Monochild

Duel

Mono was startled awake by the sudden light from the lantern hanging above. A soft, low whisper broke the silence. “I hope you have rested well. Get up. I advise you to prepare for what’s to come.”

Adjusting its eye to the light, Mono’s vision cleared. Oh, it was just Khaza. Mono pulled itself up with its stubby little legs and waddled over to leave the room with him.

After traversing through the many dark halls and passages of the stone fortress, they halted at the entrance of an enormous room filled with equipment and weapons hung neatly on wooden racks. The room was moderately clean, lit by lamps and sunlight streaming through a window. The walls and floor were made of sturdy wood, though clearly unsanded and rough.

“This room is where we train and prepare for battles, wars, and sparring,” explained Khaza. “We are expected to test our strength on this equipment and prepare for great battles.” His voice was solemn.

Mono walked in first, inspecting the weapons. Sickles, broadswords, daggers, axes, all neatly organized. Clearly, these people valued their weapons highly. On the other side of the room were barbells, weights, a conveyor belt for running, and other exercise equipment. In the middle stood a huge circular sparring ring.

This room was definitely not meant for tiny blobs with only two legs.

Mono cautiously wandered in, filled with awe and curiosity. So many weapons, yet it barely knew how to use any of them. Khaza looked down with a hint of amusement. Watching this tiny creature fumble with weapons was innocent and rare in a place like his. Newborns of the tribe were trained from birth until death, and they usually picked things up quickly. Mono, however, gazed at a barbell as if it were some ancient relic.

Confused, it tried to pick it up with one stubby leg. Obviously, the attempt failed miserably. “No, no, no! That is not for you to use,” exclaimed Khaza, as though speaking to a child. Ironically, Mono was technically a newborn.

Khaza stared, flabbergasted, at Mono struggling with basic things even a pacifist could understand. Finally, he spoke his thoughts aloud. “Look, remember how I said your descendants fought with us? I am not used to seeing your kind in such a weak state. I have seen infants lift boulders. Aren’t you supposed to be naturally strong?”

Mono turned to the barbell, processing this new information. Khaza seemed to know what it was supposed to be. That was promising. Yet Mono couldn’t figure out where this natural strength was hiding. It tried again to lift the barbell… and failed again.

“Aren’t you going to use your… tendrils?” asked Khaza.

What? There was more Mono was supposed to do?

Khaza grew annoyed. This creature was nothing like the monstrous shadows he remembered, those terrible beings that destroyed everything with a flick of their tendrils. This was just a mute blob that nodded over and over again.

He gritted his teeth. “I don’t think I should be teaching you this, but let’s be honest… you are quite pathetic. How do you expect me to even pretend to fight you if you can’t do anything?”

Mono felt ashamed and stepped back. It tried desperately to generate tendrils, but nothing happened. Still, it kept trying again and again, hoping for progress. Khaza watched the blob stumble, stretching and flailing.

“You know, you remind me of myself a little,” Khaza blurted.

Mono stopped and looked up with interest.

“I don’t usually open up to anyone, but seeing you stumble with no knowledge or preparation reminds me of how I used to train. My older brother would stand and watch, guiding me patiently. I could never live up to him,” Khaza revealed.

Mono stood in thought, absorbing this. Khaza suddenly felt foolish, sharing his story with a stranger he might never see again. “Apologies. That is irrelevant. I shouldn’t burden you with more than you already have,” he said, embarrassed.

Mono couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this giant tribe leader than met the eye. Until now, it had only considered its own struggles. It never realized others might carry burdens too.

Khaza looked out the window, inspecting the sun’s alignment. “I am afraid we have talked enough. It is time for us to duel,” he stated solemnly.

His voice was shaky and hoarse. Speaking in the raspy language Mono understood seemed to strain him. He gestured for Mono to follow. On the way, he re-explained the plan: Khaza would pretend to kill Mono, Mono would fake its death, and Khaza would help it escape. On paper, simple. In reality, extremely risky.

Mono felt anxious but curious about what was to come.

They stopped at a large dark room in the fortress. Loud cheering and chanting echoed from inside. The people were eager to watch Mono die. “Go inside. When we are ready, the gates will open,” Khaza instructed grimly.

Mono walked in reluctantly. The door slammed shut behind it, trapping it in darkness. Panicked, Mono rammed into the door, pounding to get out. But the door was solid as steel. No escape.

Everything felt tense, loud, overwhelming, until a familiar voice calmed it. Vancana. “Hey! Looks like they trapped you. So much for being trustworthy. I think your red friend is going to kill you for real. Don’t worry! I have a genius plan. A very unhinged and chaotic one! Trust me!” Vancana whispered before vanishing.

Suddenly, a door opened, revealing a massive coliseum filled with tribespeople spectating and chanting. Khaza stood in the middle, waiting for Mono to step forward.

Mono walked carefully, scanning the environment. The ground was brown and dusty, with stone fences blocking escape. Huge stone bleachers loomed above, filled with laughing spectators holding food and drink.

Then it all made sense. This wasn’t about honorably ending a war. This was entertainment.

Mono felt rage, disgust, and fear. This is a game for them! Perhaps Vancana was right all along.

A loud conch echoed through the room. Khaza nodded solemnly and assumed a battle stance.

Mono prepared to fake defeat, but something felt wrong. The swipes, slashes, and lunges were too real. Fear surged. What if this isn’t pretend? What if Khaza truly means to kill me?

Khaza leaped high, claws outstretched, accelerating fast. Mono had no time to dodge. This was it.

But then Khaza froze midair. The crowd went silent. Long black tendrils shot from the ground, coiling around him.

Vancana’s tendrils.

Mono felt relief, but also pity. Khaza’s expression was one of genuine fear and shock. Maybe the plan had been real. Maybe Khaza truly wanted to help.

Mono was about to tell Vanchana to stop, but they had already let go on their own. Relief washed over it.

Before Mono could help Khaza up, a deafening roar shook the coliseum. The roof cracked open, crumbling the infrastructure. Amidst the chaos, one thing was clear:

A giant bat had arrived, screeching and tearing everything apart. As soon as it settled, for some reason it shot Khaza a glare of what seemed to be pure vengeance.