Jade War

Anden gasped with pain but held his ground; arms still tucked close against his head, he popped his elbow up and clipped his opponent in the chin. Planting his shoe in the man’s abdomen, he kicked him back with as forceful a thrust as he could muster. When the Espenian regained his balance and came forward again, Anden backed up hastily, as if reluctant to engage with him again—not an altogether false sentiment. He felt his heel touch the edge of the sidewalk. As the other man committed his weight to the next blow, Anden jumped back off the curb. He caught the man’s outstretched arm and pulled. It was not a forceful move, just a sharp tug at the wrist, but with their combined momentum, the Espenian went forward; his leading foot landed off the curb and he went staggering headlong. Even so, he was nimble and wouldn’t have fallen; Anden had to solve that by punching downward as his opponent’s upper body tipped, connecting hard with the side of the face, scraping ear to jaw.

The Espenian put his hands out, breaking his fall as he landed on the asphalt. Anden wasted no time; he struck the man again, then kneed him in the chest. His opponent tried to throw his arms around Anden’s legs; Anden dodged aside and kicked him in the ribs. The man finally rolled into a ball, groaning in pain, and Anden leapt upon him, straddling him across the chest and holding a fist poised over his swollen face.

“Do you want to stop?” The man didn’t answer, so Anden hit him in the mouth hard enough to cut his knuckles on the man’s teeth. “Do you want to stop?” he asked again, and was relieved when this time the Espenian nodded. “Say I’m not a thief,” Anden insisted.

“Wh-what?” the man slurred through puffy lips.

Anden drew his fist back again. “Say I’m not a thief.”

“Fine, fine, you crazy fuck! You’re—you’re not—”

Several arms grabbed Anden around the arms and chest and hauled him off the man and back onto the sidewalk. Anden looked around in surprise and confusion to see a small semicircle of gathered bystanders; two large men had pulled him away, and another person squatted down to check on his downed opponent. Anden shook off the restraining hands. Why had they interfered? Clearly, he’d won fairly; the other man had been on the verge of conceding.

One of the bystanders appeared to be Kekonese. Anden called out to him in his native language, “What’s going on? What’s the problem?” but the man looked at him with stony displeasure.

Anden’s opponent crawled to his feet. “You’re dead, you hear me?” His voice was a deadly snarl. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you step on Carson Sunter, you step on the wrong crewboy. I’m going to find you, and I’m going to kill you.” He spat a glob of blood onto the sidewalk at Anden’s feet, then turned and stumbled away, retrieving his bicycle and leaning on it for support as he disappeared down the street, snarling profanities.

The small group of spectators dispersed, none of them willing to look at Anden. Again, Anden spoke to the Kekonese man, who he was sure he’d seen around their neighborhood. “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

To his astonishment, the man responded in Espenian. “What did you do that for? You want to give all of us a bad name? Beating a man up over a bicycle?” In an added rush of Kekonese, “Are you trying to be one of those clan goons from the old country?” Shooting Anden a parting look of disdain, he turned away and left, leaving Anden on the sidewalk.

* * *

When Anden walked in the front door, Mrs. Hian let out an appalled gasp. “What have you been doing?” she exclaimed, sitting him down in a chair at the kitchen table and rushing to fetch ice and salve for his swollen cheek and lip. “How did this happen?”

After Anden had relayed his story, Mr. and Mrs. Hian exchanged a grim look. “This isn’t good,” said Mr. Hian with a worried sigh. “It may cause problems for us.”

“I don’t understand,” Anden protested. “He insulted and challenged me, and I won the fight fairly. He conceded; people saw it. If he comes back for vengeance, he would be in the wrong.”

“Anden-se,” Mr. Hian said somberly. “Dueling is not allowed in this country. The Espenian courts will not uphold the result of any dispute solved by a duel, even if the parties were willing.”

“That man could come back to harm you, or more likely, his family could demand money from us,” Mrs. Hian explained as she dabbed Anden’s bloodied face.

“Under the law in Espenia,” Mr. Hian explained, “there is no such thing as a clean blade.”

Anden sat in silent dismay for so long that the Hians looked even more anxious and tried their best to comfort him. Mrs. Hian got up and rubbed his back and said, “Don’t feel bad; it’s our fault, not yours. You were only defending your reputation and your family’s name; how could you know that the rules here make no sense? We should’ve explained it to you, but we didn’t think this would happen.” Mr. Hian offered Anden a glass of hoji and a cigarette and said, “Don’t worry too much.”