by T. H. Hunter
“You’ve got me. Well done,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said.
Despite the bitter defeat, I could see that he really meant it.
“Good luck for the next round,” I said.
“Same. Hey, give that Vanessa a thrashing will you? She’s been badmouthing you everywhere ever since you beat her in class. She deserves it.” He grinned.
“Will do,” I said.
He really wasn’t such a bad guy, Steve.
***
I had about an hour’s break. I felt much better now after my first victory. This was really important to me. After all those hours of practice, I don’t think I could have stomached the prospect of immediately entering the loser’s bracket, perhaps even leaving the tournament without a single win. I was determined to go all the way, but at least I hadn’t embarrassed myself. The look of disappointment on Doctor Yurasov’s face would have been unbearable. I felt a lot more cheerful now and wanted to share it with Lynn, but she was nowhere to be found.
After walking around for a bit, I saw Jayden fighting another burly first year in an absolutely vicious and exhausting match that had been going on for almost half an hour. He was a powerful and skilled fighter, I could see that. Unlike Steve, his hits were both fast and calculated, his defensive stances good.
As I came closer, I saw that he looked even more tired and haggard than ever. His powerful body and trimmed beard stood at odds with the deep shadows beneath his eyes and rugged skin. Strangely enough, Lynn wasn’t watching his first match, either.
I was beginning to worry. Looking around, I recognised a girl from our Alchemy class and asked her. Her name was Linda.
“Lynn? Yeah, she was here before the match,” she said.
“What happened?”
Linda lowered her voice in a conspiratorial manner, though the noise around us made our conversation very hard to overhear in the first place.
“They had a fight. Jayden and her.”
“Do you know where she is now?”
“Sorry, Beccs, I don’t know.”
“Ok, thanks Linda.”
I had about half an hour before the next round. I’d first check in our room.
I quickly walked up the stone steps to the dorms on the second floor. I knocked on our door so I wouldn’t surprise her, but there was no answer. I slowly opened the door. The room was empty.
Disappointed, I was just about to go down again when I heard a faint whimpering sound from the bathroom on the corridor.
“Lynn, are you in there?”
There was more sobbing, though she was trying to repress it as best she could.
“Lynn, can I come in?” I asked.
“Y-yes.”
I entered the bathroom.
Standing at the sink, Lynn was facing away from me, though I could see in the mirror that her face was red and blotched from crying. I entered the bathroom and carefully closed the door behind me.
“Lynn…”
“It’s… it’s nothing, Beccs. The tournament, you should…”
“Lynn, what’s up? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Beccs. I – It’s just…”
“Jayden?” I asked her, my expression darkening. I suddenly felt very protective.
“No, not him.”
Lynn answered just a little too quickly for me to believe her. I waited a moment to see whether she’d say anything. But she simply stared at the mirror and quickly wiped away the tears that had passed her cheeks.
“Lynn, if something’s wrong with Jayden, you can tell me.”
Suddenly, she turned around to me. Her mood had changed completely. Her voice still shaky but oddly hostile.
“I tell you nothing’s wrong,” she said, staring me in the eye.
“Something’s seriously wrong. You don’t have to lie to me. We tell each other everything, remember?”
“Oh yeah? Maybe it’s time we changed that!”
Now it was my turn to get angry.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
“Maybe not everything’s your business, Beccs, you don’t have to play protector all the time.”
And with that, she stormed past me into the hallway. I was left speechless, angry and hurt at the same time.
***
Still mad from the argument with Lynn, I was late to the next match. I hurried to the Great Hall where the lists of matches and locations were put up. What had Lynn been thinking? I felt hurt by being kept in the dark. Was I really overprotective? Perhaps. Yet my motives had been innocent enough, I thought, making my way through the crowds of laughing students. If someone was causing my best friend pain, I wanted to know. Wasn’t that normal? And yes, if necessary, protect her against that person. If it was Jayden, whom I usually got on very well with, so be it. But of course, as long as Lynn was shutting me out, I couldn’t do anything.
For a moment, I thought about asking Jayden. Not that I expected to get any real information from him, but at least to glean from his reaction whether he was feeling guilty or stubborn. That might have given me some sort of inkling what was going on.
I quickly shook off the idea, however. For one, I couldn’t deny that part of me was simply nosy. And also, it was Lynn’s business. She’d have to make the decision to share it with me on her own.
I tried to free myself emotionally, to focus on the task at hand. I was up against a third year girl who was observing me with a haughty neutrality. She had dyed her hair grey, a passing trend I had always thought was weird since you’d probably be spending many years of your life wearing grey when you aged anyway. But I suppose it suited her in a strange way. I could tell by her equipment that she was a pro. Fancy white shoulder pads, custom grip, fine blade – the lot. I hoped she was one of those people who was mediocre but owned the best gear, but I doubted it somehow.
Finally, the referee – a rather bored looking junior member of the staff – gave us the signal, we bowed, and the duel began.
There was no question about it. She really was good. Arrogance well-founded it seemed. Unlike my first opponent, Steve, she played an extremely defensive style – a natural counter-attacker like me. Her footwork was excellent even under pressure, no doubt the result of many hours of hard training.
I was testing her defences constantly, though every time she showed off her lightning reactions. Our blades touched in a state of almost harmonious tension as we waited for the other to make a move.
I could feel the impatience rising within me, working desperately against it. Wearing your emotions on your sleeve, after all, was a fact that would be ruthlessly exploited, I was sure. But I was having trouble concentrating properly. The thought of Lynn kept popping into my head, crying in the bathroom. My inability to do anything. And my anger at her being so stupid.
The grey-haired girl immediately stepped in as she sensed the lack of concentration on my part. I parried the first blow, though I was caught off-balance, and she neatly brought down a follow-up strike that caught me right on my left side just below the ribs. She had scored first.
I managed a bit of a comeback, but my concentration was shot to pieces. I lost 5 to 3 in the end. I was furious with myself. I knew I could have done much better, even won perhaps. The girl with the grey-hair seemed impressed, however. She shook my hand and smiled.
“You almost had me. My name’s Sarah by the way.”
“Well fought,” I said stiffly, trying not to sound like a sore loser. “I’m Beccs.”
“There’s been a lot of talk among the Knights about you, you know,” Sarah went on. “I’ll be honest, I thought it all exaggerated, but I can see why Yurasov started training you. I’ve never seen a first year fight like that before.”
“Thanks. So, you’re a Scarlet Knight, too?” I asked, impressed.
“Yep, joined last year. It’s a tough routine, but you get a lot out of it. They recruit every year. In fact, they’re watching right now. The ones in black – with the rose and sword emblem – u
p there.”
She pointed up at the battlements right above us and waved. Amongst the various spectators was a group dressed in all black robes, some of whom returned Sarah’s wave. I could see Doctor Yurasov. He hadn’t seen us but was deeply immersed in conversation with Raphael. My heart gave an involuntary leap as if I had skipped a step.
“Prince Raphael has been particularly keen on watching this year,” she said, with a rather peculiar smile on her face. “He’s usually quite disinterested.”
“How come?” I said, trying to sound as though I didn’t really care – in spite of the fact that I was burning to know.
“Oh, he’s always so mysterious, never really lets on about what’s going on in his handsome little Royal head of his,” she said. “Well, got to prepare for the next fight. I’ll see you around, Beccs.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll see you around,” I said. My voice sounded oddly distant. I looked up at the battlements again.
Half-way across the lawn, Sarah turned around and called in my direction.
“Hey Beccs, why don’t you join us for drinks after the tournament’s through? Next Monday, East Tower, midnight.”
I turned around and gave her the thumbs up.
14
I made my way back to the dormitory. There was no way I was going to sleep anytime soon. In the common room, I picked one of the most comfortable chairs by the fireplace to relax and reflect on the events of the day. There were only a few people around now.
Suddenly, on one of the tables nearby, I saw a flash of familiar metal as I turned my head.
Curious, I got up and walked over. It was another silver figurine, just as neatly crafted as the last one. Picking it up, I noticed the same prickly feeling that told me that it was solid silver.
“Sorry, is this yours?” I asked the two guys sitting at the table.
“Nope,”one of them said. “Was lying here before we came.”
“D’you mind if I take it?”
“By all means,” he said, rather bewildered.
“Thanks.”
I picked it up and went back to my seat again. It was a miniature drummer. I began turning it in my hand with my thumb and index finger. I didn’t know why, but there was something about them that fascinated me about them.
***
I must have dozed off in the chair again – it was becoming a habit – for when I woke up I was the only person in the common room left. Only a few glowing ashes were left of the blazing fire. The clock on the wall told me it was 3:30 a.m. I was just about to get up when the common room door opened. Who’d be coming back at this hour?
It was Lynn.
“Hi,” she said, with a rather guilty expression on her face.
It wasn’t my business where she had been, as I kept telling myself. Just a few days ago, we would have told each other everything. Or almost everything. I’d kept my thoughts about Raphael to myself, too.
“Hi,” I said. “Been for a late night snack from the fountain?”
“Something like that,” Lynn said sheepishly.
She approached the fireplace and suddenly froze in shock. At first, I had no idea what was going on. I was still a little drowsy and not quite awake. I followed her eyes and saw that she was staring at the little silver drummer on the table.
“What’s the matter, Lynn?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she said.
“Lynn, you were never a good liar. What’s up?” I said.
“You kept the… the figurine, then.”
“No, it’s another one. I found it in here. Lynn, what on earth is going on?”
“I told you, Beccs, nothing.”
“Lynn, if you’re in trouble…”
“No.” she said, tears flooding her eyes. “Please, Beccs, you can’t… I’m f-fine.”
“Lynn…”
“Please, leave me alone, Beccs.”
And without another word, she traipsed miserably up to our room. This was totally unlike Lynn – and it had happened two days running. Now I knew something was seriously wrong. Whatever it was, I thought grimly, I was determined to get to the bottom of this.
***
After a rough night’s sleep, I got up for an early breakfast. I raced down to the board announcing the match-ups. As one of the few last remaining first-years, I was up against Vanessa in my first match. I had been burning to beat her – and now I’d have the chance.
Finally, I found myself back in the courtyard again. This time, however, there were much fewer fighters and many more spectators than the previous day. Large banners supporting one person or another hung from the walls and battlements all around. Matches were no longer held simultaneously, but one after the other, so that the crowd would see all of them from now on. In the middle of the courtyard, there was only one designated fighting area left. It was much larger than the ones we had the day before, too.
Two older guys I didn’t recognise were currently in the ring. It was a pretty one-sided match, but the crowd still roared and yelled as enthusiastically as ever.
“Good luck for your next match, Miss Flynn,” said a voice with a slight Russian accent beside me.
I whirled around. It was Doctor Yurasov. He looked tired himself, though ablaze with a fire I hadn’t noticed before.
“Doctor Yurasov,” I said. “Good to see you.”
“You did well yesterday. I think you could have beaten your opponent, you know. She’s had many more years of practice, of course.”
“Yeah, Sarah’s really good.”
“Indeed. One of the reasons we admitted her to the Scarlet Knights. Prince Raphael and I were watching your match yesterday together.”
“You – you did?”
My query came a little too quickly, and Doctor Yurasov looked at me through his spectacles with a piercing but not unsympathetic look.
“Well, he was very impressed by the match yesterday. He’s competing this year himself, you know. Excellent swordsman. The best in many years. Though between you and me, he can get a little moody sometimes. Not surprising, of course, with all the duties he must perform since the King became ill. Prince Raphael said he’d like to train with you some time.”
My heart began pumping faster again, but I managed to hide it better this time.
“I look forward to fighting him,” I said, grinning.
“That’s the spirit,” Doctor Yurasov said approvingly. “You had better get out there, the round is about to start.”
I moved over, rapier in hand, and waited. Then, I saw Vanessa from afar. Her entrance to the courtyard was – there was no point denying it – perfect. She had a large entourage of sycophants with her – people who fawned over her because of her aristocratic background or because they wanted to be popular. I had always thought I’d leave that behind me after finishing school, but evidently some people just didn’t change.
A small girl with brown curls was carrying her rapier, while two others were egging her on for the match, praising and motivating her. She moved through the crowds behaving like a rock star. And indeed, there was no doubt, the effect she had with her stunning blonde hair and arrogant beauty was dazzling. Her outfit in purple and black was immaculate.
I tried to pull myself out of these superficialities. This was what she had intended, to intimidate and awe me before the match. To get the crowd on her side.
Finally, it was our turn.
We moved into the cordoned-off area without acknowledging one another. This wasn’t just rivalry. It was hatred that I saw when I looked in her eyes. She hadn’t stomached the defeat from Doctor Matei’s class very well, it seemed. The referee, a retired staff member who still lived at the castle, explained the rules to us one last time. The winner would be the first to get seven hits.
We heard the drums sound with a sullen, monotonous beat. The crowd, sensing the emotion in the air, was tense. Vanessa’s crew had gathered behind her, yelling insults at me and encouragements to her. The referee lifted his ancient hand. Silence. He pulled
out an old pocket watch, waiting.
“Begin,” he said as he lowered his arm.
As with all previous matches, I bowed my head slightly, but that was a massive mistake. Vanessa had pretended to bow herself but then aborted half-way to rush forward and land a hard blow to my sword arm.
Many in the crowd laughed and Vanessa withdrew, evidently pleased with herself, her entourage hooting and taunting me in the background. Some were booing, however. I felt stupid. How naïve was it to expect any sort of sportsmanship from her?
The referee frowned, but I knew he couldn’t do anything. Bowing was a custom, a long-held tradition that all vampires abided by – a matter of honour. It was a sign of Vanessa’s social position that she could get away with a thing like that. Breaking the tradition might be reprehensible, but it wasn’t technically against the rules.
Burning with a passion for vengeance, I burst forward with a quick combination of strokes, which she only narrowly evaded, parrying the last blow. She was evidently taken aback by the early aggression. But I was still fuming from the humiliating beginning and swung at her a little too wildly, opening my defences, and promptly got the reply in the form of a stab to the stomach. I down by 0 – 2. The crowd behind her jeered and cried in triumph.
I couldn’t let it get to me. I had always hated this sort of thing in school, never being one for these sports spectacles. One of the reasons I was glad to get out. But I was right in it again. No escape. Pull yourself together, I told myself, focus on her weaknesses.
But it was easier said than done. And she was getting more confident by the minute, now smartly parrying most of my blows. After fending off a particularly complicated manoeuvre I had worked very hard at, she grazed my shoulder. To my annoyance, the referee let it count. I was now down 0 – 3, with my best combinations thwarted. I needed another strategy.
The first lesson, Miss Flynn, is that you are your worst enemy.
That’s what Doctor Yurasov had told me on our very first lesson. I was playing her game, getting riled up by her mind games. I was focussing on my own weaknesses instead of hers.
