Young Writers Society

Rana stared after Jayk dumbly, watching him walk away from her off towards a clearing to the left. Drayan suddenly appeared. He was grinning wickedly, as he turned to face where the men sat. “Fight’s on! Come on, everybody!”

“What? No, I —”

“Come on,” Drayan said. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a push, forcing her to follow Jayk into the clearing. A throaty cheer broke out as the men formed a ring around the clearing.

Rana’s eyes went wide as she looked at the ruffians, before she looked back towards the lunatic that led them. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but she wasn’t about to duel him.

Her protests were drowned out by the guttural excitement enveloping her. She turned to retreat, but Drayan was standing directly behind her. She bumped into his chest. His meaty hands landed on her shoulders and forced her forward.

“I really don’t want to fight anyone,” Rana protested as she was forced forward. “This isn’t a good idea.”

Jayk beckoned her forward. She hesitantly walked forward, sending fearful gazes towards the men surrounding her. They seemed to be of all ages. She saw some men who appeared to be in their sixties, with gray hair or no hair at all; some boys who looked like they weren’t yet old enough to shave; and men of all ages in between.

“Are you quite mad?”

Jayk smirked. “That’s been the rumor for a while now.”

“I can’t fight you.”

“Sure, you can,” Jayk said. “You tried earlier. Not a very good attempt, I might note — but I expect you’ll do better now that you’re in sensible clothes.”

“I don’t have any swordsmanship training,” she protested.

“Stop the lies,” Jayk said. He took a sword belt someone held out to him and strapped it to his hips, then grabbed a smaller sword and offered it to Rana. “This seems about your size, eh?”

Rana took it reluctantly.

“The one you were swinging at my head earlier was a mite heavy for the little lass, no?” Jayk said condescendingly. “We got you a wee little sword to fit.”

She glared at him, anxiety returning as she watched him swinging his sword. She enjoyed sparring, but she’d never had any interest in a real fight. Getting smacked by Aldik hurt badly enough — she didn’t want to know what it felt like to have a blade slip between her ribs. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Again, you’re making the mistake of thinking you have a choice,” Jayk said.

“Oh yeah? Well what’s to stop me from simply walking…” she trailed off as she turned towards the edge of the ring. The men instantly pulled their own swords and glared down at her, daring her to try an escape. She glanced back at Jayk and was met with the same annoying smirk. “… over here, to stretch.”

A hearty chuckle rose at her sudden change of heart. She cleared her throat and tried to salvage what little dignity she had left. She tossed the sword on the ground and stretched her arms, mind racing for a way out of this mess.

Rana reluctantly turned back towards Jayk, chest tight with fear. She had no idea whether he planned on embarrassing her or killing her, but she knew she didn’t stand a chance in this fight. She’d seen all she needed to earlier, to tell that his skill far surpassed her own.

“Ready?” Jayk stepped forward until he was in the center of the clearing. Several men in the ring around them had brought torches, illuminating the area around them. It was still too dark to see well.

Rana reluctantly stepped forward. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can?” Jayk suggested. “Why are you resisting?”

“Because there is literally no way this ends well for me,” Rana complained. “If I lose, I’m going to end up with your sword lodged in my middle; and if I win, I end up with their swords lodged in me.”

“Oh, is that all?” Jayk waved his hand dismissively. “Well I don’t expect you to beat me. But pretending you do, they ain’t gonna hurt you. Heck, they might even try to make you the next leader.”

Rana narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“You might have to arm wrestle Drayan for that title, though,” he added mischievously. Another hearty chuckle rose up from the men. “Come on now, get set.”

Rana took a deep breath and forced herself to walk the rest of the way to meet Jayk. She swung the sword a few times, getting a feel for the way it was weighted. It wasn’t nearly as nice as the swords Jaerek had for sparring; but it still wasn’t nearly as heavy as Father’s or Wyl’s swords, which was nice. She had a hard time swinging them for their weight.

“Ready?”

Rana nodded unhappily, raising the sword. She watched as Jayk circled. It was the strategy Wyl always used — circle first, attack when he saw a weakness in his opponent’s defense. She waited until he launched forward, then slid to the right and knocked his blade aside easily.

She returned a blow towards his right side. He deflected her blade and parried with an overhanded attack. She stepped into the attack, throwing both hands up to steady her sword as she blocked his blow. She took the momentary surprise of her stepping forward rather than back to elbow him in the side as she spun out of the attack.

Rana made a pass towards his knees. He grabbed her sword arm and gave a push, making her stumble just long enough for him to get a clean jab towards her abdomen. She leapt back just in time and countered with a blow to his shoulder.

The longer the battle went, the more intense it got. The blows started coming harder and faster. Soon her entire attention was focused on the tip of his sword — avoiding it before it could make contact with her flesh, trying to anticipate where it would strike and make her own attack to force Jayk on to the defensive.

In a matter of minutes, her breaths came in pants and her body was slick with sweat. She saw Jayk’s shoulders were heaving as well. Suddenly he over-extended himself in a thrust towards her abdomen.

Rana saw her chance and pounced. She leapt forward and rolled across his back, bringing her sword towards his chest the instant she landed with as much force as she could muster this far into the fight. He grabbed her wrist and shoulder with both of his hands, then threw her into the ground — hard.

Before she could react, Jayk’s blade came down across her throat. She laid perfectly still, the pounding of her heart redoubled as she stared up the length of his blade for the second time that day. She swallowed hard, making her Adam’s apple bob against the cold metal tip resting on her throat.

“See? As I told you,” Jayk panted. “No danger of you beating me.”

Rana was silent, waiting to see what her fate would be. She wanted to snarl at him but didn’t dare risk a response that might motivate him to sink his blade through her throat. She breathed shallowly, looking up at him fearfully.

“What? No sarcastic response?” Jayk questioned. “No complaint? No insult?”

Rana hesitated a moment, but it was painfully obvious he wanted an answer. She wet her lips. “No, sir.”

“Hah, sir now, is it?” Jayk said. He raised his gaze to survey his men. “Hear that? All it takes is the threat of death to make a woman respect you. Worked twice today.”

The men laughed again.

Jayk looked down at her a moment longer, then pulled his sword away from her neck and slid it in its sheath. She still didn’t move. He crossed his arms and looked down at her. “Better than earlier, at least… get up.”

Rana pushed herself upright, unable to resist the urge to rub the place that his sword made contact with her flesh. She imagined she could still feel the cold of the steel pressing against the soft place just above her collar bone.

“Then again, a blind man could beat you,” Jayk said. She narrowed her eyes at the insult. “What? Don’t believe me? Very well. Glynn?”

A man strode forward from the crowd. Rana silently observed him. He appeared to be about the same age as Jayk — maybe in his early forties. But the man’s eyes were screwed firmly shut, and he was careful of where he placed his feet as he walked.

“Glynn, meet Rana,” Jayk said. “Rana, Glynn.”

“How do you do?” Rana said hesitantly. Another laugh rose up from the ring of men. She looked around, bewildered. She didn’t understand why her greeting gartered scorn. What was she supposed to say when she was introduced to someone?

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Jayk said with a smirk. “We’re just not accustomed to such politeness being offered to the man who’s about to kick your teeth in.”

“What do you…?” Rana looked between Glynn and Jayk and realized what he meant. “I’m not hitting a blind man.”

“No, I don’t expect you’ll be able to hit him,” Jayk agreed. “Do give it your best shot, though.”

Rana huffed a sigh, exhausted with his games. She wished she was home, where she could eat a nice dinner and take a warm bath and then curl up in bed. She was tired of being made the fool for the enjoyment of her captors, and she didn’t want to know what they had planned next.

“Ready, hon?” Glynn asked.

“I guess,” she answered grumpily.

Glynn nodded. “I’ll give ya the first shot. Go ahead.”

Rana looked around hopelessly. Her eyes landed on Jayk. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am extremely serious,” Jayk said, gesturing towards Glynn. “I suggest you take him up on his offer before he decides to withdraw it.”

Rana sighed again and turned back towards Glynn. He was a man slight of build. He was barely taller than Rana was herself. He had light blond hair that was just long enough to curl around his ears. His skin was leathery and sun-tanned. His body was thin but seemed strong.

She made a weak pass at his shoulder, feeling like a jerk for even half-heartedly punching a blind man. His hand darted out quickly, deflecting her blow. She looked at his hand in wonder, but he didn’t give her time to gawk. A moment later he stepped forward in a flurry of fists.

Rana stumbled backwards, surprised. She did her best to block his blows, but they came so fast that she missed many of them. His fist didn’t miss a single time. He landed blows on her shoulders, her stomach, her cheeks. She suspected he could hit harder than he was smacking her, but it still didn’t feel nice.

Suddenly Glynn’s hand shot out and made a pass at her neck she couldn’t block. He swiped her feet out from under her, depositing her squarely on her back. She landed heavily, grunting, and stared at him dumbly. She was shocked that a blind man was able to beat her so thoroughly, so quickly.

“Eh… guess that’s the best I can expect from a girl,” he said, turning his back on her.

A pang of anger ran through Rana. She sprang to her feet indignantly and dove towards him with her fist raised. He spun around at the last moment and caught her wrist. She whimpered in pain but brought her left hand up into his ribs.

He spun in a circle, disorienting her. She brought her knee up into his side, making him release her wrist. She made another pass at his throat. He caught her fisted hand once again. This time his free hand landed on her opposite shoulder.

He lifted her in the air and threw her to the ground again.

He pinned her with his left hand, right hand perfectly flat and raised threateningly in front of her face — like he was merely waiting for a word from Jayk before he snapped her neck. Rana squeaked in terror and covered her face with her arms.

Suddenly Glynn’s hard face softened and he laughed good-naturedly. He stood and bent down to offer her a hand up. She hesitated a moment, then took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She stared at him, dumb-struck, as the other men chuckled.

“Better… but you’s still got lots t’ learn,” Glynn said, his Shirrian accent thick as he spoke.

“How?” Rana demanded, panting.

“How do ya learn?” Glynn asked. “Practice.”

“How did you beat me?” she demanded.

“Practice,” he chuckled. He slapped her back and walked past her. “Come on, now. You can come and tell me how ya hurt your wrist.”