by Kyle West
“Why?”
“It’s a long shot, but a Champion blade master might recognize it for what it is.” Fiona shrugged. “I’m only supposing it’s old because I noticed oddities within it, things that didn’t quite fit. Things as minute as the way you tilted your head, or the trajectory of your back, the way you arched your wrists. If I noticed such things, how much more would a trained Champion? Such a person would think you learned it from a book to catch your opponents off guard. A clever trick, to be sure. But if you keep doing it, then it will become clear that it’s something more. People will start asking questions. And that’s something we don’t need.”
“What do I do, then?”
“Depending on who wins the next fight...Isaru or Alaric...you might consider toning it down a bit.”
I blinked. It was hard to imagine myself beating either of them, especially Alaric, even with Anna’s help.
“The whole reason I entered the tournament was not out of a desire for victory,” I said. “I wanted to prove myself to Isandru, to show him how strong I’ve become...because maybe he’ll let me return to Colonia earlier.”
Fiona nodded her understanding. “I know a part of you wants that victory. I want it for you, too. You would be the first girl to win in...well, ever. But it’s safer for you not to. Even now, you’ve attracted a lot of attention. The Champions will want to train you. It’s already clear you have the potential to train the Gift of Battletrance. If anyone recognizes that you’re using antiquated forms, it will raise eyebrows, at the very least.”
“I can’t just throw this match,” I said.
“There are more important things than winning,” Fiona said. “Secrecy is one of them.”
“I think you’re being too careful,” I said. “Who in their right mind would look at me fighting and think I was clearly Anna?”
Fiona sighed. “You might be right, but one thing is for sure. People will wonder why an initiate fights like a Champion. And to answer that question, it might lead someone to surprising places.”
“You’re saying I fought as well as a Champion?”
“Perhaps not as well as that,” Fiona said. “But only a Champion would so seamlessly switch forms and know which forms to switch into. What Nabea was doing was a classic tactic, but you countered it perfectly. Even apprentices would have had trouble with it.” Fiona looked at me meaningfully. “And Nabea has been training far longer than you.”
“But...throw the entire match?”
“I’m not saying you should,” Fiona said. “Only to consider it.”
“I can’t, Fiona. It isn’t like me to give up. And if people talk...they talk.” I smiled. “Besides, there’s no guarantee I’ll win, anyway. Nabea and Samal are one thing, but Isaru and Alaric are on a different level.”
“Their match is probably going on right now,” Fiona said.
“We should get back, then,” I said.
If Anna didn’t return for my fight, then there was no way I was going to win. It wasn’t something I had any control over. As far as I knew, Fiona was going to get her wish.
BY THE TIME I RETURNED to the village green, Isaru’s and Alaric’s fight was in full swing. I regretted walking away, when I should have been here the entire time scoping out the competition. They seemed to be of an even match, and Alaric’s superior size and strength was matched by Isaru’s nimbleness and speed. Even so, Isaru’s strikes were strong and sure. Interestingly, both were using Flameform, which meant each was focusing on an all-out attack on the other.
The fight didn’t last long. Alaric managed a solid cut on Isaru’s side, just before Isaru thrust at Alaric’s gut. Martin called Alaric the winner.
Seeing Isaru lose was surprising in and of itself, but I supposed I shouldn’t have found it surprising, considering Alaric was probably the most skilled initiate. Isaru bowed nobly, and Alaric acknowledged the bow with a nod.
Now, I noticed people were glancing my way, seeming to think that there was no way I could win. Despite everything Fiona had told me, I felt the same way. Certainly, no one would bat an eye if I threw the match within seconds. Alaric looked across the crowd until his dark, hard eyes met mine. He was a giant, with red hair to his shoulders, high cheekbones, and muscles that made Nabea and Samal look like boys in comparison. He was a natural warrior, such as was born once in a generation, and his sword almost looked like a knife in his hand. He probably could have taken down most of the apprentices as well.
It was hard to see how I could ever be matched with him. His reach with those trunk-like arms would make it nearly impossible for me to get a hit in. Then, he gave a small, superior smile, as if dispatching me would be child’s play.
And from the way everyone was looking at me, it seemed they believed it, too.
I caught Fiona’s eye one last time. From the look on her face, it was clear that she thought I wouldn’t have to throw the match after all.
I decided, then and there, to give the final fight everything I had.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NOW THAT I HAD TAKEN my place across from Alaric, a sick nervousness took me over in full force. My stomach twisted and my skin became slick with sweat, and despite the heat of the day, I felt cold. The crowd went quiet, and behind me I could hear the clashing of metal from the two other rings that had been set up for the apprentices. Few were watching those fights, though. Almost everyone was here, and they wanted to see how quickly I would fall.
As Aela had taught me, I assumed Treeform. Alaric gave a small, superior smile, immediately assuming an unfamiliar form. Whispers flowed through the crowd like a wind, and I could only wonder what he had prepared for me.
Martin lowered his hand and Alaric stalked forward, his blade slightly raised.
I walked to meet him, and before I knew it, Alaric’s wide face contorted with pure aggression as he let out a guttural yell. I held my ground as his blade swung in from the side. I blocked easily, but Alaric pressed hard, using his superior strength to edge the blade closer.
I skirted away, knowing I wouldn’t gain any advantage from this engagement. He came at me again, trying the same thing. His reach was such that I had no chance of getting past the whirlwind of his blade — not that he ever gave me an opportunity to attack. Treeform allowed me to defend, but his strength made me feel in danger of shattering every time our blades met, even when I redirected the energy as Aela had taught me.
Even Isaru hadn’t been able to beat him.
I lost myself in my defense, doing my best to avoid conflict when I could. I wished that Aela had shown me more forms, but she had been sure no initiate would progress beyond Tree or Flame. Such as it was, I had to dissect the form itself, a difficult thing to do while under pressure.
First, I noted it was a highly aggressive form — but not as imbalanced as Flame. Most of the attacks were hard, direct, and coming from the front. They were predictable, but Alaric was counting on the fact that predictability wouldn’t matter. When you had an advantage over your opponent, it didn’t matter if they knew what you were going to do if they had no way of stopping it.
And worse, help seemed far away. Lurking in the Silence of my mind, I could still feel fear hovering beyond my consciousness: fear of failure, fear of going down too quickly, and most of all, fear that I would never be strong enough to save my parents.
Alaric smiled, even as he pressed the attack.
Sweat crawled down my skin as my movements came from something beyond myself. I was stepping into the flow at last, and slowly, defense became easier. Anna wasn’t here, though: I couldn’t feel her. This was all me.
Alaric growled, seeming to recognize the change. He stepped back, while I stepped forward.
Right into his trap.
With a bellow, his blade swung hard from the side, and I wouldn’t have time to defend against it. Even that blunted edge could cut deep. I fell to the ground, and the blade only managed to sweep right over my head. Seeing that I was grounded, Alaric hurried to trap me under his boot, but I rol
led away in the nick of time, scrambling up and assuming Treeform once again.
Alaric blinked, as if surprised his move didn’t work. For that matter, I was surprised, too. He used the lapse in the fight to change forms — to one I recognized, because I’d used it myself in a previous fight.
Windform.
I didn’t know how, or why, but I knew Flameform was the right response. Alaric hadn’t expected the move, but still, he joined blades with me. I knew Windform’s strength lay in calculated, precise strikes, the way wind found its way into cracks and the smallest of places. I knew my Treeform, while strong, would break down eventually. My lack of reach meant that I wouldn’t be able to counterstrike, so my only hope was outright aggression, which wouldn’t allow Alaric to get in a precise attack.
I unleashed a flurry of strikes that immediately had Alaric on the back foot. Even so, he recovered quickly, but before he could ready his own counter, I was attacking again. If I let him get one chance at a strike, it was probably the end for me. Even with all my aggression, Alaric was defending adequately. Windform, it seemed, was flexible, and equally suited to both offense and defense. It wasn’t that my form choice was incorrect; it was that Alaric was that much stronger.
I thought of what Fiona told me. I could throw this fight right now and no one would know the difference. At least then, it would be my choice.
But something inside me railed against it. I wasn’t going to let Alaric win. I couldn’t let him win. I wanted to prove to myself that I was strong enough to save my parents.
Alaric switched forms again — back to the aggressive posture he had started with. I stayed in Flame, knowing that as long as I kept up the pressure, Alaric wouldn’t be able to attack. My calculation ended up being wrong, however.
He battered away my attacks with a grimace, and the force of his counter strokes staggered me. Then, he attacked relentlessly. I didn’t even have time to switch forms. Indeed, my form was breaking.
And then, to my astonishment, one more hit and my blade was battered right out of my hand, landing uselessly a few feet away.
Alaric smiled in victory.
ALARIC WALKED FORWARD, simply holding his blade out for the kill. I backed away to the edge of the ring, even as people called and cheered from the sides. Cheering for Alaric to finish me, and cheering for me to keep fighting. I wouldn’t be dead until Alaric’s blade touched me. He looked a little annoyed, and began to move faster.
I watched my own blade, now a few feet behind him in the dirt. There was no way he was letting me get to it, so I had to think of something else.
I hadn’t learned much about hand-to-hand combat, though Seeker Garin had devoted a little time to it. It was all about getting your opponent grounded and pinned in cases where you had no access to a weapon. But I had no idea how to fight someone who had a blade while you didn’t, and Alaric was easily over twice my weight. Getting him grounded was laughable and doomed to failure.
And worse, Alaric wasn’t taking any chances. Anytime I tried to skirt around him, he was there to block me off. He was slowly penning me in, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I had one chance. I calmed myself, trying to seek an answer in the Silence formed in my mind. There was nothing I could consciously do to get out of this. I had to rely on anything that might be buried beneath...anything Anna herself might know.
I knew that meant acknowledging that she was, in fact, there. I knew it meant accepting that she was a part of me, and that she could help me in this moment. But even with Alaric staring me down, even with the battle going on in my mind and my pressing need to win, I couldn’t accept that she was a part of me.
Maybe throwing the fight was the best move after all...and now was as good a time as any.
Still, I stubbornly refused to give up. I reached deep into my mind, desperate for any chance that Anna might help me out.
And then, she was here, in this moment. I seemed to be possessed by a power higher than myself, and my muscles and joints moved as if they were someone else’s.
Alaric, at last tiring of chasing me around and being egged on by the crowd, came straight ahead. Rather than doing a simple cut, he went for a huge attack that was completely unnecessary given how defenseless I was. I could hear the crowd cry out in alarm.
That attack would only work in my favor.
The blade came down, and I easily stepped to the side. I stepped forward, punching him right in the jaw. He cried out, even as he stepped back and swung again, this time low, while roaring in fury. I pushed his hands down, hopping over the blade as it came under me. He rammed me with his shoulder, staggering me back, and he swung from the other side. I ducked just in time. It went on like this for a while, him cutting and slicing furiously as I stepped, spun, and redirected his attacks, all of my movements seeming to be a part of a predetermined course. The crowd roared with delight, and Alaric’s face reddened as his attacks became ever more furious while his embarrassment grew.
I was stepping toward my own blade, patiently, and Alaric could do nothing as I continually dodged his attacks. When he went for another large attack, I stepped out of the way. I took advantage of his imbalance to push him into the dirt with all I had. The giant crashed down, and I guess what they say about being big and falling hard is true. He groaned as he hurried to stand up, giving me more than enough of an opening to grab my sword. It felt so natural in my hand, as if I had been born with it. I noted that my hand was bloody — whether it was Alaric’s blood or mine, I couldn’t say.
I faced Alaric, who was now standing. He had assumed the conservative Treeform, and I could see that he was flustered and weak. His chest heaved, and ironically, he had exerted himself far more than necessary while I was utterly defenseless. I also knew that when someone was desperate, they were all the more dangerous.
He scowled, determined to take me down again as he had before. Not even meeting his blade, though, I kept dodging his blows. I knew it was as simple as reaching out with my blade and touching his side.
So I did.
Everything went still, and the crowd was struck silent.
EVEN AS THE CROWD CAME alive and started cheering, Alaric looked at me, his expression unreadable. He looked down at my blade, still held at his side, and gave a single nod.
“You fought well,” he said in his deep baritone.
I nodded, still breathing heavily from exertion.
“I’ve never seen anyone but Champions use Sightform,” Alaric said. “I’ve been trying to develop it myself. Perhaps you could show me a few things later?”
I blinked. Sightform. I knew nothing about it, except for Aela mentioning it during our last session. I had no idea what it even was.
“Sure,” I said.
He nodded. “You should come practice in the Copse sometime.”
And then, others were surrounding me.
“That was amazing!” Isa said.
“Good job, Shanti,” Aela said. “I don’t know where you learned those moves...”
She was looking at me strangely, as if I was keeping a secret from her. I supposed in a way, I was.
“Sightform,” Deanna said. “Even I’m impressed. Maybe what everyone’s said about you is right after all.”
I frowned. “What have they been saying?”
“That your connection to the Xenofold is stronger than any initiate in living memory. I thought for sure you’d lose, but I’ll be the first to admit you proved me wrong.”
I felt a bit dizzy from the victory, and everything felt distant. It hadn’t been me who had won that fight.
It had been Anna.
It was hard to be proud of a victory when it hadn’t been you who sealed the deal. I had held my own against Alaric until he disarmed me. Anna had bailed me out, in the end, just as she had with Samal and Nabea.
I reminded myself that it wasn’t about me or my victory. If Anna was guiding my hand, it meant I was strong enough to return to Colonia and save my parents. They were what
mattered, not my vanity.
Soon, others were surrounding me, congratulating me on my victory. Their faces were jubilant and incredulous. Even the apprentices and some of the Seekers offered me hearty handshakes. I spied Elder Tellor and Seeker Haris speaking in low tones about fifty feet distant, both of them looking toward me.
I realized then that Fiona had probably been right.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I SPENT THE REST OF the day watching the apprentices, and then the Champions, fight. Aela made it to the finals, but in the end was defeated by Roland from the kitchens. It had been a close, entertaining brawl, with lots of different forms, but Roland eventually wore Aela down and took the victory.
By now, it was late afternoon, and organizers were preparing for the Seekers’ duels. I made my way across the green to the north side of town, where a range had been set up for archery. I got there just in time to watch Isa make a good showing, though the competition was open to all — initiates, apprentices, Seekers, and even the townsfolk.
Isa was very skilled, always hitting the target and hitting the center besides. She was the best at her age, only shown up by those who were older and more experienced. Afterward, she and I watched a fast draw competition, where contenders used a short bow and ran through an obstacle course while shooting targets, both moving and immobile. The woodsmen living in the Red Wild had traveled far specifically for this competition, and seeing them in action was amazing.
We returned to the green just in time for the Seekers’ matches to begin. Competing were Seekers Garin, Amalia, Haris, and even Elder Tellor. Amalia was matched with Tellor, and there was something familiar in the way they fought, as if they had done it many times before. Tellor, after all, had trained Amalia, and knew all of her tricks, and Amalia would have known much of Tellor’s. Watching their fight was fascinating. The chief difference between a Seeker’s fight and an apprentices’ lay not in the actual mechanics of tactics, but the overall strategy. They made shifts of form that seemed nonsensical to me or counterintuitive, but I realized that they were fighting on a level that I couldn’t begin to comprehend, and that they were competing with each other’s minds as much as they were in physicality. Amalia was quicker, even stronger, than the older Tellor, but Tellor had years of experience to back him up, and his forms and sequences were more varied. Amalia struggled against him, and ended up falling when Tellor took a wide stance and was able to maneuver Amalia into an awkward position.