‹ Prequel: The Pauper Princess
Status: Currently undergoing renovations.
The Game
Two
“Hurry up!” I whisper fiercely. He keeps looking back toward the city walls. We’re already so far into the woods that the lights of the city are a faint glow in the distance. The woods are quiet as we pass through. Except for the shuffle of our own feet and an occasional rustling of the nighttime creatures waking from slumber, the night is silent. I reach back and manage to find his wrist. I drag him forward to walk beside me.
He jerks his arm away without a word and I let go of his wrist. For the next mile, though, he keeps up with me, although I still catch him glancing back over his shoulder every few steps. He’s always worrying about getting caught, but I’m confident that we’ve slipped out of the city unnoticed- just like every other time. Ekohl’s apprehension always manages to unsettle me, though. What if someone did see? What if someone follows our tracks? Was that rustling’s not just an animal?
I forcefully push these thoughts away with a shake of my head. I refuse to let Ekohl’s paranoia ruin this. If anyone was following us, we’d have known it by now. Within a few minutes, we’ve reached our destination anyway. The dense trees open into a large, mostly circular clearing. The light from the moon illuminates the short, patchy grass and scuffed dirt that remains in what used to be a beautiful secluded meadow. Now, with the frequency of trainings- both my own and the Kyshian military’s- the only sign of beauty that remain are the few wildflowers that still grow on the perimeter.
I drop my bag by a grouping of trillium, careful not to crush them, and start unloading it. I strap on my blades, one over my right shoulder and the other on my belt by my left hip. The blades are thin and light, but strong enough to take a blow. Their length is halfway between a knife and a sword, and it took months to procure them. They could be deadly, even in my still-learning grip, but Kahlin insists I keep the edges dulled for our own safety.
Once I’ve slipped off the skirt over my trousers and refastened my belt, I pull one last thing from my bag and stride out into the clearing. I look back at Ekohl standing a few paces behind me, staring up at the waning moon and fingering the hilt of the dulled practice blade I snuck out of the armory.
“Don’t hold back,” I order. Ekohl’s frown is his only reaction. He opens his mouth as he lowers his gaze from the sky, but I turn away and lift the blindfold to tie it over my braided hair. He sighs heavily but says nothing. I tighten the knotted fabric. It squeezes painfully tight around my head, but at least it will stay in place.
I hear Ekohl’s boots scuff the ground to my left as he circles around me. I concentrate, filtering out the forest sounds and focusing on Ekohl’s movements. After three steps he stops. I reach for the my blades and unsheathe them as quietly as I can, listening for signs of an attack. He inches to the right, treading so lightly I can just barely hear him. I track him with my ears and shift into a ready stance.
He steps forward quickly and strikes high. I throw my weight left and sidestep, crossing my blades in front of my chest. I felt the wind when he passed and know he’s to my right and slightly behind. I turn slightly to keep him in front of me.
He steps forward and his sword hits the blade in my right hand. I push up as I deflect it to the right and drop slightly. He steps back quickly and circles, forcing me to turn with him. He comes in lower this time, I hear the sword whistling toward my stomach. I jerk backward and stumble. He steps in before I regain my balance and knocks me to the ground. He pins me for a moment, but swing my fist- still clutching my blade- where I figure his head must be. He pulls back just enough for me to quickly roll out from under him and return to my stance.
We continue like this for some time, his attacks coming quickly. He attacks again before I have time to acclimate myself, testing my ability to react. We fall into a rhythm, and I manage to stave off most attacks without falling again.
And then suddenly his attacks stop. I try to slow my breathing so I can hear over it. The night falls silent. I can’t hear him. For a moment I think he’s done for the night. But he would have said something if that were true. My heartbeat throbs in my ears and I strain to hear past it. I readjusted after the last attack to keep him in front of me, and I turn my head slightly to listen. Something scuffs the ground just right of where he should have been. I readjust my stance to center him when something lands with a heavy thud behind me. I turn slightly, wondering what that was.
I realize my mistake as he tackles me from the side. His hands grip my wrists, forcing my arms above my head. I try to pull back but he slips his leg behind mine. Instead of falling into him, I twist and throw all my weight forward, hoping to take us both down. It works, but he lands on top of me, knocking the wind out of both of us. We land in a heap of arms and legs and blades. And bruises.
“You win,” I groan when the pain starts to set in. Ekohl jerks off of me and pulls his arm from under my ribs. I wince and roll onto my back. I push the blindfold up with one hand and gingerly poke at my abdomen with the other.
“I’m sorry,” he says hastily. I squint up at him, kneeling just to my right. I nod and finger my ribs one at a time until I reach the third one up.
“I told you not to hold back,” I offer. He frowns down at me. I attempt a chuckle at his concerned look, but it comes out as more of a groan. He apologizes again and looks terrified that he’s broken me somehow. “It’s fine, Ekohl,” I assure him. “It’s really not that bad.” I let him pull me to my feet and untuck my shirt enough to peer at my stomach in the dim moonlight.
In any other situation, Ekohl would have quickly turned away at this affront to propriety, but I think he’s just as curious as I am to see the damage. There’s already a dark bruise forming, but it’s not nearly as big as the waves of pain suggested it would be. Ekohl reaches out as if to touch the bruise, but he stops himself and lets his hand drop.
“We have go to the healer,” he insists as he determinedly looks up at the moon. I drop my shirt and follow his gaze. It hadn’t felt like that much time had passed, but the moon is only an hour or two from setting.
“I’ll have Mehta look at it.” Ekohl glances at me and then starts toward our bags. After a few steps he leans down to pick up his sword, and I realize that must have been what he threw to distract me. He slip it into the sheath while he walks.
He jerks his arm away without a word and I let go of his wrist. For the next mile, though, he keeps up with me, although I still catch him glancing back over his shoulder every few steps. He’s always worrying about getting caught, but I’m confident that we’ve slipped out of the city unnoticed- just like every other time. Ekohl’s apprehension always manages to unsettle me, though. What if someone did see? What if someone follows our tracks? Was that rustling’s not just an animal?
I forcefully push these thoughts away with a shake of my head. I refuse to let Ekohl’s paranoia ruin this. If anyone was following us, we’d have known it by now. Within a few minutes, we’ve reached our destination anyway. The dense trees open into a large, mostly circular clearing. The light from the moon illuminates the short, patchy grass and scuffed dirt that remains in what used to be a beautiful secluded meadow. Now, with the frequency of trainings- both my own and the Kyshian military’s- the only sign of beauty that remain are the few wildflowers that still grow on the perimeter.
I drop my bag by a grouping of trillium, careful not to crush them, and start unloading it. I strap on my blades, one over my right shoulder and the other on my belt by my left hip. The blades are thin and light, but strong enough to take a blow. Their length is halfway between a knife and a sword, and it took months to procure them. They could be deadly, even in my still-learning grip, but Kahlin insists I keep the edges dulled for our own safety.
Once I’ve slipped off the skirt over my trousers and refastened my belt, I pull one last thing from my bag and stride out into the clearing. I look back at Ekohl standing a few paces behind me, staring up at the waning moon and fingering the hilt of the dulled practice blade I snuck out of the armory.
“Don’t hold back,” I order. Ekohl’s frown is his only reaction. He opens his mouth as he lowers his gaze from the sky, but I turn away and lift the blindfold to tie it over my braided hair. He sighs heavily but says nothing. I tighten the knotted fabric. It squeezes painfully tight around my head, but at least it will stay in place.
I hear Ekohl’s boots scuff the ground to my left as he circles around me. I concentrate, filtering out the forest sounds and focusing on Ekohl’s movements. After three steps he stops. I reach for the my blades and unsheathe them as quietly as I can, listening for signs of an attack. He inches to the right, treading so lightly I can just barely hear him. I track him with my ears and shift into a ready stance.
He steps forward quickly and strikes high. I throw my weight left and sidestep, crossing my blades in front of my chest. I felt the wind when he passed and know he’s to my right and slightly behind. I turn slightly to keep him in front of me.
He steps forward and his sword hits the blade in my right hand. I push up as I deflect it to the right and drop slightly. He steps back quickly and circles, forcing me to turn with him. He comes in lower this time, I hear the sword whistling toward my stomach. I jerk backward and stumble. He steps in before I regain my balance and knocks me to the ground. He pins me for a moment, but swing my fist- still clutching my blade- where I figure his head must be. He pulls back just enough for me to quickly roll out from under him and return to my stance.
We continue like this for some time, his attacks coming quickly. He attacks again before I have time to acclimate myself, testing my ability to react. We fall into a rhythm, and I manage to stave off most attacks without falling again.
And then suddenly his attacks stop. I try to slow my breathing so I can hear over it. The night falls silent. I can’t hear him. For a moment I think he’s done for the night. But he would have said something if that were true. My heartbeat throbs in my ears and I strain to hear past it. I readjusted after the last attack to keep him in front of me, and I turn my head slightly to listen. Something scuffs the ground just right of where he should have been. I readjust my stance to center him when something lands with a heavy thud behind me. I turn slightly, wondering what that was.
I realize my mistake as he tackles me from the side. His hands grip my wrists, forcing my arms above my head. I try to pull back but he slips his leg behind mine. Instead of falling into him, I twist and throw all my weight forward, hoping to take us both down. It works, but he lands on top of me, knocking the wind out of both of us. We land in a heap of arms and legs and blades. And bruises.
“You win,” I groan when the pain starts to set in. Ekohl jerks off of me and pulls his arm from under my ribs. I wince and roll onto my back. I push the blindfold up with one hand and gingerly poke at my abdomen with the other.
“I’m sorry,” he says hastily. I squint up at him, kneeling just to my right. I nod and finger my ribs one at a time until I reach the third one up.
“I told you not to hold back,” I offer. He frowns down at me. I attempt a chuckle at his concerned look, but it comes out as more of a groan. He apologizes again and looks terrified that he’s broken me somehow. “It’s fine, Ekohl,” I assure him. “It’s really not that bad.” I let him pull me to my feet and untuck my shirt enough to peer at my stomach in the dim moonlight.
In any other situation, Ekohl would have quickly turned away at this affront to propriety, but I think he’s just as curious as I am to see the damage. There’s already a dark bruise forming, but it’s not nearly as big as the waves of pain suggested it would be. Ekohl reaches out as if to touch the bruise, but he stops himself and lets his hand drop.
“We have go to the healer,” he insists as he determinedly looks up at the moon. I drop my shirt and follow his gaze. It hadn’t felt like that much time had passed, but the moon is only an hour or two from setting.
“I’ll have Mehta look at it.” Ekohl glances at me and then starts toward our bags. After a few steps he leans down to pick up his sword, and I realize that must have been what he threw to distract me. He slip it into the sheath while he walks.