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The next morning, Martin came and found me right after breakfast. Charlene, who had skipped on the ball last night to sulk, had gathered the girls early and guided them off to wherever the royal children were gathering. Martin and I traded good morning kisses before he tugged me with him. “Where are we going?” I asked.
Martin smiled. “Do you remember when we told you that Geidy had a top-of-the-line training center?” He laughed as my eyes lit up. “I thought maybe you could find some competition there. The others are headed there as we speak. Randall’s been there for an hour, laying down his bets.”
I shook my head. “Do they really think I can beat everyone?”
“We know you’re good, but not many others do.” He looked proud. “We’re showing the treasure we have and showing how strong Valeria is.”
“Through me?” I asked skeptically.
“A country’s strength has a lot to do with their Champion,” he said seriously. “People know you, and if they see how strong the Champion is, they think the rest of the country’s people are strong as well.”
I was bewildered. “Don’t you people have real Olympics or something?”
Martin’s brow furrowed. “Olympics?”
I had to stop and gape at him for a moment before I could explain. I couldn’t imagine so many people not knowing what the Olympics were. “Were you not paying attention when I explained this to the others?” I demanded.
“I suppose I wasn’t.”
I did my best to describe what the Olympics were as we left the castle and passed through the giant, white, inner wall and moved towards the giant, shiny building in the distance.
“This is our local Olympics, I suppose you would say,” Martin said once I’d explained. “We gather every three years for the peace delegation, but also to show our country’s strength and talent. Every eight years, all the countries across the world can gather for what seems to be closer to your Olympics. This is smaller scale, only involving the middle of the continent.”
“Why is that?” I asked. “Why doesn’t the entire continent come?”
He smiled at me. “We’re divided by the languages we speak. Up north, your Canada, they speak French as a primary language and down south, your Mexico, they speak Spanish.”
“I’m confused,” I confessed. “Why do you call the languages the same? The French language came from France, and Spanish from Spain, and English from England.”
“It is believed that our people traveled freely from world to world once,” Martin said. “That the borders to the Flip Side were open to anyone who cared to pass through. We shared our country’s names and languages and such, and then we decided in the sixteen hundreds to lock down the borders across the world. A few remained open, but all borders shut down in 1780. When the borders opened again in the nineteen hundreds, with harsh restrictions, we sent a few people out to study the changes, to learn and to adapt.”
“Is that why most of what I’ve seen is so...medieval?”
He chuckled. “Yes. Some things we took to easily, but we liked how we’d lived before so we’re a little slow to let that go.” He stopped at the edge of the path and gestured. “There’s the Geidy training station.”
I could only stare in awe and excitement. It looked like a giant, enclosed football stadium, but bigger. It had to be at least ten stories high and six football fields long, and a covered by a giant gold dome. I could only imagine the space inside for all sorts of training. Martin laughed at my grin and I tugged him eagerly forward, like Cathy at an amusement park. Martin held the door for me when we got there, and I felt the change of temperature as I entered the air-conditioned building. Martin took my hand again as we walked around the area, looking at everyone training in the different areas. There was a section for fights with knives, a section for wrestling, and I could hear shots in the distance that sounded like rifles. I saw a few people carrying bows and arrows headed towards a set of stairs and figured that’s where the archery section was.
Randall spotted us and came over, a grin on his face. “Ah, there you are! I’ve already got my bets lined up. I was wondering when my star was going to show up.”
“How upset will you be if I lose occasionally?”
Randall frowned. “You aren’t planning on throwing any games, are you?”
I gave him a disbelieving look that he would suggest such a thing. “Of course not. But I can’t beat everyone.”
Randall clapped my shoulder. “I have faith in you, Joan. I’m going to make money off of you today.”
Liam spotted me and let out a piercing whistle that called other Valerians together from out of nowhere. I shook my head at their eager expressions. “Am I the only one fighting? You’d think no one else could fight!”
“You’re the Champion!” Remy said. “We’re going to fight too, but you’re our main representative.”
“Also, no one knows you,” Larson chimed in. “They’ve heard of a Joan Ilion, but they don’t really know what you look like, or how good you are. No one knows about your black belt.”
Remy shoved him. “They will if you shout it a little louder!”
Larson shoved him back and I rolled my eyes.
Martin just smiled. “We’re looking. Don’t worry, she’ll be here all day,” he said.
I grinned. “I don’t think I’ll have had this much fun since the Tai Kwon Do competition in middle school.”
“Just one?” Martin inquired as he shoved his way through the gathered Valerians.
“That’s all I had the time for. Raising Cathy was hard and time-consuming work. It was all I could do to make the tests so I could get a new stripe or a new belt.”
As we wandered across the room, we caught looks from people recognizing Martin, but not knowing who I was. The Valerians just shrugged when asked who I was. Halfway through the room, I spotted Quinn and turned to Martin. “I need to talk to him,” I said softly.
Martin understood and gently squeezed my hand. “I’ll wait here.”
Quinn saw me before I reached him, and a rueful smile crossed his face. “I heard. You and Martin worked things out.”
I was a little hesitant. “I’d still like to be friends, if that’s okay.”
Quinn kissed the back of my hand. “Of course, my lady.”
“No hard feelings?”
He shook his head. “I am a little disappointed, but that’s to be expected.” He winked at me then let go of my hand. “Can I join your party? I heard Randall placing his bets. He’s betting high on you.”
I groaned. “He’s going to lose his money.”
Quinn laughed. “Not on you. I have a few bets of my own. Twenty to one odds that Randall’s mysterious champion will beat Geidy’s.”
I shook my head as we walked back over to the Valerians. I could tell Martin was still a tiny bit jealous when took my hand again and pulled me right beside him, because I knew Martin wasn’t one for public displays of affection.
This caught the attention of others nearby and someone called out. “Captain Gonhiad’s come to show his mistress around! If I win, do I get her?” He winked and flexed for me. “Here, sweets; come find a real man.”
I silently seethed. Martin remained calm. “I think you should watch what you say,” was his suggestion.
The man scoffed. “You want to stop me? Come do something about it!”
“Are you really going to fight him?” I asked.
Martin grinned at me. “No. I know you want to take care of this yourself. Don’t hurt him too badly.”
The man laughed as I walked up to the edge of the ring. “You think to fight me, sweets? Or has the Captain given up already?”
“I think you’re all bark and no bite. Or, more likely, a pretty model without any real strength.” I laughed scornfully, watching with satisfaction as his temper flamed. “What Martin thinks, I don’t know. He just told me not to hurt you too much. Can you use those muscles, or do you just show them off?”
The man’s laugh turned hard. “I hate to break one of the bones in that pretty body, but I won’t be nice.”
“Bring it, loudmouth,” I challenged. “Just try me.”
The Valerians spread out, and I could hear them working the crowd for bets as the man glared at me now. I waited with a raised brow, one hand on my hip in challenge. “Are we going to do this or not?”
The man spat on the ground between us. “Let’s see you fight me and walk away!”
The fighting style in this ring was freestyle, so everything was allowed, but my competitor seemed to like a style similar to kick-boxing, so I knew I’d have to watch his feet. Unfortunately for my challenger, he seemed to focus more on the strength of his hits, shown by the size of his muscles. I figured he hadn’t learned enough to judge his competition by anything except the amount of muscle. I shrugged off my outer jacket, leaving me in a dark blue tank top and a skirt with leggings underneath. I felt comfortable fighting in it. I checked my braid as the man turned his back to me and listened with amusement as his buddies encouraged him to ‘take the girl down’ but to ‘not hurt her so badly because she’s only a girl after all’. I loosened up a little, and caught Martin’s wink and look of calm assurance as the referee entered the ring.
“This match is to take place between Davis Dravidian of Untili and...” he paused. “May I have your name, miss?” he inquired politely.
“Just call me Joan,” I said with a slight smile, moving into position, my eyes trained on Davis, who was giving me an ugly look.
“And what country do you hail from?” the referee asked.
“Valeria,” Martin called.
“The challenger is Joan of Valeria,” the referee announced. “No weapons are allowed in the ring, with the exception of shoes.” He looked at me. “Are your shoes within the standards of the competition?”
I looked at Martin, not having a clue.
“Yes,” Martin said.
“The match will last for ten minutes, or until one person is unable to continue to fight. There will be a one-minute break at the five-minute mark,” the referee continued. “The match will also end with one conceding the match to the other.”
“That’ll be you,” Davis growled. “You’ll be begging me to stop.”
“You won’t make it to the five minute mark,” I returned cheerfully.
The referee looked at us both. “Challengers ready? Begin!”
The referee leapt back to cheers from the Untili people as Davis charged. I watched Davis dash straight for me, took a step back to align myself properly, then sent a spinning kick to Davis’s chest, stopping him cold and turning the Untilian cheers to gasps as Davis stumbled to the ropes. He managed to catch himself before he fell over.
“I take it back,” I said pleasantly. “You won’t last longer than two minutes. Neal will be thrilled.” I sent another kick towards Davis’s stomach, then dodged his reflex blow. I knew that I would be in trouble should he get his hands on me. I tried to stay out of his grasp as I moved around the ring, giving painful blows that seemed to only make him angrier.
I made a mistake as I sent a kick towards his middle, and he moved his arms with blindingly fast speed. He caught my foot, trying to spin me off balance. I quickly kicked with my other foot, catching myself as I dropped to the floor. He recovered quickly and charged forward. I knocked his feet from underneath him, rolled out of the way as he fell, got to my feet, then sent a punch to his jaw as he climbed to his knees, stunning him. My knee crashed into his chin and he fell forward in a dead faint.
The Untilians looked horrified as I walked around Davis over to them. “I am nobody’s mistress,” I said calmly. “And I defend my own honor. Remind him of that when he wakes up.”
“The match goes to Joan!” the referee shouted, raising my right hand in the air to the Valerians’ cheers.
“Beautiful,” Martin murmured as I climbed down. “You were beautiful.”
“A minute and fifteen seconds!” Neal cheered. “Ha! He didn’t even last as long as I did!”
“Quite a show,” someone said, tone a touch mocking. I turned to see a black man, large hands, brown eyes, and dressed in Geidy’s colors standing behind us. “But I believe you’ll find that not all of us are quite as dull-witted as Davis.”
I didn’t like Davis, but I didn’t like this man’s scorn either. “Dull-witted?” I asked politely.
“Not knowing who you are, of course,” the man said easily. “I would have thought that more people would recognize you.”
“Am I supposed to know you?” I inquired.
A slight smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were hard. “I suppose you wouldn’t know me, since they don’t have much knowledge of us where you come from.”
This man knew I was from the Flip Side, but I still didn’t know who he was. “Since you apparently know me, I don’t suppose I could learn your name?” I asked, still staying polite.
“Me?” he inquired. “I would be the Champion of Geidy. I heard bets going around. I’m surprised they’re betting so high on you. Considering where you’re from.”
I offered a smile, keeping my eyes cool. “It seems you’re no smarter than Davis if you think the same thing he does.”
The man’s eyes flashed. “Are you calling me a fool?”
“I’m not seeing a lot of difference between the two of you at the moment. Perhaps you should be careful about who you call dull-witted.”
The man’s eyes were clearly full of anger now. “I will look forward to this challenge,” he snapped. “Twelve o’clock, Joan of Valeria.”
I stared coolly as he turned and practically stomped away. Inside, I was enjoying myself perversely. I just loved pushing people’s buttons when they wore that arrogant cloak. It was nice to take their ego down a couple notches.
“Who was that?” I asked Martin as he moved by my side.
“Captain Dave Parkton,” Martin said, taking my hand again. “Current Champion of Geidy.”
“Current? Has he not been Champion long?” I asked, curious.
“Geidy has their positions in an order,” Martin explained. “Parkton has been the Champion for about three years. Before him, it was Commander Nelson, who essentially has my job. If the Commander retires or dies, Parkton will move up to Commander, and one of a series of men below him will be chosen to be the next Champion. Geidy has requirements that have to be met. It’s still a great honor to be chosen as Champion. It doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll ever move up to Commander, but the option is there.”
“Can you refuse the option? Stay Champion? What if you’re not fit to be Commander, or don’t want it?”
“There is that option. In that case, they would choose another man, one of the Captains who might have been moved to the spot of Champion. Parkton is good, very good. He’s been an excellent Champion.” He smiled at me. “But I believe you’re better.”
“If you two are done,” Randall said patiently. “There are challenges to be met.”
I smiled, knowing my eyes were shining with anticipation. “My pleasure. Is anyone else going to fight?”
“I have a few challenges, but I’ll watch you for a little while,” Martin said.
“I’ll be competing in archery later, as will most of us.” Randall grinned. “Oddly enough, when I mentioned that my challenger was Valerian, they offered to fight you in every match but archery.”
I laughed at the irony. “The one they would have the best chance at beating me, and they picked something else. That’s great. I’ll have to be sure to watch that.” I rolled my shoulders to loosen them up. “When can I start?”
It was a wonderful morning, to my mind. I fought plenty of people, starting in hand-to-hand, in all different types of settings. I lost twice in kickboxing, and lost once in strictly hand fighting, but I was the clear winner in freestyle. Randall and the other Valerians smugly collected money, and although some of them slipped away for their own challenges, they came back to collect their winnings. Instead of my challenges decreasing, they increased. It only took four matches before one of them demanded my full name, and then the murmurs, which had only been speculations before, spread rapidly as they flocked to see the woman from the Flip Side who was fighting as good or better than they could.
I was more respected after that. I learned that Davis had been the Untili Champion, and I got looks of loathing from them. They didn’t say anything, whether because they thought I would challenge them, or because my Valerian friends were in clear support of me, I wasn’t sure.
At eleven, after a particularly brutal match with a Cantralin in kickboxing, of which I’d won, but gained a few bruises, I left the ring and accepted the towel from Remy, wiping the sweat off my face and neck. “I love this,” I told him, smiling.
“You have plenty more opponents.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head, draping the towel around my neck. “I need a break. Where’s Martin fighting?”
“Swords,” Remy answered. “He’s reclaiming his title. You want to watch?”
“Yeah, and then I want to watch the archery. When are you all going to compete?”
Remy checked his watch. “Ten minutes. That ought to be enough time for one, maybe two matches, if the people fighting Martin are decent.”
“Does it go that fast?” I asked.
Liam draped an arm around my shoulders. “Martin’s just that good. I told you, Martin’s got a talent for the sword like nobody else.”
“Except for Maria.”
He flashed a grin. “She’ll get there. I’d like to see her give him a run for his money someday, but she’s too young yet. Come on, he’s on the second level.”
Martin was right in the middle of the match when we arrived to watch. His sword gleamed brightly in the ring, and he was only lightly beaded with sweat from the warmth of the arena. It was slightly warmer because the heat from hundreds of bodies below rose to this level. I could only imagine what it would be like on the top floor.
His opponent was younger than Martin by a handful of years, with curling black hair and intense brown eyes. He wore the uniform of a Linson, but I didn’t recognize him from the ball. He held the sword with easy grace, confident, not showing his nerves as his sword flicked out, testing Martin’s defense as they circled.
If the Linson was cool, then Martin was ice. Confidence radiated from him. The sword seemed a part of him, and he simply shifted enough to block the attack before moving back into position. His eyes were focused, cool, intense, and, I knew, slightly unnerving. The Linson was doing his best not to let it get to him, and hiding his nerves well, but I could already predict that Martin would win.
It didn’t take much longer. Martin swung his sword out in an easy swipe, letting the Linson defend, then he quickly attacked again, swung his sword around in a sweep. The Linson countered just as quickly, but wasn’t quite as fast with the third block. He went on the offensive, swinging at Martin. Martin, instead of defending, sidestepped the blow, attacked, then slid past the Linson’s defense and nicked his arm.
The match ended. Both of them bowed to each other in acknowledgement of each other’s skill, and as the Linson turned to go, Martin spoke. The Linson listened, interest and eagerness on his face at whatever Martin said, then nodded and bowed a second time before leaving the mat.
“Impressive,” I said as Martin moved over to me. I offered the towel around my neck to him.
“He was still a boy,” Martin said. “He’ll be much better in a year if he’ll work on his parries a little more, and learn to let his feet move. He plants himself too much. But he can be very good. Just needed to fix a few things. If he were Valerian, I’d squire him a couple years and beat the lessons into him myself.” He wiped his face and then cleaned his sword. “How were your matches?”
“Lost two in kickboxing and one solid hand-to-hand. I made them work for it though. You?”
“I am, as of yet, undefeated. We lose by the drawing of first blood, and I haven’t lost any blood yet today.” He flashed a feral grin. “Went up against our friend Davis. He lasted about as long with me as he did with you. He doesn’t like us.”
“Someone doesn’t like me? Oh, dear, what should I do?” I asked in mock distress.
Martin chuckled and nodded to a Wyinnian who entered the ring. “I have another match, and then a break. You?”
“I said I needed a break and they let me leave. I wanted to watch.”
“I’ll fight this one, and then call it for a while. Would you like to eat before or after Parkton?”
I gave a smile. “After. Just in case he gets in a lucky shot.” I bounced on the balls of my feet. “I’m looking forward to this.” I looked to the man warming up in the ring. “Is he any good? He looks strong.”
“He is strong. I’ll need to be quicker. He’s good, almost beat me last time.” His eyes flashed in a grin. “But I’ve had plenty of practice and learned a few tricks. We’ll see how the past six years have been for him.”
I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Kiss for luck. Go get ‘em.”
The match took five minutes. The Wyinnian was stronger, and quick on his feet, but Martin was better. He moved with easy grace, and the sword wasn’t merely his weapon, it was an extension of him. He looked amazing in the ring, blocking, striking, dodging, meeting the blows with his own strength, but he drew first blood by the quick swipe across the upper arm, and the match was over.
“Just in time,” Larson said cheerfully. “Archery starts soon, and we have to be there in three minutes.”
Martin cleaned his sword again, sheathed it. “Joan and I will watch.”
“You aren’t going to shoot?” I asked him as we collectively moved towards the west side of the floor.
“The captain has his skills,” Keeton said smoothly. “But he lacks in that particular area.”
“I may be Valerian,” Martin said mildly. “But that doesn’t mean I was born with the skill to shoot. I didn’t touch an arrow until I was twelve. I’m competent.”
“But he loses every time,” Keeton finished with a wicked grin.
“You’re better than me,” I said. “But I can still take any of you in freestyle or with guns.” My eyes lit. “Do I get to do that too? I’ve only done fighting, but I’d like to shoot.”
“That’s afternoon,” Randall said. “I have many bets there.”
“The Unti think they can take you,” Liam put in. “They’re close to Burganthon, so they think they have an advantage.”
I mused. “Where’s Burganthon?”
“Your Canada,” Quinn said, falling into step beside us and shoving his way through to move beside me. “Eastern part. They’re the main gun manufacturers of the western hemisphere.”
“So they’re close to Unti,” I said. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve been shooting just as long as they have.”
“I remember your shot a few weeks ago,” Quinn said dryly. “I believe you’ll give them a run for their money.”
“Last call for archery, round three,” a voice boomed out as we took our seats. “Last call!”
“Good luck!” I called as the Valerians claimed their bows and moved into position. In the usual fashion, they were greeted with taunts about their skill and the loss of their title. And the Valerians taunted back that they’d had plenty of practice since the last competition while the others had gotten soft, making wagers among themselves about who would be the overall winner. “Any bets yourself?” I murmured to Martin, taking a seat on the stands behind to watch, about six rows up and behind the largest group of Valerians.
“Pierson.”
“Oh, definitely Pierson.”
Martin chuckled. “Other than that, I believe Remy will take second, and Randall third.”
“Liam?”
“Liam is better with jousting, which will happen tomorrow. Keeton and Larson dabble, but their strengths are in boxing. That’s in a few days. Neal likes freestyle, and will, no doubt, go against you sometime today. He also likes to fight with staffs though, and will do well there.”
Joe took a seat beside me. “Joan. Martin.”
“Joe, hi,” I greeted. “Are you competing?”
“No. Most shamans don’t prefer to. We spend most of our time patching up our people.” He rested his hand over my cheek where I’d taken a stray blow. “You’ve done well today.”
“Thanks.” I held still as the cool water feeling washed over me.
Joe healed the pain in my shoulder that I knew would have turned into a massive bruise, then sat back. “There. You’ll need to be fresh to fight the Geidyian Champion.”
“Do you bet?”
“I do. And I bet on you. The odds are twelve to one in favor of Parkton as of ten minutes ago, but they could even out more before the match. Parkton is a known, and he’s been the freestyle champion for the last three conferences.” He fell silent as the archers readied themselves and stepped into position, aiming and firing their first shots. He nodded in approval as all the Valerian shots landed dead center. “Very good. Anyway, you’re an unknown, a wild card, but people have been paying attention to your matches. There’s a lot of interest, and a lot of speculation, and therefore, a lot of bets. Some have noticed that all the Valerians bet on you, and bet fairly high.” He flicked his gaze to Martin. “So they either mark it down to arrogance or think that you have considerable skill.”
“How much did you bet?” I asked Martin.
He smiled easily at me. “A thousand.”
I nearly choked. “You what?”
“Only twelve times return? Maybe I should add more.”
“And what happens if I lose?” I demanded of him, appalled. “I’m not going to win them all! I’ve lost three times!”
“Not in freestyle,” he said simply. “And I won’t go broke if I don’t win my wager. Most of my bids are going to be on your shooting later on. Knife, yes, but your talents are freestyle and guns. That’s where I’m placing my money. You’ve made the Valerians considerably richer today.” He smiled at me. “Now, pay attention and watch the Valerians win archery.”
They were making their second shots. Again, the Valerians’ arrows all went dead center.
“Not falling apart yet,” said a guard from Zou, bantering with the Valerians. “It’ll come.”
Remy snorted. “I’ve spit farther than where that target’s placed. This close, you might as well walk up and stick your arrow in with your hand.”
I noticed that Pailio was doing well, and remembered they were the current champions of archery.
“If you’re so good, why are your Champion and Captain watching?” a Pailioan shot at them.
Randall merely strung his next arrow. “Our Champion is modest. She doesn’t want to win at everything. She thinks it would be poor sportsmanship, and we haven’t convinced her otherwise. Still, this is her first conference, so we’re letting her get a taste for it.”
“And the Captain? Does he still shoot as badly as a five-year-old?” the Pailioan taunted back.
“Our five-year-olds shoot at targets farther than fifty yards, and hit the center,” Pierson said, aiming and firing with the ease of Robin Hood. “That’s the reason why your guards are weak. You baby them.”
I giggled as the banter continued. After five shots, they started to move the targets back five yards after each shot. The Valerians didn’t waver until the targets had been moved back forty yards. While others struggled, they hit the center, or an inch on a side.
“An inch,” Remy sighed as he strung another arrow. “I must be getting old.”
“Save your breath,” Randall said, whose arrow had hit the center. “You got into the Elite Guard by the skin of your teeth. You shoot almost as badly as the Pailioans. Perhaps you can join their ranks.”
“We wouldn’t take a Valerian cast-off,” the Champion of Pailio said with humor. The words were insulting, but the tone was friendly and without malice. “Unless it was your own Champion. Pailioans can appreciate beauty and talent.” He flicked his gaze to me.
“She’s in love,” Liam said as he might have said the sky was blue. “You’re not man enough to even tempt her, Grati. She came to Valeria because we have real men.”
“Excuse me?” I muttered under my breath. “Who said I could be claimed as an asset?”
“Part of the job,” Joe said, watching intensely as they all made their next shots. “Pierson’s in the lead, but Grati’s a close second. Remy’s a couple points behind Randall. They’d better pay attention, or Grati might pull ahead today.”
“Today?”
“This is a multi-day event,” Martin explained as the judges examined the targets and the arrows were carefully removed and mechanically moved another five yards back. “The winner of the first day might not be the winner of the second day, or the overall competition. The country competition will take place today and tomorrow, but then individual challenges will happen throughout the conference. Points are added up, wins and losses added up, and then posted the day before the end of the peace conference.”
I watched Pierson still shoot with an easy grace. “If there ever was a Robin Hood,” I muttered, “he’s it. The man has some serious skill. He hasn’t missed the center of the target yet!”
“Pierson’s good,” Joe agreed.
“Has he ever gone up against Mari?” This intrigued me. “I wonder who would win.”
“Pierson doesn’t compete much outside of the conferences,” Martin informed me.
A groan sounded from the Pailioans. We all looked, and saw that Grati had made a bad shot. His arrow was wide of the center mark and clung just barely to the inside of the red zone in the center. He sighed and rubbed his fingers over the string of his bow, endured the taunts, and called, “Reshoot option one.”
“Reshoot?” I asked.
“If you make a bad shot, you have a chance to reshoot it,” Martin said, eyes intent on Grati. “Everyone has a bad shot once in a while, sometimes because of a bad arrow, sometimes because of the wind, when this used to be held outside, and sometimes because you made a bad shot. The deal is that you only have two chances to reshoot and if you miss it, you’re stuck. He figures he can do better than that shot, so he’s using his option to reshoot it.”
Grati strung his arrow, and aimed. I didn’t know if he could feel the stares of everyone watching him, but it didn’t seem to bother him, because he let fly, and the arrow hit dead center.
“Wow!” I exclaimed as the Pailioans burst into cheers. Grati only permitted himself a small smile before he drew his next arrow and readied his aim at the targets moving back five more yards.
“Grati’s good,” Joe said, nodding. “But we’re better. He might take third, but he won’t beat Pierson for sure.”
“How many more shots?” I checked my watch. “I have a challenge in twenty minutes.” My eyes gleamed with anticipation.
“Only three,” Martin said. “You’ll have plenty of time to get there, and we will have plenty of time to be there for the match.”
The final three shots went quickly, even though everyone aimed carefully. Pierson didn’t miss until the last shot, and then it was marked half an inch to the left.
“Shame,” I heard him say as I headed down. “I was hoping for a perfect score. Only five people have ever done it.”
“He’s one of them,” Liam said to me, voice dry. “He’d just like to do it twice. What are the standings?”
“Valerians number one,” Martin said with a touch of smugness. “Individual and country. Grati’s second individual. You’re slipping.”
Remy looked outraged. “I’ll cut his bowstring,” he muttered. “And if he still beats me, I’ll eat my bow.”
“Choke it down later. I may join you in eating crow, since my match is about to start.”
“Doubtful,” Quinn said, striding over to join our group. He had placed in the top twenty, which wasn’t bad considering there were nearly five hundred people competing. This was only the third wave. The next group of archers took their place and the targets were moved back in to their original distance. “Parkton is arrogant. He’s good, but he has a tendency to...”
I clapped my hand over his mouth. “No,” I said. “Don’t spoil it for me. I don’t want to know. I’m going in with a clean slate, and then I’ll make my own judgments.”
“Rest assured that Parkton won’t,” Remy said dryly. “He’ll have had people watching your matches, looking for your weaknesses and flaws. It’s common enough, though not exactly fair. You sure you don’t want to level the playing field just a little?”
“I’m sure,” I said as I lowered my hand from Quinn’s mouth. “Finding their mistakes is part of the challenge, and it’ll only be that much more fun if I win.”
“When you win,” Randall corrected.
I smiled. “Whether I win or lose, he’ll respect me when we walk off the mat.” Mentally preparing for it, I started removing my jewelry. “And that’s what counts.” My watch and necklace went to Martin, and then I started removing my knives. I only carried two, since I wasn’t competing with them, and I wasn’t personally in charge of protecting Mari. I figured there were enough guards around that I wouldn’t need to be the hero if a problem arose. Randall had been holding my knives while I competed all day, so I gave them to him again.
Captain Parkton was already at our assigned ring, along with a huge crowd waiting eagerly to see this. Instead of making me nervous, it pumped me full of adrenaline. The match before us was in progress, but it looked like they were finishing up as the woman from Cheekomenta delivered a kick to the jaw.
“Brilliant kick,” I murmured, watching the Rilly guardsman staggered back, his eyes spinning a little. “I’d like to fight her.”
“You can send a request if you’d like,” Martin said as we watched the woman go in for the kill, delivering a series of quick blows like a boxer might use, and the Rilly guardsman fell. “I’m sure she’d welcome the challenge.”
The match went to the Cheekomenta woman, whose name I learned was Grace. As she went to the edge of the mat, I approached. “Good fight.”
“Thanks.” She glanced at me, then a gleam entered her eyes as she recognized me. “You’re the American,” she said, studying me as she wiped her face and neck with a towel provided.
I nodded. “I was told that I might offer a challenge. I’d like to go against you.”
“It would be my honor,” she said, still studying me. “You do freestyle?”
“Yes. I saw that finish. Boxing?”
“I box as my primary, but I was challenged by the Rilly man they’re carrying off the mat.” Her eyes gleamed with dark humor. “We had a debate to settle.” Her eyes flicked over to Parkton for a moment. “You’re challenging him right now.”
“Yes. We’re settling a little matter of respect.”
She snorted. “Men. They always think a woman is weaker.” She offered a hand. “Grace of Cheekomenta. I’ll take your challenge and set it up myself. Tomorrow morning, nine?”
I took her hand and nodded. “I’m Joan of New Mexico, by the way. Or Valeria. I’m never sure which to claim.”
Her grin flashed quick and easy. “It’ll be something fighting you. Good luck with your match. I’ll have to stick around and watch.”
I nodded and turned to the Valerians. “Anything I should know before I begin? Are there different rules because there was a challenge issued?”
“The rules are the same,” Martin said. He flashed an easy smile. “Don’t hurt him too badly, Joan.”
I smiled sweetly. “I’ll do my best.”
Parkton was already warming up on the mat. His dark brown eyes glinted in anticipation in his dark face. “I see you didn’t back out.”
“Why would I?” I asked, starting to stretch. “I’ve been looking forward to this all morning.”
He snorted. “We’ll see just how much you’re worth. Your Valerian friends bet high on you.”
“And I’m sure your people bet high on you,” I said cheerfully. “That doesn’t concern me. What does concern me is your insult to my country.”
“Are you going to attempt to make me apologize?” Parkton mocked as his big hands flexed.
“No.” I swiveled my shoulders a couple times. “I’m going to make sure you see that I’m no pushover, whether or not I win today.” I rolled my neck a couple times and flexed my fingers as well and spent the five minutes assigned to warm-up to stretch and limber myself.
The referee came forward. He knew me by now. “Miss Ilion, are you ready?”
“I am.” I kept my gaze trained on Parkton. “But for this match, I’m Joan Ilion of New Mexico, if you don’t mind.”
He nodded once. “Captain Parkton?” he inquired.
“Ready,” Parkton growled, holding my gaze.
“This match is between Captain Dave Parkton, Champion of Geidy,” the referee announced to the huge mass of gathered people. “And Joan Ilion, hailing from New Mexico, the Champion of Valeria. Challengers, begin!”
He stepped back and the crowd started calling and cheering. I tuned them out and focused on Parkton. He was slowly circling with the same steps that swordfighters used. I didn’t move, then suddenly spun into attack, my fists flying. He dodged neatly, grabbed hold of my arm and tried to flip me. I countered, hooking my leg behind his, and locking my free arm around his neck. We struggled for balance for a minute, then I kicked the back of his knee and he staggered down, flipping me over his shoulder. I rolled properly and sprang to my feet, turning to see Parkton already on his feet.
“You have some moves,” he said, starting to breathe a little harder with exertion. “You know a few tricks, but you don’t have the training to win.”
“You’d think that as much attention as you apparently gave me, you would have noticed that I’m undefeated so far,” I pointed out, now starting to circle with him, crouched slightly, my skirt brushing my legs as I moved, a line of sweat starting to trickle down my back from the heat.
“You’ve gotten through on luck so far,” he said, eyes taunting me. “I’m a fourth-degree black belt in Jujitsu. I’ve been a guard for a decade, and been Champion for three years. I’ve trained with the best. What do you have?”
He surged forward in an attack. I moved neatly to the side, watching him compensate, then I ducked under his fist and slammed my shoulder into him, flipping him over me like I’d seen football players do on the field. He landed hard on the ground, but rolled instantly. He grabbed my foot, and yanked. I went into the splits, which wasn’t painful for me as I was fairly flexible, and grabbed his pinky and started bending it into an unnatural position as I whipped my other leg around towards him. He let go and rolled to a low crouch. “Street fighting,” he snarled. “Street fighting and street tricks.” Then he launched himself at me again.
He was too close to avoid, and he hit me like a football tackler. I hit the ground and he was on top of me. I struggled to get free as he struggled to pin me and win the match. “Street fighting isn’t enough anymore,” he said, loosening his grip on my wrist.
“Then it’s a good thing that isn’t all I have!” I half-turned, then grunted as I flipped, spinning us both in a Tai Kwon Do move and a wrestling move and would have gotten two points for a reversal had we been in a wrestling match. As it was, it surprised Parkton, and gave me the advantage. I sent a fist to his jaw, not knocking him out, but dazing him slightly. He struck out in a reflex, clipping my ear as I dodged it. I rolled off him as I lost the grip on his other arm and we both gained our feet. I was ready now, my blood humming, my mind clicking as I planned each of our moves. My shirt was stained with sweat in a couple places, but Parkton had many more sweat stains, and he was wary now.
Settled and focused, like the eye of the tiger, I broke my usual rule about letting the opponent attack and went for him. His fist struck out, hitting my ribs, but I let him make those hits, sending both my fists into his gut, and felt the air whoosh out of his lungs. Stepping back, I kicked him back another step, then sent a kick to his chin. His head was knocked back and he staggered. Like Grace had, I went in for the kill now. As he staggered and almost fell, I moved forward, grabbed his arm and, like he had tried to do, flipped him. He landed hard on the ground, and then I flipped him over, taking his arms and whipping both hands behind his back like a cop prepared to cuff him, and the match was over.
As cheers exploded, I leaned down to speak in Dave’s ear. “Third-degree black belt, Tai Kwon Do. I would have gone for fourth degree, but didn’t have the time. Twelve years of street fighting. I was good enough to keep the gangs from messing with me, and to let them know that I didn’t need to be a part of them to protect myself. I trained by surviving that, taking my beatings, and I fought people who fight dirty and like to team up on their opponents. You didn’t go through anything as a guard that I haven’t already gone through. Have respect for my country, Parkton, and for me. I won, and I did it fairly.”
The Valerians were ecstatic. “That’s our girl!” Randall roared, pumping his fist. “That’s our girl!” Keeton and Larson were eagerly collecting money from stunned onlookers, Remy and Yal, who had appeared sometime were both roaring with laughter at the stunned and appalled looks the Geidyians wore. A few of them actually looked ill, and I wondered just how much they’d bet on their Champion. Liam was hooting and clapping and grinning widely as he watched the referee declare me the winner.
Martin just smiled, but there was pride in his eyes. “That’s my woman,” he murmured, taking my hands in his gently to avoid my red knuckles. “That’s my Joan.”
I was still pumped with adrenaline and I was grinning widely. “Looks like you didn’t waste your money after all.”
“I never thought I had.” He handed me a towel. “I knew the instant you had him. I could see it, even before you took him down.”
I took steady breaths, trying to wind down just a little as I rubbed the towel over my neck, then tossed it to a nearby page waiting for it. “It just clicks. Sometimes it just clicks and you know. I knew.”
“You were beautiful to watch, Joan. I’m proud of you.” He took my hand. “Let’s go get some lunch, and you can dominate in firearms after lunch.” He chuckled again as I brightened and led me away from the ring, through the cheering crowd, towards lunch.