The Student

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The Student Page 10

by Darin Niemann


  Iselle frowned slightly, “That hoodlum Max. He usually tries to cause a commotion around Kayne, but today he took one look at our table and scurried away.”

  I did my best to keep my face straight. I acted surprised, “Really? Maybe he finally realized the error of his ways.”

  Erik raised his cup high, “A toast! To peace at long last!”

  Grinning, I raised my cup to his. “To peace!”

  Iselle just sighed, “Fools, that is water you are drinking, not wine.”

  Erik, never one to be deterred, just grinned. “I can still drink to that.”

  We downed our water in one long drink. Iselle became serious once more, contemplating Max’s change in attitude.

  “I wonder what could have changed…” she pondered softly.

  I responded, “Does it matter? If I never see him again, it would be for the better.”

  Erik laughed aloud and even Iselle dawned a slight smile on her face. It was a different experience having friends. We had been meeting during lunch when possible ever since the day I introduced them. Outside of school, Erik and Iselle were usually preoccupied so lunch was the one time we could gather reliably. We grew to be fast friends, who joked around and trusted each other. It was a bit awkward at first, for me. There were no friends where I had grown up. It felt nice, to have them now. The bell for the twelfth hour sounded, signaling the end of of the meal.

  I spoke, “Before we leave, are we agreed to meet on the last day of the festival?”

  The prince thought for a moment, then nodded, “Any royal festivities should be resolved by then. I should be able to attend.”

  We both looked to Iselle as she spoke up, “All of my obligations should be fulfilled before then as well.”

  We all stood up, preparing to leave.

  “It is settled then. The last day of the festival, we will meet near the entrance to the school gardens,” I stated.

  After classes that night, I found Dante waiting for me at our rendezvous spot. Dante and I had become close over the course of the year, as we usually spent our nights training. Once, I questioned him why he would bother to come out and practice with a novice, every night of the week. His reply being that of all things in this world, he enjoyed a good sword fight over most other things… except perhaps a mug of ale. He also told me that I was learning at an advanced rate, and it was interesting to witness firsthand. For me, what originally had been a simple interest had unfolded into a passion. I became accustomed to the hilt nestled in the palm of my hand and the solid weight of the sword seemed to lessen every time I held it. Now, standing here with weapon in hand, it was a mere extension of my arm. I felt stronger than I ever had.

  Dante laughed at my confidence, “What has you strutting around like a rooster?”

  I grinned, “Nothing of note, it has simply been a good week.”

  Dante guffawed. “Whatever you say, kid. I know a victory dance better than anyone. So, what is it then? Who did you beat?” I decided to tell him about Max and his friends. I told him how they had been pestering me for some time now, and how I had finally stopped them. After I finished my story, Dante put a hand on my shoulder. “You did well, kid. Just remember that you don’t always have to fight your battles alone.”

  I nodded and replied, “I know that, but at the same time, I knew that I needed to deal with it myself.”

  Dante stood and I followed as he spoke, “I get it. I’ve had my fair share of squabbles in life. Now, enough talk, we have training to do. I know just the thing to knock your confidence down a notch.”

  He faced me and drew his sword. I readied myself as well and smiled, “What might that be?”

  He grinned, then tossed his weapon from his right hand, to his left. I blinked, confused. Dante charged me, sword in his left hand. I realized that blocking and parrying would be much harder, for both of us. The only thing I could think to do was dodge, and then counterattack. So I did. Dante’s sword thrust inward, attempting to get through underneath mine. I sidestepped the thrust, pivoting while moving to get myself positioned, then striking with a downward slash toward his neck. As fast as my counterattack was, Dante was faster. His sword appeared in front of mine to parry.

  He grinned as we locked swords, “It’s been some time since I fought with my left. I’m not holding back this time, kid. Prepare yourself.”

  I was too focused to give a reply, as I was trying to find a way to fight his new style of swordplay. He shoved me away roughly, breaking our swordlock. Dante, not letting up, continued his attack with fierce, relentless strikes. I was being pushed back, slowly, barely able to keep his blade at bay.

  Suddenly, Dante struck with a horizontal slash, I blocked it, but as soon as our swords hit, his vanished as if he had not thrown any weight behind the blow. The block left me unbalanced, and as I watch him, Dante dropped low and spun. A moment later, my legs were swept out from under me and I toppled, dropping my sword and catching myself before hitting the ground. As I tried to rise, I felt Dante’s practice blade rest against my neck. Defeated, and so easily too. I did indeed have much left to learn.

  Removing his blade, Dante offered his hand to let me up. Brushing myself off, I spoke. “You never told me you could fight left handed.” Dante smirked, “It is a handy skill to have, when your opponent is inexperienced and has never encountered it before. It is not something I will teach you for a long time, if ever. To become fluid enough with main handed sword techniques requires many years of training. Off handed takes even longer.” He paused, looking out at the empty training yard before continuing, “Fighting against it though, is an entire matter altogether.”

  He turned back to me, “From now on, I will be switching between my right and left when we spar.” I nodded, listening to everything he said.

  He grinned at me, “Well, are you ready to lose once more?”

  I shook my head at his banter as I readied myself for another round, smiling with anticipation.

  Chapter 13

  Daylight streamed through the small window of my room and I squinted, holding a hand up to block the light. I sat up, eyes finally adjusting. The prince stood near his desk, throwing a few last things into his pack. He looked over at me and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

  “About time you got up, thought you were going to sleep away the whole festival.” He joked.

  I just grunted at him, as I was still only partially awake. He laughed and headed for the door.

  “I’ll be back by the last day of the festival.” He told me and I just waved as he left.

  Reluctantly, I rolled out of bed. Even though there were no classes for the rest of the week, I didn’t want to sleep the day away. This was one of the few times I had all to myself in some time now. I would probably visit Enelo’s later but what I really wanted to do was explore. There were still many parts of Erelith that I had yet to see and today was the perfect opportunity to remedy that.

  Leaving the school, I headed toward the market, but then wandered down a random alley. There were still a few people selling wares but most of them were about their everyday lives. There was a woman hanging clothes out to dry, a tanner carrying hides, and a couple children playing in mud puddles. I kept walking, going deeper into the city and farther away from the market district. From the looks of things, this area was much poorer than any other I had seen in Erelith. It began to remind me of Relvan, which didn’t have many fond memories.

  I was about to turn back when something caught my eye. There was a scrawny, hooded man trying to sell something. His eyes seemed to fixate on me as I looked at the object behind him. It was a small cage with a blanket over it. Curious, I moved closer. The slightly hunched man smiled nastily as I approached.

  “Ah, you are interested in the cat, yes?” His voice was scratchy and nearly made me cringe.

  “A cat? What type of cat is caged and covered?” I asked. Such an out of place thing triggered my curiosity. Any normal cat might be in a cage, but not covered. The shady
merchant chuckled softly, “A very wise question indeed, lad, very wise.” He rested his hand atop the cage as he spoke, “This cat is no ordinary cat, I assure you. This particular beast is marked with a white diamond on its forehead.”

  Not knowing at all what that meant, I asked. “A white diamond?”

  The merchant feigned surprise, “You’ve never heard of the cursed white diamond? This type of mountain cat is occasionally known to have a white diamond on its forehead. As such, it has become a sign of rarity and is highly sought after. Many people will pay a high price for a cat such as this.”

  “Why the need to cover it though?” I asked, still not fully understanding.

  The merchant nodded, “Ah, that would be the legends. There are many tales surrounding the white diamond mark. The most prominent legend says that one who looks directly into the cat’s eyes will be haunted by it until you die. It is only a legend, but some are more superstitious than others.”

  I nearly scoffed aloud, but I held myself in check. “I see. I can look then?”

  The merchant backed away from the cage slightly, “As you wish, but you have been warned.” I doubted such a thing as a curse could exist, but then again, there were many things I did not know. Curiosity won out over caution as I lifted the corner and peered into the tiny cage. What I saw shocked me. It was no mere house cat, it was a mountain cat, though a baby one. Its fur was a tan color which seemed normal as I had heard that most mountain cats had a similar coloring. The cat’s eyes were closed as it rested, but there indeed was a stark white, diamond shaped mark on its head. It also looked skinny to the point of starvation. This merchant clearly hadn’t fed it in some time. Images from my childhood flashed in my head, of days without food, digging through trash to find even crusts of bread. I dropped the cover back in place as I attempted to clear my head from the rising anger at the treatment of the cat. I knew what it was going through and I felt pity on the cat.

  “How much?”

  The merchant grinned, eyes alight with greed as he spoke, “A marked cat such as this is no small matter, lad. I went to great personal pains to acquire it. A price of around forty gold coins would be considered a bargain.”

  My mind boggled at the sum. Forty gold coins? I didn’t have a single gold coin to my name! The only time I had seen one is on the prince’s desk. I thought about asking Erik for it, knowing he would lend me the gold, but he would be busy for the next few days. Barring thievery, I was out of options.

  The merchant, noticing my reaction, swiftly asked, “Lacking in coin are we?”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. The merchant glanced me over before continuing, “If you are interested, I may know of a way to acquire such a sum.”

  This merchant was definitely not someone I could trust, that much was clear, but the sight of the young mountain cat kept me rooted and listening.

  The man lowered his voice, “There is a… gathering of sorts, here in Erelith. It is frowned upon by the guards so it is kept secret from most. They call it ‘The Ring’. The Ring hosts one on one duels. The combatants fight unarmed, while the spectators get to bet on the outcome. Of course, the winner gets a share, while the loser gets nothing. They only have one rule.”

  The merchant paused dramatically. I relented, asking the implied question, “What might that be?”

  He chuckled before answering, “You cannot kill your opponent. Deaths attract the attention of the guard and nobody wants that. Hence, if you kill your opponent, you don’t receive any coin. I don’t often give this kind of information out, but you have the look of some of those fighters at The Ring.”

  I did feel confident in my abilities, but I had never tested them out on anyone other than Dante. The quarrel with Max didn’t really count as a fight either. The more I thought about this arena the more interesting it sounded. I knew it would be dangerous though, as there were no rules. The least I could do was take a look.

  “Where would I go to find this Ring?” I asked.

  The merchant replied, “It is not far from here, at the end of this alley take the right hand path. There will be a door on your left with a man standing guard, tell him ‘The Raven Soars’ and he should let you in.”

  I followed the merchants instructions, and sure enough there was a man leaning against a post smoking a pipe. He was standing right next to a door and glaring at anybody who passed by. As soon as I spoke the words ‘The Raven Soars’ the man knocked three times, then paused and knocked once more. The door opened and I was led down the wooden stairs into a large open area filled with people. They were all gathered around in a circle, yelling out.

  Making my way through the crowd, I found a spot that I could see through to the fighters. They were facing off, both looking drained and worn. Apparently, this had been a close match as the crowd was lively. I wanted to watch a few rounds before attempting to fight. It would be wise to see if I could hold my own before rushing into the unknown. The current fight finished as one man staggered and slipped up. The other fighter took advantage of the slip immediately and threw a fast, strong punch at the opening. His opponent went down hard. The fight was over.

  As the bets were being paid and money handed around, a well dressed man entered the ring. Unlike the usual peasant garb here, this man wore a grey vest with dark red pants. I assumed him to be the ring’s leader and organizer. While I studied him, he pointed for some men to carry the fighter off to the side, where they left him against a wall. The message was clear. If I happened to get injured I would be on my own.

  The leader proceeded to pay the winner a bag full of coins. I saw a brief flash of gold before the winnings were tucked out of sight. The fighter quickly left the ring, guarding his bag closely. As the crowd died down in anticipation of the next fight, the leader moved to the center of the ring.

  “A well fought match, was it not?” He roared loudly. Cheers erupted as the man enticed the crowd. “Now then, let us move on. If you wish to fight in the next round, step forward,” he ordered.

  There were a few men that stepped forward, all eager to be picked. The leader examined a few of the fighters before choosing two to be the next duelists. The crowd roared again as the fighters took their places. Betting began once more as the fighters prepared themselves and stretched. The leader stayed between them and watched as the crowd grew wilder. Finally, he stepped back to the edge of the ring.

  “Fight!” the ring leader yelled, signaling the start. The chosen fighters charged at each other. I payed close attention, but I need not have worried. The attacks they threw were strong in power, but they were untrained. They each had many openings that I observed from my current vantage point. It was a bit surprising to think that I could easily take either of them in a one on one match. I started to feel hope that earning the forty gold coins was not entirely beyond reach.

  I waited two more rounds before answering the call for more fighters. Most of the fighters only lasted one round but, you could choose to fight more if you wanted. I learned that if I lasted at least three I would be able to make more than enough.

  As I stepped forward, the ringmaster studied me. He then whispered something in the ear of the giant of a man standing at his side. Nodding, the man came over to me and puffed out his chest.

  “This ain’t no place for kids, so bugger off,” he commanded, glaring at me.

  Truth be told, most of the fighters were much older than I was. It was something I hadn’t thought of.

  “I can fight.” I stated, not backing down. This was my only chance to get the gold I needed.

  The burly man laughed as if I had told a joke, “Sure, maybe when you’re older kid.”

  He then tried to grab me by the shoulder. I assumed he meant to physically drag me outside. That wasn’t happening. I swiftly grabbed his outstretched arm, stepping on his feet, and pulled. It was the same maneuver that I had used to help that tavern girl. Imbalanced by the sudden shift in his center of gravity and the inability to bring his feet forward, the burly man fell flat at
tempting to catch himself with his hands before his face collided with the ground. I moved as he fell, appearing behind him. As I placed my foot on his neck, the man froze. He knew I was in control.

  Once our scuffle ended, I noticed that the crowd had grown quiet. I looked around to see that we had drawn more than a few eyes. Some were still focused on the main fight and bets, but word was clearly being passed on. The ringleader studied me once more before a greedy smile touched his face. Approaching me, he gestured at the large man on the ground.

  “Would you mind letting Ulric up there?” I obliged him. Now that I had his attention there was no more need to keep Ulric down.

  The leader turned to me once more, “You wish to fight then.” I nodded, as there was nothing else to say. “Then you shall fight. I see that you are trained well. Therefore, I will have to choose your opponents carefully. We wouldn’t want any boring matches. The crowd wants a fair fight after all.”

  I was a bit worried as he looked around until his gaze rested on one of the men. He was a tough looking man, smaller than Ulric, but he looked fierce.

  “Yes,” the leader spoke, “Feron will do nicely.” The man signaled Feron to the ring, then turned to me. “Good luck, boy. Feron is one of our best fighters.”

  Not bothering to reply, I made my way to the ring facing Feron as his hawk-like gaze focused on me. Neither of us spoke, we simply studied each other while stretching as we waited for the fight to begin. Bets were placed and, from what I could gather from the yelling and shouts, I was the underdog in this fight. Most had bet on Feron as they had seen him fight before.

  I calmed myself, breathing deeply and tuning out all but Feron. I checked for openings or anything else that would provide an advantage. His right hand carried rings on all fingers besides his thumb. Though not technically a weapon, they would do more damage than his left hand if I was hit. The look he gave me wasn’t like the others I had clashed with. In his eyes, I was an opponent not taken lightly, whereas the others had underestimated me. The leader started counting down. “Three...two…one...fight!”

 

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