by Unknown
At the end of the meal, just before the bell rang to signal the start of training, Master stood up from the head table across the room. He had the chair just to the left of center at that table. Keel had never seen anyone sit in the center chair, so he wondered if it were some sort of strange tradition, or if there was someone higher up than Master. The woman sitting to the right of center was someone important too, possibly also a Master, but she wasn't part of Keel's training so he didn't know.
"Today marks the beginning of the four hundred thirty-eighth tournament!" Master called out jovially once everyone had quieted and turned their attention in his direction. "This year we have a strong showing of contestants and we will defeat the Yimina and take back control of our city!" he added in a firm yell that had everyone in the room cheering in agreement. Keel just watched, happy for the extra time to eat another roll. "In celebration, training is suspended for the duration of the tournament. Come cheer on Simola, enjoy the festivities, and return in a week's time for increased training."
Keel stopped chewing at Master's words, thoughts running through his head on what he could do with a full week of free time. If Saar had the week off too, well, it would be nice. The bell signaling the end of breakfast sounded and chairs scraped along the ground as everyone eagerly left the hall to head into the city for a bit of fun.
The king's personal guard took over patrol in the city for the tournament week, which kept down the street fighting between the two guilds and gave everyone a full vacation. The two guilds were both so certain that their fighter would win that in the past fights over the new or continued territory would erupt between patrols. If the guilds were patrolling the streets today, Keel thought, then the Simola patrols would start edging into Yimina territory in the expectation that at the end of the week the area would become Simola's. Keel had seen minor fights before over just that, but with the King's Guard present to stop any fights, the issue had never escalated.
Keel waited as the hall emptied. The fewer people still around meant fewer eyes to follow him as he escaped the Simola manor and hurried to his and Saar's favorite spot to watch the tournament. Once the hall was empty, Keel climbed down from his chair and slowly made his way back to his room.
His kitten was waiting impatiently outside his door. The cat had grown almost double in size in the past few months. When Keel had first rescued him, he could carry the kitten with one arm. The cat had grown so large that Keel now had to use two arms. Soon the kitten would be too big to carry at all.
Keel decided he had stalled enough when petting his kitten started getting repetitive.
"We gonna find our brothers," Keel whispered to his kitten before getting to his feet and heading down the hallways and eventually out the front door. He wasn't stopped until he reached the main gate, where the guard called out to him.
"If it isn't little Keel," the guard said with a smile. "Where are you off to today? Are you sure you should be out on your own?"
"I'mma see Sariel fight."
"You do know all fighters are required to keep their identities secret until the finale, right?" the guard replied. "You won't know who is fighting in the matches. Sariel might not even fight at all. He's an alternate."
"I'mma still watch," Keel said firmly. "Have a good day," he added in his best grammar as he walked past the guard and out into the city.
The streets were as crowded as Keel remembered from the previous year. The tournament brought in visitors from all across the country and across the world. It was the biggest fighting tournament of any country. Lev's neighbors always sent their best fighters to compete, but none could best the Yimina and Simola. It was the one pride the two guilds were willing to share.
The jostling only got worse the closer to the tournament grounds Keel got. He reached the impromptu market that had sprung up outside the gigantic main entrance that led into the stadium and turned off into a side alley. The previous year he and Saar had found a nice secluded spot where they could stay hidden yet still watch the festivities.
Admittedly, they had been on the run from the King's Guard at the time for stealing food; finding their hideaway had been sheer luck, but that luck had continued through the entire tournament. Keel was hoping that luck was still effective.
The side alley was a dead end, but there was a tiled rainspout that had broken and never been repaired that provided a convenient, sloped ramp up to the roof. Keel jumped the scant inches from that roof onto one closer to the arena, and then walked to the ladder left forgotten against the side of the house. Keel slowly climbed upwards from the lower roof to the higher and walked over to a dip in the roof where an old skylight had been improperly filled in. Saar was sitting on the edge of the roof, right where Keel so desperately hoped he would be. He held in a cry of delight, he didn't want them to be discovered, and hurried over so he could sit down next to Saar and lean his head on Saar's shoulder.
"I miss you," Keel whispered, trying to fight back tears. Saar hadn't grown any taller. He wasn't thinner or fatter. Instead he looked healthy, with a warm glow to his cheeks where hunger and worry used to lie. Keel knew he looked better too thanks to good food and exercise, but physically seeing that Saar was in the same shape was a relief.
"I miss you more," Saar whispered back. There were tear tracks on his cheeks, and he sniffled slightly as he turned his head to smile.
"No more apart," Keel decided. "We meet every Third Night." Sariel had an earlier patrol on every Third Night of the week, which made it easiest for Keel to sneak away. He hoped that was also true for Saar.
Saar sighed happily. "Yes," he agreed firmly.
They sat there for a long time in silence, just enjoying holding hands and being together. Keel could feel every time Saar breathed or reached up to shoo a bug away from his face. It was marvelous.
Their kittens were mewling and hissing playfully at the bottom of the ladder, reacquainting themselves in the way of cats. Keel let them, knowing that any noise they made would be masked by the market below.
Stalls were set out in two rows on the street that led to the tournament grounds and merchants were calling loudly out to potential customers. Most of the crowd was heading through the gigantic double doors of the stadium where they could find seats inside to watch the day's battles. The first two days were preliminary rounds where each fighter fought twice each day. A loss didn't end the fighter's chances of getting into the next round, but on the third day the fighters with the best record were pitted against those with the worst. A loss on the third day was a disqualification.
Keel could see from his vantage point that the arena currently had about forty fighting squares set up inside where the battles were taking place. Keel could see the masked fighters filling every square with more milling on the sidelines to wait for their turn. On the fourth day half of those squares would be removed and the twenty remaining would double in size. On the seventh day, the final match, the fighting ring was a huge, raised platform that filled the arena. The fighters would unmask themselves and the audience would see whom, and from which guild, had made it to the final.
"Soon Sariel will fight," Keel said, breaking their comfortable silence with the need to tell Saar everything that had changed in his life the last six months.
"My Linalee will fight too," Saar agreed. Keel felt a pang in his heart at Saar's admission. He should have known Saar would meet new people and become attached to them, but that didn't stop the jealousy from flaring up. Keel wondered if Saar had felt the same inner pain when he mentioned Sariel, which only strengthened his resolve to fully immerse Saar in his new life and to learn all about Saar's life as well.
Decided, Keel stood and pulled on Saar's hand until Saar got to his feet too. "I show you my new home," Keel insisted. "You show me yours. We know everything about each other again."
Saar smiled brightly in agreement and led the way back to the ladder. "I show mine today. See yours tomorrow," he insisted. The arrangement worked for Keel so he followed Saar back
down into the busy market without complaint. They turned to the right side of the city, heading into Yimina territory.
The Yimina manor was so similar to the Simola one that it took Keel a few seconds to realize that Saar hadn't gotten them turned around somehow. The general shape of the gigantic building was different, as were the building materials, but the air of battle lust that permeated everything was what confused Keel.
Saar led the way through the front gate. He stopped to talk to the guard on duty to distract him while Keel snuck by. His kitten scrambled underneath the fence a few yards away from the guard. Keel found a clump of decorative trees to the left to hide behind until Saar called an all clear. He then followed Saar to a small, unmanned side door that led into the manor.
Keel could tell they had entered directly into the dormitories because they passed dozens of open doorways leading into small rooms much like the one he had in the Simola manor. They finally stopped at a door identical to all the others and Saar led him inside.
"I sleep here," Saar said proudly, even though the small sleeping pallet on the floor gave away the purpose of the space. It was practically a double of Keel's own small room. Saar led the way back into the hall a few moments later. He stopped outside of the closed door directly to the right of his own. "This Linalee's room."
Keel frowned. He didn't have a clue where Sariel slept; certainly Sariel wasn't nearby to take care of him like Linalee was for Saar.
"Who Linalee?" Keel asked, wanting to know just what the role of this new person in Saar's life was.
"She my big sister," Saar insisted firmly. "She no have kids or little siblings to watch, so Master say she take me. She teach me to fight and to read."
"Sariel don't do that," Keel sighed. "He help and he listen, but he not teach. He too busy, so there're others."
"Linalee's an alternate this year, so she go to train and leave me with friends," Saar said with full understanding in his voice.
He continued to talk about Linalee as they continued down the hallway. Keel knew he would have felt much more jealous than he actually was if it weren't for two things. First, Saar never let go of Keel's hand the entire time they were walking. His grip was strong and he gave no indication of wanting that connection to end. The second thing was a bit petty, but Keel clung to it anyway: Saar might have Linalee, but Keel had Sariel. Just as Saar wasn't alone without Keel nearby, Keel had someone with him too. In a way, thinking about it like that replaced the feelings of jealousy with those of relief. Saar wasn't alone. He had someone to take care of him and watch over him. Saar would always remain number one in Keel's heart, regardless of whoever entered their lives, and Keel knew Saar felt the same.
Keel listened as Saar described Linalee and had to hide a grin. She was practically a twin to Sariel, her hair dark black and her eyes a grayish hazel.
"She keep it long, all the way down to her butt, but braided," Saar explained as they turned into an empty doorway.
Keel almost laughed out loud at the room they had just entered. It was exactly the same as the training room in the Simola manor, from the padded walls and floors to the racks of hand wrappings and gloves.
"This where I train," Saar explained.
"What you learning?" Keel asked, wondering if Saar had spent as long as he had punching the wall.
"Nothing interesting," Saar grumbled. "Baby stuff. How to stand on one leg. Linalee say can't do martial arts if balance is wrong."
"Balance how?" Keel asked.
Saar showed him, standing on his right foot while his left shifted forward, backward, and side-to-side in the air. He switched feet and did the same movements, all without falling over. Keel tried it and immediately felt his leg wobble. He had to reach out and touch the wall to keep standing upright.
"It hard," Keel gasped. He frowned in concentration, wishing he had been able to learn and practice the skill with Saar. "When we meet, we practice. You teach me Yimina training, and I teach you Simola."
Saar smiled and agreed. "It almost lunch and I hungry. You go back to Simola for food and we meet tomorrow?" he asked.
Keel reached out to hug Saar tightly. "We meet every morning during tournament. I show you Simola and we train together. No more apart."
"No more apart," Saar agreed fervently. They parted after a few long minutes and Keel walked off, back to the left side of the city.
INTERLUDE
A BROKEN ARM ISN'T THE END OF THE WORLD
Sariel was fuming—and he was hurting, but his bad mood trumped everything else at the moment. The alternate showcase fight on the second to last day of the tournament was supposed to have been his moment to shine. He wanted to prove his strength and show the Yimina that he would defeat them and bring glory back to Simola once he was a regular contestant.
Instead he had broken his arm in the first round. He had beaten his opponent regardless, but had then been deemed too injured to continue fighting in the next round and disqualified. Disqualified! He had been forced to sit on the sidelines while some girl had won the alternate tournament and taken all of his glory. But that wasn't even the worst part. No, that hadn't come until just a few moments ago when the doctor had checked his splint to see how his arm was healing after three weeks of not using it.
At least two more months. That was how long his arm had to remain in the cast and immobile. It was an outrageous amount of time. When he coupled that lack of training time with the months it would subsequently take to get back into fighting shape, he was looking at a second year as an alternate instead of his first year as a contestant. It was enough to pull his hair out over.
Although he couldn't be mad at little Keel, who had taken one look at Sariel's immobile arm on the first day after the tournament had ended and had actually climbed onto the breakfast table to fill Sariel's plate. Sariel had been able to keep Keel's feet off the table since then, but it had been a battle. No one was as stubborn or as sure of himself as Keel. He was a decidedly odd four year old, but Sariel liked him anyway.
Sariel stomped into his family's suite of rooms in the back of the manor. He was prepared to fall into his bed in a huff, but as he loudly made his way through the living room he was stopped.
"Sariel, a broken arm isn't the end of the world," Grandfather called from where he was tucked into an armchair by the fireplace.
"It is when I can't fight," Sariel replied sharply. He changed direction to collapse into the couch across from his grandfather.
Grandfather was old and he looked it. His skin was more wrinkled than not and his eyes were mostly white with blindness. His hair, where he wasn't bald, was pure white as well. But his body still showed the strength it had taken to win six straight tournaments in his youth and to train dozens of Simola fighters to victory after his own tournament days were done.
"Take this as an opportunity," Grandfather admonished. "You can't use your arms, but there is nothing wrong with your legs. There is nothing stopping you from practicing your kicks and your leg defenses."
Sariel perked up at that realization. He didn't have to sit around doing nothing for the entire two months. He might not be able to train like he wanted, but there wasn't any reason he had to be totally sidelined.
"Thanks, Grandfather," Sariel replied happily, his bad mood forgotten.
Grandfather shifted in his chair and Sariel knew he wasn't talking to his grandfather any longer. The Grand Master was sitting there now.
"Tell me about young Keel," the Grand Master ordered. "If his battle kitten is any indication, he is quite the strange child."
The Grand Master gestured to the side where his own battle cat rested. Thrash was well over four hundred pounds, but his distinctive red stripes were gray with age. Sitting primly between Thrash's gigantic paws was a tiny kitten, Keel's kitten, and that kitten was mewing in fierce conversation without the slightest hint of apprehension at being around the larger and stronger cat. Battle cats were currently only a status symbol, and since they only bonded with the strongest human f
ighters it wasn't something that could be emulated or faked. Should war erupt, as invading countries had done in the past, one battle cat on the field could easily turn the tide in their favor. Despite his species name, Thrash had never lifted a paw in battle during his entire life and Sariel hoped that would be the same for Keel's kitten.
"Keel's certainly an odd one. Most four year olds I know spend half the day napping and the other half crying. The only time I've heard Keel complain was when he told me he was ready to move ahead in his training. He's the most independent child I've ever seen. He's more independent than Cael or some of the other teenagers."
"Have you gleaned any of his history?" the Grand Master asked after pausing for a moment to think on Sariel's words.
"Not much," Sariel replied. "Just that his mother died recently from the bloody cough and that his dad came over on a ship and vanished the same way."
"His father arrived on a ship?" the Grand Master asked sharply, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. "You are certain Keel said that?"
Sariel nodded.
"It couldn't be, yet it is possible," the Grand Master muttered to himself. "You won't remember it because the true knowledge has been tucked away from general view, but five years ago, neither the Simola nor the Yimina won the tournament. Oh," he continued when Sariel made a noise of disbelief, "officially the Yimina won that year. But when the final battle began and both fighters unmasked themselves, a Yimina fighter was faced with a foreigner who had bright red hair and brilliant green eyes. Simola didn't even make it to the final battle five years ago, and Yimina never stood a chance at winning. That foreigner took the prize money, but he knew he couldn't take the honor of the tournament as well, so he departed on his ship and was never heard from again."
