by Unknown
And the embarrassment that had brought to both guilds had no doubt been why the knowledge that an outsider had beaten them had been suppressed. Sariel had been in the audience for that tournament and even he didn't remember the outcome, although it was probably safe to assume that outsiders and unaffiliated fighters remembered perfectly. "Do you think that man is Keel's father?" Sariel asked.
"I think the timeline fits," the Grand Master said firmly. "I do not think I could have beaten that foreigner in my prime. That his offspring would have a battle cat does not surprise me in the least."
"That's incredible," Sariel gasped. "Do you think Keel could win as many tournaments as you, Grand Master?"
The Grand Master laughed. "We shall see, Sariel. But first you must attempt to beat my record."
"Not in next year's tournament," Sariel grumped, glaring at his broken arm.
"No," Grandfather laughed. "I suppose not. But the extra training will serve you well in the end. Did you know that had Keel not attempted to steal his battle cat in the market you would have been the first to attempt to bond with it?"
"Me?" Sariel asked. "What about a Master or any of this year's contestants?"
Grandfather shook his head slowly. "A battle cat only bonds with someone who shows inner and outer strength. I have met with many of the youth in Simola, and you are the only one to exhibit such traits. Still, the cat would not have bonded with you in the end. Had we taken it, the cat would never have bonded because it would have never met Keel."
"Do you know what Keel named his battle cat?" Sariel asked, pushing aside the revelation to think about later. "He told me he named it Lightning because Thunder was already taken. Sometimes I just can't follow his thinking process," Sariel sighed.
"Lightning is a strong name, but it is also volatile. Which brings me to the real reason I asked about young Keel," the Grand Master said formally. "The Master in charge of the manor's defense, Master Uriah, came to speak with me this morning. She has been given an interesting set of reports by the guards stationed at the gate. Every day during the tournament Keel walked out of those gates on his own, without a chaperone and without any trace of fear. The guards on duty during those times remarked on how upsetting to them it was that someone so young would just walk off like that."
"Keel is very independent, and he grew up thieving in the city streets," Sariel interjected. "It doesn't surprise me to learn he doesn't have any fear."
"Yes," the Grand Master agreed. "And I brought that concern to the attention of Master Uriah. She insisted that her guards were warranted in their concern because they began keeping an eye out for a small, red haired child trying to sneak through the gates. It turns out that Keel has been sneaking out every Third Night for the past three weeks. I have instructed Master Uriah to allow Keel his freedom.
"I believe it is better for someone so fiercely independent to be unrestricted, but Sariel, that boy could change the tide for Simola. He could be strong enough to keep Yimina at bay for ten years or more! Letting someone so young and fragile roam freely worries me."
"Grand Master, I have night time patrols. Would you like me to keep an extra careful eye out for him?" Sariel asked worry for Keel clear in his voice.
The Grand Master nodded. "At the very least. If you can find out where he is going, or what is so important that he feels the need to sneak away, then even better. I will instruct Master Ferris to increase Keel's training so the boy can properly protect himself."
"That sounds like a good plan, Grand Master," Sariel agreed.
"It is the only plan we have that will not alienate Keel," the Grand Master disagreed. "Now, I believe you have some kicks to practice, Sariel."
"Yes, Grandfather," Sariel replied with a small smile. He stood from the couch and headed back to the suite door, all thoughts of sulking in his bedroom forgotten.
TWO
THAT WAS FUN
The other kids Keel's age were really very annoying. That was Keel's first thought as he stepped into training first thing in the morning. It was move up day in the Simola compound. All the ten year olds had moved up to level two training where they switched from basic attacking and blocking to advanced moves that would serve them on patrol and potentially on the tournament grounds.
Keel had been training in level one for two full years longer than the ten year olds he could see across the training studio with Cael, the coming year's alternate fighter. He had started in level one when he was four and now he was eight, the same age as the students who were just entering level one from the nursery.
One of the new students walked over to where Keel was forlornly staring across the room at the level two class and stepped directly in front of him.
"Hi!" she chirped, her smile wide enough that Keel could see she was missing one front baby tooth. "My name's Aimy. What's yours? How come I've never seen you before?" Aimy was bouncy and bubbly and chubby. She had probably never spent hours hitting the wall with her fists, sweating in a heavy padded suit while Master made sure her blocks were perfect, or sparring with kids three and four years older than her.
One of the other eight year old boys tried to shuffle forward to join Aimy, but his feet were too uncoordinated and he tripped over an uneven spot in the floor matting. Keel had to hide a pained grimace at the thought that these kids were who he was going to be training with from now on. It was bad enough the previous year, when he was better and stronger than the kids a year older than him, but to so outstrip his own age group was going to be particularly painful.
"Keel," Master called as he joined them in the corner designated for level one training. "How many years have you been in level one?"
Keel trotted quickly over to Master's side, glad to avoid having to answer Aimy. He wasn't sure he could have without derision thick in his voice.
"Four years, Master," Keel replied.
Master bent down so he could look Keel directly in the eyes. "You have to understand, Keel. Eight years old is not ten years old in the slightest. You are smaller, not as strong, and your body is not nearly ready for the rigors of level two. Should you spar with a fifteen year old in level two, you could be gravely injured."
Keel could feel any hope of moving up early deflating. His shoulders rounded in defeat the more Master spoke and be began to resign himself to working with the untrained kids his own age for two more years.
"That said," Master continued, "there is nothing more I can teach you in level one." Keel's head jerked upwards in surprise. "Cael!" Master yelled across the room.
Cael jogged over. He had grown in the four years Keel had known him, from a gangly fifteen year old kid just starting level three training to the tall and strong man preparing to be an alternate fighter in the tournament just seven months away.
"Yes, Master?" Cael asked as he joined Keel at Master's side. Cael wasn't even slightly winded by the jog, and he bounced on his toes in anticipation.
"I want you to test Keel as you would any fighter moving up to level two," Master insisted. "Should he pass, he will join your class under your supervision."
"Keel is only eight, Master!" Cael gasped, which was then echoed by some of the other adult fighters using the training room that morning and eavesdropping on Master's conversation.
"Which is why he would remain strictly under your tutelage," Master replied calmly. "He will not spar with any fifteen year olds until he is strong enough." He turned to look at Keel before he continued. "Keel, you understand that if you pass into level two you will remain there until you are fifteen regardless of how advanced you become? You cannot join level three until you are the proper age."
"As long as level two has something new to teach me," Keel replied firmly, "then I should be okay."
"Very well," Master said. "Cael, test young Keel first."
Cael nodded sharply and gestured for Keel to walk across the training floor to the area set aside for level two. There was a square of matting in the floor a lighter color than the rest, about ten feet by t
en feet. Cael stepped right into the middle of the square and waited for Keel to join him.
Some of the watching adults returned to their own training, but many more joined the cluster of level two children to watch the test. Even Master had foisted the new eight year olds on a ten-year-old student and came over to watch.
"This is not a test of strength or prowess," Cael began in a firm voice. He wasn't just speaking to Keel, but to all the students who had to take the test. "This is a test of knowledge. Your ability to block and attack will decide if you are prepared for the rigors of level two. Keel, are you ready?"
Keel nodded, fists up protectively in front of his face and his feet balanced shoulder width apart. Cael slowly bent his knees, his own fists held in perfect defensive stance with his knuckles at the same height as his temples. Keel blinked and almost missed Cael springing forward, his right fist flashing outwards in a hook punch aimed directly at Keel's head.
It didn't matter that Keel had blinked or that Cael had moved unexpectedly. Four years and endless hours of practicing his defensive blocking meant that his brain didn't need to be engaged for his arms to move. His left fist moved sharply out parallel to his head just as Cael's fist was about to impact. Their forearms hit, Cael's fist whooshed harmlessly by Keel's head, and Keel went into the offensive.
Hands before body, body before feet, echoed through Keel's head as his right fist punched at Cael's head, his body turned into the hit to give it more strength, and his feet compensated for the shift in balance.
Cael blocked easily and Keel was forced to jump backwards when Cael's knee came up to try and hit Keel's stomach. Keel barely had time to find his footing again before Cael's right leg kicked straight at Keel's groin. Keel's own right leg came up, his knee turned into his stomach and his toes pointed upwards. He felt the impact on his shin and Cael's foot brush past his left hip.
While Cael was briefly recovering from his missed kick, his foot still extended past Keel's hip, Keel kicked outwards with the foot he hadn't just blocked with. He was aiming for Cael's groin, but he missed simply because Cael was faster than Keel and had longer legs.
The fight wasn't prolonged after that. Cael somehow managed to get behind Keel with some fancy footwork and before Keel could spin and defend he found himself flying forward to land face first on the mat. He immediately spun onto his back, his feet and fists held protectively over his stomach and head, and waited for the next attack. They hadn't covered ground movement in level one, but Keel had seen some other fighters grappling on the floor and knew enough to protect himself.
A further attack never came. Cael stepped back and dropped his hands. "Your legs aren't quite long enough for some of the skills we'll be doing in level two, but I'll teach them to you anyway. Congratulation on moving up, Keel."
Keel got to his feet in time to see Master nod and turn away to return to his own students. The rest of the crowd dispersed, and Cael turned to call another student into the square. He had lost the fight, but somehow he had gotten the outcome he wanted in the end. Keel wasn't disappointed with that, so he applied himself to watching the moving up fights and to learning the new kick and block Cael was teaching that day. When the lunch bell rang, Keel finally felt like he was learning something new for the first time in two years.
He sat down in his chair next to Sariel in the dining hall with a smile on his face.
"What's got you so happy?" Sariel grumped. He was still smarting about his loss in the finals to the female Yimina fighter he had defeated the previous year. Keel knew that Sariel and Linalee were going to feud until they couldn't fight any longer. He and Saar were always betting on which one would win the tournament that year. Linalee had won two times to Sariel's once, but she had also entered the fighting a year earlier than Sariel thanks to Sariel's broken arm four years ago.
"I'm in level two now," Keel replied with a wide grin. "Master had Cael test me and I guess I passed."
"Congratulations!" Sariel exclaimed, a smile widening his face. "I think you're the first Simola fighter to ever move up early. Did Master say why?"
"He said he didn't have anything else to teach me in level one," Keel answered as he reached out to fill his plate with lunch. "Why does Master teach the level one students and an alternate teaches the level two? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
Sariel laughed. "You'd think so. As you get more advanced you should have a more advanced teacher. But let me ask you a question, Keel. What is the most important lesson you'll ever learn as a fighter?"
Keel thought for a long moment while he chewed. "How to make a fist," he decided.
Sariel smiled. "Actually, everything you learn in level one is fundamental to every other level. If you don't learn how to punch properly, how can you ever learn a more advanced move? The same with kicks and blocks. How could you ever expect to win a fight if your block drops? If a fighter doesn't learn and perfect those building block movements from day one, then they can never even dream of becoming an alternate. Something so important to creating excellent fighters cannot be entrusted with just anybody."
That made a lot of sense to Keel, who never made a fist without his thumb in perfect position thanks to Master's constant haranguing about his thumb sticking up. He thought about the implications of not being able to make a proper fist in level two for a few seconds, but the lure of food was stronger so Keel returned to eating lunch.
The bell rang and he and Sariel parted ways again. Keel headed towards the classroom wing, but when he stepped inside his usual class where all the eight year olds were eagerly sitting in the front row, the teacher wordlessly pointed further down the hall. Apparently Keel had progressed into level two classwork as well.
By the end of the day, Keel was still brimming with excitement and was aching to tell Saar all about his day. It was Third Night, so he was going to see Saar after a full week apart.
Keel hurried back to his room so he could wash his face and get ready to sneak out. It had become too easy to sneak past the guards these days. He just waited, hidden, for the guard to get distracted and then scampered out the gate as quickly as he could. He had yet to be caught.
Lightning was sprawled across Keel's sleeping pallet when Keel opened the door to his room. The cat was easily a hundred pounds and took up all of Keel's sleeping space without even trying, but Sariel insisted it wasn't done growing yet. He was built entirely out of sleek muscle and fluffy fur and yet he still acted like he was barely five pounds. Lightning chuffed at Keel and then rolled over, one gigantic paw flapping pointedly in the air. Keel couldn't stop a laugh as he hurried forward to obey the command to rub Lightning's belly.
"Sometimes I wonder if you're not a dog in disguise," Keel grumbled good-naturedly as he dug his fingers into Lightning's thick fur.
Lightning snorted as if he were offended and then arched his back so Keel could reach a particularly sensitive spot.
"We're going to see Saar and Thunder soon," Keel whispered as he petted along Lightning's chin. They had to wait until after Sariel's patrol went out before it was safe for Keel to leave the Simola manor, but they had grown used to the anticipation over the years.
Lightning rumbled a gentle purr in response and rolled over to butt his head underneath Keel's hand. Keel laughed, even more certain that he was raising a strangely shaped dog, and dug his fingers behind Lightning's ears.
Once the hallway was quiet, Keel and Lightning slipped out of their room and to the kitchen. The screen door had a handle, Keel had realized once he had finally grown tall enough to reach it, so he pulled the door open for Lightning and followed his battle cat out into the night.
Saar and Thunder were waiting in the gazebo when Keel turned the last corner into the park. They both could still fit underneath, but it was getting to be a tight squeeze. Their cats insisted they would also fit, which wasn't possible in the least bit, so Keel and Saar had given up meeting in their hideaway.
The first thing Keel did when he walked up the three steps in
to the gazebo was open his arms. Saar cuddled close, his arms wrapping around Keel's back and Keel's arms holding tight to Saar's shoulders. They were the same exact height, still identical to the last red hair on their heads, so they pressed their cheeks together. Keel buried his nose behind Saar's ear, breathing in the gentle scent of soap and Saar, and finally felt his shoulders relax and the tight knot in his stomach unravel. They would return when he had to part with Saar in a few short hours, but for this moment he could be happy.
Keel held Saar and enjoyed being held in return for as long as he could, but they did eventually have to part. Keel reluctantly pulled away.
"Anything fun happen this week?" Saar asked.
Keel grinned. "I moved up a level." He explained his entire day to Saar, from the test to also moving up in his classroom work. "And I learned two new moves!" he finished, his smile not abating in the least. "Did you have anything fun happen?"
Saar had caught Keel's happiness and was reflecting it with his own smile. "Nothing particularly interesting happened to me. The Yimina students don't move up for another six months. They can't do anything important on the same day of the Simola," he added scathingly. "Linalee says I'll be ready to take the test then. So, show me your new moves!"
They moved to the softer grass outside the gazebo. Keel shifted away from Saar to get more room. "In level one, one of the first kicks I was taught was the front kick," he said, demonstrating. His left foot was planted on the ground, toes pointed forwards while his right foot kicked forward in a perfect groin shot. "In level two they also start with the same move, but with just enough difference that it's a totally different kick. They call it a roundhouse kick."
He turned his left foot so his toes pointed thirty degrees outwards and then let his right leg sweep forward again. The different angle forced his hips to roll. His kick was aimed to land against the outside of an opponent's knee or hip. It was an equally crippling move, but with less of a cringe factor.
