Mica (11 page)

Mica had the feeling tonight Una’s luck was about to run out. Once Sun realized she could challenge one of the fighters she’d leap into the ring. Though muscles bulged from Una’s tall frame and her punches lived up to her nickname, Mica had gotten a taste of Sun’s skill and he sensed she was as stubborn as she was talented. She also possessed experience in battle.

Still, Una was rough from fighting in the Circle and had seen her share of wars. The match would be an interesting one.

“Who will challenge the winner?” the skinny man bellowed.

“I will.” Sun stepped into the ring.

Mica smiled to himself.

Una cast her a scathing look. “Pasty-faced bitch with little muscle. A waste of my time.”

“Then it should be an easy win for you,” Sun stated calmly though flames leapt in her eyes.

Una laughed. “Who’ll bother to bet on you?”

Mica was about to wager on Sun when a feminine voice shouted, “I will. One hundred silver pieces on the white one.”

A young woman with fawn-colored hair approached the ring. She wore black silk pantaloons beneath a knee-length tunic the same pale blue as her eyes. In spite of her demure appearance she wore a mischievous expression. She glanced at Sun and the women nodded to one another.

“Done,” the old man said. “Anyone else?”

Mica lifted his hand. “Fifteen silver pieces. I have merely a Priest’s funds or else I’d
bet a thousand.”

Una threw back her head and laughed. “Mica. You should know better. Look at her.” She pointed a crooked finger in Sun’s direction. “I’ll pound her into Marta’s nut paste.”

Mica winked at Sun and a smile flickered about the corners of her mouth.

Several more bets were placed before the skinny man stepped out of the ring. Sun and Una circled one another. The women attacked simultaneously, Una’s thick fists flying at Sun’s face. Sun dodged and blocked each blow before the women broke apart, their fists raised as they assessed one another. Una snarled but Sun’s lips were fixed in a half smile. Her apparent amusement seemed to infuriate her opponent who shrieked a battle cry and flew at the Dame. Sun’s left hand blocked Una’s fist and she spun, her punch crashing into the side of her opponent’s head. Una staggered and Sun swept her feet out from under her. The crowd shrieked with excitement.

That was the quickest Mica ever remembered Una hitting the mat. Enraged, the dark warrior flipped to her feet, showering blows upon Sun who blocked like a person with second sight. Mica’s brow furrowed and he stepped closer to the ring. She’d been good with a staff but her talent for empty-handed fighting amazed him. He knew she’d learned from Sir Blaze but had thought she’d exaggerated his skill. If his student was so gifted one could only imagine the Knight’s ability.

One of Una’s punches struck Sun’s mouth. Though she’d managed to avoid the full impact of the blow, blood dripped down her chin. She seemed unhindered by the blood flow. She kicked in Una’s stomach, knocking her onto the mat. Una landed flat. Seconds later she pushed herself to her knees, her eyes unfocused and blood dripping from her nose. Casting Sun a grudging look, she stood and left the ring.

The skinny man stepped in to announce Sun’s win and asked for a challenger.

Sun glanced at Mica, her eyes gleaming with excitement and her face misted with sweat. Muscles rippled in her smooth arms as she placed her hands on her hips and searched the crowd for her next challenge. Without doubt she was the most captivating woman Mica had ever met. He only wished for the chance to know her better.

Sun fought two more matches, both with men. For each the small foreign woman bet on her. Mica also wagered, knowing they would be easy wins since the men weren’t even as skilled as Una let alone Sun. He considered them fools for not recognizing their limitations. Unfortunately some people still believed the appendage between men’s legs awarded them instant victory over women.

After the last fight Sun stepped out of the ring toward the lady in black and blue silk. Mica joined them.

“Thank you for placing the first bet,” Sun told the woman.

“My pleasure. I know a great warrior when I see one and only a fool would bet against a Dame of the Opal Order. I can tell you are a Dame by your uniform. Thank
you
for the entertainment—and the extra silver pieces.”

“I’m Sun.” She extended her hand and the lady took it. Mica noted the differences
between the two women—Sun long-limbed, powerful and nearly two heads taller than her small yet curvaceous patron.

“Milady of the House of Bluegale. It’s nice to see another stranger in Ademene.”

“Where are you from?”

“Norcliff of the Unownland.”

“I’ve heard of the Unownland. Fascinating stories.” Sun glanced at Mica, brushing a tendril of damp hair behind her ear. “They say a race of wolf people lives there. I’ve always wondered if it’s true.”

“It is,” Milady said. “Though they’re not exactly wolf people. They’re called Nalmites, an ancient and respected race who has served the Royal Houses of the Unownland for generations.”

“Then they don’t have the power to shift shape as the stories say?”

Milady laughed. “Of course not, but they are a bit different from us.”

“In what way?”

“Hey,” a bearded man bellowed from a doorway at the end of the room. “There’s a staff fighter back here who’s beaten all of our best. He’ll break the house if the wagering keeps up. Mica, come and have a look. I think he’s even got you beat.”

“Who is he?” someone shouted.

“Don’t know,” the man replied. “A stranger.”

Milady’s smile broadened. “Would you like to meet a Nalmite? My protector is here.”

“Your protector?” Sun asked.

“He’s served me since I was born. He’s assigned to me as my personal bodyguard for life. His family has always protected mine. They’re Nalmites and we’re a Royal House.”

“Come on, Mica.” Sun glanced over her shoulder as she followed Milady to the adjoining room.

“I’d like to see this stranger who is so good with a staff,” Mica said.

“It’s my protector,” Milady replied. “That’s why I came to see the sparring in this room. I got bored watching him win for the past two hours.”

Mica squinted in disbelief. “He has been winning for two hours?”

“Of course. He could probably win for the next four hours—providing the fighters here can last that long. Though it really isn’t fair. Nalmites are generally stronger than other men and he is elite among Nalmite warriors.”

“Now I really want to have a look at him,” Sun said.

They stepped into a smaller room containing a single ring. Along the back wall stood ten men whom Mica recognized as the best staff fighters in Ademene. Some nursed injuries while others, sweat drenched and looking angry, stared at the ring where two men fought. One of the men Mica recognized as another deserter from his
father’s army who had a reputation as a fierce warrior. Rivulets of sweat running down his shaved head, he blocked blows from his opponent. His opponent, apparently the Nalmite, stood several inches taller than Mica with a powerful build. A black leather vest swathed his upper body, exposing the thick muscles of his shoulders and arms.

Mica could tell by several jagged scars marking the man’s biceps that he’d seen many battles. Perspiration glistened beneath the curling hair matting the Nalmite’s well-developed chest. By his appearance and ability, he’d obviously spent his life training.

His overhanging brow and sharp cheekbones gave his face a primitive look. A beard, dark brown and wiry as the hair hanging halfway down his back, covered the lower portion of his face. Mica noted he moved with animal strength and grace, his feet shifting stances rhythmically. His wrists, hands and arms exercised complete control over the staff he wielded, making him a formidable opponent.

“Doesn’t he get tired?” Mica heard someone mutter.

“His stamina is unsurpassed,” Milady replied. “He could easily fight ten more matches.”

“He’s very good,” Mica focused on the Nalmite. “I’d like a try at him.”

Milady offered him an indulgent smile. “If you like.”

He approached the ring, Sun and Milady behind him. Moments later the Nalmite struck his opponent in the leg then across the face, knocking him to the floor and ending the fight. Mica stood close enough to see the Nalmite’s gray eyes gleaming beneath dark brows. Those eyes looked shrewd and valiant. Mica’s heartbeat quickened. He wished for the briefest moment he was the same man he’d been five years ago. Still he felt he could hold his own against Milady’s protector. Mica guessed the Nalmite was stronger than he was and nearly as skilled.

When a new opponent was summoned Mica stepped into the ring, accepting the staff one of the men tossed to him. Cheering filled the room.

“Mica,” a man shouted.

“Now we’ll see how good the stranger is,” said someone else.

Meeting the Nalmite’s steady gaze, Mica gripped his staff harder. In spite of his yearning for the Priesthood something about a good fight turned his blood to molten lava. Combat evoked similar feelings to when he imagined his body locked and writhing with Sun’s. Damn. He’d better focus on the fight or else he’d end up making a jackass of himself in front of her.

He and the Nalmite moved around the ring, their gazes locked. The Nalmite attacked and Mica countered. Staves spun and struck, deflecting blows. After several moments Mica’s heart began pounding and his breathing quickened. He’d only recently begun regular practices and though he was in better condition than he’d been in years he would need to be at his peak to best this Nalmite in a lengthy fight. Each of the man’s blows felt like an axe strike and he moved with the speed of a great cat.

Mica’s movements were serpentine in their swiftness. After several moments of trading fierce blows, he managed to strike the Nalmite in the back of the knees. The
man staggered, growling. Before he caught himself Mica whipped the staff across his face twice. Though the blow ended the fight Mica was a bit surprised the Nalmite didn’t even appear dizzy. He stood, swiped blood from his mouth and bowed his head.

Drawing several deep breaths Mica wiped sweat from his eyes and climbed out of the ring, the Nalmite beside him.

Sun and Milady joined them. Mica smiled at the approval in the Dame’s expression.

Her blue eyes raked him from head to foot. “Impressive.”

“Highly but the staff isn’t Valor’s best weapon,” Milady stated. She withdrew a silk handkerchief from her tunic and gently dabbed the Nalmite’s bleeding lip. He snatched it from her hand, an odd look passing between them, and cleaned his mouth.

“It was a good fight.” Valor turned to Mica.

He noted the Nalmite’s sharp canine teeth and the pointed tips of his ears.

“One of the best I’ve had in a long time,” Mica agreed.

Milady gestured toward the Nalmite. “This is Valor, my protector.”

Mica grinned. “I can see you must be very safe. I wondered what a lady such as yourself was doing in Circle—in one piece, that is.”

“Valor is an excellent deterrent of rapists and thieves.”

“Milady.” Valor sounded reprimanding in spite of the soft tone of his deep, rich voice. Though his expression remained impassive and he stood behind her like a respectful guardian statue, Mica noted heat in the Nalmite’s gray eyes. His family might have been born to serve Milady’s but Mica sensed Valor guarded her for more than deference to tradition—and he knew few Royals who would use a silk handkerchief to tend the wound of an ordinary slave.

“He hates it when I’m blunt,” Milady continued, “but there’s no other way to be, is there?”

Sun smiled. “Not in my mind.”

“I never thought to find another woman with your attitude.” Mica glanced from Sun to Milady. “Are you staying in Ademene long?”

“Only briefly. I’m visiting the emperor’s daughter. We’re going to the palace later.

Valor was told of the Circle and wanted to visit it while we’re here.”

“I’ll probably be seeing you again. I’m also spending the night at the palace with Mica.”

“Wonderful.” Milady looked thrilled. “I want to know all about the Dames. I’ve never known one personally. How long will you be staying here?”

“We planned to leave in the morning.”

“Too bad. Perhaps we could break our fast together?”

“I’d like that.” Sun smiled, turning to Mica. “If it’s possible?”

“I don’t see why not, especially if the emperor’s daughter approves.”

“I’ll ask her,” Milady said. She glanced at Valor. “Now if your manhood has been
appeased I’d like to go now.”

He nodded, gesturing with his hand for Milady to walk ahead and followed behind her, his tall frame dwarfing hers.

“What an odd relationship,” Sun commented once their new acquaintances were out of hearing distance.

“Do you suppose they’re merely servant and mistress?”

“It’s a bit deeper than that. Milady told me about it while we were watching you fight. It seems Valor knew the moment she was born and went to her immediately. He was the first to hold her—even before her own mother. From that moment they were inseparable. Most Royals get their Nalmite protectors in that way.”

“I thought I sensed something else but I guess I was wrong.”

“You fought very well,” Sun said. They walked back through the larger training hall to pick up her sword from Sefu. “At first I thought Valor was unbeatable. Nalmites are supposedly very strong.”

“Like a White Island yak,” Mica agreed, glad he’d managed to sneak in those strikes before Valor knocked him through the floor. Still his body tingled in the aftermath of the fight. He wasn’t sure what was happening but lately he’d felt more alive than he ever remembered.

On their way to the palace Sun glanced at Mica from the corner of her eye. He hadn’t bothered putting his robe back on but slung it over his shoulder. Perspiration streaked his face and glistened on the sleek curves of his muscular arms. His hair, still bound at his nape, lashed behind him like a whip. For a short time she’d gotten a glimpse of what he must have been like in battle—fierce, strong and skilled. She understood his need to make amends for evil acts he had committed but wondered how a man who still possessed such fire could possibly be happy as a castrated Priest.