“Deathgod, deathgod,” he chanted, “forgive my presumptuous question, and tell me you did not lie.”
“Soon you shall know,” said Yama, cutting at his legs.
Yama struck a blow that would have run another man through, cleaving his heart. But it glanced off his opponent’s breast.
When he came to a place where the ground was broken, the small man kicked, again and again, sending showers of dirt and gravel down upon his opponent. Yama shielded his eyes with his left hand, but then larger pieces of stone began to rain down upon him. These rolled on the ground, and, as several came beneath his boots, he lost his footing and fell, slipping backward down the slope. The other kicked at heavy rocks then, even dislodging a boulder and following it downhill, his blade held high.
Unable to gain his footing in time to meet the attack, Yama rolled and slid back toward the stream. He managed to brake himself at the edge of the crevice, but he saw the boulder coming and tried to draw back out of its way. As he pushed at the ground with both hands, his blade fell into the waters below.
With his dagger, which he drew as he sprang into a stumbling crouch, he managed to parry the high cut of the other’s blade. The boulder splashed into the stream.
Then his left hand shot forward, seizing the wrist that had guided the blade. He slashed upward with the dagger and felt his own wrist taken.
They stood then, locking their strength, until Yama sat down and rolled to his side, thrusting the other from him.
Still, both locks held, and they continued to roll from the force of that thrust. Then the edge of the crevice was beside them, beneath them, above them. He felt the blade go out of his hand as it struck the stream bed.
When they came again above the surface of the water, gasping for breath, each held only water in his hands.
“Time for the final baptism,” said Yama, and he lashed out with his left hand.
The other blocked the punch, throwing one of his own.
They moved to the left with the waters, until their feet struck upon rock and they fought, wading, along the length of the stream.
It widened and grew more shallow as they moved, until the waters swirled about their waists. In places, the banks began to fall nearer the surface of the water.
Yama landed blow after blow, both with his fists and the edges of his hands; but it was as if he assailed a statue, for the one who had been Kali’s holy executioner took each blow without changing his expression, and he returned them with twisting punches of bone-breaking force. Most of these blows were slowed by the water or blocked by Yama’s guard, but one landed between his rib cage and hipbone and another glanced on his left shoulder and rebounded from his cheek.
Yama cast himself into a backstroke and made for shallower water.
The other followed and sprang upon him, to be caught in his impervious midsection by a red boot, as the front of his garment was jerked forward and down. He continued on, passing over Yama’s head, to land upon his back on a section of shale.
Yama rose to his knees and turned, as the other found his footing and drew a dagger from his belt. His face was still impassive as he dropped into a crouch.
For a moment their eyes met, but the other did not waver this time.
“Now can I meet your death-gaze, Yama,” he stated, “and not be stopped by it. You have taught me too well!”
And as he lunged, Yama’s hands came away from his waist, snapping his wet sash like a whip about the other’s thighs.
He caught him and locked him to him as he fell forward, dropping the blade; and with a kick he bore them both back into deeper water.
“None sing hymns to breath,” said Yama. “But, oh to be without it!”
Then he plunged downward, bearing the other with him, his arms like steel loops about his body.