Sparks in the dark night by pauwiks

The great warrior fought valiantly. Still his enemies were standing. Tigasol was dumbfounded when he realized that his cuts did not penetrate his opponents. He was amazed and terrified when he realized he could not kill them. His kris, given by his father, was broken in two, his dagger was somewhere lying in the mud. Tigasol took stock of his situation. He was outnumbered ten to one and already his body was covered with nicks and cuts. He observed his opponents as a trained warrior would. He immediately discounted six from the group. The other four worried him. They were not so eager and boisterous as the rest. The one with the patch over his eye looked calm and relaxed as the other three, but his one remaining eye was calculating. The other two had the same stance and body movements. They would be sparring partners, very hard to fight as a team. The last one was small but has very muscular arms. A warrior that trained relentlessly, also a difficult one to fight. It was a good thing that the place of ambush was near a forest and there were lots of sticks of wood lying around.
The short man felt Tigasol’s eyes gaze over him. Dotaran knew that Dagatad, Kulingan and Buwanglan were also scrutinized. Still, Dotaran noticed that the warrior’s eyes just passed over him, unlike the lingering gaze at Kulingan and Buwanglan. The warrior is observant and has a very quick calculating mind. He also has a precise and accurate fighting style. This Tigasol would make a dangerous adversary. Dotaran motioned to his three henchmen to hold back and let the young warriors harass Tigasol. They were doing a lousy job of it. Young warriors are still new with the blood lust and Dotaran knew that they were hard to control but very easy to play with. Eventually Dotaran surmised, Tigasol will make a run for it and may lose some…well, maybe all of those boisterous youngsters. Not a problem, Dagatad is a very good tracker and Dotaran can rely on Kulingan and Buwanglan to butcher the competent warrior. No, not merely competent…his technique is very familiar and it nagged at Dotaran’s mind.
Tigasol bent down and took two sticks, one in each hand. The six young warriors howled with laughter while the other four just looked on the rest of the group and their quarry. One of them shrilled a cry, and as one attacked the warrior. Tigasol just stood there waiting for one of the supposed warriors to come to him and give him a thrashing. He was not worried with their numbers. It was a messy, unconcerted attack, an attack expected from dogs not trained warriors. Tigasol parried and struck and danced with their blades. He was edging near the forest. He is not stupid, he could not win with enemies whose skin refuse to bleed and whose bones do not want to be broken. Already the sticks that he used were already shattered and broken to pieces and there were only three or four lying around. Tigasol was already exhausted with this mock battle. Fortunately, the young warriors also shared his sentiments. Tigasol took the chance, dropped his broken sticks and ran into the forest.
The young whelps ran after him while the four warrior just jogged and trailed along. Tigasol could not take advantage of his surroundings, he did not know this part of the forest. So he blindly ran on. He looked back and saw two of the untrained warriors trailing him. He ran on but a tree blocked his way. One of the whelps posing as warriors took a swing at him and he easily dodged it. Tigasol took a branch lying on the ground and parried at an overhead strike. Tigasol lost a lot of time from dodging the other boy and picking up the stick. His parry did not arrive at the right angle at the right time. The wood shattered and he took a blow on his right shoulder. He ignored the pain as the other boy tried to skewer him with a blade pointed at his belly. The boy had a two handed grip on his kris. A serious mistake, it did not give him an advantage of parrying an opponents attack. Tigasol used the blade of his right hand and chopped the dogs forearms while his left hand locked onto the last two fingers of the boys left hand. After doing this, Tigasol’s right thumb pried the others right thumb while his other fingers grasped the guard of the kris. With a twist, the blade was his.
Tigasol swung the blade to the boy’s neck and his arm was jarred as the kris bounced against the young warrior’s skin. The two whelps just stood there and laughed at him. Tigasol was never laughed at during a fight, especially not by two stupid youths, he was infuriated by the taunting open mouths. He stuck one with the tip of the kris. Both stopped laughing and froze. Then blood squirted from the warrior’s mouth into Tigasol’s face. There was a loud scream. The blood blinded Tigasol and he did not see where the incoming strike of the other boy would land. His left hand parried aimlessly and was met by the blade of the whelps’ kris. His left wrist was cut. The whelp was encouraged and took a swing at Tigasol’s neck. However, Tigasol already recovered and blocked the blow with a strong sideward motion. The boy’s kris flew away, as the warrior ran to fetch it, Tigasol took his chance and resumed his escape. The four veteran warriors stopped. They did not expect that the dying cry would come from one of the group. Yet, here was one with blood coming out from his mouth. Dotaran knelt down and examined the body. He realized that Dagatad was looking at him with his one eye. Asking for permission to continue with his tracking. Kulingan and Buwanglan wore frustrated masks. They were responsible for training those pathetic recruits. Dotaran grunted and affirmative reply to Dagatad also indicating Kulingan and Buwanglan to continue the chase. Dotaran inspected the boys’ body and found no marks on it, except blood at the boy’s mouth. He really did not expect to see any cuts but he needed to be thorough. Everyone in the group performed the correct ritual, everyone should be protected by the magic. Dotaran opened the corpses’ mouth. Ah! The tongue was slashed and the mouth’s crevice was cut in two. He. never knew a fighting style that stabbed a part of the face, much less the mouth. Stabbing is usually done to the torso, the head and the extremities are usually hacked off. Still, the boy should not be stabbed with a blade, maybe they boy committed a mistake in the ritual. Dotaran convinced himself but he was nevertheless, disturbed. He stood up and followed the trail left by Dagatad.
Tigasol ran and ran deeper into the forest. He found a spring, took a cautious look back and was relieved that there were no sign of a chase. The sun was already diving to the west, ushering the night. He knew that if he dallied there would be a chance that the rest of the enemies might track him. However, he had to take care of his wounds, take a rest and ascertain his location in order to increase his chances of survival. First he had to tend his wounds. Tigasol tore the sash on his waist in two. He was relieved that the cuts on his left wrist and right shoulder were not as deep as he thought. He cleaned it with the fresh water from the spring and tied his wounds as the healers taught him how. He lay on a rock and let his body rest. He looked up and noticed that Adlaw, the sun, was already gone replaced with Bulan, the moon and their children. He noticed that the land was sloping upwards and realized that he was near the base of the mountain of Naktud. Tigasol knew that Datu Bangkaya and His tribe will be waiting for his arrival at the base of the Ablan river. he should not waste his time.
Dotaran caught up with Dagatad and Kulingan. He was about to ask the whereabouts of Buwanglan when Dagatad sharply brought his right forefinger to his mouth and pointed with his left hand to the west and there lay Tigasol, on a rock looking up at the darkening sky. Dotaran saw a movement at the far right of Tigasol’s rock. He realized it was Buwanglan crawling stealthily towards Tigasol’s unguarded kris. Slowly, Buwanglan stole the kris and with great care backtracked towards a tree. Dotaran motioned Kulingan to go to Tigasol’s far left. He indicated to Dagatad to move at the further front of Tigasol. Dotaran looked for a leafy tree, found one and climbed on it. When he located a vantage point where he could see Tigasol and his three henchmen, the three warriors looked up an waited for his signal.
Tigasol stood up from the rock and went to the spot where he left his kris. He looked for it but it was gone. Tigasol slowly stood up straight. He looked into the suddenly dark night and did not spot any pursuers. He closed his eyes and counted, usa…duha…tulo…upat…lima and opened his eyes. He can now see the faint outlines of the trees and bushes and some of the small animals scurrying away from the vicinity. There were no birdcalls. He only heard the bubbling of the spring and the rustle of leaves, there was not even a sound of a cricket chirping. Tigasol knew that he was surrounded. He tried to relax his tense muscles. He breathed deeply. There was a chuckle to his left, he listened to it but ignored it. He needed to concentrate. There was another chuckle to his right joining the other to his left. A rustle of leaves to his front and then a howl. The dark silent forest burst into insane laughter and rustle of leaves. He did not know where the attack would come. The rustling stopped and the laughter died down, the dark clouds overhead let strays of moonlight pass. There…in front of him was “Buta”, the single eyed man, to his right and left were the sparring partners. “Putot”, the small man was not there. It was a three to one battle. Tigasol glanced back and saw a black space. He would take advantage of that clearing. It would offer no obstacle. How unfortunate that the forest was unfamiliar to him, it would have offered a lot of defense.
Tigasol slowly stepped back when he almost came near the black clearing, he heard a rustle of leaves and movement at his front also a faint whistle of air to his left. Battle instinct clicked and he automatically dodged from his left and tripped sparring partner number one…”Usa”! He amazed himself that he can still brand names to his enemies in the middle of a fight. “Usa” rolled away but Tigasol was also outbalanced. He landed on his back as “Buta” executed a diving strike. Tigasol blocked the overhead strike with his left hand to the right elbow of “Buta”. “Buta” twisted on the air, turning to his left as he was falling. Tigasol saw a glimpse of metal hidden inside “Buta”s waist sash. He grabbed for it with his right hand while his left was still pinning “Buta”s right arm. Tigasol took the dagger and rolled to the right, following the enemy’s rotation. “Buta” landed on the ground with his left shoulder. Not wasting a moment, Tigasol stabbed the left earhole of the enemy. He was right, it was not protected by magic.
Tigasol was moving a little slower because of the strain from his wounds. He heard a battle cry from the right and quickly withdrew the dagger and tried to parry the horizontal strike as the kris grazed his stomach. His dagger was thrown away by the strong blow. “Duha”, sparring number two, stopped and knew that the pray was good as dead. He was glorified by the sight of blood and howled like a maddened dog. “Usa” having recovered from his fall joined in with maniacal laughter. Tigasol backed away slowly. The lunatics were still howling and yapping, laughing and taunting. He backed away into his right, hoping for a retreat but he was stopped. He did not realize that the black space he thought as a clearing was actually an enormous ebony tree. He took advantage of the ravings of the maniacs and looked for a weapon and found a branch from the tree. It was a little bit crooked but its length was the same as the kris and it felt good in his hands. Tigasol knew that a piece of wood won’t stand a chance against a kris, but it can be used as a defense against a blade.
The two salivating brutes stopped their ravings and slowly treaded towards him. They separated, “Usa” went 45 degrees left of him and “Duha” went to a 45 degree angle to his right. A two pronged attack! Tigasol bit his lip and tightened his grip on the stick, it is a hard tactic to defend…only if the diwatas would help him. Simultaneously they shouted a blood curdling cry and attacked. The warriors’ mind took hold, if both would reach him at the same time, he would surely die. Tigasol sprang from his wooden niche and hit the forearm of “Usa”as he executed an oblique overhead blow. When the stick completed its downward motion, Tigasol shifted his body to the right. “Usa”, propelled by the momentum of his oblique blow and from the consequent parry, continued to move forward away from Tigasol. As “Usa” passed him, Tigasol used the momentum of his downward parry and converted it to a vertical windmill and hit the top of “Usa”s’ head. There was a loud clack as the wood connected with the enemy’s skull. the defeated warrior dropped like a full sack of wet grain.
Tigasol did not lose one moment, as the stick finished its circular motion the blade of the remaining enemy was swiftly falling downward towards his crown. Tigasol reacted instantly, he brought the stick into a horizontal position, the ends pointing left and right, and jerked his right arm obliquely to his left and executed a perfect payong. Simultaneously his left hand went for the enemy’s right forearm. As Tigasol’s palm hit the others flesh, there was a loud clack and bright sparks. The blade hit the outermost length of the stick and slid harmlessly away. Tigasol pivoted away from the path of the blade and twisted his stick pointing its ends to his front and back. Sharply, he brought his right hand down. The stick hammered the forearm of the enemy. The brute barked a puzzled cry, while Tigasol pushed the enemy’s back with his left hand and with his last remaining strength, he aimed at the enemy’s neck and struck. Tigasol heard a crunch, there was a flash of lightning and a peal of thunder and all went black.
Dotaran could not believe what his eyes saw. Three of his best warriors were killed by a lone wounded man wielding a stick. A stick!. The Kulintaman are supposed to be invulnerable. The babaylan assured them that and they proved it time and again. Those three were adept with the ritual, it was impossible for them to commit a stupid mistake. Dotaran knew that Tigasol was and still is a great warrior, but he can be killed! What can he do with these proven and veteran warriors protected by magic? Nothing!…supposedly. A stick! This man is smiled upon by the diwatas. No…he is favored by the gods. By the gods…a stick! Dotaran scampered down the tree and crept carefully to the scene of the battle. Dagatad'’ left ear was already clotted. Dotaran understood then that the magic protected unbroken skin, all except the natural openings of the body. Dotaran went to Kulingan'’ body and inspected it. The corpse skull was cracked. Next, he went to where Buwanglan’s corpse lay. Sure enough both forearm and neck were crushed. Yet, these were protected by unbroken skin! There is no other explanation…it is the stick. Dotaran crept noiselessly towards Tigasol. he observed that Tigasol already had a loose grip on the stick. Yet the stick was unremarkable, it is crooked and black. What could it’s power be? Slowly, carefully Dotaran knelt down and reached for the end of the ebony stick. When his fingers touched the black wood his vision was flooded by a flash of bright light…