Gargara tossed his head furiously, his black mane whipping across his face. ‘Enough! I am not here to talk. Kneel before me now or every one of you shall die.’
‘As will many of yours.’ Regulus could see that a number of the men who stood beside Gargara were not so keen on the prospect of battle. Most of them looked as weary as Regulus’ own warriors. ‘But there is a way of cheating the Dark Walker of his sport. A challenge. You and I, Gargara. Tooth and claw.’
Regulus spat his last words with relish, taunting Gargara with the prospect of a duel. If he had hoped the champion of the Kel’tana might be intimidated he was sorely mistaken as Gargara smiled, his eyes lighting up at the prospect, his white fangs flashing in the sunlight.
‘I have killed a hundred pups like you with the claw,’ he replied, unbuckling his sword and axe and letting them drop to the ground. ‘Torn out a score of throats with the tooth. But yours will give particular pleasure, Gor’tana scum.’
Regulus skewered his black blade in the soft earth. ‘Then come,’ he said, his voice a hateful growl. ‘Here is my throat. Come and take it.’
Gargara charged, churning up the ground between them as he raced up the hill. Regulus waited for him to come, letting his hatred roil inside as his claws sprang forth from his fingertips. He bared his fangs, unleashing a roar that more than matched that of Gargara.
They both leapt at one another on that hilltop, encircled by the warriors of both tribes. With a flurry of claw swipes, Gargara took the initiative. He was a mountain of muscle, his flesh scarred and torn from a hundred battles, his deadly reputation well earned. Regulus was hard pressed to avoid his blows, knowing that a single one could tear open his flesh. As Regulus ducked those claws, Gargara’s head shot forward and he attempted a bite with gnashing fangs. Regulus kicked out, leaping backwards away from the deadly teeth and hot stinking breath of his enemy.
They paused for a moment, facing one another and Regulus crouched low, ready to pounce as Gargara, eyes wide with rage, charged forward once more. With a quick swipe of his claws, Regulus opened his opponent’s thigh. He tried a second swipe with his other hand, but Gargara was faster, rending three red claw marks across Regulus’ chest. They backed off, stalking each other once more, breathing deeply as their men watched in silence.
Gargara Kel stepped forward and Regulus could see his hate had dissipated slightly, the pain from the wound in his thigh taught him that he fought no pup, but a seasoned warrior. This seemed, briefly, to quench the fury in his eyes. Then, with another roar, Gargara came on again, and Regulus was only too keen to meet him.
The enemies traded quick blows, blood spattering as they cut deep rents in one another’s flesh, their grunts of anger growing louder, more frantic. As Gargara launched his head forward attempting another bite, Regulus ducked, lashing out with a claw. Gargara pulled away, but not fast enough — as Regulus tore at Gargara’s head, ripping the flesh of his face from nose to ear, a black talon bursting his enemy’s eye.
Gargara screamed again, but this time in pain, blood running through his fingers as he vainly tried to staunch the wound. Regulus might almost have smiled, but he knew he was not victorious yet.
He raced forward, keen to press his advantage, leaping for his enemy’s throat, but Gargara showed why he was champion of the Kel’tana. As Regulus leapt, Gargara reached forward, heedless of the teeth and claws that had scored great tears in his body, and grasped Regulus by the throat.
Helpless in that grip, Regulus felt his enemy’s claws pierce the flesh of his neck as he was squeezed tighter, throttled, driven to his knees. Gargara glared from one baleful eye, seemingly indifferent to the bloody ruin of the other. The smile appearing on his face revealed two rows of razor teeth. Shame washed over Regulus as he imagined those teeth tearing into his heart to consume his warrior’s strength. How he would shame his father’s memory, shame the Gor’tana with his defeat.
As his vision began to grow blurred, Regulus snapped out an arm, rending asunder the loincloth between Gargara’s legs and clamping his black talons around his foe’s genitals. Gargara had no time to panic before Regulus closed his clawed grip, tearing them off in his hand and gelding his opponent as he stood on the cusp of victory.
Gargara’s high-pitched scream echoed across the hilltops as he reeled backwards, releasing his grip on Regulus’ throat. It was all the opening Regulus needed. With teeth bared he flung himself at his enemy, clamping his jaws around Gargara’s neck and tearing out his throat. The champion of the Kel’tana collapsed, blood gushing from throat and groin.
Regulus staggered away, staring at the warriors who had pursued them for so many leagues. Then he flung Gargara’s bloody genitals onto his dying body.
He was about to tell Gargara’s warriors to run, to flee south back to their homeland and tell Faro that someday soon Regulus would come to reclaim the chieftainship of his father’s tribe.
But Janto Sho had other ideas.
Whether his bloodlust had been fuelled by watching so vicious a duel, or whether he craved blood himself, the warrior of the Sho’tana gave a roar of his own. With one axe he beheaded a man to his left, and with the other he cleft the skull of the warrior to his right.
Regulus had no chance to offer clemency — the rest of his warriors were quick to battle, young Akkula and the venerable Leandran quickest of all. The men of the Kel’tana were at first taken by surprise, but fast to counter, and Regulus barely managed to retrieve his blade from where it was skewered in the ground before he was set upon by a pair of warriors. He ducked a sword blow from one, severing the leg of the other before parrying the first sword as it came at him again. If his opponent thought Regulus might have been weakened by his battle with Gargara he was sorely mistaken. Screaming his rage, his blood still up from his duel, Regulus pushed his opponent’s blade back. The warrior stumbled a step down the hill, dropping his guard just long enough for Regulus to hack down with his sword, splitting the warrior at the shoulder right down to his ribs.
He pulled his weapon clear, and saw that his men had made short work of the Kel’tana. A dozen of them lay dead, the handful of survivors fleeing back towards the treeline as the Gor’tana roared their victory. But it was a victory hard won.
On the ground, amongst the bodies of the Kel’tana were four of his own — Ortera, Felik, Churnik and Theoda. All had been brave and loyal warriors and many had fought alongside Regulus since they were boys. He hoped that they might reach the stars before the Dark Walker knew of their deaths.
Regulus could not bring himself to blame Janto for his rashness — he suspected the Kel’tana would not have spared his men, whatever the outcome of the duel.
Now there were only five left in his warparty, but he would be sure to celebrate his victory as though they were a thousand strong. Leandran was the first to cry out in triumph as their enemies fled into the forest. Regulus was quick to join him and soon all six Zatani were raising their voices in a terrible cacophony.
Later, after the sun had dropped below the horizon and they had lit four pyres for their fallen, Leandran observed the funeral rites. The bodies of the Kel’tana they left to the carrion eaters. Regulus had no desire to hamper their journey to the stars and so all were left with their teeth and claws. All except Gargara Kel.
The champion’s corpse was laid out in their midst and Regulus, alongside his remaining men, looked down on it with loathing. They had already stripped him of his fangs, already ripped the claws from his fingertips and cast them to the ground. As victor in their duel, Regulus would receive the honour of being the first among them to feast.