“Yes you were,” she said, her voice cool.
“I’m sorry about that. I was wondering if you might give Poz over there a break and knock me around for a while. Like you used to,” Justan smiled, holding up the two practice swords. Poz grinned thankfully from behind Jhonate’s back and snuck away to stand by Jobar.
She blinked at him. “I . . .”
“I’ll even call you Ma’am again if you like,” he offered.
“Yeah! Make him grovel!” cried Jobar.
She darted an irritated glance at the man that made Justan feel a bit better. “That will not be necessary.”
“So you’ll spar with me?” he asked hopefully.
She shifted her stance and any hesitation vanished from her face. “Have you continued your training?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Have you improved?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Somewhat, I believe,” Justan said. “Though I was hoping you could tell me just how much.”
“Be aware that I will do my best to defeat you,” she warned.
Justan chuckled. “You wouldn’t be Jhonate if you didn’t.”
“Very well, Sir Edge,” she said and a slight smile touched the corners of her lips. She twirled her staff. “Have you stretched?”
“That would be a good idea. I’ve been riding all day.”
Justan took his Jharro bow off his shoulder and unbuckled his sword sheathes, then set them gently to the side. As he stretched out his muscles, a crowd began to gather. Justan looked over to see Jobar smiling and knew that the man had taken the time to spread the word.
People say that you are going to battle with the staff girl, Daughter of Xedrion, Fist sent. The ogre seemed amused. We are coming to see.
Me too! Gwyrtha agreed.
A leader should not lose in front of other packs, Deathclaw sent and Justan knew that the raptoid had found a way to get a view. Justan glanced around, picking out one particularly robust tree not far away. He peered up into its branches and Deathclaw added, I was not seen.
Justan sighed. This could be humiliating. He had never defeated Jhonate before and she seemed particularly motivated. He finished his stretching and walked up to her.
“What are the rules?”
She gave him a puzzled look. “We fight until I say we are finished. If you drop a sword, you must fight on with the other. If you drop both swords I may decide to let you pick them up again.”
Justan shook his head and rotated his shoulders, getting in a defensive stance. “I really have missed you.”
“Hmph!” she said and came at him.
Her staff whirred and the familiar sound reminded Justan of their days facing off in the dirt of the training grounds. There was a full year of memories; the early ones filled with frustration and anger; the later ones filled with determination, but all of them were fond to him now. But this time there was a difference. Justan was good.
As her staff swept in, his heightened awareness made it seem as if time had slowed. He brought his left sword up to block, his right arm already moving to the place he knew she would strike next.
She worked her staff carefully at first, measuring his reaction and skill, then gradually sped up, sending her staff in at varying angles. “You are much better,” she said.
“I had a good trainer,” he grunted, barely dodging a determined jab.
She began to pace around him, forcing him to keep turning and watching for new angles. She struck a glancing blow to his forearm that would have knocked the sword from his hands in his training days, but now he had the strength to hold on.
“That stung,” he remarked.
“You did not drop it,” she replied as she brought the staff down in a vicious overhand swing.
Justan had to bring up both swords to block the attack and saw her kick coming in at the last moment. He brought up his knee to absorb the blow. “You taught me not to drop my sword.”
She ducked down and swung her staff low at the back of his leg and Justan jumped, bringing both legs high to avoid it. It was a move he wouldn’t have been able to do with out Gwyrtha’s agility.
“You are not attacking,” she observed, sending in a double flurry of blows.
“Oh. I can attack, then?” Justan said through gritted teeth as he barely blocked a strike to his knee.
Jhonate stopped and stepped back. The assembled crowd erupted in applause. Justan glanced around and saw that they were surrounded.
Your father is betting against you, Fist sent.
I don’t blame him. Justan replied.
“I did not tell you not to attack,” Jhonate said with a frown.
“Oh, I guess I was just going by the old rules. You always started out with me on defense,” Justan said.
“That is because defense is the first thing a student should learn,” she replied, then got in ready stance. “Come at me then.”
Justan went at her with a series of alternating jabs and slashes, impressed by her anticipation. He started in on the sword forms Sir Hilt had taught him, going from the simple ones to the more complex. She picked off every stroke. He picked up speed.
“I’m sorry about what happened earlier,” he said, jabbing forward with a double thrust.
She spun her staff, deflecting both attacks simultaneously. “I know.”
“I mean, it’s never been that way between Vannya and I,” he said and jumped back to avoid a sweeping counterattack. “I don’t know why she kissed me.”
“I know,” she said and Jhonate went on the offensive again, raining in blows.
Justan was struck in the shoulder and thigh, but he managed not to lose his composure. “If you know, then why were you so angry?”
His left sword smacked the knuckles of her left hand. She winced and jumped back, shaking her hand before shifting her grip as he came on again. “Why should it matter to me if that girl threw herself on you?”
Justan didn’t know how to answer that one. It was pretty presumptuous of him to assume she would feel scorned. After all, they hadn’t seen each other in a long time and even before that, they had only been friends.
Faldon says she likes you, Fist sent.
Justan faltered and Jhonate’s staff caught him across the face at an angle in a wicked blow, smashing his nose and right eye at the same time. The crowd gasped. As he stumbled backwards trying to blink away blurred vision, he realized that she hadn’t softened her staff at all.
He kept working his swords defensively, remembering how these things usually went. She would knock the swords out of his hands while he was dazed and sweep his legs out from under him and then he would lay in the dirt hoping his head would stop spinning before she made him get up again.
She knocked his swords aside and he waited for the inevitable match ending blow, but instead he felt her hands on either side of his face.
“Are you okay, Justan? Why did you not block that blow?” Jhonate spread his eyelids open to inspect the damage.
It hurt but he didn’t mind. “Fist said something.”
Sorry.
“I forgot to pad the staff.” She pressed his nose with both thumbs, shifting the cartilage and he let out a yelp of pain. “It is broken. Come, Justan, we should . . .” She paused. “What are you doing?”
Justan realized that he had wrapped his arms around her. He squeezed her close. “Greeting you properly. I-I missed you. I really did.”
“I . . .” She hugged him back, pressing her head to the side of his, then froze as she realized the eyes of everyone on them. She withdrew her arms. “Let me go, Sir Edge. People are staring.” When he didn’t let go immediately, she whispered, “I am not brave enough to kiss you.”
Justan let his arms fall from her shoulders, his heart pounding, and smiled despite the way it stretched his swelling face. “That was worth a broken nose.”
She picked up her staff and grabbed him by the wrist. “Come, let us get your wound tended to.”
“You alright, son?�
� Faldon called out.
“Oh, I’ll be fine,” he replied. Fist, will you grab my swords and bow?
Okay, Fist replied.
“I am taking him to the infirmary, sir.” Jhonate announced.
“Just have him back for the meeting after dinner,” Faldon said.
“Yes, sir,” she said and pulled him away from the crowd.
An embarrassing loss, Deathclaw said.
Why? Justan replied. I won.
Chapter Twenty One
Jhonate dragged Justan past several rows of tents, saying nothing. Justan’s vision finally cleared enough to see that her face was red, though whether from exertion or embarrassment he could not tell. Her lips were pursed, her face unreadable.
“Jhonate, I-.”
“Just do not say anything right now, Sir Edge,” she said. “I must apologize. My conduct back there was inexcusable.”
“What do you mean?” Justan asked.
“I did not call you by your proper name and I . . . said something inappropriate.”
Now Justan was sure why her face was red. “It’s okay. I don’t mind at all. I felt the same way. The reason I hugged you so tight back there is because I was afraid to ki-.”
She stopped him by placing a rigid forefinger to his lips. It pressed against his nose and he winced. She was breathing heavy and Justan had never seen her look so anxious. “I asked you not to speak, Sir Edge. Before we discuss the proper penance for my behavior, there is something that must be settled.”
Justan did not see the need for penance. He wanted her to call him by his real name. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he kept his mouth shut and let her lead him past more tents.
They came to the large white infirmary tent and Jhonate dragged Justan inside. Multiple rows of cots were lined up but there were only two men in them. Justan was surprised that the infirmary tent was so empty with an army this large. Surely there would be more injuries, even just in the day to day business of traveling. Then he saw Vannya sitting in the corner. The mage was sitting there with her face in her hands and hadn’t seen them come in. He looked at Jhonate in surprise, but she just pulled him right towards her.
“Mage Vannya,” Jhonate said. “I need you to heal this man.”
Vannya looked back at them in irritation but her eyes flew wide when she saw Justan standing there. She ran up to him. “Sir Edge, what happened to your face?”
“Oh, well-.”
“She did it to you, didn’t she?” Vannya narrowed her eyes at Jhonate. “What did he do, call you by your real name?”
“Sir Edge is allowed to call me by my name,” Jhonate replied coolly.
“Oh, I’ll bet he is,” Vannya said with a glare. “Just hold still, Sir Edge,” She placed her hands on either side of Justan’s head and pulled his face towards her.
Justan tensed, unsure of what she was going to do, but then her healing spells went to work and he felt that familiar tingling sensation in his nose and eye. His swollen nose opened up and became filled with her flowery scent again.
Justan’s mind wandered back to the kiss. He forced the thought away. Jhonate was standing right behind him. Was he crazy?
“There,” Vannya said, smiling at him. She released his head and let her hands slide down to rest on his chest. He could feel their warmth through the fabric of his shirt. “You had a broken nose and a burst blood vessel in your eye. I repaired the cartilage and healed the capillaries. You should be fine.”
“Thanks, Vannya,” Justan said, swallowing.
“You’re welcome,” she breathed. Even her breath smelled sweet.
Justan felt Jhonate’s hand grip the collar of his shirt. She jerked him back and the back of his knees struck the side of the cot behind him. Justan sat clumsily, nearly falling over backwards. He saw the two women exchange scowls and knew he was in big trouble.
“What did you do that for?” Vannya asked.
“Sit down, girl. It is time we discussed our problem,” Jhonate said and both of their eyes darted at him. Justan’s insides squirmed.
“Alright. Fine then,” Vannya said, then she gave Justan an uneasy look. “But do we need to do it right here and now?”
“We do not have time for you to do your hair and bathe again,” Jhonate said. “Sir Edge will need to eat before our meeting tonight.”
“That’s not what I was thinking,” Vannya retorted. “Why do you always focus on my hair?”
“I’m not really hungry,” Justan said. Food was the last thing on his mind. They ignored him.
“What exactly do you want me to do, Daughter of Xedrion?” Vannya asked.
“Tell Sir Edge why you kissed him,” she commanded.
Vannya blushed. “I already tried to explain earlier. I was just happy to see him and I-.”
“You did it because I was standing there,” Jhonate said.
“I did not!” Vannya protested, but Justan could tell in the way she averted her eyes as she said it that there was at least a little truth in Jhonate’s accusation. “I just hoped that he would be just as happy to see me.”
When the womens are fighting over you, it is best to leave and let them do it, Fist advised.
He was beginning to regret leaving the bond open all the time. Just how much did they monitor him? They’re not fighting over me.
Yes they are, said Gwyrtha.
Can you two please not listen to this part? Justan asked. Besides, I have a feeling Jhonate wouldn’t let me leave anyway. He looked up and realized that Jhonate was staring at him.
“Yes?” he said.
“Go ahead, tell her,” Jhonate said, tapping her foot expectantly.
“I’m sorry?”
“Tell her what you told me earlier,” Jhonate said.
He looked at Vannya, trying to figure out what it was that Jhonate wanted him to ask. Finally he said, “Vannya, back at the Mage School, we were friends, but we were never . . . involved in that way.”
“But,” Vannya reached in her robes and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. “In your letter . . .”
Justan frowned, trying to remember what he had written that night as he left the Mage School. Surely he hadn’t said anything to suggest he wanted to kiss her. “Well, I was apologizing for being mean. I still feel truly sorry for that, by the way. But that was all there was to it.”
Vannya’s jaw dropped. “That is not true!” She thrust the letter into Jhonate’s hand. “Look, you’ll see!”
Jhonate unfolded the parchment and began to read. Her brow furrowed. Then she looked up at Justan and glowered.
“What did I say?” he asked.
“You don’t know?” they both asked in unison. Vannya took the letter from Jhonate and handed it to him.
Justan read:
Vannya,
I owe you an apology and I’m sorry that I cannot tell you in person. Through no fault of yours, I misunderstood the relationship between you and your father. I felt betrayed and as a result I treated you horribly.
Tonight I discovered that we are far more alike than I thought. Both of us live our lives in our father’s shadow. I feel terrible about the way that I treated you. Please know that I value our friendship. You went out of your way to be kind to me when I had very few friends. You are wonderful and beautiful and precious to me and I hope to make it up to you when I see you again. Please can you forgive me?
Justan
He began to sweat. “I was apologizing.”
“But you said that I was precious to you,” Vannya said.
“Well, yes, but I didn’t mean it like that. I mean there were times that I thought that there could be something between us, but the reason I never did anything about it was Jhonate. I-I . . . she was always in my mind,” he said and looked to Jhonate in hopes that she would understand. But the glower hadn’t left her face.
“So you liked me, but you liked her more?” Vannya said.
“Then why did you say these things to her, if you were thinking of me?” J
honate asked.
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 31
