by Peter Last
“You are vanquished, foul fiend,” Cirro said, placing the tip of his sword against Josiah’s throat.
“So I’m a foul fiend today?” Josiah asked. He got to his feet as he rubbed his head. “How long did it take you to come up with that one?” He slid his sword back into its scabbard and began again to massage the side of his head. “Tell me again why I fight with you? We both know that you’re going to beat me every time.”
“Don’t despair, Josiah,” Cirro said. “Today you withstood my onslaught for a full minute. If you keep this up, pretty soon you’ll be able to hold out for all of a minute and five seconds. And if that isn’t a good enough reason for you, then how about this one: it’s just so much fun to beat you time and time again! I believe I've sold the idea sufficiently, so would you like to try again?”
“That was the shortest minute I’ve ever experienced,” Josiah snorted. Then he added, “Of course, I’ll try again; otherwise, you’ll never leave me alone.”
The two friends fought several more times, with Cirro gaining a decisive victory each time. They finally quit and headed for the building next to the training field. They quickly placed their weapons in their lockers, splashed water from the basin by the door on their faces, and headed back toward the barracks. The whole period of exercise had taken about an hour, and as they walked, they met several groups of cadets heading toward the training grounds. They exchanged pleasantries with all of the newcomers, joking with them as they passed. When they reached the barracks, they headed out back to the showers to cool off.
******
Senndra tucked the dragon into its bed and stepped back to watch it sleep. She had only recently come up with a name for him—Feddir. He had a ridge of spikes trailing from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. There was a single spike on his nose that had a strange orange tint to it. His mouth didn’t have any teeth yet, since he was a newborn, but he would get them in the next few weeks. His wings were folded around his body, making him look like he was wrapped in a blanket.
“You ready to go?” Rita asked from the other side of the room. She crossed to where Senndra stood and looked at Feddir. “He sure is cute,” she commented.
“I’ll be ready in a second,” Senndra said. Her leather armor creaked as she crossed the room to her bunk. She grabbed her quiver from the top bunk and strapped it on. Normally the quiver contained twenty razor-sharp arrows and her unstrung bow as well as the sheath for her short sword, but tonight it would only hold the sword. Though it was bulky to use only as a sheath, Senndra had grown use to the feel of it on her back and always wore it when she expected to fight.
Senndra grabbed her sword belt from the bunk, slid the blade from its scabbard, and threw the sheath back onto the bed. With a quick move, she slid the weapon into the scabbard on her back and then tightened the straps that held the assemblage in place. She retrieved her cloak and helmet from a chair and headed out the door, with Rita right behind her.
The two girls left their dorm and took the path that led up the mountain to the mess hall. After only a few hundred yards, they branched off the path onto a wider one. They were soon surrounded by cadets who were all heading in the same direction. It took them ten minutes moving at a good clip to reach their destination, the sword fighting ring. Already, the stands surrounding the ring were beginning to fill, and Senndra knew that before the event started they would be full beyond capacity. This was not only because the sword play competition was a mandatory affair, but also because it was the most exciting academy event of the year.
Twenty of the best sword fighters would face off. Each contestant had to get a recommendation from their instructor, which Senndra had obtained easily. On competition night, they participated in a tournament in which the twenty contestants fought each other in a series of one-on-one matches. It was single elimination, meaning that when a contestant lost, they were ejected from the tournament.
Senndra walked to her place in the contestant box. Once in her seat, she slid her helmet under her chair and scanned the crowd for Rita. She didn’t find her, but instead caught sight of Vladimir. He had clearly gotten to the arena quite early since he had a seat very near the front. Although there were people on all four sides of him, it appeared as though they were ignoring him and he kept to himself.
Senndra again tried to spot Rita, but as she looked, the contest officiator appeared. He walked with long, slow strides to the middle of the arena where he mounted a platform. By the time he got there, the whole stadium was silent.
“Welcome to the academy's twenty-third annual sword fighting contest,” he began. “I will not spend too much time talking since I know that you are all ready for the contest to begin; however, I would like to recognize a few people before we start. First, I would like to thank the entire group of sword fighting instructors that recommended the contestants. I would also like to introduce Jason Devlon and Marcus Arillion. They will act as the referees of today’s contest to ensure that the rules are abided by and that no one gets hurt. So without further ado, let the competition begin."
Cheers erupted as the man left the arena and another came to take his place. This man was the grand admiral of the academy, and his presence quickly quieted the arena down once again. Senndra barely noticed as he gave his speech. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t go away no matter what she did, and the wait only made them worse. She watched as the color guard brought various flags out and posted them at certain intervals around the arena. Next, four dragons dropped out of the sky and took their places at the four corners of the arena. Finally, the first man took the platform again. The crowd applauded as he announced that the contest would begin, starting with a fight between two cadets whose names Senndra couldn’t remember.
The two combatants stepped into the arena and walked to the platform in the middle. The first cadet ascended the structure and saluted the crowd, bringing a thunderous cheer. After the applause had died down, the second cadet copied the motions of his opponent. Again the crowd yelled their approval. The two opponents climbed off the platform and moved to opposite sides of it. An officiator climbed onto the structure and raised a flag. When he dropped the flag and backed away, the two opponents began to circle toward each other.
Senndra knew that focusing on the two fighting cadets would probably distract her more than it would help. Instead, she began to inventory her body, checking all of her joints and other body parts for mobility and pain. All of her joints appeared to be in working order, though her left knee was a little bit stiff from her bout with Lemin earlier in the day. Her limbs were free of pain and would not present any problem in the contest. Senndra looked up and saw that both contestants in the ring were holding up well. Sighing, she tried to come up with something to think about in order to pass the time. Vladimir came into her mind, and though she tried to push the thought away, it remained. She couldn’t figure out what it was about him that made her so uncomfortable. She wasn’t normally outgoing, but her behavior regarding Vladimir was very strange even for her. She was so lost in thought that she missed the name of her opponent and almost missed her own name. Looking up, she saw a different set of cadets leaving the arena and wondered how many matches she had missed. She shrugged off the thought as she grabbed her helmet and entered the arena. Her opponent was already several yards ahead of her. She fastened her helmet as her opponent scaled the platform and saluted the crowd, bringing a roar of applause. After the cheering had subsided, Senndra climbed onto the platform and saluted the crowd. She didn’t even wait for the applause to subside before she drew her sword from her back scabbard and jumped off the platform onto the ground. She circled to one corner of the stage and watched, as an officiator ascended the stage and raised a flag. He let the flag fall and quickly left the stage.
Senndra had seen these fights for several years now, and all but one of them had started with the combatants circling the stage toward each other. In only one fight had a contestant started by leaping onto the platform in orde
r to give himself a height advantage against his opponent. This opening move had ended in disaster, and no one had tried it since. But Senndra was not one to do things the accepted way. Besides, she had a plan that would utilize the stage for more than just height advantage. As soon as the flag dropped to start the match, she took a step forward and leapt up onto the stage and looked down at her opponent. He looked up at her in astonishment, but took very little time to adjust to her new position. Senndra watched as he stepped forward and jumped up onto the platform. She vaulted over him, landing in a crouch and instantly spun, straightening as she did so to aim a blow at his ankles. He jumped over the blow, landed, and brought his sword down on Senndra from above. She lifted her arm so that the leather armor there only received a glancing blow, and the blade slid off. Jumping straight up in the air, she landed on the platform in front of her opponent and brought her elbow up into his face. He fell senseless onto the platform, clearly beaten.
The whole fight had taken less than half a minute, and it seemed as though the crowd was not ready to cheer yet. Silence reigned in the stands for a full second before the cadets realized that the bout was over and the arena was filled with shouting. Senndra raised her sword in a salute, slid it into her scabbard, and headed to the contestant box. She walked back to her seat and sat down, ignoring everything around her. She knew that if she paid attention, she might lose her concentration.
“Senndra.”
Senndra looked up and saw Lemin crouching beside her. He extended his hand, and she shook it.
“A brilliant move,” he said. “That’s the first time I have seen an opening move like that actually work. I don’t think anyone has ever finished off a match in so little time, especially against someone that much larger.”
Senndra glanced across the field to the platform and saw two officiators placing her unconscious opponent on a stretcher. Now that she had time to look at him, she could see how big he truly was. He was somewhere between six and six and a half feet tall and had to weigh at least two hundred and fifty pounds, with no fat on his frame. His sword, which lay beside him on the stretcher, was twice as long as hers.
“That was a very smart move,” Lemin commented. “The way you put him away, you hardly exerted yourself at all. And because of that, you’ll have a slight advantage over your next opponent.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Senndra said as Lemin rose to his feet. She closed her eyes and mentally went through each move she had been taught. Some of her competitors would be better sword fighters than her recently dispatched opponent, and she needed to be ready for them when they came.
******
Senndra drew her sword and saluted the crowd. This time, she continued the salute, soaking up the excitement of the spectators. She could hardly believe that she had gotten this far, to her fifth and final fight of the night. This one would decide the winner of the tournament. The cheers of the crowd were subsiding, so she jumped lightly off the platform and headed to a corner. She took several deep breaths to calm her nerves. She needed to be in the best condition for this fight. She glanced across the platform at her opponent and wondered if she had any chance at all. He was massive and, concealed as he was by his armor, looked a lot like her first opponent. Her only hope would be to outmaneuver him with the sword and not take a direct attack. But she had seen him fight his other opponents and knew that he was at least as good as she was with a blade.
The officiator climbed the platform and raised his flag. He then lowered it and backed away. Senndra’s opponent immediately jumped up onto the platform, ready to confront her, but she stayed where she was. She slowly backed away from the platform so that her opponent couldn’t attack her from above.
The other combatant seemed at a loss for what to do. In every previous fight, Senndra had started out by jumping onto the platform, and her lack of aggression clearly flustered him. He recovered quickly and jumped off the platform to meet her. He landed several feet in front of Senndra and advanced quickly, aiming a swipe at her head. Senndra dodged left and ran back several steps. Her opponent attacked again, swinging hard toward her torso. Senndra was able to catch the blow on her sword and let it slide to the side. She ducked as her attacker brought the hilt of his sword around and came up as the blow passed. He was wide open, so she aimed a blow at his shoulder; he stepped backward to avoid injury.
Senndra retreated a handful of steps and tried to catch her breath. The onslaught of the other cadet couldn’t have taken more than a minute, but it was extremely ferocious and had left her gasping. Her training kicked in, and she launched herself across the area that separated her from her foe. She acted on one principle that Lemin had drilled into her head time and time again: never let the enemy act first; make the first move. She spun as she flew through the air, moving from left to right so that her sword came at her adversary from his right side. He saw the move just in time and jerked his sword up to block the blow, but was too slow. The parry rotated Senndra’s blade so that it hit her opponent's head with the blunt side, smashing against his helmet with a ringing sound. The blow threw him sideways, but he maintained enough of his wits to turn the uncontrolled fall into a roll.
Senndra watched as he got to his feet, unwilling to strike while he was down. His stance was unsteady and it was clear that the blow had rattled him. Senndra made sure he saw her advancing and then attacked with vigor. At first, the other cadet fell back from her blows, using his sword only to block. However, as time passed, he began to counter her attacks. The pair delivered and blocked strike and jabs for no more than a few minutes, but to Senndra it seemed like an eternity. Both combatants moved constantly as they circled each other, trying to gain the advantage in the fight. Finally, when Senndra thought it would never end, her opponent pulled a move she never suspected. As she made a move that had most of her body weight behind it, the other cadet moved as if to block the blow, but stepped out of the way at the last second, allowing Senndra's momentum to carry her forward. With all of her weight forward, she hit the ground hard, rolling over just in time to evade a strike. She rolled to her right to avoid the next attack and came to her feet, instantly assuming a defensive position.
Senndra expected that her opponent would be thrown off by her evasive maneuver, but she immediately found herself being pressed by him. As she began to gain control of the attack and return blows, she tried to think about some way to beat him. His defense was almost too good to penetrate, and he was too fast to surprise. He landed a jab to her shoulder, and it gouged into her armor, though it didn’t penetrate to her skin. She brought the hilt of her sword up toward his face, but found her wrist trapped in a vise-like grip. Her opponent jerked his sword from her armor and, with a twist of his wrist, sent her flying to the side. She rolled several times before coming to a stop face down and unconscious.
Senndra felt herself jerked back to consciousness by the prick of a sword tip on her throat and knew that it was all over. The sword tip was removed and she rolled over. As she prepared to make her way back to the contestant box in defeat, she saw something that surprised her. Her opponent had withdrawn his sword and was now holding it over his shoulder. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed her sword from where it lay on the ground. Holding it in a defensive position, she waited for an attack. It didn’t come; the other cadet advanced with his hand, not his sword, extended.
“The name is Timothy,” he said. His voice was muffled by the helmet, and yet Senndra heard something in it that made her believe Timothy wouldn’t attack. She extended her hand as well, and the two leather gloves clasped in a handshake.
“I just wanted you to know,” Timothy said, “that no matter who wins this match, I’m glad I have had the honor of battling you. Though you are at a disadvantage in size, you still fight better than anyone I know. In addition, the fact that you did not take the easy way out and attack when I was down shows that you have honor in your heart. Therefore, even if I do fall to your superior skill, I will be honored to do so.” Timothy backed
away to his previous position and raised his sword in salute.
Senndra’s mind began to race as she considered what had just happened. She had come to this contest to win and had defeated all of her opponents. Part of what had enabled her to do that was hating them enough to beat them. Her hatred for her current adversary had grown throughout the fight, giving her strength. Now, the simple action of telling her that he would be willing to accept defeat had dissipated it. Senndra wondered how she would be able to go on fighting someone such as this. Granted, she didn’t hate Lemin and was still proficient against him, but that seemed different somehow. She didn’t think she could return this attitude, but when she looked and saw that his sword was still raised in salute, she realized how self-centered she had been. She had wanted to get into the contest so that she could win. She hadn’t even considered the fact that there were nineteen other contestants that wanted to win just as much. And now, here was a young man that had the skill to win and it didn’t matter to him. Whether or not he won made so little difference that he didn’t care if he got beat by a girl. Slowly, Senndra raised her sword in salute and stood there for several seconds. She finally pulled her sword back down into a defensive position and prepared for an attack. Now that she had nothing to prove, she began to actually enjoy the fight. Her opponent lunged at her, and she sidestepped him. He spun on his heels, bringing his sword back around toward her, and she was able to block it with her sword. Again the two cadets began to exchange blows, neither of them moving so much as a foot. Suddenly, with a move that Senndra couldn’t quite see, her rival swung toward her chest, but pulled his blade down at the last minute. Senndra was unable to drop her blade in time and felt his blade contact the back of her knee. The joint buckled, sending her to the ground. When she felt the sword point at her throat this time, she knew it was to finish the match.