Survive

[Djakara]

Closed to Carter

There was something particularly unsettling about the way that the grass was tinted red. The fact was, no grass grew that way naturally, and it was even clear from the roots of the field that the grass in The Black Steppe was not dyed by curse, unless of course that curse was the curse of arrogance. Djakara had heard great stories about the battles that had been fought in the secluded plain, grandiose stories about honor and courage. However, the alien never really understood what was supposedly so honorable about killing and dying. He could of course see the honor of sacrifice, but it seemed that for most of the battles in The Black Steppe, the battle itself was the goal of the competitors.

Ideologies like that always made Djakara uneasy. He was not particularly squeamish with the idea of death, or even at the thought that there were times that people had to die. However, the boy never much cared for the idea that valor was won through fighting needlessly, and cared even less for those who attached heavy ideology on to battles that were clearly undeserving. The grass in The Black Steppe held the memories of these battles in all the blood that was spilled. The entire plain was a monument, a grave of those who had fallen.

“It is a monument to idiocy,” Djakara thought snidely. “A monument to stupidity, pointlessness and everything else that is wrong in this stupid country.” The fact was, despite his new ties to the government, Djakara hated Alerar. However, now that he was forced to stay, the boy intended to understand the people who he was dealing with. Thus, he had come to The Black Steppe seeking to observe a battle between two warriors, just so he could understand what it was that compelled them to fight.

He had been waiting for about half an hour, but there had been no sign of a battle yet. Djakara tried to be patient about it, but he didn’t really like waiting among the blood dyed grass. The smell was pungent, the air of rotted flesh made for an almost nauseous taste in his mouth. There wasn’t even a rock anywhere around where the boy could have sat if he had chosen.

Sighing, the boy looked around the plain with a bit of despondency, thinking it a shame that there was no tree or large rock which he could use for shielding when the battle was to begin. For a bit, Djakara reconsidered the shrewdness of his plan and whether or not some stray projectile might hit him instead of its intended target, but ended up deciding to wait a bit longer.

“Just another half hour,” he swore to himself. “After that… I’m gone…”

[Carter]

Strange people these so called dark elves were. They appeared to be very human like, although on the same token their skin was green, and certain characteristics set them apart from the human race. The most prominent difference was the way they carried themselves as they made their way around their so called native land of Alerar. They walked amongst the shadows of the night, weaving in and out of clusters if they could see as plain as day. Carter had arrived in the land of the dark elves days before, and he still could not adapt himself to the darkness in which the elves lived in. His eyes were unable to view his surroundings as clearly as the many inhabitants that surrounded him as they meddled around the streets, attempting to live normal lives. They looked at him as if he were a retard, stumbling over objects which they could clearly see, but which were shrouded in the darkness to Carter. Cursing under his breath, he could hear himself wishing he had done more research before rushing off into this distant land.

When leaving Corone, Carter had one goal in mind, which was to train his skills by testing himself in battle. Since the destruction of not only his tribe, but also the life in which he used to live, Carter had one thought on his mind, revenge. In the city of Rasadanth, he had learnt of a place within the continent of the dark elves, which was a battle ground. A place where warriors trekked miles far and wide to test themselves against what they felt was combatants of equal military strengths and weaknesses. The battle ground was called the ‘Black Steppe’, and the mere mention of it sent chills down the spines of those that new the goings on of the battle field. However, instead of finding out all the details, Carter rushed off to find this battle field, and test himself in order to better himself, and take one step towards avenging his people.

*** The Black Steppe***

Despite the lack of aid from the elves, Carter had managed to make it from Corone to Alerar, and finally found himself taking his first step onto the well known ground of the Black Steppe. An instant feeling of foreboding swept over him as he took his first few steps among the blood red grass. Looking out over the field, Carter was filled with both anxiety, and fear. He had never truly fought someone, and judging by the grass, the people who fought here went all or nothing. Gripping the shaft of Menace slightly tighter, his knuckle whitened under the pressure of his grip. The thought of an upcoming battle caused Carter’s heart to race as he pictured himself lying on the ground, blood oozing from a monstrous gash which left his flesh ripped open across his chest. A shudder ran down his spine as drops of sweat began to form on his brow. Shaking his head, he forced his mind clear of these images of death. “If I’m going to avenge my people, this is a good a place as any to start.” His words of comfort did little to settle his spiking heart rate as he took a few unsure steps into the plateau.

His feet trudged on through the crimson grass, as his mind began to wander. Carter had been haunted by images of the bodies of his tribe. Mutilated by the very leader in which they all trusted, every single clan member, except him. These thoughts had assaulted him not only in his dreams, but while his conscious state drifted off into the day dream in which he was now wandering through. The surroundings of the Black Steppe were all melted together as Carter simply ignored the scenery, despite the nagging feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that something was going to go wrong if he didn’t keep on his toes.

The daydream in which Carter was drifting in was only cut short by the sound of someone talking. The words were unclear, but their voice was enough to wrench the twenty one year old male from his mindless thoughts. Where there had been empty field’s moments before, a form of a human has suddenly filled the emptiness. His surrounding came rushing back into crystal clear view as Carter’s heart leapt into his throat. He could feel it pounding inside him, causing his breath to come in short gasps as he stared at the man in front of him. What if this man wanted to fight, and would soon be lashing out at Carter for coming within range. Maybe he would not stop until the last breath left the very lungs with which Carter breathed. Unsure what to do, Carter felt his instincts grabbing hold of his body, as he brought the tip of his spear in front of him, separating him from the man.

Despite his best efforts to control his emotions, Carter could hear the fear in his voice as he attempted to speak to the figure before him. “I don’t want any trouble.” His first sentence trembled with weakness, but as he spoke, his arrogance began to take hold of him as he realized how young this man appeared to be. “However, if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll be forced to add your blood to the countless others whose have been spilt here.”

[Djakara]

Though he should have perhaps expected as much, Djakara was a bit taken aback by the way that this stranger had spoken to him. There may have been a good amount of reason for suspicion among strangers in a place like this where the laws didn’t apply, but even then, the boy didn’t know why he was being accosted so rudely. “Even a fighter would want to save his strength for a challenge,” Djakara thought. He bit his lip, trying to figure out what explained this stranger’s motivations.

Soon enough, it all became clear to the former refugee. He had dealt with people like this stranger his entire life. They were nothing more than bullies. And just like the vampire bully that had to be defeated in Underwood, Djakara knew there was only one way to deal with this kind of a person. Djakara was going to have to intimidate the stranger into submission.

Still, the boy made no reach for his weapon. Djakara didn’t want to create a foe unless it was absolutely necessary. However, the air around his fingertips began to buzz with excitement, as if the latent power of electricity was waiting to be released from his hands. Tension was beginning to mount, and Djakara knew that if he made a mistake, he was going to end up in the middle of the fight that he had come only to witness. He wasn’t a warrior, and had thus far succeeded on Althanas by staying out of trouble.

However, his own desires meant little when he was pressed into such a difficult situation. Already, too much time had passed since the stranger last spoke. Djakara couldn’t afford to wait any longer. “My name is Djakara Fraye,” he began. “And I am prepared to defend myself if necessary. I suggest you keep going wherever you’re going to, and leave me here alone to my business.”

With that, the boy thought back to his escape away from his home planet to Althanas, and realized just how shaken he had felt when he had been forced to take a life. In fields painted with blood, that was an inevitability of life. Djakara didn’t know if he had the courage. Regardless, he hoped he wouldn’t find out.

After Djakara spoke, the air around his fingertips began to cackle. Standing near this stranger at the edge of battle was more tension than he could stand. Part of the boy just wanted to attack, so that he could just end the uneasiness and uncertainty. Fear still reined Djakara in for the moment, but it would not last for ever.

Something would have to give.

[Carter]

A lump swelled within Carter’s throat as he struggled to swallow as this man in front of him did not falter the slightest at his threat. If anything it seemed that Carter’s words had simply provoked the situation, causing the tension to rise, almost sending electricity between the two as the staring contest began. Neither willing to make a move towards the other, not even a word penetrated the mounting tension as questions raced through Carter’s mind. Scenarios flashed through his mind of the options in which he had to escape this situation with his heart still beating.

He could attack this boy, and hopefully be able to overtake him quick and move along his way. However, there was a definite flaw in this plan of attack. If by chance, this man had some unexpected power or strength, and overcame Carter it would be him left dieing, adding to the crimson life essence that had already been spilt on this land. The other option was to give up before it started, and back away slowly letting this complete stranger win without even lifting a single finger. The idea of surrendering causes Carter’s cheeks to flush with the embarrassments that he felt for simply thinking of turning and high tailing it out of the Black Steppe.

Locking eyes with the stranger Carter shifted his footing slightly. Digging the tips of his boots into the ground he felt himself gaining traction from the ground. Gathering up his wits, he continued to look into unnerving blackness of the man’s eyes before him. “Well Djakara, since you gave your name, my name is Carter Kingsley. And I feel it is in your best interest to get out of my way. I do not wish to start a fight, but if you don’t get out of my way, I will be forced to remove you from my path.” His words were thrown towards his opponent with determination, and confidence. Carter could feel his adrenaline beginning to pump through his veins. Although he wished the man would leave, he doubted those chances, and could feel his muscles preparing for what he senses was coming.

Waiting for the man to decide, Carter took a step towards the man, bringing the point of his spear within a foot or two if this strange man’s chest. Carter had been unable to protect the people of his tribe, but he refused to let himself get pushed around by men like the one who was positioned in front of him. Sweat began to form on Carter’s brow as his nerves caused a slight sweat to break out over his body. “This is your final warning, get out of my way, or I will strike you down.” Tensing up, Carter prepared to strike at Djakara is he refused to move out of the way.

[Djakara]

Djakara tried not to laugh too hard at the idea of a final warning. In a place like this, nothing was final except death. It seemed so ironic, the idea of permanence in a place where life itself was put in jeopardy. Given the situation, all that escaped from the side of the boy’s mouth was a sardonic chuckle, an ode to both the bitter humor of the situation and that Carter’s demands were ones to which only a fool could comply. Djakara didn’t want to fight, but if it was about survival, he knew he wanted to survive. He had already escaped the Republic, and fought through enough dangers along the way to make it into Alerar safely. By now, Djakara knew that he had what it took to survive, and if that was going to require killing, then that would have to be it.

“If he really wanted this to end peacefully, he wouldn’t have drawn a weapon,” Djakara reasoned, even though he knew that wasn’t true. Perhaps Carter was just acting defensively, but there was no way to know for certain. The only thing that Djakara knew to be true was that this battle wasn’t like the pantomimes that happened in the Citadel, the winner didn’t get a bag of gold or entertain a crowd, but instead was the only one to leave alive.

The tension was reaching its boiling point. Even though Djakara hadn’t drawn a weapon, it seemed like the battle was eminent now. There was no reason Carter should have pressed on otherwise. It should have been clear that Djakara didn’t want to fight by the way that nervous sweat was running down his brow and flushed look on his face that he really hadn’t wanted a fight to begin with. The boy didn’t notice any of the same aspects in Carter. “He’s a bully,” Djakara remembered. “And bullies don’t back down.”

And as if to add insult to injury, this Carter had insisted that he move away. “As if I didn’t get to the Black Steppe first myself,” Djakara thought. He bit his lip as anger began to mount inside of him. Now that he knew he was going to have to go into battle, he felt as if he needed this rage to somehow get him through. When he had killed before, it had been because of sheer desperation. That motivation would only work once. Now, if he was going to succeed, Djakara knew he was going to need rage.

Then, without anything more than another second’s hesitation, Djakara let the lightning that had been collecting on his fingers fly out straight at Carter’s sword.