Loor hadn’t even broken a sweat. She leaned down to me and said, “Never make the first move.”
“Okay, I get your point,” I said. “Now can I have some water?”
Loor walked over to the tepee of sticks and yanked down the black canteen. “When you earn it,” she said, and left me kneeling there, beaten.
The worst part was, my ordeal was only beginning.
JOURNAL #21
(CONTINUED)
ZADAA
Two weeks. That’s how long I’m guessing we spent at the Mooraj camp. It felt like two decades. It was the most grueling experience of my life, worse than the time I spent in that gar prison on Eelong. There was no rest. Ever. The cruel game was on 24/7—or whatever measure they use to figure time here on Zadaa.
At first the only thing that kept me going was my anger at Loor and Alder and Saangi for the torture they were putting me through. They were relentless. I soon realized why Loor needed Alder’s help. They took turns working me over. When they weren’t making my life miserable, they were resting up to do it all over again. I didn’t have that luxury. I stole sleep where I could, but it wasn’t all that restful because I was never sure if one of them would pop up and start working me over again. That’s how intense it was. I felt incredibly alone. The only time anyone spoke to me was when they were giving me instructions. There were no time-outs. We didn’t hang around at the end of a long day and compare notes over cold drinks. I was on my own.
For me it was all about winning water, and food. If I didn’t earn it, I didn’t drink. Or eat. Starvation is a pretty good motivator. It sure makes you focus. Much of each day I spent wandering around Mooraj, looking for where they kept the food. I never found it. The others would be hiding, watching, and planning their next move. Without warning one of them would leap in front of me, and a training battle would follow.
Next up was Alder. He, too, used the hollow bamboo pole rather than the more dangerous, wooden weapon. I guess I should be grateful for something. I had my own pole, taken from the tepee that once held the canteen of water Loor wouldn’t let me have.
“Do not face me square-on,” Alder coached. “A smaller target is harder to hit.”
I attacked, swinging my pole at him. He knocked me away easily, then cracked me on the back of the head.
“You’re a pretty big target,” I said. “Why can’t I hit you?”
“Because you are trying,” Alder answered.
“Don’t give me that Yoda garbage,” I said. “Tell me what to do.”
“Relax,” Alder instructed. “If you are tense, you will make mistakes. Above all, never make the first move.”
“Relax? In a fight?” I lunged at him with the stick straight out like a sword. He easily knocked me away, spun, hit me on the shoulders and then spun back and hit my shins. I felt like I was fighting a swarm of bees. Alder wore the four red spikes, just like Loor. I desperately needed to knock one of them off to get water, but I might as well have been swinging with my eyes closed. I had no chance. What was so amazing was that I was using all my energy to get nowhere, and he was barely moving. After knocking me to my knees one last time, I looked up to see that Alder was gone.
“What’s the matter?” I yelled to nobody. “Had enough?”
I got no answer. I didn’t know if I was learning anything, but I was definitely losing gas and growing a few dozen black-and-blue marks. My throat felt like sandpaper. I was dizzy with hunger. I needed to score one of those spikes or I wouldn’t make it. I got my chance when Saangi appeared on the far side of the compound. She stood holding the black canteen. I didn’t want to look too desperate, even though I was. I walked toward her, but slowly. I got about twenty yards away when she held up her hand.
I stopped and called out, “Is it your turn now?”
“I’m here to give you this,” she called back, and held up the black canteen.
I could have kissed her, but realized it was probably too good to be true. “What do I have to do for it?” I asked suspiciously.
“Come and get it,” Saangi said calmly. “Be sure to watch where you step.”
Huh? I looked down to see she had stopped me about a foot from a pit cut into the ground. It was only five feet deep, so I wouldn’t have killed myself if I fell in. But it would have hurt. It was a long rectangle that stretched between me and Saangi. I saw that it was around six feet wide, with bars running across every four feet or so.
“What is this?” I called out sarcastically. “A test of my courage?”
“No,” Saangi answered. “It is a test of your balance. Make it across and the water is yours.”
Oh man. I was supposed to hop from bar to bar. Four feet apart may not seem like much, but the bars looked to be around three inches wide, and there was a drop.
“What if I fall?” I asked.
“Do not,” Saangi said.
“Great. Thanks for the tip.”
I was scared. But I was thirsty, too. I had to do this. Without taking time to think, I leaped forward, landed on the first bar, lost my balance, and fell to the side.
“Begin again,” Saangi commanded.
I went back to the beginning and leaped for the first bar, hit with both feet and pinwheeled my arms until I got my balance.
“Bend your knees, Pendragon,” Saangi said calmly.
Oh. Right. I bent down and instantly got my balance. I took a breath and leaped for the next bar, this time keeping my knees bent. I made it! Looking forward, I saw that there were only ten more bars to go. It seemed like a hundred. I leaped for the next one, and hit it off balance. I wobbled back and forth and was ready to bail out to the side, but instead I launched for the next bar. I only got one foot on it…and fell through. I caught the bar under my right armpit, making my newly healed ribs burn with pain. But I refused to let go. I hung there for a second, my legs swinging beneath me.
“If you drop off,” Saangi said calmly, “you must start over.”
I had earned these few bars; I was not about to give them up. Do you know how hard it is to go from hanging below a three-inch-wide bar to getting your feet up on top so you can stand on it? Neither did I. But I found out. I wrapped one leg around the bar and twisted and pulled until I was sitting on it. It gave me a chance to rest, but I still had to get up and get moving.
“Is there a time limit to this?” I asked.
“No,” Saangi answered. “You will run out of strength before you run out of time.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said.
I cautiously got one foot up on the bar, put my weight on it, and was able to get my other knee up, and finally, my foot. I was back on top! Balancing on a three-inch-wide beam wouldn’t be all that hard if it were flat on the ground. Keeping your balance while hanging in the air was a whole nother matter.
“Pretend there is no pit,” Saangi suggested, reading my mind.
“Easier said than done,” I replied.
I decided to change my tactics. Jumping onto a bar and stopping to get my balance wasn’t going to work. I had to use momentum. I figured this would either work, or I’d break my head. I bent my knees and leaped forward. I hit the next bar with one foot, but rather than stopping, I kept my forward momentum going. I launched off that foot and leaped for the next bar. And the next and the next. It wasn’t graceful, and I was always a breath away from falling, but it worked! I kept going over the last few rungs and with one final lunge I landed on the other side, thrilled to be back on solid ground.
“Yes!” I shouted in victory.
Saangi didn’t offer congratulations. I didn’t want any. I wanted the canteen. She gave it to me and started walking away.
“What about food?” I asked.
“When you earn it,” she said without turning back.
I didn’t care. I had water! I sat down and pulled out the leather plug, ready to down the whole canteen. After one gulp of the sweet, delicious liquid, I forced myself to slow down. There was no telling when I’d get m
ore. I didn’t want to risk coughing and losing a single drop. Besides, I wanted to enjoy it. So I took my time, and I have to say, it was the sweetest drink I’ve ever had.
The thrill of victory didn’t last long. No sooner did I finish the water than I realized I was still thirsty. And hungry. I knew that in order to survive this ordeal, I was going to have to conserve my energy. Whenever I got the chance, I kept to the shadows or stayed in the barracks. When I wasn’t looking for food, that is. Or fighting. And I fought a lot. They all took turns sparring with me, giving me hints, teaching me. Nobody ever got mad or frustrated when I messed up, which was often. They didn’t need to yell to make their point. They had a much more effective technique. They hit me. Over and over. I always knew when I messed up because I’d get hit or knocked down. At one point I took off my Rokador jacket to see that I was totally covered with black-and-blue marks. Not pretty.
Loor was the worst. She had no mercy. The two of us would face off again and again. Day after day. Morning and night. After a while I didn’t even see her as a person. All I could see were those red spikes sticking out from her elbows and knees. Getting those spikes meant getting food. That’s all I cared about.
“Watch my eyes, and my center,” Loor would say, pointing to her gut. “In battle the eyes tell what your opponent is thinking; his center tells which way he is going.”
Yeah. Whatever. I’d lunge for a stake, and she’d bat me away.
“Never make the first move,” she said time and again.
“How can I get one of those stakes if I don’t try to get them?” I’d yell in frustration.
She wouldn’t answer.
I preferred fighting Saangi. She wasn’t as quick as Loor nor as strong as Alder. I took advantage of that. Rather than use my bamboo weapon and try to outduel her, I’d simply jump at her, take a few lumps, and grab a spike. Yes! It didn’t take any skill. I didn’t care. I was hungry. Saangi was getting angry at me for not following the rules, but hey, tough. This was about survival. If I didn’t take advantage of Saangi, I’d have collapsed.
Nights were the worst. I’d try to get some sleep, only to be thrown out of bed and dragged out into the compound for another game of “Let’s whack Bobby in the dark.” During these fights I tried everything to defend myself and get in some shots of my own, but it was futile. I’d stand there, waiting to get hit. If I heard a sound, I’d flail at it, only to get smacked around and pushed back.
“Never make the first move,” Loor would remind me.
“What am I supposed to do?” I complained. “Stand here and take it?”
“Feel us,” Alder would say.
Yeah, right.
As the days went on, Saangi was sent out to fight me less and less. Loor must have felt like I was winning too much food from her, without the benefit of improving my skills. But Saangi still played a part. She was the one who gave me the physical challenges, like hopping over the bars of the pit. Mooraj was full of these diabolical playground devices. She would always have a reward, and always make me work for it. Some of the challenges were fairly easy, like moving hand over hand on a frame that looked like monkey bars at a school playground. Other times I had to do simple exercises like push-ups. Did I say simple? They would have been easy in an air-conditioned gym. But in the shape I was in, under the burning sun, they were anything but simple. Other times the challenges were truly difficult, like running a gauntlet of heavy stones that were tied to the ends of ropes. There were about twenty of these painful pendulums. Saangi would get them all swinging in different directions, and I’d have to run through without getting hit. Usually I’d get beaned by one of the heavy stones, and let me tell you, it hurt. Worse, I’d have to start over. But every so often I’d make it through by ducking, dodging, hesitating, and finally diving over the finish line. My reward would sometimes be water; other times it would be fruit or bread.
As time passed I found myself winning more and more of these challenges. The fact was, I was getting stronger. And quicker. Winning some food helped build my strength too. But it was all the exercise that was paying off. I even got to the point where I could run across the pit with the bars every time without falling, no sweat. Well, okay, maybe some sweat. It was hot. I’ve mentioned that, right?
When I wasn’t fighting, I took off my Rokador jacket and went bareback. Slowly my skin started turning brown. I wasn’t exactly Batu dark, but I was getting close. I didn’t think anybody would mistake me for a Ghee warrior, but I was looking less like a white Rokador every day. And in spite of the daily pounding I was taking, I was feeling better than ever. I think my body got used to getting hit, because the black-and-blue marks went away. I even started to put on a little muscle. I think the weight-lifting regimen that Saangi put me through helped that.
But there was still something missing. Something big. Even though I was becoming more agile and strong, I wasn’t doing so well in the fighting department, and after all, that’s what this was all about. As I wrote before, what kept me going throughout this ordeal was the fear of facing Saint Dane again. Being in shape and having a nice tan wasn’t going to help much in another death match. I was beginning to fear that in spite of all this hard work, I might not be any better off. Then one night I was dragged out of bed for another pitch-dark slap session.
“Feel us,” Alder would say.
“I’m trying!” I’d say, waving my arms around like a frantic chicken.
Whack. Whack. Hands would come from nowhere to knock me around.
“How can you do that?” I screamed in frustration. “You can’t see me!”
“We see you, Pendragon,” Alder said. “Not with our eyes.”
“That’s stupid!” I shouted.
“Is it?” Saangi said as she smacked me around a few times.
I wanted to cry in frustration, and agony.
“What does this have to do with being a warrior?” I screamed.
“It isn’t magic,” Loor said. “Fighting is a dance. Every move brings another. If you can sense your opponent, sense his movements, sense his strength and weakness, you will own him.”
Right. Use the Force, Luke. I tried to control my breathing. I even closed my eyes. Why not? They weren’t doing me any good. I listened. They weren’t ghosts. They had to breathe. They had to move. They had to give off heat and smell. As I stood there, trying to use every other sense but sight, I felt something. It was nothing more than a wisp of air on my arm. It lasted a nano-second. It was a slight breeze that came from something moving past. It was small, but I definitely felt it. Without taking a second to analyze, I reacted by sweeping my hand out to where I felt the body might be…and slapped somebody on the arm! I was so surprised, I actually said, “Oh! Sorry!”
An instant later, something was dropped at my feet. I didn’t see it, but I felt it and jumped back in surprise. I had no idea what it could have been, though I expected it to be some kind of decoy-trick so that when I reached down to grab it, I’d get pummeled again. So I didn’t move. Instead, I closed my eyes and tried to sense the others. This is going to sound strange, but after a second, I knew they were already gone. I had felt them. Or should I say, I didn’t feel them anymore. I don’t know how else to describe it.
After a few more moments, I cautiously knelt down to find out what had been thrown on the ground in front of me. I reached out and instantly felt something familiar, and welcome. It was a canteen full of water. Right next to it was a piece of fruit that felt like a pear. It was a reward. I had done something right. It wasn’t just luck, either. I had found my opponent without using my eyes. Had I made a breakthrough? I figured I must have, seeing as I was not only given a reward of food and water, but was then allowed to sleep through the night without getting another beating. It was the first full night’s rest I had since my stay at the Batu hospital. Man, I needed it.
I was feeling pretty good about myself, as if I had finally learned something. That was the good news. Bad news was that Loor felt the same way. I had
finally shown a hint of promise; therefore she no longer felt the need to show me mercy. What followed on that dry, dusty training ground of Mooraj was the most grueling battle I had been through since my bout with Saint Dane.
This was going to be my final exam, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
JOURNAL #21
(CONTINUED)
ZADAA
“Counter a block with a strike,” Loor instructed. “It is when your opponent is the most vulnerable.”
I tried. Over and over. I had been trying. Loor would swing at me, I’d block it, but when I tried to counter with an attack, she’d quickly back off, or counter that move with a strike of her own and smack me. Hard.
“That’s not fair,” I shouted. “It’s like you know what I’m going to do.”
“I do,” Loor answered.
“Let’s keep going,” I said, bearing down.
“The third move is the most important,” she explained. “That is the strike that will count.”
“I’m trying!” I shouted in frustration.
“Faster!” she commanded.
I tried. I tried. I tried. I failed every time. It was making me crazy. We went at it for hours. My hands were getting raw from squeezing the bamboo pole. I was so thirsty I was nauseous. Still, Loor wouldn’t stop, and I wasn’t about to give up. Once when she was walking back to get into position, I jumped at her to try and grab one of the spikes. I figured I’d catch her unaware. I didn’t. It was like she had eyes in the back of her head. Without turning around, she jammed her pole at me, catching me in the gut, making me double over in pain.
“Never make the first move,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah, so you say,” I answered, grabbing my sore stomach.
The fight went on. Loor showed no sign of tiring. I showed no sign of making her tired. At one point the two of us stood facing each other, not moving, which was fine by me. I didn’t want to get hit again. It was then that I realized something odd. I actually felt pretty good. Physically, I mean. In spite of all the sparring, I still had my breath. Saangi’s challenges had helped build my endurance, and the training had taught me to use my energy carefully. Now if I could only get a feel for the fight!
The Rivers of Zadaa Page 12