by Reiter
“As it should be, Vu-Prin,” Dungias counseled. “There is much weighing upon you.”
“Which makes it very difficult to concentrate!” Gantee snapped. “Can you not understand the simple?!”
Dungias returned to his work with a chuckle. “A most interesting choice of words, Gantee. It has never been my belief that meditation is the denial or control of thought, but the understanding of all thought and emotion. You are trying to remove yourself from the moment, when you should be immersing yourself into it. See it from different sides, all sides if you can, and try to understand why things are in the way we perceive them.
“Or have you not seen that while I am working quickly, I have fumbled none of my tools, nor the application of them, and my breathing remains steady,” Dungias thought as he completed his work.
“The last thing I require is a lecture from a shay-spawn!” Gantee lashed out.
“And think, my Vu-Prin,” Dungias thought, smiling as he reached for another tool. “… if I did not understand you were afraid, I might have taken that remark personally and wrenched your spine, making you unable to answer the call for the Final Round! Still, the horn has not yet sounded…”
Gantee opted to pace and stretch while Dungias calmed himself and continued to work at a fevered pace. As he reached for a section of fabric to use as a cloak, the first warning horn sounded. There would be only three more. If any contestant was not on the arena floor by the time the fourth blast was heard, they would not be allowed to compete.
“You only have a few moments, Gantee,” Dungias warned. “You need to settle yourself and be ready to perform.”
Nearly at his wit’s end, Gantee snapped. “How is it that you know anything about this?!”
Dungias lowered his eyes and assumed a more submissive stance. “I only refer to what our Vi-Prin told me of her preparations, Gantee. I did not mean to anger you.” It was an outright lie. Danatra never told Dungias anything of her preparations, at least not directly. However, among the things she had thrown at her sibling were books where she had stuffed notes regarding her approach to the arrangement of a certain piece of music, or her approach on how to play it in front of so many people, especially the high-ranking sort. Still, Dungias knew Gantee would not question the first born child of the Kith, and he turned away in contemplation of what he had been told.
“Forgive me, Vi-Prin,” Dungias thought, imagining his sister. “I knew he would acknowledge the truth if he were made to believe it came from you, rather than me.” Wrapping the fabric around his shoulders, Dungias was able to fashion a hood which would cover his head and prevent the sight of most of his face. It was important for him to appear to be ominous if he was going to draw the fire of the contestants away from Gantee.
The rules of the Final Round were simple: winner take all! The only sophistication of the proceedings was how a combatant could be considered removed from the event. There were three methods through which a gamesman could be removed from combat: 1) An inability to continue to fight, which was reviewed by scanning computers operated by medical technicians that were often pre-selected by the families, and were at least somewhat familiar with the patient in question. 2) Removal of the contestant from the combat area – a little over one tram from the arena walls was the boundary marker. If a person were to move their entire form beyond that line, for any reason, they were eliminated from the event. 3) Any expression given by the gamesman to discontinue the fight. This was, of course, the method least-liked by the crowd and most appreciated by the contestants in general.
** b *** t *** o *** r **
It had proven to be a very long star-term indeed, and Jorl’Lassor sighed for what must have been a fifth occasion before he reached the door to the viewing booth. The weight of the Games had worn on him quite heavily, and he needed to sit. However, he did not think it to be a wise demonstration in a place where Gantee could see him, so he had taken the long trek from the arena floor to the booth which had been made available for his family. As the door slid open, the haven he had sought was not to be found. He did not see his spouse or her guest, and his eyes had barely registered the merchant who was fully engaged in another lengthy explanation of something or another with the other servants. What caused his eyes to glare with immediate iro generation was the Vinthur arm which was wrapped around his Vi-Khan’s waist.
“Get away from her!” Jorl’Lassor spat as he focused a thrust of Force energy. The young Vinthur was already moving, his arm still around Danatra’s waist, as he lifted her from the floor and flipped over the beam meant to strike his chest.
“Saytrah!” Laejem called out as he reached for his blade. “The door!” He landed in the windowsill and quickly lowered Danatra to the floor.
Saru had felt the change in the wind when the door opened and had all but dismissed it as another patron when she heard the burn of an iro-form building up for delivery. As the blast was sent to her brother, she had pushed hard against the ground, causing her chair to fall backwards. She heard the K’Vo word for sister as she back-rolled and stopped with one leg tucked under her, giving her balance, and the other planted on the floor in case she too needed to move. Before the back of the chair met with the floor, her hand had moved across her shoulder sash, drawing her throwing spike. She was not accustomed to such short ranges for throwing the weapon, but that did not cause her to hesitate. Her left hand made a backhand arc away from her body and the spike was released in the middle of the arc. She sang out in a loud and sharp note. The thrown spike was made to fly faster.
Laylaria saw the exchange and had been about to call out her husband’s name when he released the Force burst. The young Vinthur had moved well, though she expected such agility from a relation of a Vinthur that was a Master Traveler. She knew the bolt was going to miss Laejem, but the glass of the viewing booth would not have an opportunity to dodge. She extended her hand toward the front of the booth and allowed her Force iro-form to fortify the glass. When she heard the spike-cry of the Vinthur female, she knew all too well what it meant. She gasped as she looked at her husband, only to see a hand reach in front of Jorl’s neck to catch the speeding spike. Nugar stepped in front of Jorl’Lassor with his eyes on Laejem and his outstretched palm extended toward Saru.
“I didn’t even feel him move,” Laylaria realized. “And he crossed the chamber in an instant. He was the one seated furthest away from the door. None of the furniture has been disturbed, and our other guests take up nearly all of the open floor. That was the Star-Stride!”
“Hold!” Nugar commanded and everyone in the booth found themselves unable to speak or move. Even Laylaria blinked, looking at her outstretched hands that she could no longer command. The effects subsided as Nugar relaxed his stance and turned to face Jorl’Lassor. “Our apologies, master Malgovi,” he said as he bowed to Jorl’Lassor. “Perhaps we have overstayed our welcome.”
“My Gemnur,” Laejem protested with his hand still on his weapon. “He–”
“Is here to witness the Final Round of these Iro-Games with his family, boy!” Nugar quickly stated, cutting his eyes over to his grandchild. “Now, be so kind as to get his child, the one you were dancing with,” he stressed as he looked back at Jorl’Lassor, “… and get her back to her chair, if you please.”
“I…” Jorl’Lassor stammered for a moment as he looked at his wife and read the ire in her eyes. He wanted to apologize, but he could not find the words. Nugar quickly smiled, bowed to the Malgovi and waved off his very poor attempt at diplomacy.
“No need, master,” the older Vinthur said quickly. “We were just leaving.”
“Good sir,” Laylaria called to Nugar who turned with a bright smile on his face.
“Good luck to your Vu-Khani, my Lady,” he said softly with a slight flare escaping from his right eye. Laylaria knew he held her in high regard, but nothing would be keeping these three Vinthur in this booth after what had happened. “I am sure they will do you and your Kith an amazing justice.”
“They
already have, good Traveler,” she spoke softly and nodded at Nugar.
“Traveler?” Jorl’Lassor repeated, looking at the older Vinthur quite differently.
“Ah, so there’s an inquiry mode in there after all,” Nugar concluded, waving for his grandchildren to take their leave. “Good. So very glad to see it. Come, children.”
“It was a fine time I spent with you and your family,” Danatra said as Laejem sat her down. He did not look at the young Malgovi maiden as he took out his spike and threw it for the metal planter against the wall opposite the glass. His sung note was low and brief. The spike’s point turned flat just before it hit the wall. It ricocheted and hit the back of the fallen chair, knocking it back to its upright position. The spike then hit the planter again and flew to Laejem’s extended hand. It twirled between his fingers as his hand carried it to its sleeve where he replaced it, sheathing his short blade in the same instant. His opposite hand ushered Saru to walk ahead of him out of the room. The glare Laejem had intended for Jorl’Lassor was abandoned when he felt his gemnur’s eyes on him. He simply took his leave instead, and the doors of the room closed in time with the coming of the second horn.
“Gemnur!” Saru said excitedly and Nugar smiled at the light in her eyes.
“Go ahead, the both of you,” Nugar directed, giving Saru her spike back. “Let Dungias know he is being cheered. Go along now. I will be fine!” Saru looked to her kommis who was quick to offer his hand. Once hers was inside his grip, they sprinted for the nearest general area. Nugar kept his smile and demeanor until they were well out of sight. When he knew their senses were beyond him, his back straightened, the smile fell from his face, and he punched the nearest wall, causing the panel to crack. By the time anyone from a booth opened the doors of their viewing chamber, all they could see was a large wall panel falling from its place and shattering on the floor.
** b *** t *** o *** r **
The anticipation of the event was growing slowly but steadily, and there was applause given in response to the second horn. Dungias stepped to the edge of the staging area and looked out into the arena. He made the effort to locate the booth where his family had been placed. Jorl’Lassor had joined Dungias’ Vi-Zai and Vi-Prin, but there was no sign of their unexpected Vinthur guests.
“How foolish of me,” Dungias thought, withdrawing slowly from the threshold. “… to not consider my Vu-Zai would not be appreciative of Vinthur company.” The young Malgovi recalled the looks he had only glimpsed earlier when he had hastened to Nugar’s aid.
It was always something of a very odd notion to Dungias: how two races who had shared so much as they were pressed to the very edge of extinction could lose touch with one another after the oppressor was no longer in the picture. It made him wonder if the bonds made were truly genuine, or simply the only means of preservation left to the two races. “I do hope they were able to find suitable accommodations.
“But I still have preparations to make,” he said, tugging at his hood to make sure it would stay in place. He walked over to the staging area and removed his cloak. The thought that his Vu-Zai disapproved of the Vinthur had inspired him, and with the little time he had left, Dungias would make just one more change to his appearance.
The third horn sounded and Dungias let his hand fall to his Vu-Prin’s shoulder. He gave a soft squeeze and Gantee opened his eyes.
“It is time,” Dungias declared. “The third horn has just sounded.” Gantee said nothing as he stood up and quickly walked out of the staging area. As he stepped out on to the arena floor, the near deafening wave of adoration appeared to not even register on him, and the level of celebration lowered greatly when the large hooded figure walked out three strides behind the crowd favorite.
“Z’Gunok Tel Gantee!” the announcer called out and the applause recovered quickly as the gamesman moved to his place on the field of battle. Changes had been made to the format of the arena floor. Instead of the normal five-point star configuration, the starting positions had been laid out to the compass points. Gantee was directed to take the naxarian point, but had not yet reached it when the announcer spoke again. “Blaxidurn Gan Vradara and her Second, Blaxidurn Gan Kinjass!”
“As expected,” Dungias thought, trying his best to overlook that as a shay-spawn, he did not rate an announcement. “Kinjass waited for Gantee to take to the arena floor before he would allow his Vi-Prin to do the same. I can only hope that he remains so predictable.”
Vradara took the position to Gantee’s left, the austran point, and smiled at the poetry that she was now the rising star. “Adgurso Gan Zarrak,” the announcer called out as the youngest child of the House Adgurso walked out, waving to the crowd… a crowd that was silenced as his Second strode on to the arena floor behind him. Suddenly, Dungias could see his plan quickly unraveling, and the hood hid the look of shock and fear that formed across his face. “… and his Second, the Mentor Brymm.”
Falgoros Xaix Brymm was an instructor in high demand, as he had exceeded mastery in over five iro-forms. Though he was never a champion of the Iro-Games due to his non-participation, many of the Iro-Gellvu’s students were gamesman of note, if not champions. He walked slowly, as those in his position often did, with his arms held out from his sides. Though he walked behind Zarrak, he kept his eyes on Gantee as Zarrak walked over to the soxarian point opposite of Gantee.
“I hope you now realize what you have invited upon yourself,” Brymm said, grinning menacingly with his yellow teeth. He glared through his gray eye and his white one. “For there are no stipulations as to who can Second a gamesman.”
“Do nothing!” Dungias quickly said, keeping his voice low enough for only Gantee to hear. Once again he was glad his face was covered, but soon it would not be and he would have nothing to hide his eyes then. “Say nothing! You remain still because you are not pressed. Your claim to the championship remains unchanged.”
“He is a Mentor,” Gantee spat between his gritting teeth. “Can your silly little device withstand his power?”
“He is old and slow,” Dungias replied, coming to that realization only moments before he spoke. His eyes squinted as he looked at Brymm, searching his memory for what he had read regarding the Mentor. “He has never served in the militia, never competed in the Games, and all we know is that he is a highly sought teacher. This classroom is hardly orthodox to that sort of education!
“Besides, Gantee, I do not need to beat his power, I simply need to beat him.” Dungias smiled underneath his hood. He did not expect things to be easy, far from it. But where he should have believed that things had been made exponentially more difficult, Dungias could see simplicity unfolding in front of him. “But we do have a slight change in plans.”
“Quy Ganna Gura and her Second, Sythee Tel Orvo.” The last gamesman came out with her Second walking side-by-side with her. Attendants stood up and cheered both of their names and the two smiled at each other as Gura strode her way to the vestran point opposite of Vradara who smiled and nodded at her. It was only then that it struck the two females that never had so many of their number made it to the Final Round.
“May the best female win,” Gura said with a smile just before the last horn sounded. Gantee was directed to the center of the arena floor as attention was turned to the Royal Booth. First Princess Sryla came to the front of the viewing area with the Duke on her right side and her Vu-Prin on her left. Sryla was already glowing, ready to send the signal for the Final Round to begin.
“Gamesmen, already you have triumphed and made your people proud. Take this last step and be declared a Champion of the Games. Fair journey to thee all!” Lifting her hand, a bolt shot up and exploded over the arena.
“All scans have been made,” the announcer declared. “The Final Round will commence once the naxarian gamesman has returned to his position and declares himself ready.”
“How fitting, that I will initiate this contest,” Gantee spoke loudly. “… since I will stand as its victor soon enough.
>
“But there is a matter I must see to before taking my first stride,” Gantee declared.
“Are you stalling, Z’Gunok?!” Kinjass called out. “Where is the confidence that was so greatly on display only–”
“Vradara, you should keep your Second silent when a true gamesman speaks,” Gantee interrupted. Vradara turned to face her Vu-Prin and silently beckoned him to be quiet. “For this is no stalling maneuver, this is a matter of justice.
“Dungias, remove your cloak!” Dungias staggered back a step and looked around. This was not part of the plan he had given Gantee. “I said, remove your cloak!” he repeated and Dungias took a firm hold of one side of his makeshift cloak and gave a sharp tug. He could hear the murmurs of the attendants as they looked upon his body. The only thing covering his chest were black streaks of paint forming chevrons on his chest, neck and face. His skin shone in the starlight, appearing to be wet. While most attendants murmured to themselves, two jumped up and shouted their praise of Dungias. Laejem and Saru were jumping up and down, for they easily recognized the markings of a Vinthur Warrior. Neither of the two knew why his skin shined the way it did, but the body paint appeared to have been well-applied.
But it was Dungias’ left arm which drew most of the attention, and Gantee gestured toward the object. “And what is that?”
“A shield,” Dungias replied. “It was fashioned from panels of your slide-sled, along with the armour on my arm and shoulder.”
“So, somewhere in the staging area is a dismantled slide-sled,” Gantee said as he began to pace, looking enraged at his Vu-Prin, and the crowd did not hold him in any favor either. “The very same slide-sled that recorded the very best time in all of the Iro-Games?!” Dungias lowered his head, knowing very well the point Gantee was making. “Do you see?” he shouted, throwing his hands up and out. “Do you see the pitiful excuse for a Malgovi with which I must contend every single solitary star-term?!
