Justice had been right; it was more than just a fight. The Cresteds had used Fisher to invade Venture’s faith that his life as a fighter could be different from his father’s—without the chaos, the risk, the desperation. Difficult, and with its own share of blood and sweat, but neat, regulated, respectable.
Chance ran to Venture’s side, and he palmed his head and gave him a quick, reassuring hug. He could hear Dasher’s blows continuing to fall on Fisher, Dasher grunting with rage each time, Fisher groaning in pain, then making no sound at all, not so much as an exhale. The voices, the feet, and the hands fell still all around them. Now that Dasher had a hold of Fisher, a tense sort of calm fell over the fighters, the officials, the crowd. All except Dasher, who seemed unconcerned by the quietness of Fisher’s life slipping away under the impact of his fists.
That Will Fisher had so little honor made Venture wonder what had really happened to end his father’s life in that barn. Part of him wanted to see him die, right now. Part of him wanted to shove Dasher aside so he could finish the job himself. But he released Chance, nudged him toward Earnest, and pushed his way past the others, back to the center of the mat.
Dasher’s eyes were filled with murder. Dasher, with his perfect control, had lost it. Methodical though his blows were, Venture knew it.
“Dash.” Venture put his bloody hand on Dasher’s arm as he pulled it back to strike again. He’d never been afraid of Dasher like this, never. Half expecting Dasher to turn on him, he said, “It’s enough. I’m okay. It’s enough.”
Dasher paused, but there was still vengeance in his eyes.
“He didn’t do this on his own,” Venture said. “Someone slipped him that blade. We’ll never know who was behind it if he dies.”
Dasher gave his head a little shake and raised his fist again.
“Dash! It’s not right.”
Dasher let his arm drop. He looked up at Venture.
“You’re a better man, Dash.” Better than this.
Dasher’s eyes said No, I’m not. But he stepped away and turned his back on Fisher, not looking back as the tournament guards moved in on the battered man, and waved the healer over.
“How did he think he could get away with this?” Earnest said.
Venture shook his head, glancing warily at Dasher out of the corner of his eye and pretending to examine the gash on his arm. “He didn’t care. As long as he got his revenge, he didn’t care.”
Chance handed Venture a clean towel, which he pressed to his wound. Earnest took it from him and tied it tight around his arm.
“What did Fisher say to you?” Earnest said.
“The Cresteds were behind this.”
Earnest’s eyes gleamed with fury. “Longlake.”
Dasher shook his head. “It’s bigger than that. It’s an old tradition.” He was still heaving with anger and exertion, his hands still clenched into bloody fists. His body looked less in control now, but his eyes had cleared of that murderous glaze. He looked human again. “To kill anyone who’s taught our ways,” he said with disgust. “A matter of honor. I never thought they’d do it now. Never thought they’d do it here. I should’ve known I couldn’t just pretend I wasn’t one of them. I should never have—”
“Fisher was willing to do their dirty work for them, willing to risk everything, because he can’t understand that he is not his father, and I am not mine. And you, Dash, are not one of them.”
Dasher opened his mouth to protest, but Venture shook his head sharply. “You just saved my life. And you and Earnest got me here. Got me where I’m supposed to be.”
Venture shooed the healers away and disappeared behind a partition by himself, leaving his friends just outside; he was no longer in mortal danger and his arm could wait to be stitched. He needed a minute alone.
He reached into the pocket of his bag with shaky hands and pulled out his pendant. The little bit of wood looked older, more delicate to him now. It truly was small, as small as one of his knuckles. But it was just as truly the same symbol hewn into the stone at Earthsong, the same one hidden in the layers of swirling shapes of the Glen family crest he’d looked at each day as he sweated on their mats, in their training room. He held it and he murmured a grateful prayer. Nothing had gone as he’d planned, but he’d made it through. Survived. Won his Championship.
He put his head through the circle of leather cord, and his hand went to his chest. He pressed the pendant under his shirt into his skin, feeling more the heir to that symbol than those Cresteds who rested on their ancestors’ accomplishments, whether he ended up leaving this arena still a bondsman or not.
“Vent?” Earnest said, peering around the partition. “Justice wants to see you.”
“All right.”
Justice entered silently, his face stricken with worry, with love, with anger at the mixture of the two. Venture could have avoided a scrape with death if he had listened to him, if he hadn’t fought. Though he would never have thought to make the connection between Fisher and the Cresteds’ threats, in hindsight, Fisher was the perfect choice for the Cresteds. Venture’s murder might have been attributed simply to one man’s revenge.
He waited for Justice to speak, waited for the lecture, but it didn’t come. Instead Justice put an arm stiffly around him, and Venture let him pull him in. He pretended not to notice that Justice was crying. He barely managed not to cry himself.
Venture opened his mouth to speak, but Dasher ducked in. Dasher started a bit when he saw them, and looked away.
Justice released Venture and he said, “What is it?”
“You’d better get out there. That crowd wants their champion.”
“What?”
“Can’t you hear them? Have you forgotten which match that was? You are Champion.”
Venture allowed himself to smile. He didn’t know what would happen to him and Jade, but one thing was certain. “I’m Champion.”
Earnest, joining them, added, “Champion of All Richland, and the youngest ever to hold the title.”
“Come on, Champ. Let’s get you out there so they can see you, their champion, alive and well.”
Venture emerged and looked out at them, tens of thousands on their feet, clapping and whistling and hollering, all for him. Among all the voices calling his name, one stood out. Venture followed it, trying to locate Jade in the crowd.
One of the guards at the other end of the mat shouted, “Stay back now, Miss!”
Jade. Their eyes locked, and the guard looked from one of them to the other, then lowered his weapon and moved aside. Jade rushed into Venture’s arms. She pressed tight against him, without a care for the sweat and the blood. With his good arm around her waist, Venture lifted her up off the mat. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, but her eyes were filled with love and relief for him. She didn’t know what her father had said to him, and he wouldn’t tell her, not now.
Instead he kissed her, ignoring the gasps and the renewed uproar from the crowd. Kissed her until he ran out of breath. He tried not to think that it might be the last kiss they ever shared.
“I’m okay.” He tipped his head so that they were nose to nose.
“You’re sure?” Her eyes went to the blood-soaked towel tied around his arm.
“I’m sure. Just a little tired.”
As he set her down, he caught the gaze of Grant Fieldstone, a few yards away, and his heart sank. Had he just blown whatever chance he had of Grant changing his mind with that kiss? Did his impulsive expression of relief and love look more like a public display of defiance and disrespect to Grant?
Having Jade in his arms, having her right here, made him feel all the more intensely the dread of losing her forever. He could make that promise, tell Grant what he wanted to hear, and get his freedom, maybe even go away for a while, and come back and get her. Take her away when Grant least suspected it. But as soon as he thought it, he knew he couldn’t make a promise with every intention of breaking it.
He knew what he had to do. He lo
oked right into Grant’s eyes, not with defiance, not with fear, but with sheer honesty, and he took Jade’s hand and raised it up to the crowd with his own. No more secrets. He and Jade were not going to quietly go along and forget about each other. Now they never could, for all Richland would soon know, and they would not forget.
There would be no more secrets for Dasher, either. The Glen family name was already being shouted here and there by the crowd; in the course of all the chaos, the news had slipped out.
Jade squeezed his hand. “I love you, Vent.”
Venture pulled her close and buried his face in her hair, so that his enemies—powerful enemies who might this very moment be watching him from among the cheering crowd—couldn’t see his tears. “I love you too,” he whispered into her ear, his voice catching on the last word.
“Mr. Delving.” Chance shoved his small hands up between them, a bit of paper in each one. “From Mr. Fieldstone. He rip it, not me. It important?”
Venture gently pushed the kid back with one hand while he plucked the pieces of paper out of his hands with the other. It was his contract, ripped in two.
“Vent!” Jade ducked under his arm to see. She put her arm around his back and rested her cheek against his chest. He felt her heart beating against him, beating with excitement for him. He was free. But was she?
He tucked the contract into Chance’s shirt pocket, then looked up and found Grant’s face among the crowd. Grant Fieldstone was surrounded, yet alone, his arms folded across his chest, his face painted with loss and resignation.
Venture tried to tell himself he didn’t care what Grant thought, what he felt, but that was a lie. He didn’t want to be anyone’s servant anymore, but in spite of his burning pride, he wanted back everything else he’d had with Grant. His love, his trust, his guidance.
Then Grant turned his back and walked away. He disappeared into the crowd, without his daughter.
“He hates me, Jade. A lot of people hate me.”
“He doesn’t hate you. He hates what he’s done.”
“I was foolish. Reckless. I should’ve—”
“You did what you did, and I love you. No matter what’s happened, no matter what happens next.”
Venture couldn’t look at her; he could only feel the fear that his throbbing arm would never let him fight again, that the Cresteds weren’t done with him yet, that his brother hadn’t seen the end of worrying over him, that Jade wouldn’t be in his arms much longer. What was next, for him, for the two of them? Grant might not want to make a scene of taking Jade away now, but surely he wouldn’t give her up so easily.
Jade faced Venture. She laced her fingers through his. “We’re all proud of you.” She nodded over her shoulder at Dasher, Earnest, Chance, and—lingering behind them—Justice. “Let’s get you away from this crowd and taken care of, and then,” she said with a sweet smirk, “let’s celebrate.”
Venture returned her smile. He wasn’t sure what he ought to have done differently or what he ought to do next. He suspected his troubles were only just getting started, but he was just getting started, too. He was Champion of All Richland, and he wasn’t going to stop there.
<<< End >>>
A Note from the Author
Venture Unbroken, the sequel to Venture Unleashed, is available now. Read more about sixteen-year-old Venture’s training and his relationship with Jade in Boundless, a novella that takes place during some of the time that lapses in Venture Unleashed. Subscribe to my newsletter and get a free copy of Boundless now! Look for the series in paperback, fall 2013!
About the Author
R.H. Russell has been on the mat with talented young fighters since 1993. Their ambitions, struggles, and triumphs inspired her to write the Venture books. She hopes to share the fascinating world of fighters with readers in a unique way—a way anyone can identify with, because she truly believes there’s a fighter in all of us. She's having a great time letting Venture and his friends loose to play on the page, writing about brawls and big dreams, betrayal and camaraderie, and of course, Venture and Jade’s forbidden love.
The author also writes the Unicorns of the Mist series as R.R. Russell. Wonder Light, the first of these novels for young readers, is now available.
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