by Ian Gregoire
“You’re just loving this, aren’t you?” said Neryssa.
“Of course,” Danya replied cheerfully. “I did arrange this fight, after all.”
“You?” blurted Kayden, incredulously.
“Yes, me.” She turned onto her side again, head propped up on one arm. “Did I not mention that before?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued, “Well, you see, at the end of my first class this morning I decided to pop into the mess hall for a quick snack before my second class. I just love those little lemon curd tartlets they served this morning. There were only a handful of people present, having late breakfasts, but I couldn’t help overhearing two apprentices having some less than complimentary things to say about the hero of the hour who completed the ‘capture the box’ assignment. It turns out they had been part of your group last night, and from what they were saying, your success was entirely down to their selfless sacrifices, whereas their own failure was actually the result of your gross incompetence and rank stupidity.”
Kayden scowled at Danya, but held her tongue.
“Anyway, my ears really pricked up when they mentioned how much they would love a few minutes alone in a room with you, though I’m not sure the human body could endure half the things they had in mind. So, being the helpful soul that I am, I walked over to let them know that if they happened to be at the old arena at the start of the lunch hour, I would arrange for you to be there so the three of you may thrash out your differences with your fists.”
Neryssa vacated her seat on the edge of Kayden’s bed, standing up to glare at Danya. “Oh, how considerate of you,” she sarcastically. “What would we do without you?” Without waiting for a response she stomped purposefully towards the exit, obviously displeased.
“Aren’t you coming to the arena to support your roommate?” asked Danya.
“No. I’m going to lunch.” Neryssa stopped at the door to glance back at Kayden. “Are you coming, Kayden?”
“You know the answer to that,” was her response.
Neryssa looked none too thrilled as she exited the dorm room, leaving Kayden alone with the organiser of the upcoming fight.
The old training arena was situated on the north western outskirts of the campus. The building was circular in shape with a shallow domed roof. Its design was completely at odds with the rectangular buildings that comprised the rest of Antaris campus—a discrepancy explained by the arena pre-dating the campus by two centuries. When it had been in use, the arena was where all the apprentices trained to master the invoking of the offensive applications of their Zarantar. It had now been disused for over two years, having been rendered obsolete by the construction of a new, larger training arena on the eastern outskirts of the campus.
Ten minutes after Neryssa left them alone in the dorm room, Kayden and Danya exited the women’s dormitory, cautiously sneaking away from campus grounds to begin the four hundred yard march to the old arena. Preferring to walk there in silence, Kayden ignored the senior apprentice’s attempts to strike up a conversation; she was even able to turn a deaf ear to several verbal jabs clearly intended to provoke a reaction.
Before long they reached the old arena unseen and without incident. They entered the building through a large double door entrance that should have been chained up, but wasn’t. They navigated the outer ring of the interior then turned into the first corridor leading to the training area that lay at the heart of the building. As they approached the twin doors at the end of the short corridor, Kayden’s swift, confident stride began to falter. She was apprehensive for the first time, noticing that something wasn’t quite right. Naturally enough, she had assumed it would be just Lazar and Vartan waiting for her, but judging from the noise emanating from the other side of the doors there was obviously several more people inside.
“I hope you’re not getting cold feet,” said Danya when they stopped at the twin doors. “It would be a shame for you to chicken out now.”
Kayden glanced to her right, giving Danya a dirty look; cowardice and fear were the last things she would ever be guilty of. It didn’t matter how many people were lying in wait for her on the other side of those doors, she wasn’t going to back out now. She marched forward with purpose, shoving the doors inwards to enter the fray.
Inside the training hall, Kayden’s assessment of the situation proved to be correct—there was, indeed, several people present. There had to be close to a hundred and twenty apprentices, she estimated, all chatting and laughing as they loitered. Upon witnessing her arrival they instantly fell silent, as one. If each of them intended to harm her, Kayden knew she was in big trouble.
Stiffening her resolve, to ward off the possibility of apprehension marring her countenance, she proceeded to march confidently towards the middle of the arena. She noted that very few of the gathered apprentices she and Danya walked by had hostility etched upon their faces. Presumably, most of them—just like Danya—were hoping to see a good punch-up. Whatever the case may be, with over a quarter of the campus’ apprentices not in the mess hall sitting down for lunch, it was only a matter of time before a member of staff noticed, and one of the Masters decided to investigate the absences.
This will need to end quickly, thought Kayden.
Now standing at the centre of the arena, Danya threw an arm around Kayden’s shoulder. “My fellow apprentices,” she called out, “please gather round for the event you have all been waiting for.”
With military precision the assembled apprentices swiftly formed a big circle around the two young women. Glancing around the ring, Kayden finally spotted Lazar and Vartan staring fixedly at her. Judging by the expressions on both their faces, Neryssa was right, they did intend to do worse than just send her to the infirmary. At least, Vartan certainly did; he appeared to have murder in mind if the savage look upon his face was any indication.
He’s going to be bitterly disappointed.
Danya stepped away from Kayden to casually saunter around the circle like the master of ceremonies at a circus. “We are gathered here today because some of our fellow apprentices have been aggrieved by Kayden… Kayden…” It seemed she had neglected to learn Kayden’s family name before commencing her announcement.
“Jayta!” came a cry from the audience.
“By Kayden Jayta,” Danya continued. “They now seek redress by way of unarmed combat.” She paused to take in the rapturous applause of the crowd. Once the rowdy apprentices had settled down again, she resumed her address. “Will the injured parties please enter the circle?”
Kayden was unsurprised to see both Lazar and Vartan step forward immediately. She was caught completely unawares, however, when a further five apprentices—two of them female—stepped into the circle after them. She recognised the additional three male apprentices, having had previous run-ins with each of them at various times in the not-too-distant past. But she’d had no such run-ins with either of the two young women.
Racking her brain, she tried to ascertain possible motivations for the two female apprentices. The shorter of the two was completely unknown to her. In fact, she couldn’t actually recall ever having seen the young woman on campus before, and she was certain she would remember an apprentice who couldn’t be more than five feet tall. Kayden could only conclude that ethnic bias was the motivating factor; it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Although she had been born and raised a subject of the Kingdom of Astana, it was impossible to conceal her Vaidasovian origins. Her porcelain skin was at odds with the olive and tan complexions that were the norm for most of the people of the Nine Kingdoms, while her almond shaped eyes—a feature unique to the peoples of the continent of Vaidasovia—meant she could never hope to pass for a native of the Nine Kingdoms, or any of the lands comprising the continent of Karlandria, for that matter.
As for the taller apprentice standing beside the one she now thought of as Little Miss Shorty, Kayden had seen her frequently around campus. She was not the type of woman anyone would likely forget having seen: attrac
tive features coupled with a curvaceous figure, attributes guaranteed to cause excessive blood flow to a certain part of the male anatomy. Yet, in spite of this recognition, Kayden still couldn’t put a name to the pretty face. She had heard other people referring to her would-be opponent by a number of different names—not all of them flattering—but she had never spoken so much as two words to the woman before.
While the other apprentice stared daggers at her with cold dark eyes, Kayden found herself secretly hoping the gossip circulating around the campus some three months earlier was actually true—that Miss Voluptuous Vixen had acrimoniously ended an illicit relationship with a level ten apprentice after he allegedly called out ‘Kayden’ while they were fucking.
Whatever the reasons for it, Kayden was now faced with seven hostile opponents instead of two, which even for her was probably too many to fend off if they attacked simultaneously.
“To all participants,” said Danya, “there is only rule you must adhere to during this trial by combat: the use of Zarantar is strictly prohibited. As the arena is no longer shielded to prevent structural damage, we can’t risk alerting the Masters to this gathering by having holes blown into the roof.”
Kayden noted how her seven would-be assailants were all fidgeting, no doubt eager to go on the offensive.
“Once started,” Danya continued, clearly enjoying her role, “the fight will only be concluded when Kayden has been beaten unconscious.”
A frown appeared on Kayden’s face in response to that pronouncement, though she readily accepted there was a distinct possibility of the showdown ending with her lying face down, unconscious, in a puddle of her own blood. So, before that could happen she needed to do something to even up the odds, a little. She had to prevent her adversaries from rushing her as a group, otherwise she would have to resort to wielding Zarantar, and hoping one of the Masters came to her rescue in time.
She removed her cloak and nonchalantly tossed it at Danya. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the two of you were too cowardly to face me alone.” She addressed Lazar and Vartan with the most mocking tone she could muster. “You just had to bring backup in your futile attempts to prove yourselves my equals, didn’t you?”
“I don’t need any help to fuck you up, bitch!” snarled Vartan. “Everyone, hang back until I’ve finished rearranging her face.” Nobody protested as he advanced towards Kayden.
“Let the fight begin!” yelled Danya, before hurriedly leaving the circle to join the ranks of the spectators.
Kayden was quietly pleased. Vartan attacked alone while his six cohorts dutifully stood their ground, watching and waiting. If she could face each of the apprentices one-on-one, this would be so much easier.
He was on to her quickly, launching a barrage of kicks and punches that she parried and evaded easily. Kayden smirked in condescension as she danced around the circle on the tips of her toes, keeping well out of range of her opponent’s attacks. She was about the same height as Vartan, though he was the heavier set and stronger of the two. But she was confident that her superior speed and athleticism would prove decisive. She even briefly contemplated toying with him, just to aggravate him further, but decided the better course of action was to put him down quickly then prepare for the next assailant.
Vartan was becoming increasingly flustered as his blows were failing to land. Sidestepping another punch, causing an opening to present itself, Kayden initiated her first attack, moving inside Vartan’s defences to land a punch to the throat, followed instantly by a kick to his groin. The apprentice dropped like a stone, gagging—one hand clutching his neck, the other gripped between his legs.
An appreciative cheer from the watching crowd resounded through the arena in response.
Kayden spun around sharply to face the remaining six apprentices, her arms outstretched in challenge. “Who’s next?” she yelled triumphantly.
Lazar sprang forward, as did one of the other male apprentices. Kayden was familiar with the second assailant: Gordo had been a classmate of hers when she was a level four apprentice. They had never been friends, but nor had they been outright enemies. The only source of antagonism between them was that he was always irked by her ability to best him into second place in any given discipline, whether it was archery or something more academic, such as geography. His pathetic inability to contain his jealousy, his frequent bickering with her—in addition to the constant sniping insults behind her back—had been a source of great amusement to Kayden, at the time. Well, if playing second fiddle to her upset Gordo that much, she thought, he was going to have to get used to it. She was about to beat him, yet again, not just figuratively this time.
Lazar and Gordo lurched on to the offensive, unleashing a succession of punches and kicks that Kayden was able to parry and evade. Her two attackers were pretty much cut from the same cloth. Both stood a little over six feet tall, both had unusually fair complexions and mousey hair. Even their features were similar. The notable point of departure was in their builds. Lazar had the toned, athletic physique of a man in his early twenties. Gordo, on the other hand—still only nineteen years old, not much older than Kayden—hadn’t fully developed into his adulthood. They were both quick and agile adversaries; overcoming them both would be more difficult than facing Vartan had been. Fortunately, the ease with which she had dealt with that repugnant dunderhead had made Lazar and Gordo wary of her. Their attacks thus far had been more cautious than they might otherwise have been.
The fight continued for several more seconds; Lazar and Gordo were unable to capitalise on their numerical advantage. Kayden was comfortably able to keep them at bay, all the while biding her time, waiting for the opportunity to land a decisive blow on either of the two apprentices.
Without warning, Kayden felt a kick land between her shoulder blades, sending her hurtling forward. She reacted instantly, executing a forward roll, rising to her feet then spinning around to face her new attacker in one fluid movement. It was Little Miss Shorty who’d cowardly attacked her from behind. Kayden was not amused. Her first instinct was to rush forward to teach the good for nothing bitch a harsh lesson, but both Lazar and Gordo were on to her again; she was on the defensive, once more.
Things had been relatively comfortable for her while facing just two opponents, but now that a third fighter had entered the fray, Kayden knew it was time to change tack. Before the fight began she had intended to hold back as much as was feasibly possible, in order to avoid seriously hurting anyone. If several apprentices were to arrive at the infirmary with broken bones it would be next to impossible to keep the Masters from learning of the fight. But that was no longer a consideration. The only way she was going to walk away from the arena relatively unscathed was to inflict serious injuries on her foes.
Consequences be damned! The gloves are coming off!
Kayden blocked a punch from Gordo then countered quickly with a rapid combination of punches to the sternum then the head, culminating with an uppercut to the jaw that felled him like a tree. She followed up, immediately, with a fierce kick to Little Miss Shorty’s torso, connecting with enough force to send the apprentice stumbling back half a dozen paces before falling on her petite behind.
The violent display was met with joyful cheers from the crowd.
Her attention was drawn back to Lazar, just in time to duck beneath a high kick aimed at her head. In response she swept his standing leg out from underneath him, putting him to the ground. She followed him down, dropping to one knee to rain down five rapid punches to his ‘pretty boy’ face, before rising up in time to react to Little Miss Shorty launching a flying kick at her. She narrowly evaded the attack by sidestepping out of the way, but walked straight into a punch thrown by Vartan. The glancing blow caught her on the side of the face, cutting her above the left eye. Kayden was momentarily stunned as she staggered backwards and fell to the floor on her hands and knees.
Son of a bitch!
Her indignation brought her quickly back to her senses.
Vartan was back in the fight and he looked furious. But now, so was she.
Kayden rose to her feet then gently brought the fingers of her left hand up to her head. She looked at the tips of her fingers. They were stained red. Vartan had drawn first blood, and in that moment she resolved that hers would not be the only blood spilled that day. As she prepared to initiate an attack on her advancing opponent, someone grabbed her ponytail from behind, yanking her head back. Before Kayden could react, an arm snaked around her neck to secure her in a choke hold.
“Only blind men will want to fuck you once we’ve finished messing up your pretty face,” hissed Miss Voluptuous Vixen in her ear.
Vulnerable now, Kayden knew she had to break free of the hold on her, right away, but she was given no time to take any action. Little Miss Shorty dashed past Vartan to beat him to the punch—literally. The scrappy apprentice jumped upward to land a vicious right hook to Kayden’s face. It was followed swiftly by a straight kick to the body. And just for good measure, she followed that up by thrusting herself forward to savagely drive a knee into Kayden’s gut.
Feeling nauseous, Kayden was saved from what should have been a prolonged beating when Vartan inadvertently came to her rescue. He started to jostle with Little Miss Shorty for the right to inflict even more violence upon the object of their mutual rancour.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” Vartan demanded. “This smug bitch is all mine.”
Kayden took full advantage of the temporary reprieve. She thrust her right elbow as hard as she could into Miss Voluptuous Vixen’s ribs, causing the apprentice to loosen her grip, just a little. The left elbow that followed weakened the choke hold on her sufficiently to break free. She spun around to face the curvy apprentice who lashed out at her with a straight right. Kayden parried the punch then retaliated with a swift, five punch combination, followed by a low kick that took her opponent’s legs right out from under her.
She turned her back on the fallen apprentice to witness Vartan shoving Little Miss Shorty to the floor. She dashed towards him, leaping into the air with a flying kick. Vartan attempted to step backwards out of range but she successfully connected with three kicks to the chest, knocking him off balance to fall on his back. This time she had no intention of letting him off the hook to continue fighting. As he quickly scrambled back onto his feet she rushed forward again, kicking out with her left leg. She caught Vartan between the legs, causing him to double over. That had to hurt, she thought, then promptly capitalised on his vulnerability, thrusting her right knee up into his face as forcefully as possible. She felt, more than heard, the unmistakable crunch of Vartan’s nose breaking. The belligerent apprentice finally crumpled to the ground—much to the delight of the cheering onlookers—clutching both hands to his face in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood, now seeping between his fingers.
