“First of all, you need to know the full story,” Atikus said and pushed the sword forward slightly. A scarlet trickle began to run down Hadjar’s throat. “I’m glad you still remember what I taught you, Prince.”
The reminder that, as a child, Hadjar had used to sit on the knee of the then honorable General and to listen to his stories with his mouth open was as insulting as a slap to the face. Hadjar, who had been slapped numerous times, could flare up from just one.
“You know, in all your stories and teachings, I don’t remember any lessons about betrayal,” Hadjar almost snarled.
Now it was Atikus’ turn to flinch as if he’d been slapped. Just that brief moment, when his enemy’s blade moved less than an inch away from his throat, was enough for Hadjar to draw his own sword.
Steel flashed, red sparks fell to the floor, and then the two warriors were standing opposite each other. Their swords were crossed and ready for battle.
“You are astoundingly quick, my Prince,” Atikus was a little shocked. “Perhaps you are faster than anyone I’ve ever fought against.”
“Then you can hope that your death will be swift as well,” Hadjar didn’t restrain himself any longer. An enraged dragon coiled behind his eyes, ready to strike, and an inhuman growl escaped him. “But I can’t promise that.”
Hadjar had been ready for anything. Atikus’ famous ‘Sky Piercing Slash’ Technique, for example. With his own eyes, he had seen Atikus cut a huge boulder in half at a distance of forty steps using it. To a young Hadjar, that had been comparable to the feats of legendary heroes.
He’d even been expecting some sort of vile trick: hidden traps or poisonous darts. But what the traitor actually did was something that Hadjar couldn’t even comprehend, let alone prepare for.
Atikus’s expression showed he was weary. He looked as tired as if he’d been carrying the whole world on his shoulders for centuries. His lips curved into a sad smile, and his hands shook for the first time. His sword fell from his unsteady grip. With a thud, it got stuck in the wooden floor, shook a couple of times, and stilled. Now unarmed, Atikus stood opposite Hadjar. He spread his arms out and seemed ready to embrace and even welcome the death that would soon come for him.
“My Prince, I’ve been dead for nearly fifteen years now,” Atikus croaked. On his right cheek, there was a small teardrop which contained so much pain that it could’ve turned into enough rain to last a whole month. “I made a mistake, my Prince. That mistake cost me more than just my life. No matter how hard I try, I will never atone for my sins.”
Hadjar looked into his former idol’s dark eyes. He found no anger there, no rage, not even a willingness to do battle. Only fatigue and regret. An ocean of regret lapping against the shores of a vast universe of pain. Atikus had suffered greatly and was perhaps glad that someone would finally take his life. It was possible he even craved it. He wanted it much more than Hadjar wanted to kill the traitor.
“Tell me the truth,” Hadjar said in a calmer manner, sheathing his sword. “Tell me why Primus betrayed my father and why you helped him.”
“That is a long story, my Prince. It’ll bring you neither relief nor joy. I have already lingered for too long on this earth. The judgment of my forefathers and the stigma of dishonor have waited for too long already. Let us end this.”
Hadjar’s eyes flashed with anger.
“If you’re truly so sorry for what you did, Atikus, you would’ve been more careful and lied to me more convincingly. You don’t want to spare me, you just don’t want to remember the past.”
Atikus twitched again and his expression became stern.
“Maybe I have no honor left,” his voice was cold iron, “but no one has ever dared to accuse me of cowardice.”
“Then tell me!” Hadjar almost roared back.
The canopy was thrown aside and four men ran in with their swords drawn. Hadjar prepared for battle, but Atikus shook his head and made a couple of gestures with his hand. The men hesitated for a moment and then left.
“It’ll be a long story, my Prince. After hearing it, your world will no longer be as black and white as before. In any case, these events made me go down a crossroads. Alas, I realized too late that I had chosen the wrong turn.”
“Tell me,” Hadjar repeated.
“Very well, my Prince. Listen carefully. This is a story that neither the honorable Master nor the wise South Wind ever told you. A story that almost no one knows, and those who remember it try their best to forget. A story that you, most likely, will never believe. A story of two brothers, neither of which wanted to betray the other, but they both did so...”
Hadjar listened to Atikus’ story and visions of the past appeared before his eyes.
***
It all started with Hadjar standing on a balcony, watching his parents, Atikus, Primus, and the other Generals leaving the capital. The nomads on their borders had started their seasonal raids. However, this time, the King had decided to go beyond merely repelling them, and instead wanted to march across the borders of their Kingdom and strike at the capital of the nomadic tribe.
The battle was bloody. They had to fight on the bank of a wide river. The nomads initially had the advantage — they were attacking from dry land while the troops of Lidus had to disembark from their boats as they fought.
That day, Atikus decided, luck hadn’t just turned away from him, but had spat in his face. As soon as he made it ashore, he slipped on the river sludge. He lost his balance for a moment, which was enough to allow five arrows to pierce his body. Haver saw it happen. With a roar, he cut his
