“The winner is Izdaha Saya! Ashojan had apparently experienced a saharic overdose! But it appears that Izdaha has collapsed!...”
“From Jalàdz Hall. Requesting a stretcher to the infirmary stat.”
“Ms. Izdaha, are you alright? It’s me, Tsuchiya.”
Saya’s body got scooped up in someone’s arms, while they exited the arena. Her consciousness slipped in and out, like waves crashing against the rock cliffs. She didn’t even know who was carrying her. Just a voice calming her.
“It’ll be alright. I made a promise to a Laoyuang prince. He will not allow you to die here.”
“Saya… What happened to Mashuu? Hey! What’s going on?...”
“Zundui, grab her weapon!”
They all worried about her, but she wanted them to save Mashuu too. He was the one that was dying. He needed help the most. Faintly she lifted her arm weakly to no avail.
“What’s her condition?”
“Her blood vessels might be clotted with saharic particles when she rapidly used a healing spell. Set her down on the stretcher.”
“Saya, did this clockmaker really beat you up?” Her father gripped his sheathed sword angrily, while she became determined to practice.
“Yeah, but- He was super strong and awesome!” Saya gave the opposite response that Qorchi had expected. “Like Toya!”
“Toya, huh…” He lowered his anger. Qorchi no longer smoked Tabako. He switched his job to one in the capital, meaning time spent with little Saya would be even shorter.
They were practicing in the Izdaha residence, where it was nothing but their old windmill and sinking metal structures around them. The chilly months of Arav, Arvan Neg, and Arvan Khoyor were afoot, the evening sun returning to the western horizon.
“Hey dad, do you know what actually is in the Dineh Kazaàd?” She stopped her wooden sword.
“Sadly, I don’t. That tournament is for the Dineh, and the Dineh people alone. We Yan and Dineh may be both Khoitan, but we have our differences.”
Saya fought fatigue to open her eyes. She lay on a stretcher, as people with white cloaks and stethoscopes walked past her. Examining herself, her feet and hand were wrapped in bandages, while an intravenous tube was connected to an IV stand. Sitting herself up, her back stinged with pain. Saya had only begun to realize what had happened, touching her forehead.
“Salutations, Miss Saya.”
Kwazhak sat across from her on a stool, Saya’s scimitar leaning on his shoulder. Dark circles were present along the bottom of his eyes, as if he’d been there for a long time. From the lighting coming from the glass ceiling, dusk was coming.
“One has obtained minor abrasions from the fight,” He set her sword down, crossing his arms. “For the doctor, it was easy to use a healing chant. However, for the injury caused by sahar, they can’t exactly use sahar for it.”
“So it’ll have to heal naturally?...”
“Correct. Luckily the Kazaàd Minor has come to an end, with a short day resting period,” Kwazhak responded nonchalantly, “Thou hath enough to-”
“Then how about Mashuu?” Saya interrupted suddenly. She took a gulp as he stayed expressionless. “If they could save me, then why didn’t they save him?”
“I think thou art aware of the rules. What he had was far beyond one’s own.”
“So they think they could decide who lives based on our condition!?...” She couldn’t believe it, as the words flew out of her mouth. “The Dineh Kazaàd I thought I was going to expect… in reality it wasn’t like that at all!” Her voice got louder, “I thought if I followed what I was expected to do then everything would be alright. I listened to Suruj and your instructions, but people ended up dead… So tell me… Tell me what I should do?!... I don’t want to kill anybody,” Saya covered up her face with her wounded hands, as to veil her teary eyes. Her body and mind ached for her wounds and dreams. Then she was surrounded by a blanket of warmth.
“In As-Z̆onghu̐a, this is a very… unpleasant conduct, though I have witnessed this from a fellow Buhang,” Kwazhak hugged Saya gently, letting her rest on his shoulder. “The truth is, Suruj and I don’t have the answers to everything. The instructions we give, might be the very one that leads to our deaths. I’m merely a pampered aristocrat, and I can’t really do anything. So I wish for everyone who is still alive to think on their own.”
He held on until Saya regained her composure. Sniffing, she could still feel the lumping pain in her chest, her static breathing.
“One has had expectations for how an ideal plan would operate. However in reality variables and procedures don’t proceed exactly as one would expect. That’s why we must mend the plan, hack at it, and reach for the most optimal solution,” Kwazhak stood back up, preparing to leave. “The crimson sarilang flower, the national flower of Tasdaha is said to symbolize the Dineh blood spilled in battle. Did they know that they were going to lose to Azutami? I’m sure one has heard that Khoitan proverb: ‘when the winds of change blow, some people build walls and others build windmills’,” He solemnly excused himself, bowing. “I’m sure one can think of how those words fit into our fatal predicament. Take care of thyself, Miss Saya. One has almost eradicated that barrier. ”
“...”
As the prince left to his own devices, Saya wondered how the other three were doing. Five people: Niktar Shunji, Jose Perez, Kwazhak Laoyuang, Suruj Zundui, and herself were the remaining fighters from the Minor. By the time Kwazhak was out the door, she decided on what to do.
“The winner is Izdaha Saya! Ashojan had apparently experienced a saharic overdose! But it appears that Izdaha has collapsed!...”
“From Jalàdz Hall. Requesting a stretcher to the infirmary stat.”
“Ms. Izdaha, are you alright? It’s me, Tsuchiya.”
Saya’s body got scooped up in someone’s arms, while they exited the arena. Her consciousness slipped in and out, like waves crashing against the rock cliffs. She didn’t even know who was carrying her. Just a voice calming her.
“It’ll be alright. I made a promise to a Laoyuang prince. He will not allow you to die here.”
“Saya… What happened to Mashuu? Hey! What’s going on?...”
“Zundui, grab her weapon!”
They all worried about her, but she wanted them to save Mashuu too. He was the one that was dying. He needed help the most. Faintly she lifted her arm weakly to no avail.
“What’s her condition?”
“Her blood vessels might be clotted with saharic particles when she rapidly used a healing spell. Set her down on the stretcher.”
“Saya, did this clockmaker really beat you up?” Her father gripped his sheathed sword angrily, while she became determined to practice.
“Yeah, but- He was super strong and awesome!” Saya gave the opposite response that Qorchi had expected. “Like Toya!”
“Toya, huh…” He lowered his anger. Qorchi no longer smoked Tabako. He switched his job to one in the capital, meaning time spent with little Saya would be even shorter.
They were practicing in the Izdaha residence, where it was nothing but their old windmill and sinking metal structures around them. The chilly months of Arav, Arvan Neg, and Arvan Khoyor were afoot, the evening sun returning to the western horizon.
“Hey dad, do you know what actually is in the Dineh Kazaàd?” She stopped her wooden sword.
“Sadly, I don’t. That tournament is for the Dineh, and the Dineh people alone. We Yan and Dineh may be both Khoitan, but we have our differences.”
Saya fought fatigue to open her eyes. She lay on a stretcher, as people with white cloaks and stethoscopes walked past her. Examining herself, her feet and hand were wrapped in bandages, while an intravenous tube was connected to an IV stand. Sitting herself up, her back stinged with pain. Saya had only begun to realize what had happened, touching her forehead.
“Salutations, Miss Saya.”
Kwazhak sat across from her on a stool, Saya’s scimitar leaning on his shoulder. Dark circles were present along the bottom of his eyes, as if he’d been there for a long time. From the lighting coming from the glass ceiling, dusk was coming.
“One has obtained minor abrasions from the fight,” He set her sword down, crossing his arms. “For the doctor, it was easy to use a healing chant. However, for the injury caused by sahar, they can’t exactly use sahar for it.”
“So it’ll have to heal naturally?...”
“Correct. Luckily the Kazaàd Minor has come to an end, with a short day resting period,” Kwazhak responded nonchalantly, “Thou hath enough to-”
“Then how about Mashuu?” Saya interrupted suddenly. She took a gulp as he stayed expressionless. “If they could save me, then why didn’t they save him?”
“I think thou art aware of the rules. What he had was far beyond one’s own.”
“So they think they could decide who lives based on our condition!?...” She couldn’t believe it, as the words flew out of her mouth. “The Dineh Kazaàd I thought I was going to expect… in reality it wasn’t like that at all!” Her voice got louder, “I thought if I followed what I was expected to do then everything would be alright. I listened to Suruj and your instructions, but people ended up dead… So tell me… Tell me what I should do?!... I don’t want to kill anybody,” Saya covered up her face with her wounded hands, as to veil her teary eyes. Her body and mind ached for her wounds and dreams. Then she was surrounded by a blanket of warmth.
“In As-Z̆onghu̐a, this is a very… unpleasant conduct, though I have witnessed this from a fellow Buhang,” Kwazhak hugged Saya gently, letting her rest on his shoulder. “The truth is, Suruj and I don’t have the answers to everything. The instructions we give, might be the very one that leads to our deaths. I’m merely a pampered aristocrat, and I can’t really do anything. So I wish for everyone who is still alive to think on their own.”
He held on until Saya regained her composure. Sniffing, she could still feel the lumping pain in her chest, her static breathing.
“One has had expectations for how an ideal plan would operate. However in reality variables and procedures don’t proceed exactly as one would expect. That’s why we must mend the plan, hack at it, and reach for the most optimal solution,” Kwazhak stood back up, preparing to leave. “The crimson sarilang flower, the national flower of Tasdaha is said to symbolize the Dineh blood spilled in battle. Did they know that they were going to lose to Azutami? I’m sure one has heard that Khoitan proverb: ‘when the winds of change blow, some people build walls and others build windmills’,” He solemnly excused himself, bowing. “I’m sure one can think of how those words fit into our fatal predicament. Take care of thyself, Miss Saya. One has almost eradicated that barrier. ”
“...”
As the prince left to his own devices, Saya wondered how the other three were doing. Five people: Niktar Shunji, Jose Perez, Kwazhak Laoyuang, Suruj Zundui, and herself were the remaining fighters from the Minor. By the time Kwazhak was out the door, she decided on what to do.
