I stood and held the point of my sword to her throat. “Yield.”
“Yield,” Kalina echoed weakly, still struggling to draw air into her abused lungs.
I tipped my head in a salute to the excellent match even as I withdrew my sword. Bending over to my left, I retrieved her weapon and offered the hilt to her when she’d managed to sit up. “Your moves were amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.” My praise struck the right chord with her.
She squinted up at me, where the sun shone through the dome behind my body. “Family secret.” She took my hand when I offered her assistance to stand.
“I thought as much. I might just have to steal that move myself.”
“You earned it. Good luck in the next round.” She patted the dust off of her clothes as we exited the sparring ground. Gently touching her battered side, she added, “I’ll have quite the souvenir for my mistake.”
“Sorry about that.” I hated having to take someone out that way, but she hadn’t left me much choice. As the match had gone on longer than I’d anticipated, we finished last, and I had to hurry to the main stage where the winner’s names were already being dumped into the next bowl.
It surprised me to learn I’d drawn Carl as my opponent for my third and final match of the day. After the way our practice sparring session had ended a couple of days ago, I knew he’d be looking for redemption. From the moment the match began, I knew I’d been right.
“Do you think you can play fair for the match?” Carl growled as we circled one another. Neither of us wanted to make the first move, as it tended to give the opponent the upper hand on the delivery style.
I merely raised my eyebrows, but I didn’t bother answering him. Let him stew in his anger a little longer. Maybe it would make him careless, and I could find a natural opening to quickly end this match.
“You’re using your right arm again, I see.” Carl continued to circle to his left.
“Are you going to talk all night, or are we going to fight?” I hoped my taunting would get him moving.
“Just waiting for you to show me what you’ve got.” He executed an intricate maneuver with his sword. A grin spread across his face as he challenged me yet again.
While it was a flashy move, it left him wide open for me to strike out at him. I didn’t have all day to play his game. I stepped forward into his swing and let his sword crash into my own. Unbelievably, Carl had not seen this coming, and he almost lost his grip.
With an embarrassing fumble, he charged forward with a double grip on the hilt and growling his frustration. This aggression was more the style I’d grown used to with our sparring matches. He came at me with his brute strength, all elegance forgotten.
Of course, the impact of his blows had nothing on what Dad could deliver. Yet I admired his tenacity. I deflected his overhand swings to save my arms from taking the impact. I refused to tire out my arms while defending against a move, especially those which would not give me an opening for a point.
I could hear the crowd around us chanting Carl’s name. Normally, I’d tune out such a distraction, but I could distinctly hear Leanne’s shrill voice over everyone else’s. She had no idea that her taunting would give me the focus I needed to move into the right mindset to call the guiding lights into play.
Carl had already scored two points to my one; a third would give him the win. Just when he came at me again, I stepped back, much as I’d done with Kalina. Rather than fall to my knee, I stepped to my right, allowing me enough room to pull my sword back.
With a wicked grin, Carl swiftly stepped up to fill the gap with his sword. Believing I’d made a fatal mistake, his triumph instantly morphed into disbelief when he found the hilt of my sword stopping his move. A light shimmered over his shoulder, and I directed the tip of my sword to follow its guidance.
My focus pin-pointed my next move. The crowd disappeared. Time crept to a standstill. Carl didn’t stand a chance when I delivered my second score to his shoulder, effectively numbing his entire arm. Almost immediately, I moved to take my winning point. My muscles responded with uncanny precision as the blade came to rest its swift arc just short of breaking the skin on his neck.
Time instantly resumed its normal speed, and the crowds burst into thunderous applause at my stunning victory. Carl sputtered for breath even as I held my hand out to him in the customary ending to a match. Rather than display proper sportsmanship, Carl glared at me, barely containing his growl of frustration, before he rudely brushed past me with his wounded shoulder hitting mine as he left the sparring circle.
I turned to follow his progress, taking in the crowd around us, which parted to allow Carl to leave. Three things caught my attention in those few seconds. First, Leanne possessively held Griffin’s arm while challenging me with her piercing glare.
Second, Griffin spoke to the crowd at large. “Oh, good. It looks like I won’t have any challenge for my win tomorrow.” I hadn’t had a chance yet to find out who I’d be facing in the final match; now I had my answer.
“I’m looking forward to it, Griffin.” I tipped my head only a fraction of an inch to let him know I wasn’t intimidated. I wished I had a proper sheath for my sword. As it was, I pushed it through my belt at my side to free my hands. My feet moved of their own accord to follow Carl’s path out of the sparring field.
I’d just reached the edge of the crowd when I encountered my third surprise. Standing at the edge of the pathway, Silas stood with his arms crossed and a thoughtful expression on his face. I continued toward him, wondering how long he’d been watching.
Unfortunately, he fell into step beside me. His commanding presence alone caused everyone else to step back and keep their distance. “It appears you’ll get your chance tomorrow. You’re even more skilled at gladio than your sister.”
“Thank you.” How did he know my sister’s skill level? The very last person I wanted with me was Silas. Yet, he clearly felt compelled to try to intimidate me before tomorrow’s match. “Did you have any luck locating my stolen sword?”
Shaking of his head ruefully, he walked with his hands clasped behind his back. “I’m sorry; no.”
His insincerity practically oozed through his oh-so-humble posturing. I refused to play into his game. I merely nodded, already expecting as much from him.
“You don’t appear to need any help, though. The almost blinding speed with which you took down Carl was impressive. I’ll look forward to seeing you fight again tomorrow in the finals.”
As if Silas had delivered his final intimidation threat, he gave a sharp nod before stepping off the exit path. I watched him saunter away and wondered what he had in mind for me when I won.
No sooner had Silas turned the corner out of my sight, than I felt myself get caught up in a crowd of my friends. The whole crew surrounded me, and I grinned foolishly. Even Alyssa stood in front of me, a silly smirk plastered on her face. “I take it you’ve advanced to the final round for tomorrow.”
“Yep. Although, I wish I could be here tomorrow to watch you take that smug look off of Griffin’s face.”
“It’ll be my pleasure!” We left the gladio grounds behind us, our voices raised along with our spirits.
All I had left to do was win my championship tomorrow, and the prophecy could begin.
I rolled over onto my side; the euphoria still coursing through my bloodstream. Unless I could channel some of my nervous energy enough to sleep, I’d be facing Griffin too exhausted to execute my best performance. Still, the idea of Silas coming to watch the final match bothered me more than I cared to admit.
If only I had my sister’s sword, then my victory would be secured. I fell asleep with this thought circling. All night I dreamed of how I’d defeat Griffin. When I awoke bright and early to the sound of my alarm clock, I hoped the victory I’d experienced in my dreams would become a reality in today’s all-important match.
I was ready.
Chapter 15
I’D WAITED MY entire life for th
is day. The crowd stood to either side of the pathway leading to the sparring grounds. I had a clear view of Griffin entering from the opposite side. He swaggered as if he were already accepting his win from his adoring fans.
Had Dad not taught me the art of sparring with someone fully twice my size, I might have felt a smattering of fear. I didn’t need to swagger; I had confidence in my swordsmanship as well as my newfound ability. Then I also had to factor in the prophecy. What was the point in this if I couldn’t hold up my end of the deal?
I reached up to reassure myself of the pendant resting under my form-fitting shirt. I made the movement subtle as if I merely brushed an imaginary speck of dirt from my front. Drawing attention to my jewelry would be a fatal mistake.
The fingers of my right hand flexed against the hilt of the sword I carried at my side. The grip felt different than my sister’s sword, almost too big for my hand. Compensating for the difference would only distract me if I let it. I needed to keep my head clear and my eyes open for any weakness Griffin presented.
I tuned out the noisy crowd and advanced toward the grounds where I would seal my fate and potentially the future of all of Heliok. Scratch that, I couldn’t allow myself to get too dramatic at a time like this. Taking a deep breath, I stepped up onto the sparring platform.
With practiced ease, I noted my playing field. The dry soil crunched beneath my feet. The divots near the edges could trip me up or give me an advantage if I could drive Griffin over to them. The crowd pressed near the sides of the platform, disregarding their own safety in anticipation of the sparring to come. All of this registered within a fraction of a second when my eyes pivoted up to meet Griffin’s.
He stopped just short of the center, already pushing the limits of the rules by encroaching on my traditional starting space. If he intended this to disturb me, he’d have to work a lot harder. Such childish antics were entirely beneath me.
The referee stepped in to the center, his hand lifting and pushing Griffin back a pace. At least the referee appeared to want a fair contest. Hopefully, his impartiality would continue throughout the bout. The referee drew in a deep breath to announce the start of the game, and the crowd went silent.
“You both know the rules. Any strikes to the head or knee, and you will lose a point. The first contestant to make three legal hits will get the win. Are we agreed?” The ref looked pointedly at Griffin and waited for his verbal assent before turning to get mine as well.
Satisfied with our compliance, the ref took several steps backward. “Opening stance! Ready! Begin!”
Griffin’s bored expression transformed into an almost feral sneer. He lifted his sword high and lunged forward all in one movement. With more speed than I would have thought he possessed, he brought his sword down toward my shoulder, barely giving me enough time to shift to the side to allow my sword to shed the impact away from my body and into the dry soil.
As Griffin dug his sword tip out of the ground, I pivoted to take advantage of his slumped position and brought my sword over in a level arc toward his exposed midriff. Seeing my move, he brought up his sword, along with an arc of dirt, slapped my sword up and away from his body. For my attempt, a fine shower of grit poured down the back of my collar.
“Is that all you’ve got, little girl?”
I lifted one eyebrow, and we continued to circle one another. I’d let him expend his energy by charging me. Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I kept my grip sure on the hilt of the sword.
“I’m done toying with you. It’s time to get this embarrassment over with.” As he had opened with, Griffin suddenly lunged with the same overhand move.
Again, I blocked his attack, but this time the blow landed squarely on the edge of my blade just below the hilt. With a resounding crack, the length of my sword broke off, leaving me with a short, jagged edge at the end of the grip. Twisting my body to the left, I narrowly escaped giving him his first point when his sword continued to swing downward.
Both of us paused, wide-eyed at the damage wrought. Something this disastrous had never even occurred to me in my wildest imaginings. Immediately, I recalled my dream from the night before, knowing I’d channeled my inner power to fight against Griffin.
Without a second to spare, I calmed my whirling thoughts to center myself again. My ability to stay focused would decide the fate of everything. Crouching down, I held the hilt out defensively and wondered how I’d manage to get close enough to score against Griffin’s much longer reach. I’d basically have to outsmart him. Easy enough, right?
Rudely laughing, Griffin stepped back and held his arms wide. Yelling loud enough for all the crows to hear, Griffin looked around, ignoring me entirely. “Let’s see what a lowly Dome 2 girl can do now! Or should I start calling you a Dome 3 resident? Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to draw the Dragon’s Passage from the Dragon’s Dare. I’m sick to death of hearing how good you think you are. Come on! Show me your amazing skills!.”
I struggled to maintain my focus, faintly hearing chuckles coming from our audience. Rather than take him up on his generous offer, knowing full-well the trap it held, I continued to circle him. He would screw up. I’d remain patient.
“Fine. If you won’t even try, then I’ll just have to end this joke of a game for you.” Griffin began swinging again with his overhand stroke followed by a side-swipe.
Sweat trickled from my hairline. If I failed, I’d never forgive myself. How could I win with such a disadvantage?
Barely dodging in time to avoid the overhand swing, my luck expired with the side-swipe. The end of his sword painfully thwacked my chest just above my elbow, making me wonder if the bottom rib had actually cracked. In any event, Griffin had scored a point, one more than I wanted him to achieve.
Each inhalation now ended with intensely sharp pain. Strangely enough, the discomfort helped me regain my focus.
We danced around the ring, scuffing up billows of dust, although it strangely lingered around Griffin. I managed to thwart several of his aggressive strokes between the cage and the pitiful remnant of my sword.
Much to his pleasure, the crowd began chanting Griffin’s name. He moved closer to the edge of the ring, standing in the rough terrain I’d hoped to lure him to at the start. Beginning to feel invincible, Griffin nodded to several of his friends in the audience and gave them a thumbs-up gesture as if he planned on joining them in a minute.
I hoped his arrogance would give me an opening. To do what, I wasn’t sure since the short stub of my sword was practically unusable as an offensive weapon, merely a defensive tool to stretch out the inevitability of this forsaken match.
Turning from the jeering crowd, Griffin dug the tip of his sword into the dusty earth while he leaned on it. With his other hand, he reached out toward me, invitingly curling his index finger.
No way would I fall for that trick. My mind raced through innumerable practice sessions with Dad and Brekke. Nothing like this had ever happened, nor was it supposed to.
The closest thing I could equate it to would be hand-to-hand combat with short knives. The only problem being that Griffin’s blade, as well as his long arms, left me at a distinct disadvantage and negated any proficiency I might have acquired in that type of combat. Anna would have had a better chance of winning at this point. Too bad physical contact with anything other than our swords was prohibited.
As my father had taught me, I watched Griffin’s eyes. The cold, hard stare he leveled at me did not bring me any comfort, but it did let me know when he planned to strike. With a slight narrowing of his left eye, I waited for his move, but I didn’t anticipate the shower of dirt he hurled at me.
Too late, I turned my head. The grit lodged itself in my eyes, blinding me to his advance. I blinked furiously, but the sudden silence of the crowd alerted me to my danger. I never saw Griffin circle around me, but I sure felt his sword as he plowed the flat of it into the backs of my thighs with what must have been a two-handed swing.
Even as I f
ell to my knees with a jarring thud, I waited for the final blow to come. Griffin only needed one more point to win the match. Impacting the ground caused my necklace to spring free from its confines only to hit me in the face.
In that same instant, my vision cleared, and the aches of the match vanished. Supernaturally, time slowed to a crawl. I looked up to see a commotion near the exit of the arena. I could hardly credit my eyes for the way Meary fought her way through the crowd and stopped just short of the spectator line. Drawing back her hand, with the precision of a seasoned fighter, she flung something directly at me.
The object flew end-over-end in a low arc until it slid to a stop directly in front of me. Still on my hands and knees, I reached out and curled my fingers around the hilt of Brekke’s lost sword. Now I had a fighting chance to win this match, but no time to waste in trying to make it pretty.
Continuing in the unnatural state of slow motion, I heard Griffin’s sword slicing through the air behind me. Instantly, I dropped to my belly while also beginning to twist myself over on the ground, sword held in a vice-like grip to cover my head. My usual agility had returned when the power of the signet pendant healed me. Griffin’s sword missed me by only hair’s breadth.
Popping myself back to my feet, sword held in both hands, I lunged forward with lightning speed. The lights had returned, and I instinctively followed them. The shock of suddenly seeing me armed left a comical expression on Griffin’s face, but only in that one second before he howled in rage and charged toward me.
This forceful fighting style was what I’d always seen him use during sparring practice. His size terrorized his opponents, but I knew better. At the last instant of his menacing charge, I pivoted away toward his vulnerable side. As he stepped past me, I raised my sword, following through with my turn until the flat of my blade made solid contact with Griffin’s back.
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