by Marlow York
Sparring was still the most difficult part of training for me, but one day I finally beat Bjorn, much to everyone’s surprise. Though my fighting skills had improved, and I was able to stay on my feet longer and tire my opponents out, I had never truly won a match until the day I threw Bjorn to the ground. His pride was hurt, but he shook my hand respectfully at the end of the match. I couldn’t help but notice Vondak’s thoughtful gaze as I stepped out of the ring.
“You will become a Warrior in no time,” Saven told me while I stood beside him and dabbed at my bloody lip.
“This was a small victory,” I replied, frustrated. “I still don’t feel like I’m progressing fast enough.”
Saven considered my words, watching the next pair of fighters in the ring. “Have you not noticed the others?” he asked.
“What about them?”
“Many of them have plateaued. They were all stronger than you when you arrived, and some have sharpened their skills, but it appears many have reached their peak. You, on the other hand, grow stronger every day. Your progress may feel slow, but you consistently continue to improve.”
I looked at my fellow trainees and thought about how strong they all were when I’d joined the group several weeks prior. Some, like Raerek, seemed to have no peak. They grew stronger, faster, and deadlier every day. Everyone had improved, but Saven was right. Even now, some of them ran through the forest at the same pace, they could do the same number of push-ups, and it was predictable who could beat who in a fight. They were all good fighters, but very few were great. I didn’t have Vondak’s experienced eye, but I could tell some of them would never lead a battle, and it was clear who would become Scouts. Except for me. I honestly couldn’t predict where I would end up.
“You have grown stronger too,” I told Saven, deflecting the conversation. “Perhaps you should ask Khero to spar with you, if you two could manage not to kill each other.”
“That would be an impressive fight, I am sure,” Saven said. “I think for now I will continue to train here in the forest. It is easier to stay out of trouble.”
I grinned and focused on the pair in the sparring ring.
✽ ✽ ✽
When it was time for sparring the next day, Vondak approached me.
“How about a rematch?” he asked.
“With who?”
But I hardly had to ask. Anza stood only a few feet away, staring at me with eyes of deadly poison. As intimidating as she could be, her arrogance and unwarranted distaste for me was getting on my nerves.
I sighed with annoyance. “Was this your idea or hers?”
“It would have happened eventually,” Vondak said simply. “However, she insisted upon doing it today.”
“I’m sure she did,” I muttered. “Let’s do this.”
“Your skills have grown, young Valieri. I sense your confidence may have grown as well. Do not forget what I’ve said about arrogance. And of course, keep your eyes open.”
I nodded and looked at Anza. This time, she didn’t smirk at me, likely because she had also noticed my skills and confidence were increasing. Without another word, we stepped into the ring.
Anza had grown in skill and strength, but so had her cockiness. Perhaps she felt it was necessary to have that attitude, surrounded by boys who only wanted her to fail. What she never seemed to realize, however, was that my skills were developing just as quickly as hers. Many of the larger boys relied so heavily on overpowering their opponents or muscling their way through an exercise that they failed to develop the critical thinking skills to outsmart an opponent or utilize a tool to help move a heavy object. Everyone seemed to look down on the smaller boys, like Bjorn, because they were physically weaker. What they didn’t see was how the smaller ones had to be smarter and more cunning. They would make very good Scouts.
“Brute strength can only get you so far. Combine strength with intelligence and you can do anything,” Tarek told me during one of our nightly sparring matches. “It takes the young ones longer to realize what the experienced Warriors have learned to become the best.”
Anza and I faced each other. Our first encounter in the ring had been short, but long enough to make me never want to step into the ring with her again. After several weeks of sparring every day, I was no longer afraid to fight. However, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. As the end of training slowly approached, there was more pressure than ever to prove myself to the others.
We took a fighting stance, legs braced wide, arms raised to defend vital places. Nearly everything about Anza was striking and intimidating. Her eyes focused on mine with the intensity of a lion observing its prey, and I could tell that’s exactly what I was to her—a small, weak animal she planned to put on the ground.
Except I wasn’t small and weak anymore. I was stronger and more analytical than she realized, and I had watched her fight many times, both as a winner and loser. I knew she liked to feign her strikes, but when she planned to strike for real, her left fist clenched a little harder and she always furrowed her brows.
When she lunged at me, I dodged and sidestepped around her, barely feeling her fist graze my arm. I regained my stance before she could recover her balance and throw another punch.
I watched her posture carefully. She had strength on her side, but she wasn’t as nimble as I was. She often put too much effort into her strikes, which was one of the bad things about fighting the strong recruits. You often had to strike harder to hurt them, and using brute force was a tactic that had its own downfalls when executed carelessly.
Anza struck, I dodged again, and she found herself slightly off balance. I kicked at the back of her knee, and she fell to the ground with a grunt.
A murmur ran through the crowd of spectators. When Anza looked at me, she was fuming. Not only was I able to dodge her punches, but I had made her look foolish. Me, the slave girl, had made her look foolish.
She lunged at me so suddenly I couldn’t dodge, and I found myself on my back with an angry savage girl on top of me. I used my arms to defend my face, and quickly remembered the last time I’d seen two of our fellow trainees in the same situation. I worked my legs around, trying to find some way to push her off me.
She’s too cocky, I reminded myself. She attacks more than she defends. She could be wide open.
I pulled my right arm away from my face and slammed it into her side as hard as I could. Just as I’d suspected, her ribs were completely open. I hit again and again until she cried out and stopped punching. I took the second’s pause to tuck my feet close to my bottom, then lift my back off the ground, bringing her with me. I rotated my body to one side, quickly shifted my weight, and flipped her over until I was sitting on top. Both her defense and offense were down. I peppered her with three swift punches, then leapt to my feet.
She stood up slowly, clutching her side, but her fatigue had done nothing to lessen her anger.
She’s like a hornet, I thought. You keep hitting her and she just gets angrier.
Nevertheless, she was getting worn out. So was I, but after spending weeks consistently getting beaten by my opponents, my defense was much tighter than hers. She was so accustomed to winning that she didn’t put as much focus on her defense. That would be her downfall.
Anza struck at me again, but the punch was sloppy with anger. I shoved her arm away, stepping in close, and threw my knuckles into her throat. She gagged, and while she gasped for air, I spun and kicked her as hard as I could. She fell and struggled to catch her breath. This time, I jumped on top of her and released a barrage of fierce punches to her face and head.
I didn’t realize how angry and vicious I was until I felt two sets of hands pulling me off her. The fight was over. I had finally won.
I panted and stared down at Anza in surprise. Even more surprising was the cheering that erupted around me. Even the smaller boys who I’d beaten were clapping their hands.
Anza was on her knees, and the look in her eyes showed how badly I’d injured her
pride as well as her body. Her nose was bleeding and she coughed and gasped. Part of me wondered if it had been a cheap shot, but our instructors didn’t scold me.
“Perhaps she will stop relying on brute strength, now that her pride is wounded,” Vondak said as I stepped out of the ring.
Some of Anza’s friends helped her to her feet, but she pushed them away. Her weakness was not in her physical strength, but her emotional frailty. She and I both had to prove ourselves among the crowd of young men, but she was the one who more worried about how she appeared to others than mastering her skills.
“She wouldn’t make a bad Warrior though,” I said to Vondak.
“None of you are Warriors yet,” he reminded me. “You all have potential,” he addressed the entire group. “Do not focus so much on brute strength and forget that half of fighting is in your head. You must be skilled enough to know how to punch but also when to kick instead. Your mind must be strong, free from selfish pride, and you must know that you will have to do things you may not want to do. Young Valieri might have an advantage in that way. She did not grow up here with friends, and so she has no problem treating us all like an enemy. Do not forget that the tables can turn at any moment during battle.”
“Have there been many traitors in the past?” someone asked.
“I do not necessarily mean traitors,” Vondak clarified. “But, if it came down to it, do you think you’d be able to fight a friend to protect your village?”
Some of them looked uncertain, others jokingly pointed at each other, as though saying “I’d have no problem turning on you.” For me, that meant I would have to turn on the City, my once faithful guardians. I had no problem making them my enemies.
I looked down at my fists, bruised from training, and newly scuffed from this fight. Perhaps I did have some advantages over the other recruits, and that wasn’t even counting the Ancient Fire.
✽ ✽ ✽
Training was done for the day. The group trudged up the path into the woods, but when I turned to leave, I felt a rough hand grab my shoulder.
I spun around and came face to face with Anza.
“If you’re looking for a fight, save it for the ring. I have other things to do.” I turned, but she grabbed my shoulder again.
“Meet me outside the village tonight,” she demanded. Without any explanation, she followed the rest of the group up the hill.
A soft rain began to patter on the leaves above us.
“An ill omen?” Saven suggested, looking upward.
I shook my head. “Don’t get superstitious on me.” I didn’t want to talk to Anza during training, let alone go out of my way to walk up to the village to speak with her. However, my curiosity was piqued.
“So, we’ll go?” Saven asked, reading my mind.
I heaved a sigh. “I suppose so.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Anza stood just outside the village, rain clinging to her long blonde hair. Her arms were folded across her chest, and anger clouded her face. If Saven wasn’t with me, I’d be afraid for what she might do to me.
“Stay close, but don’t interfere unless she attacks me,” I told him. “We can’t do anything that would prevent us from gaining respect from the Grakkir people.”
“Understood.” Saven nodded.
We approached her, Saven staying at a respectful distance, but always on guard. I could feel tension ebbing from his body. Anza pushed herself away from the building she was leaning against and stepped towards me.
“What is your secret?” she demanded.
“My secret?”
“How are you getting so strong? Why are your skills getting so good? Is it because of the snake god?” She spat the words like she wasn’t in the presence of a massive snake that could swallow her whole.
“I don’t have a secret,” I told her.
“That is a lie!” she screamed. “No outsider ever gets that good in such short amount of time unless there is something behind it.”
“And how many outsiders have trained to be Warriors?” I countered.
She glared at me, caught in her own illogical snare. “I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it. A simple farmer, a slave—a female slave at that—doesn’t learn so quickly or become stronger than ones who have trained their entire lives for this. It simply does not happen.”
I’d never encountered someone who was so adamant about hating and tormenting me. Most of the Fiero children were too afraid of punishment from the City to do anything too bad to each other. However, it was clear that Anza was so insecure about herself that she needed to project her anger onto me, her choice target. She hated to feel like she wasn’t as powerful as she wanted to be, and no one likes being faced with an ugly truth.
“The truth doesn’t change based on your ability to stomach it,” I spat. “Maybe you should stop trying to find something wrong with me and figure out what’s wrong with yourself.”
Anza swung her fist and it landed hard on my cheekbone. I staggered backwards but managed to stand on my feet. Saven hissed dangerously, rearing back as though he intended to strike Anza with his fangs. This halted her next swing.
“I have been fighting and training my entire life to become a Warrior!” she shouted. “I was going to be the first female Warrior in nearly a century. I was going to be the one everyone stood before in awe. Then you came along, an orphaned slave girl from the stupid Fiero clan. Your clan is too stupid to even realize you live under the City’s foot!”
This time my temper got the best of me. I lunged at Anza and wrapped my hands around her neck. I didn’t need to squeeze hard before she screamed and something sizzled. Her skin.
My mouth popped open, and her huge green eyes reflected my own shock. My hands had burned marks into the sides of her neck.
“What did you do?” she gasped, clutching her neck. “What are you?”
I bit my lip and glared at her. All this time I had been hiding the Ancient Fire that coursed through my veins. I was powerful, more powerful than anyone in the Grakkir clan or the Fiero clan could possibly imagine. I was more powerful than I even realized. Why not start to claim that power?
“I am the last of the Fiero clan,” I said, lifting my chin. “The last of the Fire Bringers.” I had never admitted it aloud. Now that I was saying it, claiming my place in the history books, I finally knew how it felt to be powerful.
“Do not use my strength as an excuse to be weak,” I told her. “You are much too arrogant. A true Warrior is proud, but never arrogant. If you want to be powerful, then be powerful. I am strong because I have worked for everything I have earned. I beat you because I became stronger than you, without using the Ancient Fire. I have trained and studied and fought to be where I am now. If you want to be truly great, then you need to stop thinking you are going to stand above everyone else and they will bow to you in awe. The Grakkir must fight for each other just as much as we fight for ourselves.”
For the first time, I started to truly think of myself as one of the Grakkir clan. This realization made me a little sad, as though I was turning my back on my home. However, my home was gone. My only home was within myself and everything I held dear to me.
Anza was silent, her cheeks red like an embarrassed child after being scolded.
“I’m finished with this conversation,” I spat. As I turned to leave I told her, “If you want to become better, then learn from those who are better than you. Do not look down on them, because they will stomp you down if you continue to be arrogant. If you want help, then just ask for it.”
I glanced at Saven, then followed the path away from the village back towards Tarek’s home. Saven hissed at Anza once more before following me.
Only once we had disappeared into the trees did I allow myself to release the breath I’d been holding. I rubbed my sore cheek, which throbbed with each of my frantic heartbeats. “I don’t know what she was complaining about. Her punches are plenty strong,” I told Saven.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” I peered through the thick branches, watching as Anza turned and headed back into the village, holding the burn on the side of her neck.
“Do you think you will be punished for burning her?” Saven asked.
“Possibly,” I admitted. “But I don’t know how they will prove that I burned her. Did it look like a handprint to you?”
“Not that I could see. If we are questioned, I will tell them that she attacked you first.”
I chuckled a little. “I appreciate that, but I will still be punished for burning her during a fistfight. I have no logical way to explain why I’d be holding fire, and if she tells anyone what I said about the Ancient Fire, then I will certainly be questioned.”
“I do not think they can punish you for being born to the Fiero clan,” Saven assured me.
“I certainly hope not. The only thing they might do is turn me over to the City, if they don’t like the Ancient Fire.”
Saven froze suddenly on the path and I had to stop to look back at him. “What?” I asked.
“I will never let them give you over to the City,” he swore. “I will poison an entire army before that happens.”
I smiled and touched his scales. “And that’s why I’m glad you’re on my side.”
“I will always be at your side,” he assured me.
“And I will always be at yours,” I promised.
Chapter 19
The next day, Anza glared at me as I approached the training area, but she said nothing. Judging by the lack of reaction from the others, I assumed she hadn’t told anyone about our encounter. The burn on her neck was discreetly covered with some type of salve, but that was a common sight among the trainees; we all had our share of minor wounds.
As I passed by, I held Anza’s gaze and nearly brushed against her.
