Catharsis

cn violence, impromptu and forseeable murder, dismembering

It had been raining for over three days when they reached the hut.

Built of weathered, well-worn planks it looked so ordinary on the top of the hill, its windows shedding an inviting, warm light on the glade around it, yet what was inside had cost them half a fortune and over ten years of diligent, tireless tracking. 

Soaked to the bone, the two travellers left their exhausted horses at a safe distance. They had earned their rest, but they were also so loud neither of them wanted to take the risk of their noises warning anyone.

Then, under the menacing blanket of storm clouds above, they prowled closer. They stopped at a small group of trees at the foot of the hill, their feet sinking to the ankle into the mud, so much had the ground been doused. 

The taller one threw his hood back, revealing an enormous white-furred lion head. Despite the thick cloth that had been covering it until just a second ago, the fur was slick and looked almost like its original colour was of a dark grey. Unlike his pelt, the lion's yellow eyes were not impeded by the rain though.

They pierced the night like spears, ever watchful and filled with determination harder than diamond. 

"This is it?" Xaro's booming voice sounded rusty, like he hadn't spoken for multiple days. And that was true. Since they had left Vinrest, neither one of them had spoken at all: They had talked about what was to come many times before, and there was nothing left to be said. 

"This is it." Amber echoed. Their silky tone almost distracted from the steel in their voice. 

Slowly, methodically, they took their longbow off their back and strung it.

They put the last few meters behind them, careful not to slip on the mire. The thunder above them rolled so loud it was deafening, but Xaro didn't hear it. His own heartbeat was all he heard. 

Amber, on the other hand, was more vigilant. As always.

So when Xaro kicked in the door with his massive boot, sending it flying across the room in a spray of water and dirt, revealing a velvet black tabaxi and a tall elf bowing over a large table, Amber was ready.

The elf hit the ground before any of them, including Xaro, could react. Two arrows pierced his eyeballs almost at the same time, and their combined impact force snapped the elf's neck. He collapsed on the spot, and hadn't he been dead already, he would have gotten a concussion on top. 

"Xaro?" the tabaxi muttered, visibly confused. Amber knew their old master at arms better than to assume they could have killed him within the split second it took him to process the situation, but they could have at least wounded him badly enough to give Xaro an advantage. 

But the companion-of-their-soul had asked them to grant him the traditional duel Xaro had been preparing himself for ever since they found out the gruesome truth behind proud Gato-Saka's fall, and Amber trusted his abilities enough to grant him that wish.

With the protective barrier of the door gone, the howling storm swept into the hut, drenching the floor and furniture in moments. The candles were extinguished by the wind, sheets of paper went flying erratically, and in the middle of it all he stood, in the flesh.

The man the two feline warriors had been looking for for over a decade, first in search of guidance and later revenge. 

The man who had torn them from the gutter many years ago, and whom they had learned to trust with their lives over the following ones. 

The man who had taught them the art of the blade, the old style, handed down in the traditions of Gato-Saka for centuries.

The man who had betrayed them all. Not only Xaro and Amber, but also his peers, his own mentor, and all of his proteges. 

High Master Sicario, The Ebony Blade.

And he had become old. As he stood there in the rain, his pitch black cloak swirling around his body, the two intruders could see his famous black fur wasn't as burnished and flawless as it had once been. 

Grey strains seamed his face and paws, and his skin sagged significantly around his jaw. 

But his ice blue eyes glared at them just as stern as they were used to from their student days ages ago.

When he spoke again, the short moment of confusion had passed. He was now as well composed as if he had just been asked to pass the salt at the dinner table.

"Ah, I was wondering when my past would catch up to me." He sighed. "I suppose it was only a matter of time." 

"How could you?" Amber hissed, not composed at all. Their hands on the bow trembled, only barely keeping their emotions in check. "She trusted you!" 

"Na'caasha?" Another sigh, then he responded. "About that I'm truly sorry. But I hope you will never know how it is to be caught between the front lines of a conflict much larger than you. The Guild.."

"We know all about that." Xaro interrupted him, fury in his voice. "We have done the research. Shut up. Nothing justifies what you did." While he spoke, he raised his large paw to the leather strapped handle of his sword and loosened it from his back. 

The large curved blade of Snakebiter slowly described an arc and ultimately touched the ground with a condemning thud. 

Xaro held it steady with his palm on the pommel, caressing the golden head of the goddess Sekhmet with the ruby eyes with his thumb. One more kill.

"I have come to demand retribution. You will face me in one on one combat, according to the old laws. You have no choice." He growled.

"Will I?" Sicario replied, but the question was a rhetorical one, for his own sword had already come off his back. "I would have preferred to do this another day. I hold no grudge against you, you deserve to see the sun one last time before you die." He dropped his cloak and stepped forth, only in a dark tunic and leather boots. 

"Let's go outside."

They faced each other, ten steps apart, as was the law. 

They bid each other the traditional salute, as was the law.

Then they assumed positions. Xaro held Snakebiter close to himself, with two hands in front of him, upright. 

Sicario raised his Ebony Blade, an overly long but surprisingly slim greatsword, high over is head, ready to parry.

And above both of them, like a raven in the night, Amber squatted on the roof of the hut, multiple arrows rammed into the wood next to them to have them drawn ready quickly. Just in case. 

None of them moved. Then a truly titanic bolt of lightning split the sky, and the world exploded.

With a primal roar from the bottom of his soul, Xaro's anger and sorrow broke free in the form of a devastating charge. 

Frenectically screaming, he sprinted forward and closed the distance between both combatants in a heartbeat.

Snakebiter sang in his hand as he swung it around, the huge copper blade cut through the air and the pouring rain and emitted a horrible screech when it was met by Sicario's own one.

The tabaxi parried the first blow, but the hulking leonin's monstrous onslaught forced him on the back foot. 

Xaro spun, yanking Snakebiter around his body astonishingly fast, and followed the attack up with a series of chops at hip height, never giving his former master even the slightest moment to go on the offensive himself. 

Sicario was forced to retreat a step each time Xaro struck, and Xaro drove him down the hill, always maintaining the high ground to enhance the power of his strikes.

The swords crossed again and again, clashing with such force that lesser weapons would have gotten dull within the first few seconds. 

But these were no ordinary weapons at all. Both had been infused with more magic than most mages could ever hope to wield, created by the most skillful blacksmiths and had already brought death to more living beings than anyone could be bothered to count.

And both warriors carrying them felt in their bones that this night, as they were pitted against each other, each one of their swords hungered as much to best the other as the combatants guiding them did.

It was a duel for the ages, and all four of them knew that. 

The old master, seasoned in hundreds of battles and duels opposed the student who, while his experience couldn't hope to rival his master's, was filled by the wrath of the righteous.

The gods looked down upon them and the world held its breath as their steel sang its savage song.

Despite the mightiness of Xaro's stampede, Sicario managed to parry or dodge every single one of his student's slashes all the way down the hill. It gave evidence of his tremendous skill as a swordsman that not even once on his retreat through the deep mud he staggered.

At least until they arrived at the foot of the hill, not far from the spot where Xaro and Amber had stopped before, and Sicario's foot got tangled in the root of some nearby tree. 

He did not fall. In a natural movement performed hundreds of times before he ripped his foot free again, but that was enough for Xaro. 

Snakebiter came down in a golden flash and Sicario's black blade could only partially deflect it.

That way it didn't take his arm off below the elbow and only inflicted a deep cut on the forearm.

Xaro growled menacingly. "Oathbreaker!" 

He yelled out and propelled himself forward in a brutal tackle, hoping to capitalise on his master's imbalance and knock the smaller tabaxi off his feet. 

A fatal mistake. 

Where a blink ago Sicario had stood, now there was only freezing rain.

But no amount of rain could have cooled the searing pain in Xaro's side where Sicario, nimbly dodging the leonin's body, drew the entire length of his greatsword along his side as they stepped past each other.

A roar born of agony tore through the night as Xaro turned around, spraying a mist of blood all around him in the speed of the motion, just to see his master await him in the same position he had held in the beginning of their fight. 

"Your technique has gotten more refined. My respects."

Xaro could not determine wether that was supposed to taunt of compliment him, and it didn't matter. 

But taking that wound had taken the edge off his aggression and renewed his focus. 

More careful now, ignoring the burning in his side, Xaro stepped forward again. 

He knew now what Sicario intended, why he forwent his famous offensive bladework. He wanted to wear Xaro out, have him exhaust himself, spend all his power on lifting his much heavier weapon and then abuse his fatigue to strike him down.

But Xaro would not tire that easily. He had fought the doomsday snake, liches and unspeakable demon horrors and even though his former master was a force to be reckoned with, he would summon the stamina to triumph over him from somewhere inside of himself.

And if it was the last thing he would ever summon.

Both of them were panting now, warmed up the the second stage of their duel.

Adrenaline coursed through their veins as Xaro attacked again, quieter this time, but even deadlier.

Snakebiter became a divine blur in his hands. But Sicario matched his pace, parrying his students' thrusts, both of them seemingly compelling their blades to move faster than physically possible. 

For minutes they dueled in the mud, neither of them able to carve out the slightest advantage for himself, equals in all but size. 

Xaro let his sword fly with razor-like precision. Now it wasn't only him who attacked but also his master, every now and then probing his defenses, trying to cut a hole into the net of deadly copper Snakebiter wove. 

But none of their tricks worked, they circumvented every single one of the other's traps, and their arms got heavy from fighting with such feriocious force.

Xaro's wound was deeper and let him lose more blood, but Sicario's was more unfortunate; And so even their handicaps cancelled each other out.

There came a point where both of them needed a break. They stood a few steps apart, breathing heavily, now covered to equal parts in earth, rain and sweat. While they tried to catch their breath again, to let their burning lungs recover from the ordeal, they continued the duel with their eyes.

Once again they launched themselves at each other, too exhausted for any angry roars or witty quips. Once again the blades played their symphony and the two desperate fighters once again put every ounce of strength they had into the duel.

And then the sun ripped through the clouds.

After what had felt like an eternity of fighting in the drumming rainfall, it ended.

And be it luck or some other influence, Xaro had it in his back.

So when suddenly the sky parted and light brightened the battlefield, Sicario's feline eyes, used to the darkness for the longest time, needed a moment to adjust to the brightness.

The only thing he saw in that moment was the silhouette of a terrifying giant bathed in light, come to claim his vengeance at last.

With one final ear-shattering scream Xaro, recognizing the opportunity, dragged Snakebiter upwards, feinted, sidestepped and finally lead a savage horizontal cut that hacked both of Sicario's hands right off.

With a soft thud that now that the rain had subsided seemed unbearably loud, the Ebony Blade fell to the ground, the old Tabaxi's hands still clutching to it, twitching.

Sicario fell to his knees.

And the world breathed in again.

Xaro knew what he had to do. Every breath torture, every step a marathon, he walked around his old master, dragging Snakebiter through the dirt, until the student stood right behind the master, towering over him.

"Here, old man." He yanked Sicario's head back, holding the tabaxi upright with his gigantic paw, exposing his neck in the process. 

"See the sun one last time."

It turned out that a Khopesh was a weapon oddly suited for executions.

With a single last, mighty strike Xaro beheaded his former master, getting revenge for all the souls lost.

He could almost hear them sigh when Sicario's head toppled to the ground, though he himself didn't feel relieved yet. 
That would come later, together with the guilt of having taken another life.

Now it was his turn to fall to his knees, but Amber was already at his side, supporting him, pouring their magic into the deep cut in his side, alleviating the pain that now, with his adrenaline levels crashing, returned with excruciating intensity.

"Sekhmet!" He almost spat it out, calling out to the goddess he had stood in for years ago.

"I'm done!" And he drove Snakebiter into the ground, so deep the entire curved part disappeared in the muck. 

"I thank you for letting me have this grand sword!" He coughed, before going on: "You can have it back."

And as if the goddess had heard him a warm breeze blew over them, faintly reminding the gigantic leonin of a fever dream he'd had a long time ago.

And Snakebiter simply dissolved into sand, dissipating from the pommel down, the wind carrying away what was left of it with it, returning the legendary weapon to its rightful owner.

That was when not even his knees could sustain his weight any more and he fell to his side, the one where Sicario had wounded him, but Amber had already closed the wound. 

"Sleep, my love. We will see about everything else when you wake up." 

And ever so softly, with audible content, they added: "It is done."

Yes, Xaro thought. It is done.

And a deep, dreamless sleep took him, his head in his soulmate's lap.