“Kall’Tra”
by
Sweat and grime trickled from his shaven head, across his wrinkled
brow and down his nose, ending in droplets that fell intermittently. He wiped the sweat from his eyes quickly and
eyed his Klingon opponent with an expert appraisal. Assessing wounds and weaknesses, looking for one to be exploited.
Walking along the edge of the highest of the three tiers the two
looked for their seats. From the
vantage point provided, they could barely make out the two figures below them
in the center of the round arena. Eight
massive columns rose from the edges of the fighting area to support the two
upper levels. The fact that this place
was still in use, even though it was millennia old, spoke of the master-builders
who had constructed it. Large
vid-screens had been placed at key points along the upper levels, standing out
in the anachronistic setting, to provide a proper view of the spectacle below. .
Karzen stared flatly at the Klingon as though measuring him for a
coffin. The Trill gently flexed his
grip upon his sword, the blade seeming to respond to his touch like a living
stream of duranium.
The Klingon slowly pulled his own sword from its sheath. The weapon shimmered evilly as it slid free.
Dancing with the light of countless
stars, the weapon gibbered madly as if having a need to feed on Karzen’s blood.
Thuffin snatched the program out of his brother’s hand and read
it. “It won’t help him any. Karzen is too good to be distracted by a
sword that glows and makes a bunch of noise.”
Pyrrhus huffed as he took the program back. “This can’t be right. The only thing listed for the Trill is his
sword and breeches.”
Thuffin spoke without taking his eyes off the vid-screen. “That’s all he needs.”
“Oh this is SWE-ET!” The Klingon exclaimed as he moved with syrupy
slowness, like a creature soaring through its own ultimate dream. “I’m not just going to kill you Trill. I’m going to eat your heart!”
Thuffin slapped his brother in the back of the head. “I told you, I read it in Kall’tra Match
Weekly. His owner doesn’t believe in
drugs. If Karzen used them, Durzen
would kill him.” Thuffin pulled out a
PADD and keyed in a few commands, then shoved it into his brother’s hands. “See, it says so right there.”
Pyrrhus examined the PADD and handed it back to his brother. “He doesn’t have a chance. You’re going to owe me ten strips when this
is over.”
Thuffin snorted in amusement.
“I’ve heard that before. You
always bet against Karzen. He hasn’t
lost yet.”
The Trill’s sword snapped up to parry, sparks spattering as the
duranium wailed in agony. The screaming
warrior whirled like a dervish, whipping the dark blade in an almost invisible
blur. The Trill stood like a rock, his
own sword blocking the other time and time again. The dark-sword howled in hunger as it lunged and slashed, but the
Trill smashed it aside even as it screeched for his blood. Sparks showered and skittered all across the
arena floor. The crowd roared with
excitement as they saw Karzen stand at the center of a blur of duranium and
sparks.
Thuffin barely moved as he spoke, “He ain’t dead yet.”
The Klingon cut high, cut low, then made three lightning fast
thrusts at the Trill’s flesh. The blade
flashed left and right as Karzen swayed aside – then suddenly the man whirled
and trapped the Klingon’s arm against himself.
Karzen locked the Klingon’s wrist and hammered viciously against his
elbow, breaking the arm with a horrific snap.
Moving inhumanly fast, the warrior ripped free, transferring his sword
to his other hand.
He snarled in from above – cut high, cut low, cut again. The sword’s passage was marked by screams as
it smacked time and time again against the Trill’s own blade. The Trill shifted his weight back and forth,
his face cold with concentration as he moved with the short, efficient motions
of a master swordsman.
Pyrrhus snorted in disgust.
“Dead guys don’t sign autographs.”
Suddenly, the Klingon’s power was gone. The drugs had been metabolized.
The Klingon faltered, and the Trill instantly sliced his sword
down. In response, the warrior threw
his own sword up to block the blow, the immense power of the attack slamming
him off his feet. Knocked backward, he
slid along the floor of the arena, dodging wildly as the Trill’s blade came
smashing down. One shoulder was flayed
open as he tried to roll aside, and the warrior screamed in agony. The Trill’s sword slashed in a blur. He dodged left, right, then left again. Despite the Klingon’s best efforts, the
other shoulder was slit open in a sudden horrific swipe of the Trill’s sword.
The brother punched Thuffin in the arm. “He’s still got a trick or two up his sleeve, I’m sure. He ain’t dead yet.”
Sheathed in blood, the two combatants poised themselves a few
meters apart, then charged toward each other in a titanic clash of force, the
Klingon whirling in a circle to hack at the Trill’s heels. Karzen jumped the blade and kicked his enemy
in his broken arm, hammering his foot into the wound. Broken bones grated, and the Klingon gave a screech of agony.
Reeling free, the warrior staggered to the edge of Karzen’s
range. The Klingon stood still for just
a moment, once the drugs in his system kicked back in his broken arm healed
within moments. He whirled and came
racing at the Trill.
“Are you kdding? They make
the matches last longer and more exicting.
If they don’t get the kill in between surges, well…” Pyr waved toward
the view screen, “It’s a whole new fight.”
Running with blood, Karzen shook his head and parried a lethal
lunge aimed straight at his eye. He
blocked the blow one-handed, ramming the heel of his fist up into the Klingon’s
chin. His enemy rocked, and the Trill’s
sword whipped to tear great slashes across his hide.
The Klingon’s wounds closed instantly, each one diminishing the
haze of chemical energy. As he stabbed
at him, Karzen roared and made a killing thrust, ramming his sword into the
brute’s heart. He viciously twisted the
blade like a corkscrew, and the Klingon screeched in torment on his hook. He ripped free, the chemicals hissing into
the wound. The energy flickered out and
died. Only half-healed, the Klingon’s
main heart ran with blood.
Pyrrhus jumped to his feet, thoughts of losing more money to his
brother on his mind. Karzen was
obviously out-matched when compared to the Klingon. There was no way he should be winning. Frustrated, Pyr replied, “He ain’t dead yet.”
Nine identical Klingons suddenly made a circle about the Trill,
all of them running sideways in a hellish carousel. Nine mouths laughed, and nine dark swords whirled. He sped around and around the Trill. Dark sword glittering in a stream of deadly
stars.
Pyrrhus, a smug expression on his face, said “If he’s so good, it
shouldn’t matter. You want to pay me
now, or later?”
Thuffin shot the younger brother a wicked look. “He ain’t dead yet.”
The ring of devils raced faster and faster, coming closer to the
trill. The Klingon gave a cry of joy –
then halted as he saw the trill bow his head and close his eyes.
“He must be. Look at him,
he’s just waiting for the Klingon to kill him.” Pyrrhus declared.
“How the hell did he get this far into the Kall’tra?” Thuffin wondered out loud.
The trills ears twitched.
Moving with vicious speed, Karzen whipped his blade up behind his back
and caught the real sword as it came scything at his spine. The man spun, his sword blurring forward in
a lunge. With a horrific sound, it
rammed into the warriors flesh and nine Klingon images screamed in horror as
they were run through the second heart.
Eight images flashed and disappeared, leaving the Trill’s enemy
impaled on his blade. The gladiator
twisted his sword, ripped it free, then brought the weapon down in one enormous
blow. He hacked the screaming warrior
in two, his blade scything down to clang on the stone floor. With blood exploding from his flesh, the
Klingon fell in two twitching halves, his last scream echoing as the dark sword
fell impotent against the ground.
Breathing hard, Karzen slowly
lowered his sword. Blood ran from his back,
waist, arms and thighs. He knelt and
wiped his blade clean in his dead foe’s hair, then grimly slammed the blade
back in its sheath.
“Karzen HAS to use drugs and
tech.” Pyrrhus exclaimed dourly. He handed a credit chip to his brother as
the duo headed for the nearest stairway
“No way!! He’s just that good Pyr.”
Thuffin replied a bit defensively.
“You are such a sore loser sometimes.”
“That Klingon was fast as shit Thuff. No way Karzen could have beat him without
some kind of enhancement.”
Thuffin pulled out the article
again, slapping it into Pyrrhus’ hand.
“Read the fucking article Pyr.
No enhancements. That’s Durzen’s
deal. He only gets one fighter past the
second round every two or three years, but when he does. The guy kicks ass.”
“I still say he had some help. Even if it was only some type of hearing
enhancement Thuff.”
Thuffin smacked his brother in the back of the head. “You are such an idiot Pyr.”
Karzen had done it.
