The Spiders and The Sword

THE SPIDERS AND THE SWORD

Your sword has a smile.

The warmth of the fire was distant, the embers fell like snow around the barren dirt ground. The sound of the hundreds of onlookers fell flat, eaten up by the dancing red and orange.

Cold.

I felt so cold.

Bare feet sunk under the dirt like it was a sheet of snow, I ran my hands over the cool taut skin of my face. Corpse-like.

I could see him across from me.

Fifty meters, maybe more.

He was pacing back and forth, sword resting in its sheath. I wondered if he was as nervous as I was. I wondered if he was thinking about what one of us would have to-

GONG

I stopped. The fire seemed to bow in acknowledgement of the events as the sound slowly died. Replaced by quiet murmurs.

Their whispers crawled like spiders on the ground. Up into my head, between my ears they spun webs.

Brothers? I heard they are brothers?

They were picked to fight?

Do you think they’ll actually fight?

Is that the boy?

Is it true? He’s never lost a duel?

Brothers? They have two brothers fighting?

I saw him take on a familiar stance. It was the one I had watched him take on ever since I was young. Ever since I would sneak out and watch him train.

He steeled himself, and with a quiet thud the sheath fell to the ground.

His sword didn’t grin, it scowled.

It looked at me with disdain, with hate.

As I let my sheath fall to the floor, the cold steel smirked.

A knowing grin.

Your sword has a smile.

*

The lilies floated beside me, red arms flailing out.

‘‘The ceremony is usually reserved for the older students, Jaime…’’

I sighed heavily, dropping my shoulders next to the old knotted oak I called Teacher.

‘‘You’ve seen me! You know what I can do. Everyone in the village says I’ve been blessed…I’ve never lost a fight. Even you can’t say that!”

The old man chuckled.

‘‘Your sword has a smile Jaime, you take pride in this but…blessings are often a curse. I suggest you wait before offering your name in the draw.’’

I scowled,

‘‘Fine.’’

He chuckled, and raised his hand towards me.

Dangling from it, on a thin silvery web, was a spider.

The creature was grasping at the air, legs twitching.

The old man watched it for a moment, before letting his gaze rest on me.

This must be one of his lessons, a sort of test.

I looked back at the inky dot rocking back and forth. It looked so small.

‘‘Can I kill it?’’ I asked.

He quickly looked at me, and stood. He extended his arm, spider still dangling from his hand. He was positioned there, waiting.

‘‘Cut it loose.’’

‘‘What?’’

I slowly stood in confusion.

‘‘Cut him loose. Draw that sword of yours and cut his web.’’

Another strange lesson. I sighed, pulling out my sword.

He looked, observing the curved blade as if it was a snake waiting to strike.

I placed my feet in the proper position, controlled my breathing. I had done this before. I had cut wood, stone, even flesh.

As the cool air ran through my hair, making waves of the red flowers around us, I saw my sword twitch.

Like it was alive, like it was waiting.

Grinning.

‘‘Cut the web, Jaime.’’ It was stern this time, almost a shout.

I slowly prepared my sword for the cut.

He was standing there so still, it would be so easy to strike him down. At this distance, a small mistake could be fatal.

Deep breath. I swung.

When I opened my eyes, my sword rested at the old man’s chest, flat of the blade held between his palms.

A small trickle of blood fell from his fingers and disappeared into the red below.

The web was cut, the spider gone.

He sat back down quietly, and motioned me to do so as well.

‘‘That sword, Jaime. It has a smile.’’

*

I was shoved back, dirt biting my heels as I grunted. His sword was heavier than mine, the steel blocking out his eyes, his mouth was taut with effort. He pushed down, I could feel my hairs bristle as the blade slowly approached me-

The snow had drenched me from head to toe. I shivered. He was smiling. How was my brother smiling? My sword shook as I took it; I grabbed it with another hand.

Muscles twitching, his left hand reached out. Right foot angled outwards.

Sidestep cut.

Before I knew it, he had fallen and my sword was at his throat.

He chuckled.

‘‘I’ll beat you one day Jaime… you and your sword.’’

I remember that day, I thought I saw the steel bend in a smile, reaching for my brother’s throat as I lifted him out of the snow.

And there he was, lying in the dirt. The cheers had reached a fever pitch. I could hear the chants like giant arachnids, orange and red, crawling closer.

Their legs reached out, pushing my sword closer to my brother’s throat.

There he was, his eyes looked out at me.

This was the ritual, we both knew how it ended.

*

The leaves fell slowly, like they were trying to drift back upwards.

We always spent our time here. Spider-lillies, he called them; their spindly red legs reaching up to the sky.

I looked at my brother, blanketed in the shifting red.

‘‘Are you afraid?’’

He looked at me with those knowing eyes,

‘‘Every swordsman does it, why would I have to be afraid?’’

‘‘What if you die? Those are the rules aren’t they?’’

He chuckled, as if he knew what would happen.

‘‘No one here can give me trouble, except you of course. But you’re too young, they wouldn’t pick you.’’

I nodded, the leaves felt cold all of sudden, like spider-legs scratching at my hands.

They wouldn’t pick me…they couldn’t…I didn’t know…

‘‘So you’re afraid…’’

He playfully threw a patch of lilies towards me as I fell under the bright sun.

‘‘You know what I’m afraid of? Dying on a stormy day. In fact, I’d like to die right here, with you and these flowers.’’

He scrunched them to his face as we both laughed

He looked at me one more time, and I remember thinking how the wind that always haunted this field had suddenly stopped, as if to let him talk to me.

‘‘I’m not afraid of anyone Jaime, except for you and that sword.’’

And so we laughed as the wind swept the flowers from our hands.

*

I couldn’t see him anymore, the shadows from the fire and our swords coated his eyes like a blindfold. I didn’t want him to see me.

The chants grew, the giant creatures approaching.

Heavy breathing. The fire was so warm but the dirt felt like snow.

I thought I heard him say something.

No.

He would never plead.

Your sword has a smile, Jaime.

This was how the ceremony had to end. Brother or not, this was the way things were. We knew this.

The spiders scurried away as the blood fell like sideways tears over the snow.

In the dirt arena, I wiped the blood of my sword.

But, in that field of red flowers drifting up towards the sun, I wiped his tears.