Jobar entered the ring with confident strides. He took off his shirt and flexed his muscles, displaying bronzed skin covered in intricate tattoos for the crowd. Jobar was much shorter than Justan, but built like a dwarf, with a tough thick body and bulging muscles.
Justan took one look at the man's physique and decided to keep his own shirt on. Though he was in better shape than he had ever been before, Justan still only considered himself of average build. He would have to rely on talents other than his strength to win against this man. In this first section of the test, he would be on offense while his opponent could only use defensive moves. His stomach began to flutter again.
The hornsman blew a short note. Justan started in at his opponent. He began with a series of kicks that Jobar easily blocked. Frustrated, he went into several jabs and short kicks, trying to find the man’s weaknesses. There were none that Justan could see. Jobar was very smooth with his blocks and parries. Justan took a deep breath and stalked around Jobar, feeling out his strategy.
He came in with a high kick that Ma’am would have been proud of. Jobar picked it off with one thick forearm. Justan grabbed the arm and tried to throw him, but the man simply twisted out of his grasp.
Justan was running out of time. The hornsman could blow a note at any time to end the match. Jobar da Org was just too good. He was a man who practiced with the Academy’s skilled instructors and students every day. He knew all the moves.
And that might be his weakness, Justan thought. Jobar was used to fighting people with Academy training, but how long had it been since Jobar fought someone who had no training?
Justan yelled and went at the man’s face. He threw clumsy punch after clumsy punch. Jobar easily blocked them, though he looked confused. While still throwing ugly punches, Justan hooked his right foot behind Jobar’s left. Then instead of punching again as the man expected, he grasped Jobar's blocking arm and shoved.
Jobar fell off balance. As he swung his left foot around to regain his stance, Justan shoved him again. Jobar stumbled out of the ring. The crowd roared. The judges shrugged. It hadn’t exactly been a finesse move, but it worked.
On the way back to their seats, Jobar glowered at Justan. “That won’t happen again, trainee. Next time it's my turn.”
As Justan sat with the other trainees to await the next section, he tried to ignore Jobar’s penetrating glare. The man's eyes didn't leave him once while the other trainees competed. By the time Justan's name was called again, he knew that he was going to pay for that last move. In this section of the test, Jobar would be on offense while Justan could only use defensive moves.
Sure enough, as soon as the hornsman blew, Jobar came at Justan with a vengeance. He threw heavy punches and kicks that bruised Justan’s arms when he tried to block. Jobar stepped back and circled, smiling as Justan rubbed his sore arms.
Justan prepared himself for the next attack. He knew that it was going to hurt. But he didn’t understand how quick Jobar could be until the man came at him.
Jobar spit out a sudden flurry of punches that slipped through Justan’s defenses, smashing him twice in the face. While Justan was still dazed, Jobar sent a foot into his stomach. Justan curled over in pain. He couldn’t breathe. It felt like he had been beaten with a hammer.
Jobar’s next move happened so fast that Justan barely registered it. With a grunt, Jobar grabbed an arm and a leg with his viselike hands. He swung Justan up over his head, turned, and hurled him outside the ring. Justan struck the ground with an audible thud. The crowd moaned in sympathy.
A mage rushed over to heal Justan's bleeding nose and bruises. When the mage had finished, Justan stood and walked back to his seat. The crowd peppered him with cheers of encouragement, but Justan wasn’t feeling it.
The last section was normally the most brutal fight. Each combatant could use both offensive and defensive moves. The healers would be busy today.
Justan waited as the other trainees were trounced by their academy opponents. It was a rare thing for a trainee to win in this round. The judges were more concerned with how a trainee fought than if he won. Most of the trainees went into the arena just determined not to look bad. That attitude had always turned Justan’s stomach. It was not the way a true warrior would approach a battle.
Justan heard Jobar laugh as one of the younger trainees was tossed through the air. He frowned. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he absolutely had to beat this man. Jobar noticed Justan watching him and tried to stare him down. Justan matched him glare for glare. The powerful man only kept eye contact for a short time before breaking away with a chuckle.
Justan could see that the man wasn’t cowed. Jobar knew that he could beat him. He had taken his measure on the field. But Jobar didn’t understand how determined Justan could be.
Justan examined his opponent closer. Was there anything he could use to his advantage? Justan took mental notes. The man had short hair, nothing to grab onto. He did have one big earring. The man was extremely fit and had no old injuries that Justan could see. But wait, perhaps there was. At second glance, Justan saw a large scar running across the top of Jobar’s left foot. When the judges called out his name, a wicked grin was plastered on Justan’s face.
Jobar scowled at him as he approached. “What are you smiling at, trainee? Don’t you know that I will break you to pieces?”
Justan’s grin became a little less wicked.
As they entered the circle, a roar of anticipation leapt from the spectators. When Jobar shouted out and flexed his muscles for the crowd, Justan played his first card. He took his own shirt off. The crowd gasped. But they weren’t looking at his physique. Jobar stared in surprise at the frost-encrusted rune that sparkled on Justan’s chest.
“A gift from the Scralag,” Justan remarked.
The fierceness went out of Jobar’s eyes. Everyone had heard rumors of his encounters with the ghost during the stamina test. Justan was hoping that this revelation would unnerve the man enough to give him an opening.
Indeed, Jobar did not immediately go on the offensive this time, giving Justan the opportunity to start his plans. With a battle cry he charged at the man, swinging all of his weight behind a powerful uppercut. Jobar caught his incoming fist in one thick hand. He twisted, immobilizing Justan’s arm, bending him at the waist. This was a basic hold and Ma’am had taught him how to get out of it, but Justan instead took advantage of Jobar’s closeness. He stomped on the top of Jobar's scarred foot.
Jobar growled and reversed his grip, bringing Justan’s arm up behind his back. Then Jobar snaked his other arm under Justan’s armpit, up and around the back of Justan’s neck, leaving Justan’s free arm extended in the air. This should have left Justan with no effective way to attack. But Justan reached back with his extended arm and hooked one finger through Jobar’s earring.
“Don’t you dare!” Jobar hissed. He wrenched Justan’s arm up even further. Justan could feel his shoulder slowly working its way out of its socket.
In desperation, he stomped on Jobar’s scarred foot again. The man grunted and wrenched his arm further. Justan yanked frantically on Jobar’s earring. He stomped Jobar's foot yet again. The man roared in pain and shoved Justan away.
With a resounding pop, Justan’s socket left his shoulder. He cried out with the pain, but refused to give in. He turned to face his opponent again. It was at that point that he realized he still had Jobar’s earring attached to his finger.
Jobar limped toward him with one hand holding his bloody ear. Though Jobar winced with each step, Justan could see murder in his eyes. With his one arm dangling at a weird angle, Justan knew that he was doomed.
For a moment he considered stepping out of the circle to end the match. But he couldn’t make himself do it. Instead, he did what no one expected. He attacked before his opponent could.
Justan leapt into the air as if to kick at Jobar’s head. Jobar raised an arm to block the move, but instead of extending the kick, Justan’s leg shot down
. All of his weight and momentum was focused on his heel as it caved in the top of Jobar’s scarred foot with a sickening crunch.
Jobar forgot about anything else but the searing pain. With a roar, he pushed Justan away and dropped to the ground, cradling his ruined foot.
Jobar’s shove landed on Justan’s dislocated shoulder. Justan stumbled and sank to his knees with the shooting pain. His thoughts blurred. He nearly passed out. The hornsman blew to end the match with both combatants incapacitated.
Chapter Nine
Everyone eagerly awaited the announcement of point totals later in the day. Justan was nervous. He wasn’t sure how his odd display would be judged.
Hand-to-hand combat was supposed to be a beautiful thing to watch, full of acrobatics and harmonious control of the body. There had been nothing poetic about Justan’s fight. It had played out with all the charm of a bar room brawl. He tried to win the only way he could. But he hadn’t exactly won. It was more of a draw. And he had made an enemy.
That old wound of Jobar’s had taken a lot of work for the mages to heal and even then, they said that it would never be quite the same. Justan felt a little guilty about taking advantage of Jobar’s old injury like that. He didn’t hold any ill will toward the man after all. He was still mulling it over that evening when Ma’am met him by the archery range.
“Justan, they have posted the results. You received three points today!” she said. “This gives you a total of eleven points so far. You could have the fifteen points you need tomorrow before you even take the final test.”
Justan smiled and nodded. This was great news. He had never expected to get this far so quickly. But his excitement was tempered by the guilt that had been plaguing him.
“So, what did you think of my performance today?” he asked. Ma'am looked into his eyes and somehow he sensed that she knew the question that was really behind those words.
“It was not pretty.” She stood with her arms crossed, but a slight smile curled the corners of her lips. “But real fighting rarely is. The way that you fought showed that you knew your deficiencies. Not too long ago you would have fought the way you had been taught and lost.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Do not be too concerned about your opponent. I know Jobar. The man needed a little humility. He will be a smarter fighter because of the lesson you taught him today.” Then with a mischievous whisper she added, “The other students have started calling him Jobar Three Lobe.”
Justan laughed, finally relaxing a bit. Ma’am always seemed to know the right thing to say to either make him feel better, or push him so that he would become better.
“Well tomorrow is my strongest event. I have received five points in the strategy test every year.” Suddenly he felt very tired. He had worked so hard for so long. But now that he was finally here, now that victory was in his sight, he felt that something was missing.
He forced a smile on his face. “I hope the council is proud."
Her eyes sparkled. “I am sure that they will be tomorrow. And they will not be the only ones. Sir Hilt left something for you.” She pulled out a long leather bundle that Justan hadn’t noticed before. “He asked me to give you this. He had to leave last night.”
Justan stood. “He did? But why?”
“He would only say that he had business to attend to.” She untied the straps that held the bundle together and unrolled it so that Justan could see the contents.
Two shining swords lay nestled inside the leather wrapping. They were each around three feet long and very well made. The grips were worn, but the swords were highly polished and well cared for.
When Justan picked them up, he could immediately tell that they had excellent balance. He twirled them with his wrists. The swords fit him perfectly. “I can't believe it,” he whispered.
“Sir Hilt said that they are his practice swords,” Ma’am said. “He wanted me to tell you that you could use them until you found better ones.”
“He is wrong,” Justan said. “They are wonderful.”
“He also left you this.” She handed him a piece of parchment.
Justan took it with a bit of sadness. He wondered why his teacher needed to leave so suddenly. He opened the letter and read,
Justan,
I am sorry that I will not be able to be there at your moment of victory. Ever since I saw your determination the first day we trained, I knew that you would succeed. It takes a rare person to push forward the way that you have.
This inner drive you possess is a great strength, but I fear it is also your weakness. I will try to explain what I believe has held you back.
From what I have seen in the last two weeks, you have developed a belief that in order to be truly great, you must succeed without the help of others. You have been isolating yourself in order to achieve your goals. This is folly. Any man that starts out with an attitude like that is destined to fail. Justan, you must trust in others. It is crucial if you want to reach your potential. You simply cannot do it alone.
I would also warn you to be aware that your goals may drag you short of your potential. I sense far greater possibilities within you than you can see.
I will be watching your progress with interest, my friend. I am sure that our paths will cross again. Until then, Justan, it has been a pleasure.
Hilt
Justan read the letter over several times. Finally, he folded the letter and put it in his pouch. Justan turned to Ma'am.
“There is something I must tell you.” He told her everything he had been holding back, starting with the reason that Kenn hated him. He told her about the heavy blanket that had been placed over his window in the night and the remarks Kenn made to him at the archery. He had kept these things to himself, determined that he could handle anything Kenn dished up on his own. But there was too much riding on the next two days of testing. Kenn might try something else.
Ma’am was not happy. She flushed a deep red when he stammered out what Kenn said about her at the archery range. When he finished, she shook her head.
“It doesn't matter now. Benjo and Kenn have been expelled from the Training School.”
“What? How?”
“The instructors were aware of Kenn's hatred of you. Swift Kendyl had his suspicions about your fall in the stamina test despite your story. After witnessing Kenn’s actions during the archery exam, he decided to keep an eye on them. Early this morning he caught Kenn and Benjo trying to sneak into your room.”
“Okay, I can understand them getting in trouble, but expelled?” It didn’t make sense. Pranks were fairly common at the school and the teachers tended to turn a blind eye to them, though they were frowned upon during test week.
“Normally you would be right, but Swift Kendyl found a sleeping potion in Kenn's possession. We have no idea where they got it. It was a powerful and rare potion, nothing a person would use in a simple prank. It was enough evidence to show that they were trying to sabotage your chances for today's test. Expelling them was not a hard decision. The teachers never liked those two anyway.”
“I'm surprised that I didn't hear about this earlier.”
“I asked that the teachers not announce it until after the test,” Ma'am said. “I did not want to break your concentration.”
Justan frowned as something else occurred to him. “Ma’am, testing time is still a public event. Kenn and Benjo may be expelled from the Training School but that doesn't prevent them from entering the grounds as spectators. What's to keep them from trying something again?”
“Do not be concerned. Those two are more trouble for themselves than anyone else. They will not try anything again. They are most likely too busy wondering where their next meal is going to come from to worry about you.” Justan tried to smile, but found that he couldn’t. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “If it would help you feel better, I can make sure that someone watches your room for the last two nights of the tests.”
Justan’s mouth dropped in horror at the suggestion. Ma'am nodded.<
br />
“I thought not.” She pushed him towards his room. “Go. Sleep. You have been healed twice in one day. I am surprised that you are still standing. I will wake you in the morning and make sure that nothing impedes you in the exam. Now go.”
When Justan finally got to bed, he didn’t think that he would be able to sleep. There was too much running around in his mind. But Ma’am was right. His body overrode his mind and he slept the whole night through.
Justan awoke to the early morning glow entering through his one small window. At first he was startled, but he realized that it wasn’t bright enough to be full daylight yet. He stretched and washed in the washbasin, letting the cold water wake him up completely. He put on his clothes and started for the door, deciding to take a quick run before breakfast.
Eye of the Moonrat (The Bowl of Souls: Book One) Page 9