by T. H. Hunter
“Hi,” I said. “Been for a late night snack from the fountain?”
“Something like that,” Lynn said sheepishly.
She approached the fireplace and suddenly froze in shock. At first, I had no idea what was going on. I was still a little drowsy and not quite awake. I followed her eyes and saw that she was staring at the little silver drummer on the table.
“What’s the matter, Lynn?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she said.
“Lynn, you were never a good liar. What’s up?” I said. I was concerned, but Lynn wouldn’t tell me anything.
“You kept the… the figurine, then.”
“No, it’s another one. I found it in here. Lynn, what on earth is going on?”
“I told you, Beccs, nothing.”
“Lynn, if you’re in trouble…”
“No.” she said, tears flooding her eyes. I hadn’t seen her this sad ever. “Please, Beccs, you can’t… I’m f-fine.”
“Lynn…”
“Please, leave me alone, Beccs.”
And without another word, she traipsed miserably up to our room. This was totally unlike Lynn. Now I knew something was seriously wrong. Whatever it was, I thought grimly, I was determined to get to the bottom of this.
***
After a rough night’s sleep, I got up for an early breakfast. I was burning to beat Vanessa in front of the crowd.
Finally, I found myself back in the courtyard again. This time, however, there were much fewer fighters and more spectators. Large banners supporting one person or another hung from the walls. Matches were no longer held simultaneously, but one after the other, so that the crowd would see all of them from now on. In the middle of the courtyard, there was only one designated fighting area. It was much larger than the ones we had the day before.
Two older guys I didn’t recognise were currently in the ring. It was a pretty one-sided match, but the crowd still roared and yelled as enthusiastically as ever.
“Good luck for your next match, Miss Flynn,” said a voice beside me.
I whirled around. It was Doctor Yurasov. He looked tired himself, though ablaze with a fire I hadn’t noticed before.
“Thanks, Doctor Yurasov,” I said.
“You did well yesterday. I think you could have beaten your opponent, you know. She’s had many more years of practice, of course.”
“Yeah, Sarah’s really good. She introduced me to a few Knights yesterday night.”
“Oh, did she? And did you meet Prince Raphael?”
“I – yes, I did, actually. Why d’you ask?”
My question came a little too quickly, and Doctor Yurasov looked at me through his spectacles with a piercing but not unsympathetic look.
“Well, he was very impressed by the match yesterday. He’s competing this year himself, you know. Excellent swordsman. He said he’d very much like to cross swords with you.”
My heart began pumping faster again, but I managed to hide it better this time.
“I’ll see him in the finals,” I said, grinning.
“That’s the spirit,” Doctor Yurasov said approvingly. “You had better get out there, the round is about to start.”
I moved over, rapier in hand, and waited. Then, I saw Vanessa from afar. Her entrance to the courtyard was – there was no point denying it – perfect. She had a large entourage of sycophants with her – people who fawned over her because of her aristocratic background or because they wanted to be popular. I had always thought I’d leave that behind my after finishing school, but evidently people never changed.
A small girl with brown curls was carrying her rapier, while two others were egging her on for the match, praising and motivating her. She moved through the crowds behaving like a rock star. And indeed, there was no doubt, the effect she had with her stunning blonde hair and arrogant beauty was dazzling. Her outfit in purple and black was immaculate.
I tried to pull myself out of these superficialities. This was what she had intended, to intimidate and awe me before the match. Finally, it was our turn.
We moved into the cordoned-off area without acknowledging one another. This wasn’t just rivalry. It was hatred that I saw when I looked in her eyes. She hadn’t stomached the defeat from class very well, it seemed. The referee, a retired staff member, explained the rules to us one last time. It was to be a best of 11, so the first to get seven hits would win.
We heard the drums sound with a sullen monotonous beat. The crowd, sensing the emotion in the air, was tense. Vanessa’s crew had gathered behind her, yelling insults at me and encouragement to her. The referee lifted his ancient hand. Silence. He pulled out an old pocket watch, waiting.
“Begin,” he said.
As with all previous matches, I bowed my head slightly, but that was a massive mistake. Vanessa had pretended to bow herself but then aborted half-way to rush forward and land a hard blow to my sword arm.
Many in the crowd laughed and Vanessa withdrew, evidently pleased with herself, her entourage hooting and taunting me in the background. Some were booing, however. I felt stupid. How naïve was it to expect any sort of sportsmanship from her?
The referee frowned, but I knew he couldn’t do anything. Bowing was a custom, a long-held tradition that all vampires abided by – a matter of honour. It was a sign of Vanessa’s social position that she could get away with a thing like that. Breaking the tradition might be reprehensible, but it wasn’t against the rules.
Burning with a passion for vengeance, I burst forward with a quick combination of strokes, which she only narrowly evaded, parrying the last blow. And she was evidently taken aback by the early aggression. But I was still fuming from the humiliating beginning and swung at her a little too wildly, opening my defences, and promptly got the reply in the form of a stab to the stomach. It was 0 – 3. The crowd behind her jeered and cried in triumph.
I couldn’t let it get to me. I had always hated this sort of thing in school, never being one for these sports spectacles. One of the reasons I was glad to get out. But I was right in it again. No escape. Pull yourself together, I told myself, focus on her weaknesses.
But it was easier said than done. And she was getting more confident by the minute, now smartly parrying most of my blows. After fending off a particularly complicated manoeuvre I had worked very hard at, She grazed my shoulder. To my annoyance, the referee let it count. I was now down 0 – 3, with my best combinations seemingly thwarted. I needed another strategy.
The first lesson, Miss Flynn, is that you are your worst enemy.
That’s what Doctor Yurasov had told me on our very first lesson. I was playing her game, getting riled up by her mind games. I was focussing on my own weakness instead of hers.
I went into a more defensive stance to buy time and let myself cool off a little. I wouldn’t win this with uncontrolled rage, so much was clear.
But what was her weakness? It was surely the same thing that it had been in class at the beginning of the year. She was arrogant and over-confident. It was a flaw she’d never be able to shake off. And I needed to take advantage of that.
She was expecting me to attack as before. So I’d give her what she wanted, only with a twist this time. I lunged forward in what seemed like a wild attack, though keeping an eye on my footing this time. After the initial flurry, she’d sure move in for the hit, and that would be my chance.
And sure enough, Vanessa stepped in right at the moment when I suddenly withdrew from the attack, leaving her exposed. I landed a blow, as hard as I could, on her left arm. With grim satisfaction, I saw that it hurt.
The crowd cheered and booed. It was still massively divided, with many, if not most, supporting Vanessa. But I didn’t care anymore.
“You got lucky once, Flynn, it won’t happen again,” Vanessa said, spitting into the sand on which we were standing.
Before I could respond, she lunged forward again. But this time, I was ready – I wasn’t going to fall for her tricks a second time. I diverted th
e blow to my side and went in for a clean counter, making it 2 – 3. I was catching up.
I continued with my strategy, trying to provoke her into attacking me in a seemingly vulnerable position. She wasn’t taking the bait, but I knew she was longing to do so. That ruthless hunger showed in her pale blue eyes.
Finally, she just couldn’t take it anymore. With vicious force, she aimed her rapier at my head – a move that drew a gasp from the crowds. I heard the referee protesting next to me, but I was too focussed. I dodged her last attack and lunged.
Desperate to avoid the hit, Vanessa moved backwards but lost her balance and fell to the ground. With any other opponent, I would have immediately refrained from attacking out of fairness. This was different. But that small moment of hesitation, that last vestige of civilised conduct lost me the milliseconds she needed. With her left hand, she had grabbed some sand and threw it into my eyes and swung the blade at my leg at the same time. I was just too late, and it connected painfully with my shin, which gave a horrible crack.
She had extended her lead to 2 – 4, but at a terrible price. She had lost the crowd. Even her entourage in the background seemed perturbed by her conduct, if only because it would reflect badly upon them. The “Go, Vanessa!” signs were held up only half-heartedly from now on. Many in the crowd were booing.
The elderly referee was muttering under his breath that he’d never seen something like this during a tournament. Above us, on the battlements where the teachers and members of the Scarlet Knights were sitting, an air of disapproval – even hostility towards my opponent – was tangible.
Outwardly, her arrogant demeanour hadn’t changed a bit, but I knew that if I played my cards right from now on, I could pull the crowd entirely on my side. But she was still dangerous, and we were about even in skill.
I edged forward, only slightly, moving my rapier in small circles, like a fly annoying a bull. I knew she couldn’t resist for long. And sure enough, her excellent three-strike combination was her answer. I moved back enough to stay out of reach, still goading her into attacking, slowly moving around the designated fighting area. Then, she lunged again, but I was faster and got her right on her shoulder pad. The crowd erupted in cheers. I was catching up, and she was rapidly losing concentration, though perhaps fiercer than ever. But my shin still hurt and impeded my usual movements.
The fight raged. In a slight miscalculation, she grazed my thigh, which was counted as a solid hit. I got the subsequent two. We were finally even, 5 – 5, though the momentum had switched to me. Nevertheless, with one hit left between victory and defeat, anything could happen. And you never knew what sort of foul trick she’d use to win.
We circled each other like tigers. My guard was low, my mind focussed, ready to react at the slightest move. But Vanessa, rattled by the way the battle had developed, also moved into a defensive stance.
“Think your fans will still love you when you lose, Vanessa?” I said.
“At least I have some after this match. You’re little streak of luck is over, Flynn.”
And with those words, she moved in for the kill. She aimed a high attack. I parried it just in time and, for a second, our blades were interlocked. Her face was screwed up in hatred, and then, she kicked at my damaged shin, hard. I yelled and there was a sharp intake of breath from the crowd
The pain was beyond belief, I was sure it was broken. Vanessa smiled venomously, drawing her hand back for a finishing blow. It was now or never. With all my remaining strength, I knocked my body into her swordarm, which was propelled backwards. With my right hand, I thrust my rapier forward, hitting her right in the stomach.
She tumbled backwards from the force of the blow, her rapier dropping to the floor as she fell to the ground. The crowd burst into a roar of applause. As I looked around me, the battlements were filled with people violently clapping their hands or raising their fists into the air in jubilation. On the other end of the courtyard, Vanessa’s entourage was stunned. They had no idea what to do. After all their abuse, the sight was satisfying to say the least.
***
Partying was part and parcel of the every year’s tournament. And today couldn’t have been a better day. I was reborn, exhilarated. The Great Hall was abuzz with laughter and wine. People were singing and chanting, retelling the fights of the day with increasing exaggeration. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time. I just wished I could have shared all this with Lynn.
I had joined Sarah’s table. Some of the Knights were there, too, as well as Steve.
“Beccs, what a fight! Vanessa was furious.”
He laughed heartily.
“Where is she anyway?” asked Sarah, who had also been following the duel with great interest.
“Oh, sulking somewhere, no doubt,” Steve said. “I heard she’s really cut up about it. You’d better watch your back, Beccs. She won’t forget that humiliation easily.”
“I hope not,” I said. “So who are you facing next, Steve?”
His handsome face twisted itself into a look of dismay.
“Jayden.”
“Really?” Sarah chipped in. “He’s really good. I think they’ve been considering him for the Knights. Don’t tell anyone I told you, though. They like to keep these things to themselves.”
“Where is Jayden, anyway?” I asked.
“Dunno,” Steve said. “He’s been acting kinda strange lately.”
“How come?”
“Getting back to the dorm at 4 o’clock in the morning. Irritable and moody. I don’t know what’s up.”
“You know, Lynn’s been a bit like that, too. I wonder what’s going on,” I said.
“Beats me,” Steve said.
We spent the rest of the evening listening retellings of fights of the day. Steve had managed to get into the next round, but only barely. I wished him to win, of course, but from what I had seen, Jayden was much better at swordfighting.
“So who are you up against next, Beccs?”
“I don’t know. I checked the tournament notice board several times. But it doesn’t say.”
“Oh, it’s probably one of the matches tomorrow morning,” Sarah said. “Hey, why don’t we all watch them together after breakfast?”
We all agreed to meet for breakfast and I went up to my room to snatch a few hours sleep. Lynn, as expected, wasn’t there. As I lay on my bed, exhausted, the images of the day flew past my mind’s eye in a whirl. The borders between passing out or falling asleep had never been this hazy.
***
The last day of the tournament promised to be even more tumultuous than the previous day. Many vampires from all around the world had come just to see the finals on the last day. Extra chairs and makeshift tables had been set up in the Great Hall to accommodate those who had arrived in time for breakfast.
After a few slices of toast and a brief chat with Steve and Sarah, I walked over to the noticeboards. I was eager to find out who I was up against. The huge poster from day 1 that had sported hundreds of names was replaced by just a normal sheet of paper with 64 names. Neat brackets at the bottom denoted the quarter and semifinals that would occur later in the day. The grand final match was to take place in the Great Hall in the evening. My first opponent of the day would be Jayden, who had had an exemplary performance during the tournament so far.
It would be a tough match.
***
At the allotted time, I was waiting for him, rapier in hand. He was late. The referee was the same old man that had refereed my match against Vanessa. He checked his old-fashioned pocket watch every few minutes, tut-tutting under his breath.
“I will have to disqualify that young gentleman if he doesn’t arrive soon.”
He smiled, his wrinkly face stretching like a mask.
“I know we shouldn’t have favourites, Miss Flynn,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But I think skill and fair play prevailed eventually in your match against Miss Vanessa Demaine.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“I’m glad you feel that way, sir.”
He checked his pocket watch again. Jayden was still nowhere to be seen. Though he was a strong opponent, I was really looking forward to fighting him.
“I am afraid I must disqualify him. Congratulations, Miss Flynn, you may enter the quarter-finals.”
I thanked him again, though I didn’t think congratulations were in order. It wasn’t really a victory at all, just a matter of the opponent not showing up. It didn’t feel deserved somehow.
I spent the early morning watching the other matches with Steve, who had lost a second time and was therefore out of the tournament.
“Want to watch it from above?” he asked, slightly mischievously.
“Yeah. Sure. From the battlements you mean?”
“From the skies, Beccs. That’s where I’ll take you some day.”
“Oh, come off it, Steve,” I said, punching him hard in the ribs.
We made our way up to the battlements. Steve was right, it had been a good idea. A little further away, right above the gatehouse in a cordoned-off area, were members of the royal family and the most esteemed guests. The King, as was to be expected, was still ill apparently, so his chair was left empty.
“You there, out of the way,” a sharp voice came from beside us.
I turned around and was just about to give a snarky answer when I noticed who it was. The Queen’s chamberlain and the Queen herself had arrived on the battlements to watch the matches. I couldn’t remember seeing her the previous two days. They were accompanied by about a dozen elite swordsmen.
“What are you dreaming about, girl? Make room for your Queen,” the chamberlain barked at me.
I shot him a venomous look but didn’t say anything. Taking my time, I stepped back. The Queen’s gaze briefly scanned me from bottom to top in a highly dismissive manner.
When they had passed and settled in their seats, Steve turned to me.