Venture Unbroken

by R. H. Russell

  “At the inn, with other fighters. Not at a party like that.”

  “All right. So you screwed up. Maybe you belong with me after all.”

  “Vent!”

  He shrugged. “I was getting sick of being the screw-up all these years, anyway. Now we’re in this together. My reputation is your reputation. And I think it’s safe to say I got the better half of that bargain.”

  Jade bit her lip. Then, “I gave Border a black eye,” she blurted.

  Dear God, she was serious.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “Of course not!” She lifted her chin proudly. As though Border Wisecarver was any match for Jade Fieldstone.

  “Does your grandmother know?”

  Jade nodded hesitantly. “That made the paper too.”

  Venture crossed his arms and glowered at her. Why did he have a feeling she never would have told him about it otherwise? It was a wonder Rose was still speaking to him. And Grant couldn’t be too happy about this either. Once again, his daughter had gotten into a fist fight over Venture, and this time all of Richland knew about it.

  Unless Border had really, really deserved it.

  Venture narrowed his eyes at Jade. “What did Border say?”

  Her expression shifted from apologetic to guarded. She avoided his eyes. “He implied you were a drunk.”

  “What did he say about you?”

  “Nothing.”

  That was a lie, and he knew it.

  Jade tugged his sleeve, giving him a hopeful smile, turning on the charm. And blast it, it was working.

  “The good news is, I think Grandmother and Father have finally given up on me being a lady.”

  He unfolded his arms and slipped them around her waist. “And the bad news is, not only did I miss seeing you give Border what he deserved, but you beat me to it. Next time Border Wisecarver needs a black eye, just remember, it’s my turn.”

  Chapter Five

  Summer’s Second Month, 659 After the Founding

  Venture walked home from Beamer’s to the townhouse he shared with the guys. It was a beautiful summer evening, and he’d had a good workout, the kind that left him wanting more.

  “Look.” He pushed up his sleeve and showed Earnest his elbow. “Still no swelling.”

  “You need to ice it anyway.”

  “That’s the only time it hurts! How much longer are you going to do this to me?”

  “A few more weeks.”

  Earnest still wouldn’t let Dasher spar with him. He’d caught them trying to sneak in a round this morning while he was talking to Beamer, and then Earnest and Dasher had wasted ten minutes of training time arguing about it out in the hall.

  Venture wanted to grab Dasher and take him straight back to Beamer’s and show Earnest what he could do. Maybe he should go up the hill and surprise Jade after dinner instead. Take his mind off of it.

  Chance ran ahead. “I get the ice ready. Then you—” He stopped short.

  Venture followed Chance’s gaze to the front stoop of the townhouse, where Grant Fieldstone stood, trying not to look out of place. There was no sign of a servant, a carriage. He looked nervous, but not as if there were some emergency.

  The men all exchanged greetings and shook hands.

  “Chance,” Grant said, extending his hand.

  Chance shook it warily. “Good day, sir.” Chance’s words were polite, but his tone wasn’t. Venture gave him a subtle poke. He’d have to talk to him later.

  “I just need a quick a word with you, Venture,” Grant said.

  Earnest kept quiet as he unlocked the door. He’d gotten along well with Grant until he’d overheard him talking to Venture at the Championship. Venture didn’t know if Earnest would ever forgive Grant for those threats.

  “Why don’t you come in and sit down, Mr. Fieldstone? I’ll get you two some wine,” Dasher offered.

  Grant opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. Even Venture couldn’t figure out if Dasher was trying to throw Grant off or make a point by serving him and Venture. Probably he was just being gracious—and trying to get out of their way. There was only one sitting room in the townhouse.

  “How about a walk?” Venture suggested.

  Grant’s relief was palpable. “That would be perfect.”

  Venture handed his bag to Chance and let Grant lead the way down the street.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Grant gave him a look. Of course everything wasn’t all right. His only daughter was determined to pursue a relationship with his former bondsman.

  “I’ve come to ask you a favor.”

  “What is it, sir?”

  “This idea Jade has, about the two of you going to the Fords’ party together next month . . .”

  “You want me to back out.”

  “Maybe something’s come up. A scheduling conflict.”

  Venture laughed humorlessly. Grant didn’t think he could talk her out of it either. Or maybe he didn’t think Venture had the guts to stand up to her.

  “I made a promise to Jade, sir, and I have every intention of keeping it. But you’re her father. You could always tell her she can’t go.”

  Grant turned an even harder look on Venture. They both knew how foolish that would be. They walked on in silence. Finally Grant paused and turned to him. “I know you just wanted to fight, Venture. You wanted to be a champion, not a . . .”

  “Spectacle?” Venture said, thinking of Lacy Clearwater’s article, of that disastrous party. No doubt Grant regretted getting him into that.

  Grant nodded. “I thought we might come together on this. That this time, we wouldn’t have to be at odds.”

  “I’d like to tell you I won’t go, Mr. Fieldstone. I’d do that for you, but I can’t do that to Jade.”

  “Ahh. I understand. Loyalty.” There was added bite to that last word.

  “Don’t you think I want to be loyal to you? Wasn’t I always, except—”

  “Except when it really mattered. Now my daughter is a curiosity. Like the Goat Man or the Blue Woman. An object of titillation rather than admiration. And,” Grant’s volume lowered while his intensity increased, “by a small but very powerful group of people, an object of resentment. Worse, a threat to their honor.”

  Venture felt like he’d been punched in the gut. The Cresteds? He knew too well what lengths they’d go to for their precious “honor.” Jade had chosen him over Dasher, a Crested man. But no one knew about that. Grant was jumping to conclusions. Being dramatic. Trying to bully him into doing what was easiest for Grant instead of what was right. He wasn’t going to break his word so that Grant could avoid a clash with Jade.

  “I’m going to that party with Jade. I think we’re done here.”

  “Yes.” Grant folded his arms and planted his feet. “I think we are.”

  “Good night, sir.” Venture turned to go without shaking his hand, without another word.

  #

  Venture ground his stubbly chin into the side of Earnest’s sweaty face, clenching him tight, with one arm over, one arm under Earnest’s. They were too close to the wall, but he moved in for his inside leg reap anyway. With no room to bring Earnest to the mat, Venture rammed his trainer into the wall instead.

  Venture and Justice were hardly speaking anymore, and now Jade was mad at him, too. Grant had been so blatantly furious with him the last time he visited that Venture decided to avoid the Fieldstone house for a while and give him some space to cool off. Now Jade was upset that he was letting her father come between them.

  And Earnest was still holding him back.

  Earnest looked right into Venture’s glare, mocking him with an uncharacteristic calmness. Venture wanted to pummel him. He smacked the plastered wood instead.

  “Come on. I want to fight. I’m here to fight.”

  Earnest shoved him back. “You’re here to train.”

  He hadn’t sparred with anyone but Earnest since before the Championship. Earnest was smaller and he held b
ack, no matter how Venture pushed him. Desperate for competition, Venture had already slammed him to the mat harder than was necessary to take him down. If pushing Earnest wasn’t enough, then maybe a little provocation was what it was going to take.

  Earnest was quick, and he ducked Venture’s left and blocked his right, maneuvering away from the wall, calm as ever. But Venture already had another jab coming, fast, hard. It connected with a satisfying pop. Immediately, Earnest’s eye turned red. He ripped off his gloves and threw one of them at Venture.

  “You think I don’t know what you’re doing, Vent?”

  Part of Venture wanted to apologize. But he’d had enough of being babied. He caught the glove and threw it right back. “Put them back on! Put them back on, or get me somebody else who’ll fight!”

  Earnest dodged the glove, and it smacked against the wall just inches from Chance’s head. Chance eyed the glove, lying on the mat next to his feet. He folded his arms and shot Venture a look of stubborn solidarity—not with Venture, but with Earnest. Blasted kid. He should’ve sent him up the hill to help Grace for the day.

  “I sent Dasher home for a reason,” Earnest said.

  Of course. He should’ve known it was Earnest’s fault that Dasher had left Twin Rivers yesterday to visit his family. Though Earnest was hot-tempered, he was stubborn enough not to give Venture the resistance he wanted on the mat. But calm, controlled Dasher couldn’t resist a challenge. Once the gloves were on, he was a competitor through and through. Now that Venture was strong and skilled enough to demand Dasher’s best, if Venture pressed him, Dasher wouldn’t be able to hold back.

  Venture sneaked a glance at Earnest’s puffy eye. It was going to be black and blue. If it had been Venture’s eye, Earnest would’ve made him ice it. Apparently Chance was thinking the same thing. He went for the ice bucket, but Earnest waved him away.

  What was it going to take to convince Earnest that he was fine? No, his arm wasn’t one hundred percent, but if he never pushed it, it never would be, would it? It had been over a month, and the next Championship was getting closer every day. He needed to be ready. He couldn’t lose his title. Not with what his win had come to mean.

  Venture pulled the laces of his gloves tighter with his teeth, then went to beat on the striking bag. If Earnest tried to stop him—

  But it was the sound of a gentle rap on the training room door that stopped Venture. Before he could make out a face in the little window, the door opened. Lance, his friend and former teammate, stepped in, wearing his familiar disarming smile. Venture had seen him at the Championship and noticed that he was looking tall and strong.

  “You miss this place too?” Earnest shook Lance’s hand and clapped him on the back.

  “We had some good times here. I’m sure you had an even better time tormenting us.”

  Earnest grinned. “Me?”

  “Well, I thought I’d give you another chance to see me in pain, and Vent another chance to beat on me. I’m in town for a few days. If you guys wouldn’t mind one more . . .”

  “Of course. Earnest can handle both of us. Right?”

  “Sure,” Earnest said, but Venture detected a tightness in his trainer’s words.

  “Good,” Lance said. “I’ll go change.”

  The door swung shut behind Lance, and Venture went back to the striking bag.

  Earnest crossed his arms and shook his head. “Listen to me, Vent. This is a bad idea. You’re not ready.”

  Venture stopped and steadied the bag. “So I’ll tell him to lay off the elbow. It’ll be fine.”

  “You can’t tell him that.”

  I can’t do anything, can I? “It’s Lance.”

  “Yeah, it’s Lance, and he’s your friend. He’s my friend. But you’re also going to see him in the arena next time.”

  Venture and Lance had gone toe to toe when they were boys, until Lance ended up training at Warrior’s Way and Venture began traveling and training with Dasher. Then Venture had quickly surpassed Lance. There’d been one visit to Warrior’s Way when he was sixteen, when Lance had shut down everything Venture attempted, including the left side inside leg reap he’d begun working on at that time. But Venture had gotten past that. Lance hadn’t gotten the best of him since, and that move was now one of Venture’s staples.

  “He’s nineteen, but he’s not ready.”

  “You think that’s going to stop him?”

  “What difference does it make?” He wasn’t going to let Earnest ruin this for him. He motioned Earnest to step back and switched to a high round kick. “I can beat him in the arena. If he makes it through Day One.”

  They both knew the odds of that happening were incredibly slim. The first day of the Championship was a brutal single elimination tournament. The top five from the year before got to sit on the bench and watch that day, and face the top five from Day One, fresh and undamaged, the next day. Venture would be one of those privileged few.

  “He’ll be training to win, and he’ll be telling his partners and coaches at Warrior’s Way whatever he finds out here, whatever he thinks can help him win.”

  The door opened again and Lance entered, ready to go. Venture abandoned the bag and drilled with Lance for a few minutes, to get him warmed up. Soon enough, drilling turned into sparring. Venture almost told Lance about his arm, but it felt fine. Why expose a weakness that could be used against him at the Championship? If word got out, everybody would be trying to armlock it. The thought of going through another Championship with a useless arm . . . he wanted to win, and he wanted to make it look easy this time. Make it perfectly clear who the Champion of All Richland was.

  Venture didn’t ask for the timer, but Earnest got it out anyway, and he made them stop after a five-minute round. Venture waited a minute for Lance to take a sip of water, then got a nod of assent from his partner and dove in again. It felt so good to fight. To push himself harder as Lance pushed harder. Lance wasn’t just trying to survive; he was hoping to catch the Champion. So far, Lance was out of luck. Venture wouldn’t give him an opening. He didn’t make many mistakes, and he adjusted for those he did make before Lance could take advantage of them.

  As their third round began, Venture grabbed the timer, which Earnest had set on the windowsill, and tossed it into the corner. Chance picked it up and held it upright, tapping it in an effort to make the sand go back down.

  When Chance said, “Time,” in his thick Atranian accent, Venture kept going. And Earnest went out, slamming the training room door behind him. Chance sighed and chucked the timer aside.

  #

  Venture fought back waves of pain as he shook Lance’s hand and said good-bye to him. Lance went to go change, saying he was beat, but the truth was, he was just tired of beating Venture.

  Wordlessly, Chance wrapped a bundle of ice around Venture’s elbow. The training room door snapped open.

  “Well?” Earnest said.

  “Lance armlock him,” Chance said, without hesitation. “Lots of time.”

  Venture glared at Chance, and fear glimmered in the kid’s dark eyes, but he set his chin defiantly. “He not stop. He not tap.”

  “I tapped,” Venture said through gritted teeth.

  “Too late!”

  “I was fine until he went after that arm. If I’d just told him about it, this wouldn’t have happened. Now he doesn’t know about my injury, but he knows he can tap me at will and beat the stuffing out of me. How’s that going to help me in the arena?”

  Earnest ignored Venture. “What else did he do?” he said to Chance.

  “Lance throw him. Hit him. After his arm hurt, he can’t fight, but he keep going.”

  Chance might have kept his trap shut while Lance was in the room, but he was sure speaking his mind now. Not just speaking his mind—ratting Venture out.

  Earnest lifted the ice pack and examined Venture’s swelling elbow, cursing under his breath.

  Venture tried to take the reasonable approach with Earnest. “Look, I’m fine. Cha
nce didn’t grow up around fighters. He isn’t used to this.”

  Chance shot to his feet, hands clenched at his sides. “I know! I know the difference!”

  Guilt pierced Venture’s gut just as sharply as the blade that had slashed his arm at the Championship. The violence Chance had known back in Atran had been much worse. The true horrors of war. Blast. I’m an idiot. He looked down at his shaky hands.

  “You’re fine?” Earnest said. “Don’t try to backtrack now. You just told me he beat the stuffing out of you.”

  “Only because I didn’t warn him about my arm. And whose fault was that?”

  “You didn’t have to say yes to him. And you sure didn’t have to go two hours straight with him. Two hours sparring, Vent, by the gods!”

  The coldness of the ice seeped into Venture’s fiery-hot joint. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

  Earnest left him sitting there and grabbed his gloves. He put them on and went after the striking bag with a vengeance. Venture reached for Chance with his good arm, but the kid turned away, turned his face to the wall.

  Venture listened to his trainer pounding away and Chance sniffling and murmuring in Atranian, the language he’d always refused to speak, even for Venture.

  “Earnest. Earnest!”

  Earnest steadied the bag and scowled at him over his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Earnest took off his gloves and wiped his face. He sank down next to Venture, still shaky with anger.

  “You can’t be like this, you know? You’re not the underdog kid anymore. You can’t accept every challenge. You can’t ignore your body. Not if you want to have a career. If you don’t want a career, then tell me now.”

  “Of course I want a career. It’s what I’ve always wanted. I want to be a fighter, not just someone who won the Championship once. I’ll smarten up.”

  “You’ll listen?”

  “I’ll listen. I promise.”

  “Good. Because there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What?”

  “That arm is never going to be the same. You’ll never be able to fight the same. Not at the highest level.”