“Any good opponent would use these to pull me off balance.”I tug on the ties.
Brem’s low laugh has my attention.“You’re too worried about it, I think,” she says, dark eyes twinkling.“Come, I’ll introduce you to the others.Then we’ll see what happens.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.Fine.But I don’t have to like it.
It’s clear when I enter the ring that I’m not the only one who’s been forced into this indignity, though everyone else—including the women I met last night—fared little better than I have, if not worse.It was Morinthi who I’d seen yesterday when I’d arrived, dressed in that fluttering nonsense the so-called armorer tried to dress me in first, though it looks good on her, if offering zero protection whatsoever.
I’m sour thinking they most likely dress the men in more appropriate attire, and now I’m really ready for a fight.Partly too because I’m not unconscious of the watchful looks of the other women, how they observe my approach with Brem, the mix of careful observation and outright distrust a sign of that drama that Hloraine had brought up.I don’t need them to be friendly.I just need them to stay out of my way, and the mood I’m in should tell them that just from the look on my face.
“This is Remi,” Brem says, gesturing at me before carrying on past the others, heading for the far end of the ring.“Play nice.”
I follow in her footsteps, nodding to the two women from the night before who fall in next to me, letting everyone else trail after us.I’d guessed correctly that the dozen of us make up the full complement of the Rae’s stable, though I wasn’t expecting to find the smallest and least impressive-looking of the group is the leader.
Brem is that, no question, handing out weapons from a large wooden chest she flips open with one hand.I step aside and let everyone else receive theirs first, wanting to know what I’m up against.I’m trained in dual longswords, but I’m hardly restricted to that kind of combat, eyeing the long whip that Morinthi favors, a good choice for her height, though I wonder why she chooses to pair it with a tall spear with a wickedly curved blade at the tip and a weighted, blunt ball on the other.Hloraine hefts a short, wide-bladed axe, a long, narrow shield bound to her left arm, two daggers, one for each leg, tucked into the calf straps.Others choose short swords, another a net and a short spear, the woven material weighted with chain links and barbed spikes on the four corners.I do note there are no distance weapons, but what we could throw of the hand-to-hand offerings, which makes sense.The crowd no doubt would be at risk even if one of thegladattedidn’t try to kill them, a stray arrow lost control of in the middle of a fight a death sentence.
Brem waits for me to join her before taking up her own arms, tilting her head, and waiting for me to choose.I look down into the chest, spotting the long, curved blades waiting there, amid a few more short spears, a heavy mace with a nasty barbed head, another whip, and a coil of shining metal with two handles, one on either end.
I bend and take it, sliding it over the buckle of my belt before doing the obvious and taking up the curved swords.While I’m versed in many weapons and can adapt to them when needed, this isn’t a chance to learn something new or perfect a technique.I’m already at a disadvantage when it comes to physical condition—though how much so I haven’t fully tested yet—and I’m not here to see what I can do.
I’m here to prove what I can do.To myself as much as to Romouth and the others, like it or not.
Brem takes up a spear and a long dagger, thin and pointed like an arrowhead at the tip.She marches to the middle of the ring, the others waiting, and I join them, noting that Romouth has come out of her quarters and is watching from the doorway.
“You know the drill, lazy bitches,” Brem says in a saucy, cheerful tone.“Pick a partner and fight like your fucking life depends on it.”She lifts the black cloth she’d draped over her shoulder and fastens it around her mouth, leaving only her dark eyes exposed.I’m about to choose her to begin when the woman with the net steps into my path, her lip curling in a sneer.Someone has replaced her two front teeth with silver, or capped them, at the very least, the scar that runs from her eyebrow to her cheek twisting at the end where whatever caught her tore instead of cut.She’s my height, but carries more weight, and there’s an aggression about her that I can taste in the air between us.
I don’t wait for any formalities, though I’m sure they exist.I follow Brem’s orders to the letter.Without a hint of warning, I hook my opponent’s foot behind her ankle with my own and pull, spinning sideways as I do.Her eyes fly wide in surprise, but her gaze vanishes from my sight a moment later while she face-plants into the ground, her head under my foot as I push her squeals down into the already heating sand.
“Ponitte,” Brem says.
I step back and wait, the small fighter nodding, so I read her order correctly.The other woman leaps to her feet, spluttering and spitting, enraged, but when she tries to lunge for me, I’m already somewhere else, stepping sideways and then turning, at her back when she stumbles into her ill-thought-out attack.
One foot to her ass sends her sprawling again.This time, Brem waits until I’m kneeling on the woman’s spine before she calls out.
“Ponitte.”
No one moves or speaks when my opponent drags herself to her feet this time, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist.Her narrowed eyes hate me, but I’m not opposed to hate.I’m far too interested in her intent with the net she holds and am already tangling it in the blade of my left-hand sword before she can fully extend it, jerking it out of her grip.
How disappointing, and perhaps this is what Brem meant when she assured me my costume—because it’s that, not armor—won’t be an issue.I should take pity on the woman with the silver teeth, I supposed, except that’s not how I was trained, and I know if I’m soft with her, she will not learn or grow.
She groans as the heel of my hand takes her in the point of her chin, the impact lifting her from her feet and sending her backward.The thud as she hits the ground, her full body landing at the same time, makes the sand vibrate beneath me.
This time, she doesn’t move or try to rise, out cold.
“Andmatchette,” Brem says without a hint of emotion.I turn to face her as she glares around her.“What the fuck are the rest of you doing then, hey?I said shake your ugly cunts!”
They pair up, but they glance my way as I approach her, noting that a pair of young women hurry across the arena to tend to the fallen fighter I just laid low.Brem isn’t waiting for me to meet her, however, already sparring with a broad-chested and muscular woman whose use of the mace is more pure force than finesse.
She’s giving me room to observe them, and I’m grateful for it.While doing my best not to feel derisive, to underestimate them.They can fight, but their skills are more decorative and showy than precise, too carefully crafted for appeal than deadly.It’s obvious to me now why the dragon who’s brought me south to find her believes this is the best course of action.
If this is the finest that the Kingdom of the Sun God has to offer, I’m going to be free in no time at all.
Romouth says nothing, continuing to observe, as I carefully make my way through her entire stable, more cautious with the rest than I was with my first challenger, though the result is often the same.I finally face Brem only a short time later, the rest gathered to observe, no longer even trying to pretend they are bouting, mutters traveling among them, and I realize they expect the small fighter to give as good as she gets.
I’ve already agreed with that assessment, though I barely saw her fight.Still, I know better than to let my guard down and, even if she’s not up to my skills or experience, at the very least, she deserves my respect for her treatment of me.
Of course, she’s been gaining my measure, too, using the others to inform her, but that alone makes me cautious.And I’m grinning when she salutes me with her spear.Brem winks and grins back.
I see her move, but only just, because I’m ready for what she’s going to do.She has a small motion that precedes her attack, one I spotted in her first bout before taking her on and confirmed to myself two fights later when I had a moment to watch her.She drops her shoulder before she moves, likely an old injury that she’s compensating for, the adjustment giving her more power to her thighs.But I’ll admit, that’s the only reason I’m able to spin out of her reach, to avoid the point of her spear, and I’m a little breathless when I pivot and drop low, sweeping out with one leg.
