Avigail was in trouble and knew it. She could no longer escape from Elin’s relentless advances. She would have to face the girl in close where Elin had the distinct advantage. The odds were against her but she only had to score two more points for the win…it was still possible.
Elin advanced…this time warily. Victory was close, but defeat was right alongside. She expected the princess to retreat on her wounded leg, but the smaller girl surprised her and stood her ground, they met in a clash of furious blows. Both girl’s parried, dodged and deflected everything sent at them, then suddenly Avigail dropped to the ground. She lashed out quickly with her injured leg and caught a glancing blow to Elin’s left thigh. Avigail tried to follow up the hit with her right kata. She aimed for Elin’s calf, in an attempt to score the final blow before her opponent could react, but Elin leaped over the strike and it missed altogether. Avi tried to roll, knowing she was in a weakened position on the ground but before she could even begin the move she felt two blows connect, one to her right shoulder and another to the back of her head. She fell forward into the dirt, momentarily dazed. She’d lost but was only vaguely disappointed. The score was ten to nine. The match was over. Elin was the victor.
An hour later Arnot faced off against the sixth year by the name of Brayden Thatcher and soundly defeated him ten hits to one, and thus the finals for the kata championship were set.
†
The finals were held that evening just after sundown. Torches circled the entire arena floor supplying the lighting for the match and adding to the special atmosphere the Championship demanded. The final kata match was the only competition held after sundown, thus signifying its special place of honor. The day was warm, but grew significantly cooler once darkness fell over the island, and on this night it was not only the insects that were creating a buzz in the air. Vio sat between Avigail and Samantha and it would have taken a psychic to pick out the woman suffering most from nerves.
“He has to keep her away,” Avigail said. She sat rubbing her injured knee in a hopeless attempt to keep it from stiffening up. The injury had already caused her to forfeit her consolation match with Thatcher, which was very disappointing, but she still finished fourth in the katas which was more than respectable. Thus far it was the highest finish by any person not trained exclusively on Noble…at least until Arnot’s tournament was officially over. “She’s too fast and skilled at up close fighting.”
Vio nodded. “Yes, it’s a specialty of Tar Myson, her Master. He’s very adept. Arnot just has to keep her at bay and steer clear of injury so he can run the end-year race in the morning.”
“Well…he has to win as well,” Avigail replied softly.
“You doubt him?” Vio asked puzzled.
Avigail laughed. “No…as long as providence is not completely against him, Arnot should win easily.” Elin was good, but Arnot was an artist. Even now, after all her training, Avigail celebrated every hit she scored on her brother, and her celebrations were very few and very far between. She had little doubt Arnot would give a good account of himself if the Competition were held only among the Tars themselves…something the entire Noble community was beginning to suspect.
“Hush now,” Samantha told her daughter with a nervous smile as Arnot marched out of the side gate and onto the arena floor. Instantly his name became a chant, but with a twist. Now the crowd was screaming “Tar Arnot, Tar Arnot, Tar Arnot,” much to the chagrin of the High Council. Vio smiled to herself. She too wanted Arnot to dominate Elin as she’d wanted little else in her life.
Avigail glanced at her father. If he was nervous, it didn’t show. He was smiling and chatting softly with the High Tarina Nystrom and Tar Kostek, who sat on her far side. The elder Kostek seemed to be enjoying himself highly, but the High Tarina looked just a bit nervous. The crowd erupted as the two contestants were officially introduced and by far the loudest cheers were given up for Arnot, signifying, according to Master Kostek, that the bulk of the betting was being placed on the young prince.
However, when the match finally began and Tar Lemont stepped away from the two opponents, the crowd grew so quiet the occasional cough or sneeze echoed loudly throughout the arena.
Vio was unaware that she was holding her breath as Elin rushed in quickly, advancing on Arnot. The Tarina grimaced as she noted that the prince made no attempt to stop her advance and even seemed to be welcoming it. The attack when it came was like a viper strike, quick and sure, but Arnot blocked it easily and with the grace of a dancer. He spun and ducked under another blow and with a swift hard movement, smacked his right kata on the exposed backside of his challenger before continuing to retreat away from her.
Elin jerked at the all too personal blow, her face frozen in surprise.
Avigail smiled. “I hate it when he does that,” she said, cringing slightly as those around her chuckled softly.
Elin recovered quickly from the embarrassing hit and spun in an attempt to score on Arnot as well, but by the time she made it fully around he was well out of range. The crowd cheered and jeered at the same time and though it was impossible to tell, Avigail thought she saw Elin color a bit and smiled.
“It’s a good strategy,” Vio commented. “It will unnerve the girl and maybe take her out of her game.”
Gwaynn smiled at the Tarina. “Did he ever score a hit on you that way?” He asked with raised eyebrows.
Vio scoffed. “Not likely!”
But Avigail grimaced again. Arnot had scored many such hits on her in their time sparring together and she knew from experience that it was both frustrating and a bit humiliating, which was exactly why Arnot enjoyed it so. Arnot continued to retreat from the indignant Elin and even from the stands Avigail could see a touch of a smile on his face. Avigail loathed that smile and had tried to wipe it from her brother’s face many times. From personal experience, she knew Elin must be seething inside. Elin was quick, strong and very good with her katas, but she would also need to be smart and patient if she was going to avoid another such hit in the very near future.
But alas, it seemed Elin was not overly smart, and it was clearly evident that her embarrassment had quickly turned to anger. She was frowning as she advanced aggressively toward Arnot once again. As before he let her come. She threw a flurry of strikes at him, but he parried every one and surprisingly when an opening presented itself for an easy score against Elin’s unprotected right shoulder Arnot passed it up.
Vio and Gwaynn glanced at each other frowning, but Avigail just smiled and shook her head. Instantly she knew what her brother was about; he was attracted to Elin and wanted to exhibit his dominance not only to her…but to her in front of everyone in the arena.
‘He’ll not bed her this way,’ Avigail thought, but then realized they probably wouldn’t be around long enough for Arnot to bed anyone in any case. He was fighting for show now…fighting for his reputation.
Another opportunity for an easy score was passed by.
“What’s he doing?” Vio hissed at Avigail. She glanced at Vio and wondered why her brother had never attempted to score on her in this manner. It was one of his favorite tactics, but perhaps he was too intimidated by the Tarina to do so.
Avigail looked back toward the arena floor and grinned. “Spanking her, I’d wager,” she answered just as Arnot ducked and again got behind Elin. The whack on her backside was very loud in the quiet of the place. The crowd erupted once more, and Elin colored again, angry now and spun on Arnot, coming at him at nearly a run. Furious, she completely ignored Tar Lemont, who held up a hand signifying the hit, though it was hardly needed. The sound of the blow carried clearly to everyone in the stadium.
Arnot skipped away, parried and ducked her blows as smoothly as if he knew exactly what she was planning. The crowd gasped, groaned and hissed at each new attempt. Finally Arnot maneuvered himself into the perfect position and there was a brief moment when everyone in the arena knew what was coming even before the blow actually landed, including Elin herself.
>
“WHACK!” The hard wooden kata landed once more against Elin’s rear end, this time hard enough to actually cause the girl to arch her back a bit in pain. The crowd roared its pleasure as Arnot danced away from Elin’s desperate counter. Tar Lemont stepped between the two combatants momentarily but then retreated as the ground between them opened up.
Elin turned quickly again, but this time did not advance on Arnot, instead she stood her ground near the center of the arena floor.
“He’s playing a dangerous game,” Vio commented loudly over the noise of the crowd and Samantha agreed, slightly embarrassed by her son’s behavior.
“Someone needs to take a kata to his backside,” Samantha replied in disapproval.
Avigail laughed. “I wouldn’t try it Mama,” she quipped, her voice raised in order to be heard over the noise.
“He’s acting rude…and disrespectful,” Samantha finally said, frowning deeply.
“I think he fancies her,” Avigail told her loudly just as the crowd grew quiet. Her words echoed off the stands for all to hear. Smatterings of laughter sprinkled through the crowd and Elin actually froze at the statement.
“WHACK!” The report sounded throughout the stadium as Arnot struck her again while she was distracted.
Elin actually screamed in frustration, but again did not charge Arnot when she had the opportunity.
“He’s taking her composure and forcing her to change tactics,” Gwaynn stated calmly, and it was true. Elin was no longer trying to move in close where she was most skilled, instead now she was circling Arnot warily, trying her best to keep him at arms’ length and above all keep him away from her bottom, which was beginning to smart.
“Fancies her?” Gwaynn asked Avi with a crooked grin.
Avigail nodded. She was sure of it, though why he should she would never know. Elin was tall and possessed graceful lines to be sure, but her hair was a commoner’s dirty blonde, her face was covered in freckles and there was a noticeable gap between her front teeth. Her one redeeming feature was her eyes, they were strikingly blue…almost too blue to be real. Elin’s looks were at best roughly pleasing to the eye, at least when taken as a whole. In Avigail’s opinion, far prettier girls had wiggled their wares her brother’s way.
The two combatants jostled and parried for several long minutes, Elin always keeping him directly in front of her, fighting more defensively than she had in years. She was good and kept Arnot from his prize for nearly ten minutes but then with an elegant move that was the envy of many of the Tars present, he created an opening for her. She struck him on the left shoulder just as his kata looped around and…“Whack!” He struck her on the butt once more.
Tar Lemont moved in and separated the two, holding up two hands, signifying that the score was now five to one in favor of Arnot. Elin was nearly beside herself with anger, and was breathing rapidly in and out in frustration.
“Beginning to sting a little I’d bet,” Arnot whispered softly to her, his mouth only inches from her ear. Arnot was still smugly smiling and Elin’s control left her. She screamed and charged once more.
“WHACK!” She was greeted with another hard blow to her backside for her foolishness. She spun, but Arnot was ready.
“WHACK!” Came another strike before Tar Lemont could separate the two. Elin backed away from her tormenter and before she realized what she was doing gently rubbed her behind with her right hand. The crowd erupted in laughter and Elin quickly jerked her hand away, and though her eyes were glistening with tears of frustration she actually smiled and laughed a bit herself at the ludicrous nature of the match.
“You are a bastard!” She stated loudly and clearly. The crowd roared again and even Tar Lemont could not refrain from smiling.
“At your service,” Arnot said with an exaggerated bow. Elin leaped forward, hoping to surprise him with a strike of her own, but he was ready and skipped aside, blocking one blow before moving past her once more.
“WHACK!” The report sounded, but Elin did not stop. She continued to attack, continued to attempt to loop around behind Arnot searching for a humiliating blow of her own.
“WHACK!” This time Elin actually squealed from the pain, but still she would not stop and utterly ignored Tar Lemont as he tried to separate the two. Finally she managed to work Arnot around and then in unison came two resounding “WHACKS!” as she struck Arnot on the rear end just as he struck her. The two were nearly arm and arm, Arnot’s face very close to Elin’s as they circled one another. Elin desperately trying to get in another blow not even realizing the match was over and that she had lost ten to two. Eventually Tar Lemont managed to force his way between the pair and separate them long enough to declare the match over and raise Arnot’s hand in victory. The crowd cheered both fighters, for it had been the most memorable match in a lifetime.
“Tar Arnot! Tar Arnot! Tar Arnot!” The crowd yelled out in pleasure and he continued to bow until Elin, escorted by Tar Lemont, began to move away toward the gate which was now open along the northern wall of the arena. With a final bow Arnot sprinted after Elin catching her just as she entered into the subterranean passage.
“Well fought!” Arnot said to her, clearly hoping to salvage what he considered an opportunity.
Elin just glared at him.
Arnot shrugged. “You’ll think of me whenever you go to sit I’d wager,” he added, then, ‘Whack!” he struck her lightly on the backside with his kata.
“Aarrrr!” Elin growled, her anger exploding. Arnot skipped ahead laughing as Elin spun and drew Tar Lemont’s kali from its sheath and before the Tar realized what was happening she sprinted after Arnot, murder in her eyes.
Arnot saw her coming and his eyes widened slightly but he couldn’t keep a laugh from escaping. She caught him and swung the sword with all her might, but he deflected the blow, the blade taking a chunk from the hard wooden kata. Luckily in her anger, Elin discarded most of her training and swung too hard. Her momentum carried her into Arnot and he quickly grabbed her sword wrist before they both tumbled onto the ground. Elin fell directly on top of Arnot who was still grinning at her and holding her wrist with all his might.
“Going to kill me Elin?” He asked very aware of her heaving chest as it moved against his own. Her face was inches from his, and as he spoke his eyes gazed deeply into hers, never wavering in intensity.
“You’re a bastard!” Elin whispered and found that she would have liked to kill the prince, but before she could stop herself, before she even knew what she was doing, her lips came down on his and she was kissing him for all she was worth. They kissed for a long time, neither aware of Tar Lemont as he gently pried the kali from the impassioned girl’s hand.
†
The following morning Arnot won the end-year race by a very healthy margin, finishing nearly a quarter of a mile ahead of the runner up, a small, whip of a girl in her third year. Elin finished a distant eighth. Avi, who was still nursing a tender knee, declined to race and thus was present at the finish line to greet her brother along with their parents, Vio and the Solitary N’dori. The cheers from the crowd were nearly deafening and shortly before noon Arnot was declared overall champion of the games.
“You must stay with us…continue your studies,” the High Tarina Nystrom insisted later that evening during the banquet being held in honor of the Competitions. Once the meal was over, she maneuvered Arnot out of the Grand Hall and into the night. She skillfully led him onto the only unoccupied balcony, one of many which surrounded the hall, while several trusted Tars overtly guarded the doors.
Arnot smiled. He would have liked nothing more than to stay on Noble and learn and spar until his bones grew brittle…and to get to know Elin better, but it was not to be. His sister needed him and he would not fail her…could not fail her. Even for him, the dreams of Galen pleading for help were a nightly occurrence. And while the dreams were just a nuisance to him, they were pure torture for Avigail. Arnot moved sadly to the railing and placed his hands on the stil
l warm granite while he gazed out over the moon lit sea.
‘I love this place,’ he thought and glanced up at the older Tarina as she moved to his side.
“You are unique in all the land,” Nystrom encouraged and turned her back to the sea. She kept a close eye on the doors, peering through the glass for the High King. Arnot must be swayed to remain with the Tars before Gwaynn realized what was happening. The young man could not leave Noble and must remain to become part of the legend that was the island.
“You’re the first person not of Noble to actually be crowned champion,” she continued though strictly this was not true. Avigail was the first champion from off island. “With training and patience you could be the first to attain the rank of Tar,” Nystrom continued, dangling the carrot she knew the boy coveted.
Arnot raised his eyebrows. “It is all I’ve ever wanted,” he answered, confirming her suspicions. “Is it possible?”
“If you stay, the High Council will make it possible,” Nystrom promised, and though she was speaking without the Council’s knowledge or permission she felt sure they could be convinced to make an exception in Arnot’s case. He was the most talented fighter to come along since Tar Nev; perhaps he was even more talented than the eccentric old Solitary. Only time would tell. But one thing Nystrom realized was that Noble must always claim the best for its own. Arnot could not forsake the island. It would be a disaster if the best swordsman in all the land were to give his allegiance to another, notably Gwaynn and the young fighting schools on the King’s Island. Already many older, experienced swordsmen were flocking that direction for additional training, and many of their sons and daughters were following. True no one accepted by Noble had chosen to decline but if Arnot stayed on the King’s Island with his father, Nystrom feared that it would only be a matter of time before many of the best young fighters would chose to follow him. He was a star. He was the hero of the games. His name would yield a powerful attraction to those who must decide. And that was why Arnot must remain on Noble, at least until he succeeded Gwaynn and became High King. The High King, a Tar of Noble! Nystrom shuddered at such power, but it could not be helped. If Arnot slipped through their grasp, Noble Island could very well go into decline and that was not something she cared to see, especially not while she was High Tarina.
The Best of All Possible Worlds Page 21