“I bet on 2 swings. It’s getting hard to get anyone to bet any higher than that.”
“I swear, even this far away from the city Dirik still manages to find a way to create mischief.”
Citera chuckled, “You can take the boy out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the boy.”
“Exactly!” Mikel laughed.
Shortly after their arrival to Oasis, Dirik had begun to grow restless. No longer forced to steal to survive, and with everything they could ever need offered to them in abundance, Dirik had found himself with a proverbial itch that needed to be scratched. Determined to fill the void, he soon began seeking various other means of keeping himself entertained. At first there was shield racing down the steep slopes of the hills at the edge of the southern trail. However that was quickly put to an end when he was caught, along with several other boys, by a very angry Tyran and spent the next two weeks polishing every shield in the Pit. Later he decided to start climbing things. Rocks, trees, tents, whatever it was, he could scale it with ease, and relished in jumping down and frightening random people. That lasted about two months, until one day a possum caught him off guard in the upper branches of a tree and sent him falling from ten feet in the air. The resulting broken arm put him out of commission for about a month and forced him to move on to bigger and better things, like gambling. He placed bets on any and everything he could, like how long it would take the ladies to pick the corn or how many families would come back with searchers. But it was in the Pit where most of his action took place. There he spent hours watching and learning who were the highest jumpers, fastest runners, and winners of the most duels. And during tournaments, he reaped the benefits.
“How many swings did it take Jaron last time?” Mikel asked, as he began to power down the lights of the tent.
“Three, but that tree was thicker and I really think he did it on purpose to make a point to Dirik. I have seen him split logs bigger than that in one swing, especially now that he is back in top form.”
Together they finished closing up the tent and headed down the path to the Core. “So where are you off to now?” Mikel asked as the fire pit and benches came into view.
“To the Pit. Janil asked me to let K know she brought back a few new families and Jaron thinks I might find her there.”
Mikel shook his head as he walked away. “Good luck with that.”
She watched as he headed down the path to the north then turned and headed off to the south. It didn’t take long before the sounds of metal clashing could be heard in the distance. And after a few more minutes, the jumping towers on the rim of the Pit could be seen coming into view. Railings surrounded the perimeter of the Pit, and behind that were rows of bleachers where spectators could sit and watch the occasional duel or exhibition. Climbing the steps into the stands, Citera made her way to the rail and peered over the edge into the depths five stories below her.
She scanned the multitude of people practicing with their chosen weapons and facing off in hand-to-hand combat, but Citera didn’t see K anywhere inside. Giving up on spotting her from this height, she turned her attention back to the bleachers and spotted Rigar and Mirna sitting together holding hands. Hoping maybe they had an idea of where to find her, she headed in their direction.
“Hi, Citera,” Mirna smiled as she approached, “how have you been?”
“I’m great, thank you. Where is Sara?” she asked, looking over to the four jumping towers.
“She’s in that one over there,” Mirna answered pointing at the tower nearest to them. Citera turned in time to see Sara take off in a full run toward the edge of one of the highest platforms. Without a moment’s hesitation, the twelve-year-old girl sailed off the edge, preformed two full rotations, before landing safely on her feet at the bottom of the Pit
“That’s the highest I’ve seen her go.” Citera gasped, turning back to Rigar and Mirna. “She really loves jumping, doesn’t she?”
“Completely, and she’s one of the best at it, nearly matching Tyran in base jumping height,” Mirna replied while looking over at Rigar proudly. “Who would have ever thought?”
Rigar pulled her in to him and kissed her on the forehead. “Never in my lifetime would I have ever imagined any of this.”
Citera watched as they clung tightly to one another, relishing in each other’s presence. Without thinking she reached up and clutched the locket around her neck; the one containing her mother’s picture. With so many couples filling into Oasis, Citera found herself thinking about her more and more. Memories of their time together, working and laughing side by side along with her father in the old clinic, flooded to the front of her mind.
“Have either of you seen K?” Citera asked, trying to distract herself, as she casually wiped a tear from her eye.
“Last time I saw her she was in the Pit sparring with Tyran, and giving him one hell of a workout.” Rigar pointed at the farthest end of the Pit. “You might check there.”
She thanked them both and bid them farewell. She then made her way to the narrow wooden staircase that led to the bottom of the Pit. Winding her way down carefully, she came out at the bottom, then staying close to edge, Citera navigated her way around the mass of people training inside. To her right, archers were firing arrows at straw targets, while only a few feet away a pair of Full-bloods locked into a sparring match as a small crowd cheered them on. In the center, a group of kids were playing with wooden swords in the midst of a heated mock battle, and far on the other side of the Pit, she spotted the dueling arena. It was too far away, and was too crowded to see who was inside. As she squinted, trying to catch a glimpse, she heard a voice call to her from behind.
“Citera!” Sara came trotting up to her, looking completely comfortable in the chaos that surrounded them. “What are you doing down here? Did your father finally decide to let you train?”
“No, you know how he feels about all this.” Citera paused and scanned the people learning different skills, and sighed. She had asked her father once if she could learn to throw knives or how to use the bow and arrow, but he refused. Instead he gave her a mind numbing lecture on their roles here as healers, not killers, emphasizing the fact that K had promised him that neither of them would be required to battle if they didn’t want to. “I’m actually looking for K, and your dad said she might be down here. Have you seen her?”
“Oh yes, she’s over in the dueling arena. Come on, she’s in one of her moods again,” Sara said excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. She grabbed Citera by the arm and began pulling her through the crowd.
“Moods?” Citera asked while trying to avoid knocking into people as she was half dragged through the masses.
“Yeah, you know, when she’s in a good mood she trains nearly all day long. I think I saw her, Tyran, and a couple of other guys about to start a match.”
Making their way to the arena, they pushed their way through the large crowd that had gathered around the rail. Sure enough there was K decked out in black leather sparring gear with a long, thin sword in each hand. Her long black hair was twisted into a loose bun behind her and the thin metal blades that held it in place glistened in the setting sun. “Are you ready?” she shouted to the three men standing on the other side facing her, each also holding a sword.
“Wait, is she taking on all three of them? That hardly seems fair,” Citera protested.
“You’re right,” Sara said semi-frowning, “they should at least have one more in there. Those two are too new, they don’t stand a chance.”
Citera furrowed her brow, but before she could ask Sara what she meant, Tyran answered K’s call. “Ready” Tyran shouted. He and the other two men took a low stance and moved in slowly. K, twirling her two swords, dropped into a similar stance and prepared as the three of them circled around her.
In a blur of movement the battle began, as the two young men charged K with swords raised. K easily blocked both of their swings before ducking under and coming up behind one of them.
With a rapid spin and kick she sent the poor thing flying out of the arena. The second one charged again and made a desperate swing at her torso. Once again she easily dodged his advance and landed a punch to his face that sent him to the ground unconscious. A few of the bystanders reached under the rail, laughing as they pulled him out of the arena, which left K and Tyran to face off.
“Really, Tyran,” she mocked, “where is the challenge?”
“Well, if you hadn’t already kicked every man’s ass in the Pit it wouldn’t be so hard to find volunteers for these little exercises,” he answered, smiling while the two of them continued circling each other. “Or would you like me to bring in the whole Pit at once?”
“Oh fine,” K said, relaxing a bit. “Bands?”
“Bands?” Citera asked looking at Sara.
“Yeah, blocking bands. They’re these metal bands with weird markings on them that can supposedly be used to suppress a Full-blood’s speed and strength. She does this sometimes when no one wants to take her on. She allows them to set the number of blocking bands they feel are necessary to even the match. The more bands she wears, the more her strength is suppressed.” Sara shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t do them much good, though. Even if they do actually suppress her strength, her skills still outmatch everyone’s here.”
“One band.” Tyran rose out of his battle stance, waving at someone on the sidelines to fetch the band. Then turning back to K he added, “Also, let’s stick with one sword this time and no blades.”
“Just me and you?”
“Yes,” Tyran moaned unsurely, not sounding the least bit confident in his decision.
“All right then.” She tossed one of the swords to the edge of the ring where it was quickly scooped up by a bystander.
“Those too,” Tyran stated, pointing to the blades in her hair.
“Don’t you trust me?” she asked with a raised brow.
“Been there done that.” He sheathed his own sword and took ahold of his long ponytail, tucking it into the back of his shirt. “And no haircuts, I’ve heard a rumor that Jaron has offered a reward to whoever brings him my hair.”
“I’m offended you would think me so cruel,” K teased sarcastically. Relaxing her stance, she made her way across the arena, to the rail where Citera and Sara stood waiting, and pulled the blades from her bun. Having been freed from its confinement, a waterfall of black hair cascaded down her back well past her waist, framing her face in its iridescent shine. “Would you mind watching them for me?” she asked, holding the blades out to Citera.
“Of course not.” Reaching behind her, Citera pulled out the tie holding her own ponytail in place, then handed it to K as she took the blades. “Here, take this.”
“Oh come on,” Tyran whined, “I thought for sure I had you on that one!”
“I’ll wear mine down if you wear yours down,” K responded, winking at Citera who giggled. She then reached around behind her, gathered the waist-length mane into one hand, and secured it in place with the leather tie. The bystander returned only moments later with the metal blocking band and handed it to K. It was made of a dark metal about three inches in width and was beautifully engraved with markings that appeared to be some sort of ancient language. K took the band and placed it around her bare wrist just below the cuff of her jacket then returned to the center of the arena, sword in hand.
“Shall we dance, my love?” she teased with a curtsy.
“I have lost my mind,” Tyran mumbled dropping into his ready stance, then with a flourish of his hand he consented. “After you, my lady.”
He didn’t have to ask her twice and in a flash the pair locked onto each other with brutal force. Sounds of metal clashing against metal filled the Pit as they moved around the arena with speed that made it almost impossible to follow. When she was able to catch a glimpse, Citera gasped, watching as K took a swing at Tyran’s torso and breathed a sigh of relief as he managed to block the blow. Their movements blurred again, and then she saw Tyran thrust his blade toward K, only to have his advances blocked as well. They continued this way for several minutes, attacking and defending, while the crowd watched on and cheered. Looking around at the exuberant group, Citera couldn’t help but think of how upset Dirik was going to be when he found out what a great opportunity he missed.
A few more minutes passed and neither K nor Tyran showed any signs of tiring. Citera was beginning to think this could go on all night when suddenly Tyran took a swing a K’s head, narrowly missing as she ducked low and kicked her leg out, sweeping him off his feet. He moved to recover but he wasn’t fast enough. Straddling his chest, K swung her sword down and stabbed it into the ground right next to Tyran’s head, leaving behind a small line of red on his cheek. Wide-eyed, Tyran touched his face and brought his hand around in front of him, appearing dumbfounded by the sight of his own blood.
“Damn it, K, not my face,” he whined as she helped him crawl back to his feet. Citera felt her stomach knot, certain K would be offended by him whining about such a tiny scratch. Especially with the massive scar that ran across her own eye. But if she were upset, she hid it well. Instead, K pulled a rag from her pocket and moved closer to inspect the damage.
“It’s only a scratch, no worse than if you cut yourself shaving,” she consoled him, gently wiping away the blood. “You’re still as beautiful as you ever were.”
Tyran remained still, relishing in her attention as she dabbed and cleaned the wound. Once K appeared satisfied the wound had stopped bleeding and Tyran’s ego was restored to his normal narcissistic state, she handed him the rag. He accepted her offer, bowing his head slightly as the two of them turned and parted ways. K glided across the arena, back toward Citera and Sara waiting by the fence, no sign of anger or bitterness in her expression.
Of course K wasn’t angry with Tyran. How could she be? He didn’t know her secret, none of them did. All any of them had ever seen of her was this beautiful, flawless creature with porcelain skin, raven hair, and brown eyes. The only people who had any idea what she hid under that mask was her, Jaron, and the rest of their tiny group from Vicaris.
Citera held out the blades as she approached while the crowd surrounding them began to scatter back to their various training stations. “That seemed like fun,” she said as K took them from her hand. Pulling the tie out of her shining locks, K smiled faintly, allowing the rare expression to disappear as rapidly as it had appeared. It was to be expected. K rarely allowed her expressions to come across, and when she did they were controlled and purposeful. Handing it back to Citera she shoved the blades into a side pocket in her pants before handing the blocking band to a passing spectator. “Best way I know of to relieve stress. Now, what are you doing down here? Does your father know where you are?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Citera moaned, rolling her eyes.
K eyeballed her suspiciously. “Really? Because I know he doesn’t like this sort of thing, he’s more of a … turn the other cheek kind of guy.”
“Yeah, but I still wish he would let me come down here sometimes and at least learn how to defend myself … you know, just in case.”
“I couldn’t agree more. However, I already told you I won’t go against the wishes of your father. You’ll have to convince him.”
Citera huffed, “Not likely.” Then a smug grin formed as her face lit up with another idea. “Maybe you can talk with him, he might listen to you.”
“I don’t like to meddle in other people’s affairs,” K began, about to shoot down the suggestion, but seeing the desperate plea in Citera’s eyes, she relented instead. “Fine, I will mention it to him, but if he says no then that is final.”
Hardly able to contain her excitement, Citera struggled to refrain from reaching over the railing and hugging K. However, she knew better; even as close as they were, K still hated to be touched. Many times she had been tempted to ask her why, but then she would remember all the scarring and how badly beaten she was the day they found her, and s
he would always decide against it. Not only because she was frightened of what K might have to tell her, but also because she was scared she would be reopening old wounds that were better left alone.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Citera repeated, giddy with a newfound hope. Wringing her hands in front of her, Citera tried her hardest to suppress the urge to embrace. Then suddenly she remembered why she had journeyed down here to begin with. “Oh, I almost forgot. Janil and Rigar came back with three more families and wanted me to let you know. I already told Jaron, he said he would meet you in the housing area.”
K leapt over the rail, long hair flying behind her. “Well, let’s go say hi then, shall we?”
Together they headed for the staircase, which K didn’t need, but followed Citera just the same.
“I’ll see you two later,” Sara shouted, dashing by them. “I’m going to see my parents.” And with the ease of child stepping over a crack in the floor, Sara jumped to the top of the rim and ran off.
“Show off,” Citera mumbled.
K lightly touched her on her shoulder, her way of saying ‘let it go.’ Together they climbed the stairs to the top of the Pit and made their way through the Core toward the housing area in silence. As they continued to weave through the tents and people, Citera decided to try and break the lull by asking a question that she often found herself pondering in rare instances of boredom.
“K, what does it feel like to be a Full-blood?”
K immediately stopped walking and narrowed her gaze in a manner that made Citera more than slightly nervous. “Why are you asking?”
Citera looked around at all the Full-bloods and sighed. “I was just wondering what it would feel like to be able to do all the things you can do.”
“I see,” K visibly relaxed and resumed walking up the hill. “Citera, you need to understand that while our abilities seem wonderful and exciting, all power comes with a price. And the greater the power, the higher the price you must pay. For Full-bloods the cost is their dependence on formula, while Jaron and Jarod pay for theirs by being addicted to blood. As for me, well you have already laid witness to the price I have paid, and will continue to pay, for mine.”
Linked (The Shadow Chronicles Book 2) Page 3
