Ja-Rel By Counselor Two warriors battle over a single love. Cultures change, but human beings do not. Here is a story of humans is a distant culture. The two warriors circled warily, testing each other. I, Li-Al of Tarek, the cause of this battle, watched helplessly through the wooden bars separating me from the combatants. One warrior would die and my body, if not my heart, would belong to the survivor. On a tapestry such a scene might seem romantic. But in the real world fear and shame paraded across my consciousness. To be the prize of violence was more than terrifying; it was degrading. Ja-Rel, my lover of four years, feinted to the right, but failed to draw out Parebo. My love for Ja-Rel awoke when first I saw a handsome young warrior with penetrating eyes and the lithe grace of a panther. The intertwining of danger and beauty enthralled me. The tenderness beneath the strength touched me deeply. And then there was the mystical ability to understand the meanings behind my words, to know the secrets of my heart. With the first kiss my ambition faded as did the daring goals I had held for so long. Their movements, still tentative, seemed to be infinitely slow as in a dream. Those four years with Ja-Rel had been the happiest of my life. My friends never understood why I gave up an independent life to become what they called in derision, "Ja-Rel's plaything." One especially close friend said, "Sleep with Ja-Rel if you must, but never commit yourself to any warrior, for if you do, you will always take second place to adventure and glory. You will give and give and get nothing but heartache in return." I knew the truth when I heard it, but my heart ruled my head. Parebo lunged first; Ja-Rel retreated, holding back from the expected counterattack. I had joyously given my body, my soul and even my independence to Ja-Rel. I rejoiced even when I knew my surrender to be a weakness. Many a night I had lulled myself to sleep intoning, "Ja-Rel, Ja-Rel." I loved and then I loved more until I was so filled there was room for nothing else. They circled; suddenly Ja-Rel thrust forward only to be blocked by Parebo. Parebo with the black hair and the ready smile had come through our village only a few months before. One look and I knew that I was the object of intense desire and Parebo knew that I knew. And I knew that he knew that I knew, and so on, until I became as dizzy with thinking as with another's passion. Rustian warriors never ask permission to love. Why should they? They think that their passion is enough for both and that being possessed by a Rustian warrior is an honor and a joy. I did not blame Parebo, for I could never fault anyone for birth and upbringing. Parebo was a Rustian raised in the Rustian way. Ja-Rel and I were from Tarek raised to respect the dignity of each and every person. That was the difference. The pace of the battle quickened. Parebo feinted left and struck from the right. Ja-Rel blocked and countered. Riding on a great horse, Parebo had snatched me from a raspberry patch. I fought, but I had been inactive for too long and was weak. My futile struggles resulted only in my being held tighter and kissed in amusement as we galloped deeper into the woods. This room with the wooden bars and the lock on the door had become my prison. Now the tempo increased. Thrust! Block! Counter-thrust! Retreat! Advance! By the standards of the Rustians Parebo had been kind and gentle. "Relax. You are too good for Ja-Rel. I, Parebo, will make you happy, as you have never been before. Take your time. Get to know me. Soon you will feel differently." Now Parebo was the aggressor with Ja-Rel backing and evading. Now the roles were reversed with Parebo on the defensive. Parebo prepared delicious meals. Rustians spend more time on creature comforts than we do. "Now I'll cook for you. Later when you love me, you cook." Then there were the stories and little jokes. Parebo's songs, sometimes joyous, sometimes sad, were always hauntingly beautiful. "Don't you see how I love you. For you I risk my life." And always there was the laughter. Ja-Rel, Ja-Rel, why have I brought you here - so close to danger- so near to death? Ja-Rel found us because something in my innermost being had called out and made contact across the distance. But now I wished that I had never called, for I wanted no suffering, no bloodshed, no death - certainly not on my account. All I desired was peace, to be left alone, never again to see either of them. The combat reached a new intensity so that I could scarcely follow the movements which flowed together as if choreographed. Then by concentrating I found could enter into their very perceptions as they performed this dance of battle. Thought and action were one. Mind fused with body, thought with action. And I was one with them. They had no fear, but rather a sense of joy at the exercise of an artistry far beyond the reach of ordinary mortals. Each was totally engaged with the other. Neither had any thought of the prize, that is, neither had any thought of me. Defenses were readied even as the thought of attack began in the mind of the opponent. Suddenly as though I had been released from blindness a new truth flashed before me. They fought not because of me. I was only the excuse, certainly not the true cause. They fought because they were warriors, because they lived for the sword and died by the sword. They fought because they were artists whose medium was battle. The fault was theirs, not mine. "Stop! Stop!" My thoughts battered at their minds. "Stop this madness!" Suddenly as if by signal they parted. Their sword points were lowered to the ground. After a moment of silence Parebo spoke to Ja-Rel, "You are a brave such as I have never seen. Let us make peace. Then we will travel together, across the river, beyond the mountains. No one will stand before us. What adventures we will have and what glory!" After a pause that seemed to last forever Ja-Rel replied, "And Li-Al?" "We'll forget about past loves. Li-Al is a rare jewel, but adventure and glory are better." In the passion of the moment Ja-Rel was tempted. What could be stronger than the bonds between great warriors? Then the decision was made; the answer came, "Li-Al stays with me." "It is a pity. Even Li-Al is not worth your death, probably not even worth mine, now that I think of it." With Parebo's laugh their swords came simultaneously to the ready. At that moment I found my voice. "No! Stop! I don't want either of you! Go away! Take your craziness with you over the mountains. Leave me! Leave me! Stop! Stop!" That cry from the depths of my soul changed nothing; my words entered their ears but never touched their hearts. They resumed the dance of death, caught again in the exhilaration of testing their limits. Now I beheld my own faults as clearly as I had seen theirs. I had squandered my birthright. Ja-Rel had never asked for the sacrifice of my independence. No, I had thrown it away; I had let myself become little more than a prize for violence, a medal for bravery. Now I knew that I had betrayed myself, that I was as unworthy as they. I vowed to change no matter what the cost. They fought now in earnest. The art had was also a contest. Parebo was the first to foresee the end. Ja-Rel was setting the pace, leading in the dance of death. Parebo could only follow, caught up in the style and the rhythm set by the other. There was still no fear only added concentration to speed up, to lead and not to follow. This total involvement in the game, in the high art of battle, even to the point of death was beyond my understanding. I sensed the ecstasy of Parebo. Then Ja-Rel knew and with a lunge ended the dance. Ja-Rel unlocked the door. I inhaled the scent of her sweat and drank in her exultation in victory. As always at her touch my bones turned to water. I let my head fall against the hard mail that covered Ja-Rel's breasts. We both had enough pain for that day. The task of rebuilding my life could wait until tomorrow. Then there would be tears for Parebo. But for the moment all my resistance and all my doubts were swept away. I, Li-Al of Tarek, belonged once again to Ja-Rel.