Just another short story I thought I would share. At the moment I am on chapter 12 of book 3. Keep your fingers crossed that life/work and all the other distractions will be at a minimum so I can finally get this thing finished. Thanks for your patience and support.

 Tom

A QUESTION OF HONOR

            Cadogan looked into his young son’s eyes as he reached for the sword offered by his next door neighbor. The crisscrossing leather bands felt smooth and cool against his sweaty palm as he wrapped his slender fingers around the hilt and hefted the weapon almost reluctantly. His son’s eyes remained locked on his own, the innocence reflected in them stabbing him with regret at what had been forced upon him and what it would ultimately mean to his family. His wife cried softly seeking for, but finding little, comfort in the arms of her sister. Cadogan dare not look at her; not because he feared he would lose his resolve but for the simple fact that he did not wish the final vision of his wife to be one so full of hopelessness.

But it was hopeless—he knew better than any how impossible the situation was. Soon he would be dead and there was no way to prevent it. An outsider would quickly point out the seemingly obvious response was to simply walk away but to do so would be more horrific than letting his blood spill freely on the asphalt. Such a thought would not even be so audacious as to present itself to his mind. It was so foreign and wrong that it would be like his brain insisting he breathe water instead of air.

He didn’t fear death. He didn’t even fear the manner that it would be handed to him. No, fear was not part of the emotions flowing through him like a rush of frigid water. It was regret and sorrow that shouted the loudest. All the birthdays, Saturday afternoons in the park, holidays, games of catch, even skinned knees, the first crushing heartache, and simply watching with pride as his son grew into a man; all of it would be lost to him and missed in mere moments.

His wife whimpered and without thought, his eyes turned to her red, swollen face. And what of his life with her? How many moments of pure delight would he miss just being in her presence, breathing in her love that was always just on the edge of promise, so often spilling over into his heart? How many more children would he have loved from her given the opportunity to continue on in the happiness they had created together? A thousand regrets flashed through his mind as he quickly turned his gaze away from her and scanned the crowd of onlookers. It was not just what was forced upon him that burned his heart but the sacrifice it required. Yet, he would see it through with honor and resolve.

Someone had called the police and now two squad cars were parked in front of his house, their lights flashing as they cordoned off an area large enough for the duel to take place. Soon the coroner would arrive and pronounce sentence upon his pale, lifeless body and then it would be removed to the funeral home where arrangements were already in the making.

Lukan sneered at him, swinging his sword in a blur of movement as if on exhibition for the crowd’s amusement. How many lives had he taken with that blade? He was not aware of any who kept count, yet Cadogan had heard he kept trophies from his kills on a wall in his basement. He wondered what might be taken from his own body once the deed was done. An ear?  Perhaps his heart in a jar. It did not matter really. The rest would be burned to ash and scattered; the fate of the loser to hide his shame at being defeated. He glanced at his son for one last look. At least the law forbad any dishonor be placed upon his wife or son.

Ducking under the police tape, he stepped into the makeshift arena and prepared himself for the inevitable. He would not give himself up without a fight but even the most desperate gambler would not give him any odds. No money would be exchanged at the end for none was foolish enough to bet against Lukan. All that was left now was his personal integrity and the honor he clung to, things for which he gladly gave his life.

Lukan entered the ring, his expression almost showing boredom as it was obvious he wanted this ended quickly so he could finish mowing his lawn and then return to his air conditioned home and his big screen T.V. One of the police officers stepped forward and pronounced the rules of engagement, which were merely a fight till one of them was dead and that to leave the blocked off area would invite a bullet to the brain from his gun and a label of disgrace to the perpetrator’s family for three generations. Cadogan nodded his understanding, while Lukan just snorted; the information unnecessary to one who’d met countless numbers before. The police officer simply nodded and then retreated casually back to his squad car to watch. The other officer had retrieved his shotgun and readied it should Cadogan prove a coward. Though he did not show his doubt outwardly, Cadogan knew the officer entertained no such thoughts toward Lukan. No, the shotgun was for him alone, though he knew it was not necessary.

Lukan backed slightly, checking his blade and then swung it in complicated patterns. It was time. Cadogan gave one last glance to his wife and son and then took up his position facing his opponent. He didn’t know any of the showy moves that his adversary had displayed; he barely knew how to use a sword at all. His life had been given to academic pursuits, which suddenly seemed a waste of his time. Had he known this day would come as it had, his life would have been filled, as Lukan’s, to honing expertise with a blade. But it was the finer things in life he’d desired to give his family, forgetting that none of those things mattered if they came at the sacrifice of his own life. Just one more item to lie upon the heavy alter of regret.

Lukan slowly advanced, like a cat in his movements, picking apart Cadogan’s sloppy form. For a slight moment he could see a sad frown cross Lukan’s face as if disappointed by the lack of challenge Cadogan offered. Lukan’s masterful artistry would be wasted like that of an expert painter asked to touch up the rain gutters on a house. It was an exercise in squander.

The cold sweat between Cadogan’s shoulders ran down his back in chilly anticipation. His breathing had suddenly increased and he felt the time had come. Death’s icy grip was upon his soul and only waited the brief movements that would free it from his body. His lips felt dry, like his throat, his limbs feeling almost weighed down. Mustering his resolve, he waited no longer. To do so would only postpone the inevitable and mark him a coward. Lukan watched him carelessly and waited. Waited for Cadogan whose privilege it was to make the first attack. Closing his eyes for a moment, he steeled his nerves and then turned his complete focus on his opponent. All around him seemed to fade away into gray; all sound was swallowed up in the beating of his heart that suddenly slowed into a rhythmic pattern. Nothing existed but Lukan.

With a sudden burst of adrenalin, he rushed forward, raising his sword as he did so swinging at first for Lukan’s head but then in a surprise shift of his weight, brought the sword down with the purpose of eviscerating him and spilling his guts into the street. Lukan didn’t seem to react at first, almost as if caught off guard by Cadogan’s agile movements. Then, at the single last moment, his sword swung down, ignoring the first cut to his head as if reading Cadogan’s mind, and easily blocked his sword knocking it away. Then with a quick reverse of motion, he brought his own sword to bare slicing it crossways just at Cadogan’s throat.

Stepping back, Cadogan stared at his opponent almost as if he didn’t understand what had just happened. Again, Lukan’s countenance changed to one of sorrow; even regret. The police officer to his left suddenly started gathering up the caution tape they’d used to block off the area. Cadogan watch him curiously for a moment not understanding why. The fight was not over. He still stood; his sword was still in his hand at the ready. Lukan then turned and made his way toward his house. Cadogan could not believe what he saw. Was he forfeiting the contest? Looking at the office with the shotgun he watched expectantly, waiting for him to take Lukan down in shame for leaving the battle area. He suddenly felt light headed. He would live through the day after all. He tried to turn his head so he could see his wife and the joy that would replace the desperate sorrow that had been there only moments before, but he couldn’t get his head to move. Confused, he tried to turn his whole body as the dizzy feeling suddenly increased. It was then that he glanced down in wonder that his feet would not answer to his commands. And just as his eyes lost their last shard of light he registered the enormous puddle of blood pooling at his feet in a wave as it spread in all directions away from him.