Chapter 9 This Is Why We Fight #4
There was an eerie silence in the hall. I sensed others watching on the upper mezzanine level, but I kept my attention fixed on Isabella.
I loosened my knees, bending them, and moved my right foot forward.
I held the sword in my right hand in a low position, the blade rising diagonally in the air.
As Derrick taught me, my free hand was forward and to my side.
“Either opponent may surrender at any time by saying, “I yield” or if you cannot speak, by laying down your weapon. Being unable to move or being rendered unconscious also ends the match. Remember, grappling and close combat is permitted in Raicanya,” Caelan said. “Begin!”
My body felt weightless in the stance I was most comfortable in.
My bracers were metal-plated and sufficient to block a blade if needed.
I kept Isabella in sight, her face no longer smiling but focused and unreadable.
She chose a similar blade to my own. My heart rate slowed to a steady rhythm, and my sight was only for her.
I heard her breathing. She took quick breaths, perhaps nervous.
I held my blade low and to the side, waiting for her to make the first move.
“Remember, your weapon is an extension of self—do not let your opponent disarm you,” Caelan said, but he sounded far away.
Derrick was in my mind.
Feel your blade.
And I could. It was like it had been missing all this time.
Isabella moved. She lunged, her sword clashing loudly with mine.
I parried, the sound of the metal screeching throughout the room as I forced her to stagger back.
I immediately took the opening and delivered a powerful side kick.
Isabella faltered. I quickly flourished my blade and reset into my defensive position.
She didn’t fall as I expected, quickly resuming her stance. I raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but didn’t wait for her to recuperate.
We sparred, both of us watching, learning, testing our own abilities while gathering the skill of the other.
My pulse quickened, and excitement rushed unbound within me.
An opponent with training, someone on equal footing with me; I’d never had that before.
Nor had I ever been allowed to use all my skills.
The room was silent, except for the clashing of steel, as the others watched with intent, no doubt absorbing our styles, our tactics.
I rushed her, feigning a frontal attack and quickly sidestepped at the last moment, spinning and snapping my blade within inches of her neck. At the same time, I used the metal of my bracer to block her blade.
“Damn, Anna,” she muttered, her breathing labored as she gave me an annoyed smirk.
“I yield,” she called.
We each took a step back and bowed.
“Nicely done, both of you,” Caelan said. “Anna, you will be advancing to the next round.”
Next round?
“The winners of the next three matches will also move on to the next round. You two, you’re up,” he said, pointing at Isaac and Skylar.
Isabella and I found a place against the wall to sit and watch the match.
“I didn’t realize this was a tournament,” I muttered.
“Me either,” Isabella said. “I wouldn’t have let you get off that easy.”
I glared at her. “You’re better than I thought you’d be.”
She scoffed. “Give me a few months. I’m rusty.”
I laughed.
“Seriously, though,” she said. “Who trained you?”
“He was a friend of my mom’s,” I said.
Isabella harrumphed and leaned her head against the wall.
I wanted to watch the match, but my head was still spinning from the adrenaline rush.
“Isaac will move on to the next round,” Caelan called.
“Poor Skylar,” Isabella muttered.
I glanced at Skylar. She didn’t seem bothered at all to have lost. I had a feeling she threw the match on purpose. She was more of an intellectual.
Reece and Eli had a quick match. Reece clearly was not interested in Raicanya, and Eli complained loudly about wanting a real opponent.
“You will get your turn in the next round,” Caelan said. “Riya, Ji-Han.”
Riya and Ji-Han’s match was intense. Both were skilled and had some scary moves. If I hadn’t seen the moves beforehand, they might have gotten me. In the end, Riya yielded. Ji-Han was fast, probably faster than me.
My match with Isaac was up next. While talented with a sword, he lacked real sparring experience that incorporated grappling.
Anytime I got near him, he had no idea what to do.
I feigned a forward thrust, falling to my knees and sliding beneath him, and swept his feet out from under him with my legs.
I pinned him to the ground, hands behind his back, disarming him in the process.
Isabella was shaking her head as I returned to our spot on the floor behind the pillars.
“What was that?” she said. “I get a blade to the throat, and he gets tripped?”
I gave her a wry glance. “Jealous?”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she mused.
I shrugged. “Kind of. It’s the only thing here that I’m bound to be any good at.”
“Psh,” Isabella said. “I think you’re going to kill it here.”
“What makes you say that?”
She pursed her lips and looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I have a feeling.”
“Nicely done, Ji-Han,” Caelan said.
I glanced at Eli, who was slowly getting up from the mat. He caught my eye and gave me a wink. That guy. I gave him a smirk and shook my head. I mouthed, “You’re still Captain America to me.”
A grin spread across his face as he made it to the other side of the room, slid into a seated position, and closed his eyes.
“Final round,” Caelan said. I glanced at Isabella.
She looked worried. Grabbing my sword by the hilt, I stood up and went to the center of the hall.
Ji-Han was ready, his brow lined with sweat.
He was probably more dangerous after two warm-up battles than if I’d faced him sooner.
I knew his strengths already, though. I couldn’t let him get behind me, nor could I let him land a kick.
Ji-Han and I hadn’t spoken much besides the occasional nod. Now his attention was fully focused on me. There was a charge in the air between us, something nearly tangible that had my heart racing more than I cared for. This would be quick.
“Begin!”
We both charged forward. Our swords met in a loud clash of metal.
Thrust after thrust, each met with a block and followed by a counterattack.
My arms were shaking as I blocked his next strike.
I clutched the hilt of my sword in one hand and braced the blade with my other.
It took all my strength to maintain the block as he used both hands to push his blade against mine.
But it wasn’t enough. The pressure was too much, and I was forced to take a step back, and another.
My blade was pressing into my palm, cutting into the skin.
One more shove, that was all he needed, and I’d break.
And he knew it. When it came, he thrust so hard my hold shattered, the blades breaking to an opening.
I tried to brace with my arms for the blow, but he was faster. He landed a kick to my chest.
It was powerful, and I was lifted into the air. My back struck one of the pillars with a crack. Pieces of the column were crushed as I slid to the floor. He was coming. For a breathless moment, panic gripped me. Then something inside me broke free.
It was wild, raw, and electric—a surge of energy that obliterated every rational thought. My body moved on instinct, driven by a fierce, primal will I couldn’t name. I didn’t think. I acted.
It was as if time stood still. I sensed Isabella’s fear. I felt Ji-Han’s confidence. But most of all, I felt my own power dwelling deep within me.
Before Ji-Han got to land his punch, I lunged to the side, my hands and feet skidding across the mat, dragging my sword.
I jumped to my feet, holding the hilt of my sword at my shoulder with both hands, the blade pointed ahead of me, and charged.
Our blades clashed, and the surge from the blows ran through the sword and up my arm.
My arm throbbed painfully, and I faltered.
It wasn’t just from the blow—it was something else, something electric, something crippling coursing through along my veins, bones, and nerves all at once.
What was this? My hand tensed. The hilt slipped from my grasp, and the sword banged against the mat as my chest seized.
My knees hit the mat with a thud, my body paralyzed from the foreign presence still fraying my thoughts—and that was all the opening he needed.
In a blur of motion, he twisted his body, locking my arm, and pulled me into a brutal hold. I barely kept his sword at bay as I strained against him. Every muscle in my body screamed, but his grip was unyielding.
Panic flashed through me. Vulnerable. Defenseless.
But then the surge of power I felt before flared to life once more—hot, raw, and uncontrollable. It was wild, electric, flooding my veins, overriding the paralysis and fear with something more dangerous.
I wrenched with a desperate twist. Pain shot through my shoulder as I tried to break free of his hold.
We struggled, neither gaining the upper hand, still locked in a tense hold with my back to his chest. Driven by instinct and something deeper, I calmed.
With only feeling, I threw my weight against his chest. As he stumbled, I jumped, flipping over him and using his shoulders as a springboard, and knocked him to the floor.
I never let go of his arm, twisting it as I went until there was a sickening crack in the air.
This was it.
His grip loosened on the hilt of the sword, and I reached for it, wrenching it away from his hand as I landed behind him in a crouched position, his sword firmly in my hand, parallel to my outstretched leg.
Ji-Han quickly got to his feet; his face twisted in pain.
I could hardly breathe because of the chokehold he had me in.
How had I let him get hold of me? Anger flared through my veins like fire.
I was cold and alone again, barely seventeen, fighting for my life, and no one was coming to save me.
He could’ve killed me, and I had no way of stopping him.
I couldn’t let him get hold of me again. I had to stop him. For good.
Rising swiftly, I sliced the sabre through the air, a rush of energy flowing through me.
It struck fast, like a blur of motion I could not see.
The hall fell into stunned silence.
Ji-Han stumbled. His chest armor split open, blood welling along the deep, crimson line I’d carved across his skin. The vibrant red bloomed, shocking against the pale canvas of his chest.
Everything stopped. My breath hung in my throat as guilt slammed into me.
My sabre trembled in my hand. Had I done it again?
Had I let in a darkness that I had no control over and hurt someone?
This was my fault, just like that night in the cabin.
I’d done this to him, just like I’d killed my mom. What was wrong with me?
Ji-Han pressed a hand to the wound, his expression tightening with pain but not anger. His eyes found mine, sharp with shock and something else—something unreadable.
"I—" The words tangled in my throat, hollow and useless. I didn’t mean to.
The instructor’s voice broke through the numb haze. "Get him to a medic."
A rush of movement followed, whispers broke out around the hall, but I couldn’t move. My feet were rooted to the floor, my chest tight with the weight of what I’d done.
Ji-Han, breathing hard but steady, offered a faint, grim smile as blood slicked his fingers. "You don’t hold back, do you?"
"I didn’t mean—" The apology faltered, useless on my tongue.
"Stop. We’ll spar again," he said, voice rough but certain.
As the instructor guided him toward the sidelines, I stood frozen, the wild rush still thrumming faintly beneath my skin. Whatever had taken over me in that moment hadn’t left completely.
And I didn’t know whether to be terrified or excited.