by Kyle West
I disengaged to catch my breath. Flameform wasn’t working. Nabea stepped forward before I could have the opportunity to rest. He wasn’t going to let me catch a break. To my surprise, he wasn’t being aggressive. He was just closing the gap so that I was forced to engage him. I tried backing away again, but he did the same thing, not allowing me any breathing space. I realized then what he was doing, and the genius of his strategy. This had been his plan all along. He knew his strength was defending, and he was playing to it. He was defending aggressively.
I needed a way out, but what?
I entered one of the more advanced sequences Aela had taught me yesterday. Spin, cut. Thrust, thrust, cut. Kick, when the opponent’s blade was occupied with mine.
The kick caught Nabea off guard, and he stumbled a bit. I used the opportunity to switch forms, back into Tree. This is the form I should have used from the beginning. It would lengthen the fight, and give me more chances to get back into it.
Nabea didn’t seem pleased with the tactic, but patiently, he closed the distance between us yet again. The fighting became less fiery, almost sedated. Our movements seemed slow, and anytime we took a strike at each other, we didn’t unleash our all into it. The battle was now a preservation of energy, and given time, Nabea would win.
My mind worked for a way out, but Nabea never gave me a chance to try anything new. He knew when to attack, and when to defend. He was an intelligent fighter. He seemed to predict everything I was going to do, and how to counter it. I knew Nabea had the Gift of Insight, which allowed him to sense others’ thoughts and feelings. It was known that those Gifted in Insight had an advantage in a duel, if only because they had an instinctual understanding of what their opponent might do.
It was then that I realized that it was what Nabea was doing. It wasn’t that he was more skilled than me — he just knew what I was going to do.
I knew that, given time, Nabea would eventually get the better of me, so it was time to take a risk — a risk that would cause me to deviate from my plan. I would do the opposite of what I was thinking.
Even if it wasn’t the best time to try it, I switched back into Flameform, fueled by the desperation of a cornered animal. Nabea had control of most of the arena space, and I had to break out. I was only dimly aware that the form I was in was not Flame, but I didn’t have time to think about it. Nabea seemed surprised, and I unleashed a flurry of strikes that immediately had him backing up. The sequence I had used seemed improvisational, but had been so precise that it was as if I had been practicing it for ages. What was more, there had been no discernible transition out of Tree. I seemed to flow right into whatever…this…was, as naturally as breathing, as naturally as the wind blowing.
My movements seemed sure and calculated, finding the right holes to pick at Nabea while stepping deftly out of the way any time he tried to swat me away. I came close to scoring a hit multiple times, and it was clear Nabea was having a hard time with this unfamiliar form.
What was it, though? I couldn’t be bothered with the question for now. All I wanted was to win.
Over time, Nabea’s form became more staggered. His movements grew clumsier; he started making simple mistakes. All of this culminated when I formed a quick strike from above. Depending on Nabea’s movements, I would go either left or right, and I was coming too quickly for Nabea to accurately guess. I started coming down to the left, but Nabea formed a block that would stagger me. Instead, just as the blade connected, I tripped him up, sending him sprawling to the ground. After that, it was a simple matter of holding the point of my blade at his throat.
Applause met my victory, and Nabea looked up at me, panting.
“That form,” he said, still catching his breath. “What was it? How did you…?”
I reached down a hand, helping him up. “I’m not sure what it was.”
He looked at me skeptically, and it was clear that he thought I was trying to rub it in. By the time he was up and standing, he pressed the point.
“No one makes up moves like that on the fly,” he said. His tone almost seemed to say that I had cheated somehow.
“I won,” I said. “I just did what I thought was best.”
Nabea shook his head before he walked away; it was clear he thought I was keeping something from him. It was the truth, though: I really didn’t know what I was doing. The victory felt a bit hollow, because it seemed to come from luck rather than skill. Perhaps this was something Nabea sensed, too.
“You’re just full of surprises.”
I turned to see Deanna, standing beside Aela. She had her arms crossed, which made me a bit guarded. She and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.
“Now, I know I didn’t teach you Windform,” Aela said. “I’m not saying it wasn’t the right choice — in fact, it was the perfect choice. Why would you keep something like that from me?”
“I didn’t know what it was,” I said. “I just sort of…felt it.”
“Battletrance,” Deanna said, shaking her head in disbelief.
I had heard of Battletrance several times in passing. It was apparently a very rare Gift that gave a Seeker intense focus during battle. Those who had it described it as a slowing of time, a hyper-awareness of the Four Disciplines, the ability for the body to perfectly execute the sequences it had learned.
“Battletrance, maybe,” Aela said. “So, you’re saying you never learned Windform, ever? Battletrance doesn’t impart forms its user never learned.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing,” I said. “That’s the truth.”
Even as I explained, though, I felt a familiar coldness. There was someone who probably knew Windform, but it wasn’t me.
“I have to go,” I said. “Sorry…”
And before either of them could ask anything more, I walked away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I WOVE MY WAY THROUGH the crowd, ignoring calls of congratulations. How could I be satisfied with my victory when I knew it wasn’t me fighting, but someone else? Yet again, Anna was showing up; not in my thoughts, but in my actions.
The crowds thinned as I reached the periphery of the village, and I found myself on a field of xen south of the city, just past the last of the buildings. Growing from the xen were several fields of crops, only sprouts given the earliness of the season. Several cabins of silvery wood had been built near those farms, and beyond them was a line of xenoforest filled with thick, twisted trees: the border of the untamed Wild, with Nava and the Sanctum a small, civilized island within.
“Shanti?”
I nearly jumped at hearing Fiona’s voice. I knew I should have turned to face her, but kept my head forward for some reason. “What is it?”
She didn’t answer, instead coming to stand by me. She didn’t look my way, and neither did I look at her. I could see her golden, wavy hair in the side of my vision.
“It was Anna, wasn’t it?”
I felt surprise, but kept it hidden. “What makes you say that?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it? No initiate knows Windform. I wanted to come out here to tell you…be careful.”
She trailed off, but I could complete her sentence for her. Be more careful. If you’re an initiate who knows Windform, it’s an oddity. It will cause suspicion.
But all that was the least of my concerns for the moment. I was just wondering if there was any room for me, the girl from Colonia who only hoped to go to school and live a simple life.
“I suppose all of this was inevitable,” I said. “What if one day I wake up, and I’m no longer who I am? That’s my greatest fear. What if she takes over?”
“Do you believe she will?”
I had worried about it for weeks, but with Fiona asking that question, it seemed like something that could never be.
“She will always be a part of me,” I said. “That much I know. I still want to say it isn’t true, but I’ve never used Windform in my life. I might have seen it used in the Champions’ Copse, but that’s it.”
>
“Who do you think it was that invented the forms to begin with? Fiona continued. “It was said that Annara’s skill at the blade could not be matched. After the war, she developed the forms that worked in conjunction with the Xenofold, and when the forms were born, her power only increased. When she founded the Seekers, she taught others her skills to be passed through the generations. Those original forms evolved into those we know today.” Fiona now looked at me, and I met her gray eyes. “You weren’t merely using Windform. You were using a version of Windform that has all but passed from memory. And that is dangerous.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long shot, but a Champion blade master might recognize it for what it is.” Fiona shrugged. “I’m only supposing it’s old because I noticed oddities within it, things that didn’t quite fit. Things as minute as the way you tilted your head, or the trajectory of your back, the way you arched your wrists. If I noticed such things, how much more would a trained Champion? Such a person would think you learned it from a book to catch your opponents off guard. A clever trick, to be sure. But if you keep doing it, then it will become clear that it’s something more. People will start asking questions. And that’s something we don’t need.”
“What do I do, then?”
“Depending on who wins the next fight…Isaru or Alaric…you might consider toning it down a bit.”
I blinked. It was hard to imagine myself beating either of them, especially Alaric, even with Anna’s help.
“The whole reason I entered the tournament was not out of a desire for victory,” I said. “I wanted to prove myself to Isandru, to show him how strong I’ve become…because maybe he’ll let me return to Colonia earlier.”
Fiona nodded her understanding. “I know a part of you wants that victory. I want it for you, too. You would be the first girl to win in…well, ever. But it’s safer for you not to. Even now, you’ve attracted a lot of attention. The Champions will want to train you. It’s already clear you have the potential to train the Gift of Battletrance. If anyone recognizes that you’re using antiquated forms, it will raise eyebrows, at the very least.”
“I can’t just throw this match,” I said.
“There are more important things than winning,” Fiona said. “Secrecy is one of them.”
“I think you’re being too careful,” I said. “Who in their right mind would look at me fighting and think I was clearly Anna?”
Fiona sighed. “You might be right, but one thing is for sure. People will wonder why an initiate fights like a Champion. And to answer that question, it might lead someone to surprising places.”
“You’re saying I fought as well as a Champion?”
“Perhaps not as well as that,” Fiona said. “But only a Champion would so seamlessly switch forms and know which forms to switch into. What Nabea was doing was a classic tactic, but you countered it perfectly. Even apprentices would have had trouble with it.” Fiona looked at me meaningfully. “And Nabea has been training far longer than you.”
“But…throw the entire match?”
“I’m not saying you should,” Fiona said. “Only to consider it.”
“I can’t, Fiona. It isn’t like me to give up. And if people talk…they talk.” I smiled. “Besides, there’s no guarantee I’ll win, anyway. Nabea and Samal are one thing, but Isaru and Alaric are on a different level.”
“Their match is probably going on right now,” Fiona said.
“We should get back, then,” I said.
If Anna didn’t return for my fight, then there was no way I was going to win. It wasn’t something I had any control over. As far as I knew, Fiona was going to get her wish.
* * *
By the time I returned to the village green, Isaru’s and Alaric’s fight was in full swing. I regretted walking away, when I should have been here the entire time scoping out the competition. They seemed to be of an even match, and Alaric’s superior size and strength was matched by Isaru’s nimbleness and speed. Even so, Isaru’s strikes were strong and sure. Interestingly, both were using Flameform, which meant each was focusing on an all-out attack on the other.
The fight didn’t last long. Alaric managed a solid cut on Isaru’s side, just before Isaru thrust at Alaric’s gut. Martin called Alaric the winner.
Seeing Isaru lose was surprising in and of itself, but I supposed I shouldn’t have found it surprising, considering Alaric was probably the most skilled initiate. Isaru bowed nobly, and Alaric acknowledged the bow with a nod.
Now, I noticed people were glancing my way, seeming to think that there was no way I could win. Despite everything Fiona had told me, I felt the same way. Certainly, no one would bat an eye if I threw the match within seconds. Alaric looked across the crowd until his dark, hard eyes met mine. He was a giant, with red hair to his shoulders, high cheekbones, and muscles that made Nabea and Samal look like boys in comparison. He was a natural warrior, such as was born once in a generation, and his sword almost looked like a knife in his hand. He probably could have taken down most of the apprentices as well.
It was hard to see how I could ever be matched with him. His reach with those trunk-like arms would make it nearly impossible for me to get a hit in. Then, he gave a small, superior smile, as if dispatching me would be child’s play.
And from the way everyone was looking at me, it seemed they believed it, too.
I caught Fiona’s eye one last time. From the look on her face, it was clear that she thought I wouldn’t have to throw the match after all.
I decided, then and there, to give the final fight everything I had.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NOW THAT I HAD TAKEN my place across from Alaric, a sick nervousness took me over in full force. My stomach twisted and my skin became slick with sweat, and despite the heat of the day, I felt cold. The crowd went quiet, and behind me I could hear the clashing of metal from the two other rings that had been set up for the apprentices. Few were watching those fights, though. Almost everyone was here, and they wanted to see how quickly I would fall.
As Aela had taught me, I assumed Treeform. Alaric gave a small, superior smile, immediately assuming an unfamiliar form. Whispers flowed through the crowd like a wind, and I could only wonder what he had prepared for me.
Martin lowered his hand and Alaric stalked forward, his blade slightly raised.
I walked to meet him, and before I knew it, Alaric’s wide face contorted with pure aggression as he let out a guttural yell. I held my ground as his blade swung in from the side. I blocked easily, but Alaric pressed hard, using his superior strength to edge the blade closer.
I skirted away, knowing I wouldn’t gain any advantage from this engagement. He came at me again, trying the same thing. His reach was such that I had no chance of getting past the whirlwind of his blade — not that he ever gave me an opportunity to attack. Treeform allowed me to defend, but his strength made me feel in danger of shattering every time our blades met, even when I redirected the energy as Aela had taught me.
Even Isaru hadn’t been able to beat him.
I lost myself in my defense, doing my best to avoid conflict when I could. I wished that Aela had shown me more forms, but she had been sure no initiate would progress beyond Tree or Flame. Such as it was, I had to dissect the form itself, a difficult thing to do while under pressure.
First, I noted it was a highly aggressive form — but not as imbalanced as Flame. Most of the attacks were hard, direct, and coming from the front. They were predictable, but Alaric was counting on the fact that predictability wouldn’t matter. When you had an advantage over your opponent, it didn’t matter if they knew what you were going to do if they had no way of stopping it.
And worse, help seemed far away. Lurking in the Silence of my mind, I could still feel fear hovering beyond my consciousness: fear of failure, fear of going down too quickly, and most of all, fear that I would never be strong enough to save my parents.
Alaric smiled, even as he pressed the attack.
>
Sweat crawled down my skin as my movements came from something beyond myself. I was stepping into the flow at last, and slowly, defense became easier. Anna wasn’t here, though: I couldn’t feel her. This was all me.
Alaric growled, seeming to recognize the change. He stepped back, while I stepped forward.
Right into his trap.
With a bellow, his blade swung hard from the side, and I wouldn’t have time to defend against it. Even that blunted edge could cut deep. I fell to the ground, and the blade only managed to sweep right over my head. Seeing that I was grounded, Alaric hurried to trap me under his boot, but I rolled away in the nick of time, scrambling up and assuming Treeform once again.
Alaric blinked, as if surprised his move didn’t work. For that matter, I was surprised, too. He used the lapse in the fight to change forms — to one I recognized, because I’d used it myself in a previous fight.
Windform.
I didn’t know how, or why, but I knew Flameform was the right response. Alaric hadn’t expected the move, but still, he joined blades with me. I knew Windform’s strength lay in calculated, precise strikes, the way wind found its way into cracks and the smallest of places. I knew my Treeform, while strong, would break down eventually. My lack of reach meant that I wouldn’t be able to counterstrike, so my only hope was outright aggression, which wouldn’t allow Alaric to get in a precise attack.
