Second Guard (23 page)

L
ess than two moons before the Clash. Who will be ready?” Centurio Jessa asked the crowd of pledges below her.

Not me, Tali thought with a heavy heart. Oh, how she wanted nothing more than to be chosen to compete in the Clash of Warriors. But there was no way that Jessa would choose her. The centurio had
become ruthless in the last few weeks, and Tali’s pride had felt the pain as much as her arms and legs. Though Tali’s archery skills remained unrivaled among the pledges, and her
fencing above average, she still struggled greatly with clubs, spears, and axes. And while Tali was often faster on her feet than her opponents, all the padding and armor she was forced to wear
made it hard for her to strike the blows necessary to win her matches. Centurio Jessa told her repeatedly to offset her smaller size with cunning, but the weapons felt cumbersome and brutish in
Tali’s hands.

In the meantime, Tali had watched Chey gradually take down opponent after opponent in Jessa’s arena. He, at least, had found his gift in weaponry. Tali’s own embarrassment was
somewhat tempered by her pride in Chey, who could now defeat almost any opponent squarely and soundly, no matter how much prior training they had received. Chey took naturally to any weapon placed
in his hand, instantly wielding it to his advantage. When asked about it, Chey would humbly respond that swinging a weapon was not much different than the work expected from him on the farm, except
the crops never stood up and fought back.

Chey was up against a large Earth Guilder named Torin now, and it was the first time in months she had seen Chey struggle to win. Torin, who came from a lumberjack family, was easily a head
taller than Chey and equally muscled. His body must know hard work as well, Tali thought. Torin reached behind him and pulled a longaxe from his arsenal of three weapons. While the practice axe was
intentionally dull so as not to maim or kill, it could nevertheless destroy an arm or knock an opponent out completely. Chey ducked the axe, and swung his preferred weapon, a barbed club, knocking
Torin behind his right knee. The giant lumberjack went down, and hard. Chey looked over at Tali and smiled, wiping his brow.
Take him down, Chey.
But Torin did not stay down long; he
pushed himself up on his right knee and grabbed a long spear. He poked and prodded Chey into a corner until Chey pulled a small dagger and dove at Torin, thrusting the dagger into the pad
protecting the boy’s thigh. Then Chey brought his club down on Torin’s elbow, disarming him of the spear. Torin fell with a deep bellow and did not even try to get back to his feet.

“So we see that size does not mean success,” Jessa said, standing over the fallen boy. “You must find the weakness of your enemy and use it to your advantage, as Chey has done
today.”

Chey gave his opponent a hand up and Torin clapped him on the shoulder. Though Torin did not smile, neither did his eyes burn with animosity as a few of the Sun and Moon Guild pledges’ did
when bested by Chey. Tali hated to admit it, but Drayvon was not the only pledge to look down on the Earth Guilders or call them “dirts” behind their backs.

Chey gave Torin his shoulder and helped the limping boy back through the gates to the waiting benches.

“Who is next?” Jessa asked the crowd.

Tali stepped out into the ring once more, though she had already been bested twice.

“Once again, Talimendra proves she is willing to learn through suffering,” Jessa said to the crowd. A few snickers rippled through the pledges and Tali could see the Moon Guild girl,
Meeri, who had taken her out easily four matches ago, smirk to her friend.

“’Tis a compliment I give her, not admonishment,” Jessa called out, this time more loudly. “This pledge knows she must keep fighting to improve. I honor this
well.”

Tali tried not to show her dismay when Meeri, still smirking, stepped into the ring to face her. As both of them perused their choice of weapons from the armory case, Tali quickly decided to
select three new ones, as her last choices had proved disastrous. Tali began with a short sword and bent low to anchor her feet to the ground. Meeri came at her quickly, swiping a longsword across
the four paces between them. Tali blocked with her short sword, now wishing she had picked a long one instead.

When will this become easier?
It seemed unfair to be forced to fight with unmatched weapons, but Jessa had explained that in battle a warrior never knew what weapons his opponent would
bring to the fight. It was a lesson that Tali’s every muscle had to learn over and over again. Sadly, this match was no different. Meeri’s longer reach, combined with her longer weapon,
made it nearly impossible for Tali to get close enough for a strike. In a few short moves, though Tali tried her best, Meeri had her on her knees, weaponless. She did not need help up, at least,
and forced herself not to stare at her own feet as she left the arena.

Zarif and Chey walked with Tali to the hand combat ring only a short distance across the Alcazar grounds. The day was warming up and they each took long drafts from their water pouches as they
walked.

“I feel like a fool in weaponry,” Tali said. “I was so certain I would excel over time, but I seem only to get worse.”

“May I offer a suggestion?” Zarif asked, stopping under a tree.

“Please do.”

“I think you should choose one weapon and try to become proficient with it alone.”

“The only weapon that I ever trained with was a longsword, with the maestros in Porto Sol,” Tali said, sighing.

“Then choose the longsword,” Zarif said. “Better to find your footing with one weapon than never with any.”

“I agree,” Chey said. “I rely on the barbed club in most sparring matches.”

“Along those lines, I’ve been thinking about the Clash,” Zarif said.

“Oh, no, the Moon Guilder is thinking again,” Chey said, elbowing Zarif. “As if he ever stops.”

Tali laughed. It was true that Zarif seemed to consider every move, every angle before acting. Of course, he often won his matches because he had done so. The lines between Zarif’s
eyebrows softened as he finally understood his friends were teasing him. Then he smiled.

“Do tell us what you’ve figured out,” Tali said. “Your counsel serves us well.”

“Even if you mock me for it?” Zarif said, teasing them in return. He motioned for them to sit beneath the unfurling shade of the tree and they collapsed on the sweet grass beneath
it. Tali tucked her satchel beneath her head, and though it made a fine pillow, she pushed the idea of a nap from her mind.

“We need to focus on our strengths for the weeks leading up to the Clash,” Zarif said.

“You mean focus our training in one area?” Chey asked.

“Well, yes. I do think we should continue the endurance training each morning, even though it’s not an area of competition, nor does Jaden choose pledges to compete,” said
Zarif.

Tali and Chey nodded their understanding. There were two good reasons to attend Jaden’s class every morning. First, it enabled them to keep an eye on him, taking note of his frequent trips
away from the Alcazar. Second, they had to admit that the training had served them well in all other areas of combat. They could now run and row for leagues, their bodies well equipped to endure
hours and hours of physical labor.

“But perhaps after that,” continued Zarif, “we should spend the rest of the day trying to gain the attention of a single centurio.”

“Won’t that lessen our chances?” asked Tali. “Jessa, Abelino, and Saraky each get to choose three pledges to compete in the Clash. If we continue to train with
all
of them, we have a chance at nine total positions. If we just train with one, we’d only be competing for three spots.”

“But we’ll have a much better chance of winning one of three spots if we can excel in one specific area of training,” explained Zarif.

“Rather than dividing our attention between three different skills sets and excelling at none,” Chey finished, nodding.

“It’s the best way to get their attention, I think,” Zarif answered, “and our chance of being selected for the Clash will be much improved.”

Tali nodded reluctantly. “Although that’s an easier choice for the two of you. Chey’s already sure to win a spot with Jessa in weaponry, and Zarif, you’re the best rider
at the Alcazar. Abelino would be a fool not to choose you.”

Zarif shrugged. “An even better reason for Chey and me to focus our training. We don’t want to be sent to the Clash only to wish we’d trained harder in our areas of
competition.”

“Tali, I think you’re worried about which centurio to train with, yes?” Chey asked.

Tali nodded glumly. “I don’t excel at one particular thing like you two do.”

“But you do,” Zarif said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Every day your skills in hand combat get better and better. Centurio Saraky watches you often.”

Tali looked at him doubtfully, but Chey nodded, agreeing with Zarif. “It’s true, Tali. Saraky doesn’t say as much as the other centurios, and his face is often hard to read,
but I believe Zarif is right. You’re fast on your feet, and Jaden’s endurance training has made you a tireless opponent.”

Tali sighed. “I suppose it can’t hurt to try, but can we rest here for ten minutes? The cool grass feels like heaven on my bruises.”

For the rest of the week, Tali faced opponent after opponent in Centurio Saraky’s hand combat training. Other pledges would come and go throughout the day, but Tali
arrived directly after early morning endurance class and stayed until the evening bell sounded. Her body felt sorer than ever, and sometimes she even missed the bulky padding of weapons training,
but the more she trained with Saraky, the more she believed that Zarif’s idea had merit.
Though it looks like I’ve been beaten with a bag full of stones.
She had learned so
much in just one week, and she felt Saraky’s approval when she showed up for training day after day, session after session.

Sometimes, when Tali was too weary to fight, she would observe and evaluate the moves of other pledges. Some pledges spent all their energy in the first few minutes. They would battle as if they
might lose their heads at any moment. Tali saw the mistake in this immediately. The ones who came out with strong emotions rarely won. As in weaponry, size did not matter, as long as you took care
to allow for it and compensate accordingly. Often Tali’s smaller size was an advantage, because she could swoop in for a single well-placed blow and be gone before a larger opponent ever knew
she had struck.

She had also learned to use the entire arena to her advantage. Sometimes she liked to pretend she was back on the tradeboat, lithe and true footed. All those hours balancing on the small ledge
around the ship had paid off, as Tali often jumped atop the rail to study her opponent or strike with the force of gravity in her feet and arms. Even the tumbling that she and Nel had done as
girls, jumping in somersaults off the top deck into the great arms of the Magda River, now served her in the ring.

With every passing day, Tali admired Centurio Saraky more and more. He did not just pit opponents against each other but spent time in the ring himself, showing moves that helped each pledge
perform better. He was the best of the instructors, never shaming anyone, but rather leading by example with his skills. Even with his slight frame, he could bring any pledge to their knees in less
than four moves. It was a wonder. Though he rarely smiled and spoke little, Tali did not mind. His quiet strength reminded her of her father.

After ten days of training, Tali had to admit that Zarif’s counsel had been wise indeed. That evening, though she was sorely tired and the supper bell brought a gnawing hunger to life in
her belly, Tali stayed behind to help straighten the arena. She knew Saraky was particular about the tidiness of his ring, never content to leave until the packed dirt was raked clean each evening
before he retired. Though surely he could have ordered a pledge or servant to do the work for him, he always did it himself. A few days after Tali had first noticed this habit, she had picked up a
broom and swept by his side, his only acknowledgment a soft nod. But tonight she was finally rewarded with words from the quiet man.

“If you continue to train as you did today, you may well compete in Fugaza,” Saraky said, surprising Tali with this short speech.

“You honor me, sir,” Tali answered with a bow, trying to keep her voice from betraying the pleasure she felt.

“Honor yourself by training for the Clash,” Saraky answered, bending to pluck a stubborn weed that had shot up around a post of the training ring. “But you must overcome your
weakness, Tali.”

“My size? My strength?” she asked, pausing at her task.

“Your recklessness,” Saraky said, stopping his work to look at her, his eyes steady and solemn.

“Sir?”

“You did not let yourself heal after that severe blow to the head you took in weaponry. It costs you in the ring each day, even now.”

“I didn’t realize it showed.”

“You need to learn how to take a hit, and better yet, protect your head. One more blow like that and you’ll be permanently in the kitchens.”