A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes) (3 page)

BOOK: A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes)
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Magistrate Nacket continued.  “One of these men is well known to us and is, in fact, the defending Hume Champion.  Kinsu Makren!” he said, gesturing imperiously in Kinsu’s direction.  “Survivor of five Trials.  Slayer of five hundred Chims…” The last was a patent exaggeration, but Cherids did love embellishing a good story.  “Now, attempting a feat not done in a century: successful defense of the title of Grand Champion.  Should he succeed, surely his name must be written alongside those of the other great warriors of history, to be revered for time immemorial!”

Again, the crowd roared in response and stomped their feet.  Some drunken bravo could be heard over the throng, yelling for Kinsu to strike down the arrogant whelp.  Kinsu made no motion or indication that he had heard the words.  He
politely acknowledged the cheers as he waved to the audience.

Rukh flicked a glance at Kinsu, studying his opponent, hoping to find some sign of weakness.  His eyes narrowed in speculation.  Kinsu
’s posture and carriage was of a man who was tense.  Were those lines of worry around his eyes?  Rukh couldn’t be sure, but maybe Kinsu was more concerned about the outcome of this match than Rukh suspected.  After all, Kinsu was thirty-five, which wasn’t old – but maybe it was old enough.  Perhaps he was feeling the fatigue that came from fighting fifteen matches in two weeks.  And perhaps he was not as strong as Rukh feared.

A
smile of pleasure almost broke across Rukh’s face, but he quickly schooled his features to stillness, doing his best to hide his sudden hope.  Instead, he considered the possibility of victory as he idly scratched at the skin under one of his Constrainers, the leather vambraces worn by all combatants in the Tournament as a means to suppress the expression of their
Jivatma.
Until now, triumphing over Kinsu had only seemed a fantasy, but maybe there was a way.  Belief was the first step to achievement, as his nanna liked to say.  Nanna had a lot of sayings like that, and they usually turned out to have a grain of truth to them.  Another of Nanna’s aphorisms was this: show me someone who accepts losing, and I’ll show you someone who will lose.  Rukh had never considered himself a loser.  He hadn’t always won, but he’d never given up the fight before it had even begun.

He nodded to himself.  There it was.  He wouldn’t lay down for Kinsu.  Win or lose, he’d leave it all on the arena floor.  It was the best any man could hope to do.

The magistrate held his hands up again for silence, and the throng quieted to a dull murmur.  “And his opponent.  Rukh Shektan, the elder son of Dar’El Shektan, Head of House Shektan.  Rumors state that he is perhaps the finest warrior to train within the walls of any of the Martial Colleges of Ashoka in a generation.  It seems, rumor must be fact, for no one in living memory has entered the Tournament as a Virgin to the Trials.  And yet here he stands, in the finale itself, a magnificent achievement and a true testament to his skill, his House, and his Martial Masters of the House of Fire and Mirrors!  Should he win or lose, he
will
be heard from again.  And most assuredly, will he do well in his Trials and face the evils of the Wildness with unflinching courage!”

The crowd interrupted with cheers once more.  This time it was Rukh’s turn to smile and wave acknowledgement to the assemblage.  His smile faltered when he heard the same bravo who had called for Kinsu to strike him down, now yelling something coarse about his parentage.  Rukh ground his teeth.  “Jackhole,” he muttered under his breath.

Once the throng had settled, Magistrate Nacket continued.  “Today, this very evening, Rukh Shektan will attempt the improbable.  Perhaps the impossible.  Success he has had.  Great success.  But now he must face Kinsu Makren, the reigning Grand Champion,” he pointed dramatically at Rukh’s opponent who s stared impassively forward. “A man who has never known defeat within the Tournament!”

The crowd seemed bent on cheering themselves hoarse at every mention of Kinsu’s na
me.  “Should Rukh Shektan, the elder son of the ruling ‘El of House Shektan
succeed, he will be legend, for never has there been a Virgin Grand Champion.”  The magistrate continued, his voice swelling with power, soaring to every corner of the Coliseum.  “Should he succeed, it may be that someday, we will compare his exploits with that of Hume himself!”

The crowd greeted this last statement with
initial cheers which trailed off into confused mutterings.  A loud guffaw of amazed disbelief broke across the arena and scattered chuckles arose here and there.  Fol Nacket glanced around, looking offended.  Exaggeration was as natural to a Cherid as water to a fish, but comparing a Virgin, no matter how skilled, to Hume?  Ridiculous.

Rukh himself shared the crowd’s sentiment and he flushed with embarrassment.  He reddened further when Kinsu grinned and bowed melodramatically as
if in acknowledgement of Rukh’s superiority.  The older Kumma’s actions set the crowd to laughing and now even Magistrate Nacket chuckled in good humor.  The laughter spread and the throng began shouting, “RUKH SAI!  RUKH SAI!  RUKH SAI!”  They gave him the chant reserved for the Grand Champion upon his victory.

Rukh smiled.  He
chuckled with them, raising his shoke in the air, and throwing his head back as if he were basking in the crowd’s adoration.  It set off a fresh round of cheers and laughter.

After the assemblage settled down
again, the magistrate continued.  “And now gentleman,” he said speaking specifically to Rukh and Kinsu, “prepare yourselves.  Glory awaits one of you tonight!”

Rukh had trouble believing what was about to happen.  He conducted his
Jivatma
, his spiritual essence – some would say his soul.  His senses heightened, and he twitched, ready to explode into eye-blurring movement. His breathing came easier.  His focus narrowed on Kinsu to the exclusion of all else.  Rukh tightened his grip on the bamboo hilt of his shoke, lifting it to the ready.

Soon.  Get ready.  Be strong.  Focus.

He noticed Kinsu’s grim determination as well.

The roar of the crowd faded, and the last he knew of the outside world was when he heard a single word shouted from the mouth of Magistrate Nacket.  “Fight!”

Rukh leaped forward, his jump carrying him seven feet vertically, one-third his normal ability.

A blue Fireball passed below
.  It exploded against the white wall ringing the arena.  Those who had been sitting near where it impacted shouted with fear and reflexively threw their hands up to protect their faces.  No one was at risk though.  The Constrainers made sure of that.  They damped a person’s Well so the worst injury anyone hit by a Fireball might have would be a mild sunburn.  Of course, for the combatants, to be so struck would be counted a deathblow and signal the end of the fight.

Rukh dimly noted all this as he drew more
Jivatma
from his Well and threw up a Shield.  A dull green light glowed about him.  Kinsu continued with Fireballs and sparks of red flashed to the ground in an angry counterpoint when they collided with Rukh’s Shield.

They were hard blows, and Rukh knew he couldn’t take an endless number of them.  He dodged a few more, still while in mid air before landing
.  He paused, swiftly considering his options.  He was motionless for less than a split second as Kinsu sprang forward.  Rukh watched, waiting for the right moment.  When it came, he leaped forward to meet his opponent.  They clashed high above the ground, their bodies parallel with the arena floor as they exchanged blistering strokes.  Then they swept past one another.  Rukh turned in mid-air to keep Kinsu before him.  He threw a Fireball.  It screamed through the air before colliding in a coruscation of light against Kinsu’s Shield.  They completed their leaps and landed lightly on their feet, facing one another.

Even with the Constrainers, t
he two warriors moved at speeds that left most of the crowd breathless.  In fact, only the Kummas in the audience were truly able to follow their motions.

Rukh breathed easily.  He felt strong and fast.  The first pass had gone well.  He was confident in the handling of his shoke, even in comparison to Kinsu.

He took a chance.  He drew deeply on his Well, and his Shield briefly glowed more brightly.  Rukh leapt up, mirroring Kinsu.  He released a Fire Shower, an energy wave that raced outward in all directions, potentially killing everything unShielded in its path.  Kinsu was knocked further upwards and back by the concussive blast when the Shower impacted his Shield.

Though the Fire Shower left him unShielded, Rukh was prepared to race forward and attack
.  But Kinsu had already recovered with a controlled somersault.  The older Kumma threw a Fireball.

Rukh bent backward at his knees, holding his torso and thighs parallel to the ground as the glowing orb passed above.  He twisted to the right and snapped upward, spinning and jumping all in the same motion as he evaded another Fireball.  He did a front somersault over another one and landed on his feet, facing Kinsu.  He re-ignited his Shield and allowed Kinsu’s next Fireball to impact harmlessly against it. 

Not bad.

Rukh was somewhat impressed by the maneuvers he’d just pulled off, but an instant later, his eyes widened in consternation.

Kinsu had charged in behind his Fireballs while Rukh had been busy dodging them.  He was only five feet away.  Rukh didn’t have the space or time to bring his shoke to the ready.  He needed distance.  He leaped straight into the air with Kinsu paralleling his jump, following closely.  The slight increase in separation was all Rukh needed.  Their shokes hammered against one another.  The two of them kept at it even as they landed, attacking and defending in classic Ashokan sword patterns.  The final was a particularly bad pass for Rukh.  Several of Kinsu’s strokes had gotten through his defense and rocked his Shield.  They separated once more and stood facing one another.

Suwraith’s spit, but Kinsu was strong.

Rukh’s palms stung from the heavy blows, and he had difficulty stabilizing his Shield.  It wavered, flickering for a moment before he was able to bring it back under control.  Kinsu fired several Fireballs upon seeing Rukh’s shaky defenses, but again the only result was a brilliant display of sparks.

They paused
, assessing one another.  Rukh was still fit and breathed easily, but he was worried.  He was game for the fight, but he knew he was reaching his limits.  His Well, the source of his
Jivatma
was emptying too quickly.  Fifteen hard matches in less than two weeks had taken their toll.

By now, the entire arena was cast in shadows, and the sun was barely above the horizon.  There wasn
’t much daylight or time left in this, the final match.  Rukh knew he had to go all out, and now, if he wanted to win.

H
e feinted right, but charged from the left.  Kinsu met him in the middle.  Again they exchanged heavy, fast blows.  Their swords blurred, and even the Kummas in attendance had difficulty keeping track of the strokes.  Rukh was the first to disengage and he jumped straight back fifteen feet.  He wanted to shake out his stinging hands, but he didn’t have the time, and he couldn’t afford to show weakness.

He needed a distraction.

He threw three Fireballs in quick succession, charging in behind them, just as Kinsu had done to him earlier.  Rukh attacked, and this time it was Kinsu who gave way, leaping backwards.  Rukh almost raced forward, but just then he noticed a slight brightening of Kinsu’s Shield.  He jumped upward and Kinsu’s Fire Shower passed underneath.  Rukh launched Fireballs at his unShielded opponent, but Kinsu dodged them with ease and closed the distance in a blur.

Now the older Kumma tested him.  It was skill with sword alone, and Rukh found himself unable to disengage.  Kinsu bull rushed, and Rukh defended but was still pushed back.  Every attempt he made to attack or
even just hold his ground was anticipated.  Kinsu struck hard and fast.  His strokes seemed to have more power now than they had at the beginning of the match.  Rukh’s mouth hung open as he panted for breath.  His
Jivatma
was
thinning.  His stamina was fading.  It took all he had just to maintain his Shield and speed.

Kinsu was winning.

Rukh was backed up almost to the arena wall.  He tried desperately to gain more room.  He feinted left and right but always Kinsu was there to meet him, pounding at his defenses.  He even tried leaping over Kinsu, but he was met in mid-air by the older Kumma and shoved back toward the wall. Rukh gasped for air, and so did Kinsu, but his older opponent was obviously the fresher of the two.

Rukh had long since lost any feeling in his hands as a result of Kinsu’s heavy blows.  His legs trembled
, and his arms shook.  The end was near, and he prepared to meet it.  Nothing he could do would change the outcome.  He was defeated, and the tip of his shoke dipped tiredly to the ground.

Kinsu smiled and withheld his attack for a fateful moment.  “You’ve done well, young Master, but you are not yet ready.  Perhaps next time.”  His voice was surprisingly high and reedy, and his eyes reflected his imminent victory.  He knew he had won.  All he need do was apply the killing stroke.

Rukh’s eyes flashed in anger.  Kinsu’s smile and words ignited one last fire.  He wouldn’t go down like this.  Kinsu would have to earn his victory.

BOOK: A Warrior's Path (The Castes and the OutCastes)
5.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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