She was shocked to see me alive.
She’d been the one to lay the trap. She’d convinced me Yasuo’s life was in danger, knowing that leaving our dorm at midnight would mean almost-certain death.
It was time to show von Slutling she was messing with the wrong girl. I plopped next to her as we all gathered on the bleachers. “I hope I didn’t wake you when I got in last night. ”
I nonchalantly tightened the empty scabbard at my calf. “And don’t even think about tattling like you did with the iPod. There’s no way you can prove I went out after curfew. ” I gave her my most sparkling smile. “You wouldn’t believe what goes on at those standing stones at night. ”
Her shocked, gaping stare almost made my unsettling interlude with Master Alcántara worthwhile.
“It’s time, Acari. ” Watcher Priti called us to attention. She went to the sparring ring and leaned a small chalkboard alongside. “Find your name listed among the pairs of challengers. You should already be familiar with our combat-sparring rules. ”
She was right—I had them memorized. The Rules of Combat:1. Half point given for generalized contact above or below waist.
2. Full point given for “critical points” contact (eyes, groin, etc. ).
3. A match lasts five minutes or until five points are accrued.
4. Knockout blow is an instant win.
5. Full-body throw executed in the first ten seconds is an instant win.
6. Only time elapsed, points earned, instant win, or unconsciousness may stop a challenge once begun.
I scanned the board and found my name three lines down. Drew vs. Claire. It was the pretty Idaho girl who, with Stefinne, had been the only other Acari to survive her group’s night hike.
She glared at me.
Great. My buddy Claire. She’d had me in her sights—and had been Lilac’s bosom buddy—ever since that night.
Two students were stationed at the weapons locker, handing out our short swords and daggers. We didn’t get the real thing for sparring. Instead, we were issued special blades that had the heft of real steel but with blunted edges.
Girls clustered in a circle in front of the locker. The humming sound of their whispers reminded me of a swarm of bees. Lilac stood at the center, the tall and leggy queen of them all. She caught my eye. “Good luck,” she told me brightly.
I gave her a wary nod. Her words had come out too friendly, and it worried me. I wondered what she had up her sleeve.
But I didn’t have time to give it much thought, because the matches began soon thereafter. The first two challenges went quickly, neither lasting the full allotted time. The first winner finished with five points to three, in an impressive two minutes of combat. The second scored a knockout blow to the back of her competitor’s skull in the first minute. For a moment, I’d thought Priti might need to call for the Tracers, but the girl shook it off and staggered from the ring.
It was a shock seeing girls go at one another so brutally. But in our sparring, no body part was off-limits. In fact, contact with sensitive anatomy—kidneys, head, kneecap, groin—earned higher points. Priti told us, as I’d been told so many times already, that this was beca
use there were no handicaps in the real world. Real opponents would aim precisely for something like our eyes, and so we needed to prepare accordingly.
“Acari Drew versus Acari Claire,” Priti announced, calling us to the mat.
I climbed into the ring, bobbing on my feet, shaking out my hands, rolling my shoulders. I’d secured my sparring dagger at my left calf, and held my short sword in my right hand, swishing it, testing its weight with diagonal slices.
Idaho Claire stood in the other corner. She had a few inches on me, and some wiry, nature-girl muscles, but my small size made me fast, and I felt pretty good.
Watcher Priti struck the gong and the tournament clock reset, its numbers blinking to 5:00 for the challenge countdown. She struck the gong again, and we met in the center of the ring.
Claire hopped from foot to foot like a monkey, but I concentrated on the feel of the mat beneath me, repeating Priti’s mantra in my head. I am roots in the earth. I am water that flows. I am grounded. I am Watcher.
She sprang at me and I dodged her easily, imagining myself as a tree swaying in the wind. I am roots in the earth, I thought, marveling that I did feel grounded. My posture stable and steady.
I extended my weapon, and she came at me again, our swords meeting with a loud metal clang. The impact resonated up my arm, but I gave it no thought. I concentrated on my connection to the mat. I was unshakable, unflappable.
The key to successful combat was simplicity. A true fighter frowned on showy flourishes, avoiding elaborate footwork and unnecessary displays.
Mindful of this, I shuffled forward, my sword waving before me just enough that I could maintain a visceral feel for its weight, its length. I’d yet to attempt my first strike, and it made Claire overconfident. She couldn’t resist the flourishes and showed off with a quick feinting attack that I easily parried.