gripped his sword in an unorthodox reverse grip with his right hand.
“Who is that man?”
Baryn could feel tears in his eyes as he finally realized the man with the sword was Gawain. The boy was almost unrecognizable to him. He had changed so much so quickly.
Gawain began to murmur, a weird keening song that rose and fell with pitch as he tried to remain standing with the wounds he had suffered. Baryn found himself drawn to the song, and Ereskel came to stand next to him. His former student said, “The tides… forward… and back. A song of the waves.”
The young man finally moved, his blade a mere blur. Instead of moving to his left and using the reverse grip to move the blade on his right to slice his opponent across the belly, he danced to his right, using his left hand to obscure his blade’s position for the barest of moments, before moving it up to block the onrushing axe across the haft, and then spinning around in a pirouette that slashed his unbalanced opponent across the abdomen.
His opponent fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. Gawain reversed his grip back to a normal sword grip, and chopped down. The man’s neck erupted with blood.
Gawain was beginning to collapse to the ground when Ereskel caught him. The bounty hunter grinned widely. “Good! Very good!”

“How many men did he kill?” Baryn asked Ereskel in the small hut as he tended to Gawain’s wounds. The unconscious boy laid on his straw mat, naked except for the numerous bandages covering his injuries. A single candle lit up the confines of the hut, flickering whenever a breeze turned strong for a moment.
Ereskel counted quietly. “One… two… three… four… five. He killed five men.”
Baryn was aghast. “Five men? He actually killed five men?” He did not speak again for a long time as they patched the boy up.
An hour later, they had washed Gawain up and bound most of his wounds. Baryn said, “Ereskel, I am… old.” Ereskel looked at him. “You said yesterday that I was a tiger. Remember?” This kid is a tiger! Just like you and me… He’s a tiger!
He laughed softly, though it was also more of a half sob. “Although you were my student… when you called me that I was a tiger, I was actually a bit happy.” Ereskel stared at him with surprise as he admitted, “I have become useless in my dotage!”
Gawain stirred, and opened his eyes slightly.
“Ereskel, because of you, in a single night, even his face is no longer that of a boy, but of a man.” Baryn choked back a sob. “ Thank you.”
Ereskel grinned broadly. “Don’t say that! You did most of the work!”
“Really?”
“Yes!” Ereskel nodded. They sat in comfortable silence, Baryn no longer trapped by their shared past. His grudge against Ereskel was gone.
Dawn broke, the sun slowly rising. Baryn quickly wrote a single word on a piece of spare paper, and held it up to the lying Gawain, who was awake, but still in great pain.
“Potential, boy. Every person in the world has talent and potential. Your talent lies with the sword. I know that now. And your potential…” Baryn sighed. “I really do not know, except that I know that you have a very deep pool of it.”
Gawain closed his eyes, slipped back into sleep. Baryn sat by his side, fighting back the urge to cry. “Your future lies not in this village, but out there. I’ve been holding you back, and now it’s time for you to leave. Seek your destiny, Gawain.” He recalled all the times they had spent together, years of watching Gawain grow up. Tears finally streaked down his cheek.
Baryn turned to face Ereskel, and kowtowed to him, who quickly moved to stop him before his head could touch the floor. “Master! Don’t!”
“Ereskel, I entrust Gawain to you now. Please take care of him!”
Ereskel nodded solemnly. “I will. The share of the bounty, do you want it?”
“No. Give it to Gawain, he had earned it. Use it to find a cure for his deafness, Ereskel.”
Ereskel bowed to Baryn. “I will not forsake the trust you have given me, Master McCleon.”

After a week of recuperation, Gawain was ready to go, although he was still limping slightly. Ereskel had booked passage on a ship off Crimond that was due to depart in four days, and they needed to get to the starport to board the ship. Rudel went with them, also seeking his dreams of glory and fortune.
As they left the village, by the sign that denoted the village’s domain, where he had never walked past before in his life, Gawain turned to look back at the place he had called home for the past sixteen years. He felt hot tears sting his cheeks.
He was finally leaving his home.
“Hey! Come on!” Rudel yelled, waving his arm to catch Gawain’s attention. Gawain hurried to catch up.
On the way, they passed by a stall selling sweetmeats. Ereskel saw the interest on both Gawain and Rudel’s faces, and bought the snacks for them. They munched on the food as they walked, marveling at the sights they had never seen before, save on the television set.
Gawain thought. Hello, colorful world out there.

Baryn stood quietly on the rocks by the beach, the same place where he had first seen Gawain, where he had saved the infant from certain death. One hand held the longsword Gawain had grown up with.
“That boy… didn’t even remember to bring his longsword with him. Or maybe… he doesn’t really need it anymore.”
Baryn dropped the longsword into the sea, tears streaming down his face. “These tears… just won’t stop falling.”
He closed his eyes, remembering everything again. From the very moment he had seen Gawain, through Gawain’s days as a young boy trying to learn how to read, to the battle with Ygles Scartorn, to their daily sparing matches, to the final farewell at the small hut. He did not know if Gawain would ever return, away from the world of conflict out there in the stars, or if that same conflict would claim Gawain’s life. In any case, he knew it was Gawain’s choice, his life to throw away. It was never his decision to make.
He had collected all of Gawain’s books from the small hut, and donated it to the small village library. The elder was thinking of hiring a teacher to teach their young, and the books would come in handy. The words of change and progress were slowly being whispered amongst the village people, and everybody had suddenly new hopes for the future.
Baryn relived the last moments of Gawain’s fight on the beach. The moves were fast and sure, the boy perfectly balanced despite fatigue and blood loss. And with that came a s urge of pride. Baryn yelled out to the ocean, “I WILL NOT TEACH YOU THE SWORD!” He chuckled loudly, knowing that Ereskel was right, Gawain was right, laughing at his own stupidity. For the past few years, he had done nothing else but to teach Gawain the sword.
L ife with the sword was not as pointless as he had thought. The sword still held meaning and honor. Ereskel had told him of the crimes of the fugitives, genocide and worse. Gawain had merely been the unwitting avenger for their victims. The sword can be used to bring justice as well. And yes, Gawain, the way of the sword is a meaningful one, and there are many paths for one to take. For mine, it was to raise a superior blademaster like you! Ereskel, you must guide him well.
Baryn McCleon laughed, finally free of his sorrows and the chains that had weighed him down for so long.
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The Games that Gods Play