by Unknown
As always, the abrupt change in Sana’s demeanor took him off-guard. Hopefully it was part of his charm. Slate managed to stammer, “Well…did you miss me?”
Sana stood up from her chair, walked inside and reappeared with an armful of lounge pillows. She laid them on the balcony floor, and then grabbed Slate’s hand. Sana knelt on the pillows, pulling him downwards and onto his back. She laid her head on his shoulder and whispered “Yes, Slate, I did miss you. Now tell me what happened today. I want this neck to stay attached awhile, and I wasn’t lying when I said your sense of strategy is terrible.”
Slate recounted his day of training at Bellator, focusing mainly on the competition the following morning. Sana summarized, “If you win this competition tomorrow, you get to be a personal attendant to Villifor? The man is pompous, but we need information on him, so you need to win.”
“That sounds easy.” Slate laced sarcasm into his reply. “Unfortunately, Jak, Cirata, and …everyone else are better trained than I am.”
“You don’t need to be the best fighter. You just need to win. Tell me the rules again.”
“Villifor will choose two fighters to attack the contestant. Hedok will choose the weaponry. The person that stays off his back the longest is the winner. It’s not too complicated.”
The sun was setting, providing a perfect backdrop for a few moments of contemplation. Slate’s thoughts got sidetracked and he pulled Sana closer, stealing a kiss in the process. Sana pushed upward halfway through the moment of intimacy. “I’ve got it…here’s what you are going to do.” She then whispered her plan in Slate’s ear, and it brought a smile to his face.
“Will they allow that?” Slate asked.
“They didn’t disallow it in the stated rules.” She had a point. It was hard to argue with Sana. “Now what happened at Ispirtu, and what did that crackpot wizard Primean do to you?”
“Brannon decided to have a duel between students by having them shoot fireballs at each other. A shield was in place to dissipate the fireball before hitting the student. I disrupted Lattimer’s concentration before he was able to complete his spell.” This was not a time to overemphasize his heroics.
“You mean you attacked Lattimer…in front of Brannon?”
“As a result, I paid a visit to Primean. He’s developing a spell to absorb pain during battle, so Bellator Guardsmen can fight through minor injuries. He was using the pattern of a sponge soaking up water as his link…”
Sana was quiet for a while. “That’s not a bad idea, but pain is the wrong application for that link. The sponge is soaking up a liquid, not a feeling. If it were applied to blood, it may be possible to limit the amount of blood loss during a battle. The wizards at Ispirtu can’t even recognize a discovery when it occurs in front of them…idiots!” Slate tried not to smile at her quick temper, less its attention be directed at him next.
Slate decided to bring up his Sicarius mission. Despite Sana’s affiliation with Lucus and the Wizard Council, she always seemed intrigued by Sicarius. It must have been the mystery with which they operated. Sana couldn’t leave a question unanswered. “Bellator and Ispirtu weren’t the only guilds to provide training today. Sicarius sent me on a mission.”
Sana was immediately distracted. “Ah yes, Rainier described it as an ‘ill-fated misadventure’ to the Regallo estate. How did you end up there?”
“I was instructed to copy down the contents of a trunk from within an Ispirtu-inspired home on Rue Street. I quickly realized all of the estates on Rue Street were decorated with Ispirtu references. I chose the Regallo estate because of the orbs in the front lawn. When I think of Ispirtu, the most unique feature is the orbs.”
“Didn’t you stop to question whether the Sicarius headmaster’s orders should be followed? What has the headmaster done to earn your respect?”
“I still don’t know what to think of the Sicarius headmaster. The headmaster has saved me from a number of precarious situations, but I’ve also been incapacitated for no reason…and I’ll admit the shroud of secrecy doesn’t exactly inspire trust. For right now though, I need the Sicarius headmaster. The skills I’m learning in Sicarius will help me to investigate my parents’ deaths, even if the investigation leads me right back to the Sicarius headmaster.” Sana remained quiet following Slate’s explanation. “But I’ll need to follow orders for the time being. After today, I’m officially a Crimson Guardsmen within Sicarius. I have a meeting with Sicarius and its members tomorrow.”
Sana appeared dismayed at the news. “Be careful, Slate. We know so little about Sicarius…”
“I don’t know much about Bellator or Ispirtu either…”
Sana said, “We at least know something of their nature. Your only contact with Sicarius has been through cryptic notes.”
“I’ll be careful, Sana.” The simple statement seemed to placate Sana. Her body relaxed against his. “Besides, now that I’m Brannon’s personal attendant whose job it is to spy on Villifor, I’m sure I’ll be learning more about both Ispirtu and Bellator as well.”
Sana’s relaxed muscles tightened against him reflexively at the news. He quickly stated, “Let’s forget about all that. Tell me about your mission. What did you find out?”
For a second, Slate thought Sana was going to begin a thorough tongue-lashing, but she decided against it. Her jaw unclenched and she stated, “I’m meeting Lucus at the infirmary tomorrow for lunch with Ibson. Join us there, and we can discuss in more detail. Besides, there are other ways I want to spend my evening.” She looked up at Slate, and he kissed her while it still suited her mood.
The kiss led to Slate rolling on top of Sana, and it gave him pause. “The last time I was in this position, you pulled a knife on me.”
Sana’s eyes sparkled in the setting sun. “…and I will again if you get too bold.” Slate interpreted her words as a threat, but the sparkle in her eye suggested an invitation. The rest of the night he had a wondrous time exploring how bold was too bold. By the time sleep arrived, Sana lay on his shoulder, and the pitch black sky covered them both like a peaceful blanket.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MAY THE WORST MAN WIN
Jak found Slate after he entered Bellator’s locker room. “Hey, Slate, are you ready? I stayed up all night practicing defensive techniques and searching variations in forms that will give me an extra edge today. I know I should have rested up, but I had too much energy. How was your night?”
“I didn’t get much sleep either,” Slate answered truthfully. Sana had left before Slate awoke, but she didn’t leave him empty-handed. They had talked through the competition’s rules in detail and formulated a scheme to win.
“Did you think of a plan of attack?” Jak finished putting on his armor.
“I don’t necessarily have a plan of attack, but I do have a strategy of sorts.”
Jak laughed. “I knew you would. See you out there, Slate.” He left the locker room to warm up in the courtyard.
Slate put on his armor and looked at his right hand as he stepped onto the sandy courtyard. Everyone saw him punch through Lattimer’s shield. Hopefully the memory was fresh enough to still inspire intrigue among his competitors.
Cirata walked by and saw him examining his hand. “You’re too slow to land a punch against me, Slate. You’ll be on your back in seconds.”
She was probably right, but his strategy didn’t depend on him actually landing a punch. “This hand is good for more than punching through shields.” Slate flashed a knowing look and was rewarded by a pause in Cirata’s bravado. He finished the conversation by saying, “I hope you get the opportunity to find out what else it can do,” loudly enough for the other contestants to hear.
The conversation in the courtyard died down after that, but the energy continued to grow until the sun’s rays touched the sand of the courtyard. Members of Bellator interested in the day’s competition filled the overlooking balconies. Slate recognized a few of them as Bellator instructors, including Halford Patton, a ge
neral from the Twice-Broken Wars who taught battlefield tactics.
Hedok entered the courtyard and addressed them. “Line up and look presentable before Villifor arrives. I know none of you are worth two fractals with a sword, but you might as well look like you know how to fight. There is no sense in embarrassing yourself prematurely, although I’m guessing some of you have already done that! Ha!” Hedok laughed at his own cleverness, but the contestants were too preoccupied to indulge the old soldier’s sense of humor.
Villifor and his attendants appeared at one of the second-floor balconies where he addressed the assembled observers and contestants. “Today, our lowest members will showcase the skills they’ve learned from your excellent tutelage. The contest is simple, and yet will require the application of knowledge from weapons training, strength training, conditioning, and of course the venerable Halford’s battlefield tactics.” Villifor acknowledged the esteemed faculty member. “Each contestant will be attacked by two opponents. The contestant that remains standing the longest will advance to the second courtyard. Additionally, I have taken it upon myself to train some of our more promising members of Bellator personally.” Magnus stood at the right shoulder of Villifor and his back straightened at the indirect compliment.
“Let’s not delay…Jak, start the competition with a good showing, will you?” Jak stepped into the center of the courtyard. “His opponents will be Cirata and our own tournament champion, Slate Severance!” Villifor continued his showmanship as a light round of applause died down. “Hedok, please distribute the weapons.” He then released an orb from a pocket. “Our friends at Ispirtu have spirited the blades in today’s competition to prevent any mortal damage and have graciously created this orb to be our official timekeeper. It will float over the head of the contestant currently winning the competition.”
Hedok approached the three contestants carrying short swords, a staff, and a broadsword. “The preferred weapons of the competitors are chosen…but given to their opponents. Slate will yield the broadsword, Cirata the staff, and Jak the short swords.” Hedok handed the broadsword to Slate with a smirk. Slate hefted it into a ready position, feeling clumsy and weak. Cirata and Jak dropped comfortably into their stances. Their proficiency with other weapons was much higher than Slate’s skill level.
“Fight!” Villifor commanded from above. Cirata and Slate engaged Jak, moving in opposite directions to flank the fighter. They had a decided tactical advantage, but Slate’s inexperience with the broadsword allowed Jak to focus his defenses on Cirata. Slate modified his attack to coincide with the blows of Cirata’s staff, but Jak was able to fend off the blows. Slate let the battle establish a rhythm and then swung forcefully a half beat early. The unexpected timing of the attack required Jak to shift his weight as he deflected Slate’s sword. In that moment, Cirata had an opening and landed a blow under Jak’s arm. Cirata’s blow prevented Jak from properly defending that side of his body and he was knocked to the ground a moment later. The orb floated toward Jak and remained a few feet above his head.
“Excellent, excellent! Get up and take a bow, Jak! That was a brilliant display of defensive forms and a great start to our competition.” Villifor then addressed the crowd and remaining combatants. “Will any of you best Jak’s showing? Let’s find out…”
Contestant after contestant was called and Slate was forced to attack several other students during their tests, but the orb remained above Jak’s head. Even Cirata, despite an impressive performance, rose from the sand after her battle to see the orb remain near Jak. Slate was the only contestant left untested.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s discover whether our most well-known champion can rise to the occasion. Jak’s performance has stood the duration of the morning’s bouts. Slate ‘Stonehands’ Severance, please enter the courtyard.” Slate stepped forward to meet Hedok while Villifor continued. “Jak, if you wish to advance past the first courtyard you will need to earn it by defeating Slate. Please step forward.” Slate tried to appear confident despite his dismay. If he faced Jak, his only chance for victory lay with Sana’s schemes and the appearance of fear would ruin his chances. “I have had a special request from Magnus to avenge his tournament loss by facing Slate today. Although I feel no incentive to honor this request, I do think it would be entertaining…and that is reason enough for me. Magnus, join Jak in the courtyard.”
Magnus jumped from the second floor balcony and his landing shook the entire courtyard and caused a cloud of dust to rise from his crouched form. When the dust cleared, Magnus stared at Slate and announced, “I should have won the tournament and will prove it today.” Slate maintained his confident posture, which bordered upon arrogance. Magnus looked for more than victory. He wanted to send Slate to the infirmary. Slate hoped Sana’s battle plans worked more smoothly than some of her testing plans. Trust…no one said it would be easy.
Hedok performed his part in the show. “For the last battle of the day, I will allow the competitors to choose their own weapons. Jak and Magnus, please choose first.” The two men hefted weapons that appeared undersized for their large physiques. Jak chose the broadsword while Magnus chose a large two-handed battle axe. Apparently he had found the brutal weapon more to his liking than a broadsword.
“Slate Severance, choose your weapon.” Slate scanned the weapon racks, drifting his hand over short swords and stopping at a staff. Everyone expected him to pick it up, but his plan relied on some intrigue and choosing a weapon his opponents didn’t expect would help build it. Trust. His hand continued down the weapons rack to an audible gasp from the audience. A mace, various swords, and the large two-handed weapons favored by Jak and Magnus were all available, but he passed them by and continued toward a table with weapons laid upon it. Sai, kunai, knives, and other weapons too small to fit on the weapons rack remained untouched since the start of the competition. Even Hedok, with his unique sense of humor, had found it unfair to assign one of these offensive weapons to someone defending against two armored attackers. Slate picked up a packet of throwing knives. Slate spoke to Magnus but carried his voice for all to hear. “How long did it take for me to beat you, Magnus? 7 seconds? Your embarrassment will last a lot longer today.”
Jak and Magnus faced Slate in the courtyard, spaced evenly apart about ten paces from him. Magnus said, “I wouldn’t be so quick to claim victory. Let’s see how you do against a real blade.”
It was time to play his cards. Everyone knew about his hand, but they didn’t know what it could do. “I won’t pretend to fear you this time, Magnus. I have everything I need right here.” Slate raised his hand in front of his face and flexed his fingers into a fist. “And it’s far more dangerous than that meat cleaver in your hands. Don’t come near me. The ground you walk on may be the very thing that sends you to the infirmary.”
“There is a better way to settle this argument!” Villifor exclaimed. “Combatants ready…fight!!!”
The two heavily armed, massive men closed the distance on Slate. As they approached, Slate started an uppercut from somewhere around his ankles. His fist flew up and then he windmilled his arm, changing the direction of the punch to be pointed back toward the ground. Jak and Magnus were closing the distance fast. Trust. Slate let out a guttural scream and drove his hand into the sand. Nothing happened, as Slate expected.
Jak, having heard Slate’s warning prior to the fight, rolled clear of the impending unknown attack. That was the opening Slate was looking for…but he had hoped for a similar response from Magnus. Instead, Magnus continued his charge and Slate barely had enough time to grasp his throwing knife. He aimed for Magnus’ chest, but in his haste he jerked it downward. The blade flew end-over-end toward the sand in front of Magnus’ foot. His eyes went wide with the memory of Pillar fresh in his mind. Magnus tried to sidestep the throw and in the process stumbled to his right as the throwing knife hit the sand harmlessly behind him.
Slate located a second-floor balcony without any onlookers and sprinted toward it
, leaving Jak and Magnus at his back. This wasn’t tactical positioning but a full-out, run for your life sprint. Jak recovered from his roll and gave chase, but with his bulky broadsword, he couldn’t keep up with Slate.
Slate estimated the height of the balcony railing; it would be close. Slate stole a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that Magnus had overtaken Jak and was closing fast. Slate reached the edge of the courtyard and launched himself off the wall and slightly backward in order to slow his momentum. He planted his second foot higher up the wall and pushed away from the wall, directing his body toward the empty balcony. His momentum swung his legs up over his head and he landed on the concrete railing of the balcony, doubling himself over and leaving his torso hanging precariously in the air. Slate hooked his feet under the railing to gain leverage and lifted himself just before Magnus released his battle axe while in an all-out sprint. It flew through the air and passed where Slate’s overhanging head had been just a moment before. Slate stood with the safety of the balcony floor beneath his feet and the battle axe buried in the courtyard wall. The orb floated from Jak’s head toward Slate. Jak touched two fingers to his chin before extending them toward Slate, a gesture of respect that wasn’t shared throughout the courtyard.
“Coward!” Magnus shouted. “You are a disgrace to Bellator! Anyone displaying your lack of courage should be removed from the guild!” Similar, if less passionate murmurings could be heard around the courtyard.
During the commotion, Villifor remained uncharacteristically quiet and Slate understood that he was being given the chance to explain his antics. “Magnus calls me a coward, but I have used my training in Bellator to win this contest. It seems everyone has forgotten Professor Patton’s lessons in battlefield tactics. I haven’t even had the privilege of his lessons, but I know choosing the location of a battle is of tactical advantage. I was outnumbered and outmatched, so I used the tools at my disposal to improve my odds of success. By ascending to the balcony I claimed the high ground, a position I could successfully defend and hold. If this were a real battle, I would have survived and held my ground until reinforcements arrived. No other contestant can make that claim.”
