by T. H. Hunter
I went into a more defensive stance to buy time and let myself cool off a little. I wouldn’t win this with uncontrolled rage, so much was clear.
But what was her weakness? It was surely the same thing that it had been in class at the beginning of the year. She was arrogant and over-confident. It was a flaw she’d never be able to shake off. And I needed to take advantage of that.
She was expecting me to attack as before. So I’d give her what she wanted, only with a twist this time. I lunged forward in what seemed like a wild attack, though keeping an eye on my footing this time. After the initial flurry, she’d try to move in for the hit, and that would be my chance.
And sure enough, Vanessa stepped in right at the moment when I suddenly withdrew from the attack, leaving her exposed. I landed a blow, as hard as I could, on her left arm. With grim satisfaction, I saw that it hurt.
The crowd cheered and booed. It was still massively divided, with many, if not most, supporting Vanessa. But I didn’t care anymore.
“You got lucky once, Flynn, it won’t happen again,” Vanessa said, spitting into the sand on which we were standing.
“You seem to have to say that pretty often.”
Suddenly, she lunged forward again. But this time, I was ready – I wasn’t going to fall for her tricks a second time. I diverted the blow to my side and went in for a clean counter, making it 2 – 3. I was catching up.
I continued with my strategy, trying to provoke her into attacking me in a seemingly vulnerable position. She wasn’t taking the bait, but I knew she was longing to do so. That ruthless hunger showed in her pale blue eyes.
Finally, she just couldn’t take it anymore. With vicious force, she aimed her rapier at my head – a move that drew a gasp from the crowds. I heard the referee protesting next to me, but I was too focussed. I dodged her last attack and lunged.
Desperate to avoid the hit, Vanessa moved backwards but lost her balance and fell to the ground. With any other opponent, I would have immediately refrained from attacking out of fairness. This was different. But that small moment of hesitation, that last vestige of civilised conduct lost me the milliseconds she needed. With her left hand, she had grabbed some sand and threw it into my eyes and swung the blade at my leg at the same time. I was just a little too late, and it connected painfully with my shin, which gave a horrible crack.
She had extended her lead to 2 – 4, but at a terrible price. She had lost the crowd. Even her entourage in the background seemed perturbed by her conduct, if only because it would reflect badly upon them. The “Go, Vanessa!” signs were held up only half-heartedly from now on. Many in the crowd were booing.
The elderly referee was muttering under his breath that he’d never seen something like this during a tournament. Above us, on the battlements where the teachers and members of the Scarlet Knights were sitting, an air of disapproval – even hostility towards my opponent – was tangible.
Outwardly, her arrogant demeanour hadn’t changed a bit, but I knew that if I played my cards right from now on, I could pull the crowd entirely on my side and use it against her. But she was still dangerous, and we were about even in skill.
I edged forward, only slightly, moving my rapier in small circles, like a fly annoying a bull. I knew she couldn’t resist for long. And sure enough, her excellent three-strike combination was her answer. I moved back enough to stay out of reach, still goading her into attacking, slowly moving around the designated fighting area. Then, she lunged again, but I was faster and got her right on her shoulder pad. The crowd erupted in cheers. I was catching up, and she was rapidly losing concentration, though she was perhaps fiercer than ever. My shin still hurt and impeded my usual movements.
The fight raged on. I got the next blow. In a slight miscalculation, she grazed my thigh, which was counted as a solid hit. I got the subsequent two. I was finally ahead, leading by 6 – 5. The momentum was on my side. Nevertheless, anything could happen. And you never knew what sort of foul trick she’d use to win.
We circled each other like tigers. My guard was low, my mind focussed, ready to react at the slightest move. But Vanessa, rattled by the way the battle had developed, also moved into a defensive stance.
“Think your fans will still love you when you lose, Vanessa?” I said.
“At least I’ll have some after this match. You’re little streak of luck is over, Flynn.”
And with those words, she moved in for the kill. She aimed a high attack. I parried it just in time and, for a second, our blades were interlocked. Her face was screwed up in hatred, and then, she kicked at my damaged shin, hard. I yelled and there was a sharp intake of breath from the crowd
The pain was beyond belief. Vanessa smiled venomously, drawing her hand back for a finishing blow. It was now or never. With all my remaining strength, I knocked my body into her swordarm, which was propelled backwards, sending her rapier flying backwards. With my right hand, I thrust my rapier forward, hitting her right in the stomach.
I had won by 7 – 5. She tumbled backwards from the force of the blow, stunned more by the gradual realisation of defeat. The crowd burst into a roar of applause. As I looked around me, the battlements were filled with people violently clapping their hands or raising their fists into the air in jubilation. On the other end of the courtyard, Vanessa’s entourage was stunned. They had no idea what to do. After all their abuse, the sight was satisfying to say the least.
***
Partying was part and parcel of the every year’s tournament. And today couldn’t have been a better day. I was reborn, exhilarated. The Great Hall was abuzz with laughter and wine. People were singing and chanting, retelling the fights of the day with increasing exaggeration. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time. I just wished I could have shared all this with Lynn.
I had joined Sarah’s table. Some of the Knights were there, too, as well as Steve.
“Beccs, what a fight! Vanessa was furious.”
He laughed heartily.
“Where is she anyway?” asked Sarah, who had also been following the duel with great interest.
“Oh, sulking somewhere, no doubt,” Steve said. “I heard she’s really cut up about it. You’d better watch your back, Beccs. She won’t forget that humiliation easily.”
“I hope not,” I said. “So who are you facing next, Steve?”
His handsome face twisted itself into a look of dismay.
“Jayden.”
“Really?” Sarah chipped in. “He’s really good. I think they’ve been considering him for the Knights. Don’t tell anyone I told you, though. They like to keep these things to themselves.”
“Where is Jayden, anyway?” I asked.
“Dunno,” Steve said. “He’s been acting kinda strange lately.”
“How come?”
“Getting back to the dorm at 4 o’clock in the morning. Irritable and moody. I don’t know what’s up.”
“You know, Lynn’s been a bit like that, too. I wonder what’s going on,” I said.
“Beats me,” Steve said.
We spent the rest of the evening listening to retellings of fights of the day. Steve had managed to get into the next round, but only barely. I wished him to win, of course, but from what I had seen, Jayden was much better at swordfighting.
“So who are you up against next, Beccs?”
“I don’t know. I checked the tournament notice board several times. But it doesn’t say.”
“Oh, the decider’s probably one of the matches tomorrow morning,” Sarah said. “Hey, why don’t we all watch them together after breakfast?”
We all agreed to meet for breakfast and I went up to my room to snatch a few hours sleep. Lynn, as expected, wasn’t there. As I lay on my bed, exhausted, the images of the day flew past my mind’s eye in a whirl. The borders between passing out or falling asleep had never been this hazy.
***
The last day of the tournament promised to be even more tumultuous than the previous one. Many vampires fr
om all around the world had come just to see the finals. Extra chairs and makeshift tables had been set up in the Great Hall to accommodate those who had arrived in time for breakfast.
After a few slices of toast and a brief chat with Steve and Sarah, I walked over to the noticeboards. I was eager to find out who I was up against. The huge poster from the first day that had sported hundreds of names was replaced by a sheet of paper with 64 names. Neat brackets at the bottom denoted the quarter and semifinals that would occur later in the day. The grand final match was to take place in the Great Hall in the evening. My first opponent of the day would be Jayden, who had had an exemplary performance during the tournament so far.
It would be a tough match.
***
At the allotted time, I was waiting for him, rapier in hand. He was late. The referee was the same old man that had refereed my match against Vanessa. He checked his old-fashioned pocket watch every few minutes, tut-tutting under his breath.
“I will have to disqualify that young gentleman if he doesn’t arrive soon.”
He smiled, his wrinkly face stretching like a mask.
“I know we shouldn’t have favourites, Miss Flynn,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But I think skill and fair play prevailed eventually in your match against Miss Vanessa Demaine.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad you feel that way, sir.”
He checked his pocket watch again. Jayden was still nowhere to be seen. Though he was a strong opponent, I was really looking forward to fighting him.
“I am afraid I must disqualify him. Congratulations, Miss Flynn, you may enter the quarter-finals.”
I thanked him again, though I didn’t think congratulations were in order. It wasn’t really a victory at all, just a matter of the opponent not showing up. It didn’t feel deserved somehow.
I spent the early morning watching the other matches with Sarah and Steve, who had lost a second time and was therefore out of the tournament.
“Want to watch it from above?” he asked, slightly mischievously.
“Yeah. Sure. From the battlements you mean?”
“From the skies, Beccs. That’s where I’ll take you some day.”
“Oh, come off it, Steve,” I said, punching him hard in the ribs.
We made our way up to the battlements. Steve was right, it had been a good idea. A little further away, right above the gatehouse in a cordoned-off area, were members of the royal family and the most esteemed guests. The King, as was to be expected, was still ill apparently, so his chair was left empty.
“You there, out of the way,” a sharp voice came from beside us.
I turned around and was just about to give a snarky answer when I noticed who it was. The Queen’s chamberlain and the Queen herself had arrived on the battlements to watch the matches. I couldn’t remember seeing her the previous two days. They were accompanied by about a dozen elite swordsmen.
“What are you dreaming about, girl? Make room for your Queen,” the chamberlain barked at me.
I shot him a venomous look but didn’t say anything. Taking my time, I stepped back. The Queen’s gaze briefly scanned me from bottom to top in a highly dismissive manner.
When they had passed and settled in their seats, Steve turned to me.
“What a b-”
“Yeah,” I said. “I hope they don’t treat all of their subjects that way. They might have revolution on their hands.”
“Pssh,” Steve said in a hushed panic. “Are you crazy talking like that? That sort of stuff can land you in serious trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“There was a plot to kill the Royal Family two years ago. They’re really sensitive about that topic, believe me.”
“Who tried to kill them? The Slayers?”
“Nobody knows for sure, but a lot of people reckon it’s the Outlaws who were behind it. Some even claim it was someone close to them.”
“You mean, someone within the castle? Why would they want to kill them?”
“’Well, they backed the whole peace process. And they were the driving force for banning bloodsucking. That made them unpopular everywhere.”
***
The following match was very one-sided and over pretty quickly. Sarah was to fight in the next match.
We wished her good luck as she made her way down the stairs to the fighting area. From the outset, she was on top of her game, but her opponent – a wiry girl with outstanding technique – gave her a run for her money. She managed a victory at 7 – 4.
After a short break, the next match was about to begin, though there was only one person in the ring. A massive man I’d never seen in the castle before, built like a rock. He must have been over 7 feet tall at least. His huge arms made the sword in his hand look like a toothpick. On closer inspection, I noticed to my surprise that his weapon was not a rapier but a scimitar. Other weapons were allowed (with exceptions such as polearms and spears), though most people chose the rapier since it was such an excellent duelling weapon. The curved scimitar, however, was a cutting weapon that was not ideal for duelling, though very good for larger engagements.
“Who’s the giant?” I asked Steve, who was browsing the match list in his hand.
“Lord Rankin,” he said. “Never heard of him.”
And then, I saw Raphael enter. He was dressed all in black, sporting a quilted vest with the royal emblem – a crown with a red ruby in it. It matched his dark hair. The crowd’s obvious favourite, they burst into applause as soon as he entered the courtyard. But Raphael was focussed only on his opponent.
The match began with a vicious first exchange. Lord Rankin, his massive body moving with unexpected speed, was using sweeping motions to cover his body. Raphael, who seemed unperturbed by any posturing, was testing his defences. Lord Ranking was parrying Raphael’s attempts until he himself unleashed an extraordinarily powerful series of attacks of his own, his hammer blows hitting steel with deafening clangs.
But brute force couldn’t contain Raphael’s skilful mastery for long. Instead of bearing the brunt of Lord Rankin’s attacks, Raphael’s clever deflections and evasions allowed him to use his opponent’s enormous strength against him. Lord Rankin’s misses were costly, for the force behind his blows meant that he recovered far slower to meet his opponent’s counter-attacks. At the first sign of weakness, Raphael quickly took advantage by landing a dexterous blow on Lord Rankin’s massive chest. Raphael was in the lead, and the crowd erupted in enthusiastic cheers. The monarchy might be extremely unpopular, but the young Prince certainly wasn’t.
The rest of the match continued in a similar vein. Lord Rankin managed to score points later on – one of which was a particularly painful hit to the shoulder – but he was no match for Raphael. It ended 7 – 3 in the latter’s favour. They bowed and shook hands.
“I wish I could fight like that,” Steve was saying as we stepped down the stairs leading to the courtyard again. “And against Lord Rankin! What a beast.”
“Yeah,” I said, thoroughly enjoying the post-game. “He made it look easy, but just a couple of more hits from that guy and you won’t be too quick on your feet anymore.”
“Who’re you up against later?”
“I’d better check. I’ll catch you later, Steve.”
“Yeah, see you, Beccs.”
***
Due to Jayden’s mysterious absence, I had qualified for the quarter-finals. As fate usually had it, I was sure I’d pay heavily if I’d wanted to reach the next round. I was up against Sarah once again. There’d be no second chances this time. If I lost, I was definitely out.
The sun had bathed the courtyard in a golden shade when we walked out to fight against each other once again. I knew she had deserved her last victory, but I was dying to prove myself, to win.
It started off as badly as the last match. Before I knew it, I was down 0 – 2. Her defensive posture as impenetrable as ever. But as tournaments went, the wear and tear of the previous
days showed on all of us, and I knew that Sarah wouldn’t be an exception.
I decided to play the long game this time – no quick victories were possible. If I could lower her concentration through exhaustion, I might stand a chance.
I fell into a defensive stance myself, letting her do the work for a change. Her eagle eye was looking for openings, but I had learnt to see her attacks coming from our last match.
With extraordinary speed, she launched a series of attacks that aimed for my torso. I parried all of them, starting my own attack afterwards. We went back and forth like this for quite a while. She really was an exceptional swordfighter.
I was catching up slowly, landing a hit once every few minutes, always after long engagements. She landed a few of her own, but her technique was getting less perfect. Finally we reached a tie at 5 – 5. Two more points to win for either side.
The game had been very competitive so far. But now, it turned into something else as our will to win overshadowed the mutual friendliness. Sarah was white in the face, biting her lip in determination. She lunged at me, a stab I deflected just in time, only for her to spin to my side and aim a blow at my shoulder. I dodged sideways and moved in, closing the gap between us. Before she could recover, I struck her right ribs with the blunt tip of my rapier. I was in the lead, for the first time in the match.
Until then, I had been so focussed that I hadn’t heard the crowd at all. But now, as my concentration briefly slipped, I heard the eruption of applause and roars from the stands. The spectators were enjoying the show, so much was certain.
Taking advantage of my wandering mind, Sarah rushed towards me. I side-stepped her again, and lunged, though she managed to parry just in time. She was in an awkward position, so I decided to stay on the offence.
She fought like a lion. Caught on the backfoot, she dodged, parried, riposted, and lunged as if she were fighting for her life. There was no getting through.
I relented, making time to think. She remained in her defensive posture now, recognising her earlier mistake. I couldn’t lose my initiative and the momentum for attack. It was time to think outside of the box.
