by Earl, Collin
Monson decided he had enough. “Well, ladies, it was nice meeting you all. I’m just going to go over here now.”
He moved rather quickly to get away from the stares of Artorius’ friends, whose eyes he could feel on his back.
At a comfortable distance, the crack of wood caught his attention. On a mat not far away, surrounded by students, two people were engaged in heated mock combat using large sticks crudely formed in the shape of swords. They resembled the ones that Casey and Artorius used the day before. Masked and covered in a weird kind of body armor, the two combatants strove against each other to gain dominance. The contest was short-lived: The shorter of the two fighters was far more skilled. His movements were small and sharp and almost totally defensive in nature; he took very few opportunities to counterattack. More often than not, he defended with a one-handed style, leaving the other hand draped to one side. This explained why he was using a shorter stick — a longer one would make this style of fighting difficult. The heavier opponent managed to land a few blows before an incredibly fast counter from the short combatant effectively disarmed his opponent. Weaponless, the larger foe, a boy with a face like a pug, bowed his head and pulled off his helmet. He walked off the mat looking embarrassed.
“He’s good,” said Casey, eyeing the two fighters critically. “Interesting. You don’t usually see kendo in American schools.”
“Kendo?” asked Monson, turning his attention to Casey. “What's that?” The term sounded vaguely familiar; he wondered where he had heard it.
“Japanese fencing.” Casey peered past Monson towards the shorter fighter. “Kendo, or competitive fencing, is popular in Japanese schools, but most private schools in the States only do rapier fencing. I wonder who he is. Japanese sword fighting in the style of the Kodachi is really rare—”
Casey stopped as if something suddenly occurred to him. “You don’t know what kendo is? How can that be? Don’t you have a bokken?”
Monson did not have any idea what Casey was talking about. He racked his brain and came to a realization. “Oh, is that what that shiny stick is? I wondered what it was called. So it’s like for fencing, right?”
“Are you messing with me? You must fence. You move like a fencer.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Grey, you remember how we met, right?”
“Of course, but what does that have to do with fencing?”
“I’m a martial arts student,” said Casey, smiling. “And I took up rapier fencing in elementary school and not long after that, kendo. After a while, you can just tell the people that have trained. I would have bet Arthur’s weight in gold you were a fencer. The way you blocked his attack was perfect. You aren’t just pulling my leg, are you? You really haven’t fenced before?”
Monson struggled to answer Casey’s question. Fencing. He really liked the sound of that. The mere thought made his fingers suddenly tense, but he could not remember ever fencing, and it wasn’t something that struck a chord within him. They were quickly coming to the topic that Monson wanted to avoid. He thought a diversionary tactic was probably his best bet.
“So you can tell things about fighters just by observing them?” he asked casually. “What can you tell me about our vertically challenged friend over there?”
Monson pointed at the boy, who was furiously fighting a new opponent.
If Casey was aware of Monson’s redirection, he did not let it show. “First a little background. The kodachi is a smaller blade than the katana, the Japanese long sword — that’s made for defense. The fighting style developed for the kodachi is augmented by an aggressive hand-to-hand combat, usually kempo or some kind of jujutsu. This one, however…” He paused for moment as he watched. “This guy doesn’t seem to exhibit any of that type of tactic or style.”
Casey’s eyes narrowed as if he were considering something.
“Well, of course he doesn’t.” He sounded like he was scolding himself. ”This isn’t an actual battle; it’s a match. He would be disqualified if he struck him with his hands. Then again, they aren’t using shinai." `
“What’s a shinai?”
Casey brought his hands up stretching them as he watched the fighter. He looked back at Monson.
“A shinai is a bamboo sword that’s used in official kendo matches. They don’t use bokkens; they’re too dangerous. You can break some bones or even kill someone if you aren’t careful.”
“Yeah," agreed Monson, returning his attention to the match. “Now that you mention it, this doesn’t really look like a match, but actual combat. Not that I would really know the difference.”
“Totally,” Casey nodded agreement. “They don’t even have a referee. I think I’m going to talk to him. I want to know where he trained.”
“Why bother?” asked Monson, who could not think of anything less practical.
Casey answered, “How could I not want to know? I mean how cool is that, seriously?”
Monson chuckled. He had a point. “Casey, what kind of martial art do you do?”
Casey's eyes lit up. “You know, that’s a very interesting question. Honestly, I have no idea what it’s called.”
Monson raised his eyebrow in his signature gesture. “That’s weird. How can you study something you don’t even know the name of? Who taught you?”
“It’s a family thing,” commented Casey. “My dad taught me when I was very young, then my uncle took over.”
“Why’d he do that?”
Casey looked uncomfortable. Apparently Monson wasn’t the only one who had things he didn’t want to discuss.
“Why wouldn’t your uncle tell you the name of your art? That seems weird to me.”
“Yeah,” said Casey matter-of-factly. “It has something to do with mastery. I dunno I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“So you don’t know anything about its origins?” inquired Monson, now genuinely interested.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well?”
“I think it’s from somewhere in China, or Asia at least.”
“Wow,” Monson said laughing. “Brilliant, Holmes, brilliant. A martial art coming from Asia! Your powers of deduction are outstanding.”
Casey glared at him before stalking towards the opposite side of the mat.
“Where ya going?” asked Monson, moving after him. “Come on, it was just a joke."
“You’re funny. It’s totally not like that. I just don’t want to be overheard, and it’s kind of a long story.”
They sat down on a corner of mat away from the group still watching the fencers. Reclined in a comfortable position, Monson gave Casey the go-ahead. Casey was not paying attention, however, but was looking directly over Monson’s shoulder.
“What?” Monson turned to see what Casey was looking at. Artorius was standing with the same group of girls a short distance away.
“He’s never going to learn,” said Casey, shaking his head and chuckling slightly. “I don’t know many times I’m going to have to say this before we need an intervention: We need to find that boy a lady.”
“Poor Artorius,” said Monson, smiling. He was proud he didn’t laugh.
“Anyway.” He returned his attention to Casey. “On with your story and make it snappy. I still need to check in with Coach Able.”
“OK, OK, I get it.” Casey settled back, looking thoughtful. His expression changed, becoming much more serious. “I think I came to the Asian conclusion when I was about ten.” His eyes screwed up in concentration. “The first and most obvious reason was all the references to life energies.”
“Life energies?”
Casey smiled. He looked like he was about to start laughing. ”Has anyone ever told you that you do that a lot?”
“Do what a lot?”
“That. Answer everything with a question!”
“I do not.”
“Sure you don’t.”
Before Monson could summon a retort, however, Casey continued. “We were talking a
bout life energies. Chi, ki, chakra, prana: Different cultures have different names for them.”
“So, chakra or chi?” asked Monson. This time Casey cocked an eyebrow, copying Monson’s move. Monson grimaced. “I did it again, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.”
Monson scowled. “OK, tell me about chakra.”
The subject was long and drawn out, and Monson did not understand everything that Casey said, but thought he had managed to catch the main points.
“So, let me get this straight,” said Monson. “Through meditation and training you can focus the life energies in your body and use them to fight?”
“Yeah, well, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but you’re basically right.”
“No way.”
“Seriously, I use it all the time in training.”
“You’re so full of it.”
“I’ll prove it.” Casey stood up. “Come here.”
He guided Monson to the middle of another large wrestling mat a little farther away from the other students.
“Before we start, do you think you could help me warm up a bit?” asked Casey. "This takes some time, and it's dangerous if you use it without preparing yourself."
He paused.
“And…I have a little theory I would like to try out.”
“Sure,” said Monson, who was still skeptical. “What can I do to help?”
“You can defend yourself.”
“I’m sorry?”
Casey leaped at Monson, attacking with amazing speed. A low kick struck him mid-thigh, but to Monson’s amazement, his body reacted seemingly on its own, actually stepping into the blow and diminishing much of the force. Casey responded, and aiming for Monson’s face, he threw a monstrous cross-body blow a split second after his low kick. Monson deflected this with a smooth movement of the wrist, causing the punch to miss its mark and pass harmlessly to the side. The boys held the position, giving Monson time to marvel at his actions. Casey smiled.
“You really are interesting, Grey. All right. Let’s try this.”
He stepped back and assumed a stance, body leaning forward, fists up and in front of him. Monson realized this was a more aggressive fighting stance — fist and elbow-oriented.
He paused. Where did that come from? How the heck would he know what kind of stance this was?
Casey did not give him time to figure this out, but Monson’s instincts were correct. Quick powerful strikes with closed and open fists, augmented with various elbow strikes, poured down on him. Monson kept his hands close to his body, using small circular movements to block the attacks. He was quite successful and matched Casey blow for blow.
More than once, however, Casey’s attack patterns changed and Monson began to understand the flow of his style. It started with the base form, or starting position of his body; when he changed his starting form, he changed his entire attack style. In the course of their short bout, Monson counted five different forms, all of which were completely different in power, speed, and emphasis. It was as if Casey grew up learning not one fighting style but five. It was a bit scary.
I shouldn’t know this. The words echoed in Monson’s mind.
Monson shouldn’t, but he did. He could see the forms. He could see the change and flow of the different styles. It was a dangerous martial art and Casey was very good at it. Monson wasn’t sure what was more disconcerting: that he knew so much about fighting or that his new friend was so good at it. There was no explanation for this. None.
Monson did surprisingly well, but took more than a few blows. His body seemed to ache as he went through the movements, as if his muscles were remembering something painful and persistent. Monson did connect with a shot or two. Casey’s form-based style was as wild as his fencing. He had openings, plenty of them, but Monson just could not find the mindset or spirit he needed to take advantage of them. Their battle drove on for the better part of five minutes, until a particularly vicious spinning back kick based on a flowing-type form centered around the legs barely missed Monson’s head. Monson put his hand up.
“I think you're warmed up, Casey,” he said panting. “What are you trying to do? You're gonna kill me!”
“Hardly,” said Casey. “I wasn’t exactly going easy on you, and you’re still standing. Are you sure you've never studied any kind of martial arts?”
“I could have been a French kitchen maid for all I know,” said Monson without thinking. He clapped his hand over his mouth. Casey just stared at him, confusion on his face. He smiled keenly at Monson.
“We don’t have to talk about it now, Grey, but I expect an explanation later.”
Monson let out a sigh of relief. “Sure. Sometime.”
Casey beamed at him, looking very pleased.
“Well, regardless, you’re awfully good for not knowing anything. I think you and Jason Bourne might be related.”
“Who’s Jason Bourne?” inquired Monson.
“What!? Who’s Jason Bourne!? Are you kidding me?“
“Wait. First, chakra. Focus.”
“Oh yeah,” said Casey, grinning. “I almost forgot. I think I'm ready.” He paused. “But we are so watching that movie.”
Casey led Monson to the middle of the mat and showed him a defensive stance. Apparently you could easily get hurt with this...exercise. Then stepping away, Casey started to shake the different parts of his body vigorously.
“I want to make sure that everything is loose,” he said in answer to Monson's inquiring stare. “Don’t want to pull a hammy.”
Monson decided not to comment.
Casey finally took a position not far from where Monson was standing. He settled into a stationary stance and closing his eyes, started to breathe deeply and slowly. He looked rather serene.
“This may hurt a little bit,” he whispered. He raised his right hand opened-fisted, rested it on the palm of his left, and placed them both firmly in front of his body. Monson watched, intrigued but still a little skeptical. Events continued in this fashion until…until something changed. It was hard to describe this change. It was slight and unobtrusive but it was almost palpable. Something about the atmosphere surrounding his friend was different. He could feel an energy emerging and becoming stronger. This change was not all that Monson had to worry about; it also felt like someone was watching them, and with a rather intense focus. The hairs on the back of Monson’s neck stood up as he spoke calming words aloud to himself. He chided himself. He was being paranoid. He needed to calm down.
“Hey, Casey,” said Monson, his attention splintered between his friend and his search for the source of his uneasiness. “Don’t you think you should…”
Monson never finished his sentence, as the sight he was now witnessing left him speechless.
<<<<>>>>
Thanks for reading! See what happens to Monson and the crew in
The House of Grey: Volume 2 right now
Tell your friends, your teachers, your family members,
and your hair stylist—this is one you won’t want to miss.
Oh, and don't miss Collin Earl and Chris Snelgrove's other titles:
HARMONICS: Rise of the Magician
Samantha Montgomery of Academy City 676 always dreamed of life outside of school.
Sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for…
A rogue weapons manufacturer, a ruthless killer, and a schoolgirl converge as a weapon so advanced it defies the laws of physics is a mere breath away from being unleashed on the world. Now it’s up to Sam and some unexpected allies to keep it out of the wrong hands or risk loosing everything, and everyone, they hold dear.
A defense contractor on the rampage, an assassin out for blood,
and Sam caught in the middle.
When the reality you know ceases to be, can you live with the reality yet to come?
Read this book right now for FREE
HARMONICS: Revelations
It’s been weeks since the attack on her school, but Samantha Montgomer
y’s nightmares make her relive those events almost every night.
Struggling to adjust to her new home in the underground facility deep within in the reaches of the Rocky Mountains, Sam wonders just how dark things can get before her will gives out. Faced with the realization that her once best friend is a man foreign to her, that she will never see her home again, and that her life is inexplicably caught up in a three-way war between a group of domestic terrorists, the world’s largest weapons manufacturer, and the elite of a foreign superpower, Sam stands alone to answer the questions that plague her.
Why her? When will she see her friends, her family…Adam again? What mysterious power does the silver box hold to make so many people kill for it?
Little does Sam know that there are explanations to all her questions just beyond her grasp- but only if she has the courage to look.
Join Sam on her discovery as the future reveals itself in Harmonics: Revelations
Read this book right now
HARMONICS: The Jadian Sun
For Samantha Montgomery, it seems there is no end to the reach of the Jadian Empire, as she once again finds herself at its mercy. Although life in an underground military facility was no picnic, the dangers within the elusive Empire may prove even more perilous.
With Richard’s sacrifice all for naught and Adam a part of those responsible for the attack on her school, Sam must find a way back to her home, back to her family…back to the life she once knew on her own.
Sam isn’t sure who she can trust as everyone around her seems tangled in the Empire’s vast web of deceit and duplicity. As she descends deeper into the heart of the Seven Cities, she realizes that nothing is certain- not even her beliefs about herself. Now she must choose between the life she has always known, or the truths she has discovered.
Join Sam as she uncovers the legacies, legends, and lies in Harmonics: The Jadian Sun
Read this book right now
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