Collaterals

This Will Hurt

It was reflexively that Khaled swung his arm to meet his brother's overhead strike, growling, "What is this?!"

"She needs time," the words were tense as Tammy pulled his sword away, taking a good few steps back.

Khaled glanced to the side as they began to circle one another, unable to glimpse more than her collapsed body. The sound of scurrying feet had him whip his head, sword deflecting another half-hearted blow, "Did you think this through?!"

Tammy cocked a head as he plunged forward. Only Khaled let him falter as he spun, slithering behind his brother and holding him. Tammy grunted, "No."

Khaled could only roll his eyes, "That's your problem, Tammy." Khaled pushed him away, letting his younger brother grab hold of his bearings, "You never think things through."

Only his brother did not seam too phased as he settled into a lazed attack, "I will yield, then, when the time comes. Only we should make sure—ah!"

There must have been something in the ground— a pebble out of place, and overturned stone— whatever it was, it was enough to have Tammy lose his bearings for a moment, a moment that was long enough for his defense to falter, a moment that was long enough for Khaled to realize his movements were too rehearsed, far too drilled into his very muscle so that the sword he wielded was now so very dangerously close to his younger brother's eye—

"Tammy!" he shouted, but he'd not been able to derail his arm far away enough, blood spraying across Tammy's face as his brother gave a shout, stumbling away. Khaled almost dropped his sword, taking but three long seps forward before his brother's sword straightened, pointing straight to Khaled's chest. "Tammy," Khaled pleaded, a hand out as though to comfort him.

But Tammy had already begun to move. Khaled parried his offenses, "Tammy, I did not mean—."

"Fight!"

And so Khaled quieted. Their swords tangoed, back and forth as they went through useless, rehearsed offenses and defenses, buying the Princess time. Khaled's breath grew laboured as his eyes went rampant: looking to the blood coloring his brother's face— sliding down his neck and drowning his collar— only to then glance behind Tammy, to where Leila was. It was his mistake, then, to have gotten so distracted, "Ugh!"

Khaled hissed as he looked to his arm, hand going weak against the throbbing heat spreading from the red gash tracking down his bicep. Tammy stood, as though unsure what to do, mouth agape as his sword remained between them, blood dripping down to the ground.

Khaled's face cringed in pain as he looked behind Tammy again, just about making out her silhouette. She was standing. Khaled was sure she was standing, now, while Tammy bled ahead of him.

"Khaled—" Tammy stammered.

Khaled did not let him finish the sentence. He moved quickly, using Tammy's initial shock to disarm him, grabbing him into a headlock and bringing his sword to his neck. He made sure his voice carried through the courtyard as he asked, "What was that, brother?!"

It took a moment for his brother to answer, and Khaled worried his wound had disoriented him. Only Tammy's grip hardened against Khaled's forearm, shouting, "I yield!"

And yield he did, Khaled letting go of him as they both panted. Tammy was first to turn, moving away with a hand pressed to his face, unbothered by his unsheathed sword as he walked through the crowd. Khaled could do nothing but wait, blinking as he looked to Leila.

The Princess took short, slow steps. 

Someone had given her a shirt, colored a deep blue and large enough to be a man's.