Hazar was surprised when Yalaz came back fifteen minutes later with a new sword in hand. This sword was rustier and more worn than any they'd used so far.
Even so, he couldn't scorn it; in the end, what mattered wasn't the sword but the one wielding it. Though the sword looked about to break at any moment, in Yalaz's hand it was a menacing weapon.
The old man gestured to the five of them—Yavuz, Devran, Sevda, Hazar, and Tunay.
"All five of you, come at me at once."
'All five at once? Then maybe…'
Hazar believed that with five people, even if they couldn't beat Yalaz, they could at least push him.
After the old man's words, the five started moving one by one toward the training ground. Garrun, waiting at the back, leaned his spear against the wall and sat down. There was a faint smile on his face.
Sevda and Yavuz were at the very front. They gripped their weapons tight, guards up. They'd put on serious expressions.
Tunay, coming behind them, seemed calmer, but he didn't take his eyes off Yalaz. Devran advanced behind him with small steps.
Realizing he'd fallen to the very back, Hazar ran up to join them.
His hair was standing on end for some reason, and he'd begun to sweat lightly. He thought there was no need to be under this much stress, but he was stressed.
"Attack, all of you!"
Yalaz's shout brought him to himself and he focused. But that focus didn't quite apply to the rest of the team.
The first to move was Sevda. Without waiting at all, careless of whether the others got into position, she lunged forward. She was bold but just as reckless. When she swung her sword with all her might, Yalaz only slid half a step to the side.
Not finding the resistance she expected, Sevda stumbled forward with the jolt of striking empty air and lost her balance badly.
Yavuz, coming right behind her, was no better off. Like Sevda, he plunged straight at the old man.
He was so out of control that he involuntarily burned up the last drop or two of Erk left in his body on his very first two heavy blows. With nothing but the flat of that rusty scrap heap in his hand, Yalaz effortlessly deflected Yavuz's strikes.
The only one who didn't dive into this chaos was Tunay. He'd hung back, trying to read Yalaz's every move with narrowed eyes, watching for an opening. His gaze locked onto the old man's feet.
"He's not moving…" he murmured. Amid the clang of swords and the shouting, no one heard this whisper.
Meanwhile Devran had crept in from the side with small, quick, unobtrusive steps. He kept making rapid jabs at Yalaz with his two daggers, following an irritating tactic.
Yalaz didn't even bother making a direct move at him, showing he didn't take him seriously.
In the middle of all this disorder, Hazar fell victim to his instincts and to the momentum Yavuz and Sevda had created.
The moment he plunged forward without thinking, out of an urge to do as they did, he realized what a huge mistake he'd made. He was carrying a long spear, and when the distance suddenly closed into close combat, the weapon became completely useless.
Before he could find an angle to swing his spear, he'd ended up right up against Yalaz.
The old man threw only a cold glance at Hazar coming at him. Without even needing to use his rusty sword, he stretched out his free hand and drove a sudden, hard palm strike into Hazar's chest.
The blow was so precise and heavy that Hazar was flung backward before he even understood what happened. Within seconds he found himself sprawled face-down on the dusty ground of the training field, all the air emptied from his lungs.
They might have been attacking together, but there was no team here.
Just then Sevda, having finally recovered her balance, lunged again. Yalaz once more escaped the attack by stepping to the right.
Left striking empty air again, this time Sevda didn't collapse to the ground, but she couldn't quite steady herself either.
As she stumbled forward despite herself, Tunay slipped past her and swung his sword low, toward Yalaz's legs.
He'd tried to block Yalaz's view with Sevda, but it wasn't enough. As the sword advanced through the air, the old man quickly raised his foot and stepped down on it.
Under that sudden pressure the sword slipped through Tunay's fingers and fell to the ground. Before Tunay could understand what had happened, Yalaz moved his foot again. And with it he kicked the sword clear out of the training ground.
As the sword traveled off into the distance, Yavuz had appeared behind Yalaz. His legs were trembling, sweat dripping from his face.
He took a deep breath and tried to drive his sword into the old man's stomach.
Yalaz took a step forward and, with that same step, turned around. He was so fast that Yavuz was left stunned, gaping.
The old man struck the sword aside with his palm from the side and shoved it away.
This time too, the sword in Yavuz's hand went flying out of the training ground.
At the same moment two more attacks came at Yalaz. One was little Devran swinging his dagger toward the old man's belly, and the other was Hazar trying to drive his spear into the old man's back.
For a moment Hazar felt glad. He thought the old man couldn't defend against both attacks.
But before he could even understand what was happening, Yalaz had already bent down and struck Devran with one hand and Hazar with the other.
As the palm blow to his stomach forced spittle out of his mouth, his eyes went dark for an instant. The same was true for Devran.
For a while a strange silence fell over the training ground.
Yavuz and Tunay, who'd lost their swords; Sevda, barely standing; and Devran and Hazar, lying face-down on the ground—all five looked at Yalaz with the expression that comes after heavy failure.
The old man said nothing. But the hard look in his eyes said far more than words.
At last the words that came from Yalaz's mouth broke this strange silence.
"There were five of you. I saw five separate fights. Dying side by side is not fighting together."
As he spoke he looked into each of their eyes one by one. For a moment Hazar wanted to look away, but he resisted the urge.
Then he said, "Get up!"
At this sudden command the five were startled for a moment. They couldn't understand what they were supposed to do.
Then Yavuz, Tunay, and Hazar exchanged glances for a brief instant. None of them spoke, but they'd conveyed to each other what needed conveying.
When Devran, who'd finally managed to stand, and Sevda, catching her breath at the back, joined in, the group was complete.
After a deep breath, the five took their positions.
A few seconds later the first attack came from Yavuz. A vertical stroke from above.
The old man took a step to the right to dodge it. Waiting for this moment, Tunay swung his sword the same way as before—with one difference. The sword was neither low enough for Yalaz to step on nor high enough to miss his moving leg.
Against this attack Yalaz somehow directed his step backward. It was enough to avoid the attack, but it was a step that also broke his balance.
At the same moment Devran, appearing behind him, tried to drive his two little daggers into him.
As he tried to correct his balance, Yalaz this time took a step in the only free direction—to the left. And Sevda, waiting for exactly that, attacked from there.
Against the countless attacks coming at him, Yalaz dodged with mastery; his torso, his arms, his legs took strange shapes, causing every attack to come to nothing.
But the next attack was different.
Hazar, who was behind the others and a little farther back, had until now been trying to stay out of the old man's sight.
Understanding that the timing was right, he thrust his spear diagonally—between Yavuz and Sevda. Against this quick and utterly hidden attack, there was nothing Yalaz could do.
His arms and legs were occupied with impossible movements. He had no room left to move his torso either.
At last, before the eyes of all five, the worn spear slowly advanced and struck the old man in the back.
But the attack had no effect. After a cracking sound, the wooden spear couldn't withstand Hazar's strength and Yalaz's defense, and split into countless pieces.
As the pieces of wood and rusty iron fell to the soil of the Ruined Lands, a mournful expression appeared on the five faces.
Hazar looked at the wooden shaft left in his hand, then at the pieces on the ground.
Sevda and Yavuz had lowered their heads and were staring at their feet.
Tunay didn't take his eyes off the old man.
Hazar slowly raised his face and looked at Yalaz—and was afraid. The old man was looking at them with a savage smile on his face.
"AHEM!" Yalaz coughed and drew attention to himself.
Yalaz's smile faded. The gleam in his eyes was gone.
"Not on your own," he said, resting the sword on his shoulder. "None of you alone could have made me spend a single drop of Erk. But all five of you at once…"
He took a step. Dust rose.
"The first time, you were five corpses. This time, you became one hand."
The five listened in deep awe.
"Don't rejoice." His voice went cold. "You gave everything you had for a single drop. The world outside won't settle for a drop."
Hazar looked at the broken shaft in his hand. He'd fallen behind. For the first time, that wasn't a shortcoming.
Tunay, down on one knee, murmured without taking his eyes off Yalaz.
"So it is possible to push him."
Garrun straightened up at the edge. He looked at the pieces of the broken spear, then at Hazar. He said nothing.
The spear had broken. But Hazar now knew how to hold it.
Yalaz walked slowly away from the dusty training ground. Garrun started walking after him.
As the five looked at one another with various expressions on the now-empty field, the hot sun of the Ruined Lands had climbed to its peak and was scorching them.
One by one, all five threw themselves down on the ground. A mixture of sweat and dust clung to their bodies, but they didn't care.