Tristan's Tale Pt. 05

I'd walk up. "You're Vivian, right?" Yes. "Let's fight." ...Okay.

And then, soon, it was over.

"Chen?" Yes. "Let's fight." Sounds good.

And then it was over.

Alanna? Jordan? Kofi? Oliver? Elijah? Jules? Cara? Harrison? Ken? Élodie? Peter?

I stopped asking for names. People caught on. They watched with a kind of morbid fascination as I'd end somebody, standing above them with a neutral expression as they did something that looked a little too close to dying. When they came back to consciousness, I politely asked them who the next person above them was, and moved on.

If that person wasn't in class, they still knew the next nearby person up from them. Everyone seemed to have an idea of the general rankings. I suppressed a smile as Sailor popped into my head, looking at me like I was an idiot: Tristan, there's nothing to do here. I wondered how much Vanessa had to do with the general dissemination of knowledge of the rankings. She'd soon be getting some updates.

It went like this. My recently defeated opponent would point, with varying degrees of anger and embarrassment and laughter, at the next person.

Who looked at me, wide eyed, as I stalked over to them. My Chi never left my grip. I wouldn't have been able to do it without the incredible focus it gave.

I must sound like I'm flaunting myself. Showing off. But let me be clear.

If you have a sword — not even the ridiculous behemoth I wielded, but just a regular sword — you have an incredible advantage over anybody fighting with a dagger. I'm no swordsman. I'm no expert at these things, I couldn't give you a huge list of the reasons why that is, much as the advantage might seem obvious.

But a big part of it comes down to defense. A sword is long — it can protect, say, your legs without you needing to do much movement.

Trying to protect your shins with a dagger? Good luck. You'd have to bend down to do it. You simply have less reach and less surface area to parry. Not to mention, you have to get in close to hit me, and I am not going to let you get in close.

So they didn't have much of a chance. If I swung at their legs and they weren't already moving to get out the way as I began my swing (or jumped, as one person did. I wouldn't recommend it. It didn't end well for him.) then they were crippled. Fallen to their knees, or to the ground.

So, yes, I ended up nearly killing a lot of helpless, screaming people. They felt the pain. They watched each other scream, and still agreed to the fight. I forget who'd told me why people always accepted being challenged. A reputation thing. Nobody wants to be the person who's too chicken to fight. What would their rank even mean, if they weren't willing to defend it?

Don't get me wrong. Once it was over, I would spend plenty of time being horrified at myself. I mean, the neutrality of my expression when I heard these people...It was the closest I'd come to hearing somebody die.

Over. And over. And over again.

I'd feel terrible later. But in the moment...

What else was I to do? I had my goal: the Arena. At the time, it was that simple.

I at one point even openly asked Kelechi if I could skip this charade and fight the strongest person in the room. I wasn't coming from a place of ego, but of efficiency. But even if that had been allowed, rank one was Derrik, and Derrik wasn't on the mats this period. I did see Rodrigo, though, who gave me a dashing grin and an encouraging thumbs up.

I'd been mid fight when I asked Kelechi that question. I'd won the fight, and moved to the next person like a grim reaper. I had to sink myself deep into a state of non-reaction and almost non-thought, blocking away the parts of my mind that weren't helping. Over and over, I'd seal away reactions, lock away revolt and shame and guilt.

I was almost killing people. I knew that. People walked one by one into my blade without so much as a chance of victory, all of them braving the inevitably pain. Men, women, young and older, they all fell. But I couldn't let that matter - not if I wanted to get to the Arena by tomorrow. And at the rate I was going, my odds were looking good.

And then I fought Thomas, and things got interesting.

~

He'd just been watching me, a vaguely amused, approving look on his face. I was standing above a person who's torso ought to have been cloven in half, waiting for them to snap back to reality when Thomas called out, "I'm next, Tristan. I'll save you the time of asking. You seem to be on a schedule."

I glanced over at him. His hand was resting on the massive tree stump he called his Chi. "Thanks," I said, and walked over to him. I extended my hand to be shaken.

He gave me a long look, letting my hand stay out in the air. "I'm the last of the first mat, you know," he said. He nodded to the second mat. Even though it was its own little place, there was a small crowd of people at the fringes, watching our talk.

"Cool," I said, my free hand outstretched.

He glanced at it. "Usually there's a bit more ceremony to the last mat fight," he said hesitantly. He looked back to me, and shortly let out a big guffaw. "Shit. You don't care. I sure don't." He clasped my hand, and I felt the familiar ripple that told me the rules of the room had changed.

I took a respectful step back, and aimed my weapon at him, and then we fought.

It was a totally different ballpark. His was the first weapon of substance I'd encountered today. He swung the log at me and, though I could have dodged, I decided to see what would happen on a parry.

I cut toward it with my Chi. They connected with a sound more like a thud than the sound of metal on metal. I wasn't surprised when my Chi didn't sink into his, though I'd wondered. My Chi was sharp — I was pretty sure I could cut a piece of paper in half with it — and no, not along the length or width of the paper.

But these things were the physical manifestations of something mental. I'd wondered if, seeing as this was something mental made physical, maybe if you hit hard enough, you could affect the other person's mind through their Chi.

But it hadn't worked. My blade was pressed against Thomas's club.

He slid down abruptly — what, was he trying to crush my toes? — and I pushed his club away, and advanced.

He ducked under my swing, and I didn't expect him to sidestep the next one, but he did. And then I had to contend with the pressure of his club swinging at me. The thing was huge. Had I been in any kind of normal state of mind, I would have been fucking terrified.

I avoided it, though, and began to notice something. Something I'd picked up fighting Jet that I was noticing again. A kind of background temperature to Thomas as he fought. A kind of residual flavor to my perception of him.

Curious, I ignored an opportunity to render his left leg useless and pressed on with the fight. I focused on that sensation. It was maddening — I hadn't even put words to it in my mind when I was against Jet, hadn't even noticed it was there. But now that I felt it again, and that Thomas's was different, I needed to know what I was feeling. I put my attention on it. On an impulse, I opened up to it like I'd opened up to the reading I'd had of Jade when she first Saw me. Like I had with the man in the saffron robe a few days ago.

Suddenly it was clear.

"You're an Empath?" I asked, a little surprised.

Shit. Surprise was an emotion. I tightened my grip on my mind just in time to deflect a swing.

I registered the surprise in his eyes. "What?" he asked.

The fight didn't stop, and I didn't repeat myself. Not because I was trying to be rude — though it definitely came off that way — but because I'd already said it, and he'd clearly heard me, so why say it again?

"Did you just See me?" he asked, incredulous. "In the middle of a fight?"

"I don't know," I replied, and snaked past his guard to cut his huge, veiny arm above the elbow. He grimaced, and I saw him visibly suppress a cry of pain. He swapped the club to the other hand to continue fighting.

And I didn't know — that was the truth. Jade had told me I'd looked back at her, but I didn't really understand how Seeing worked. She'd said I wasn't a Seer. But I'd just seen a part of Thomas — it wasn't like an aura. It was coming from his Chi. But, not from his Chi. More like around it. Like it was spillage of some sort. And it had felt like a kind of attunement to other things. Like he was listening.

He didn't admit whether he was or not in that fight. But I knew it was true — though he was quite a lot better than the person before him, it was in large part because of his ability to read me.

Empaths follow your movements, I noted to myself, filing the thought away. I paused, mid-file. Wouldn't Seers do the same?

Confused, and distracted by my thinking, I forgot myself and accidentally ended the fight. I winced as he started to scream, clutching at his eyes.

I closed my eyes, and breathed. I needed to settle myself.

It was Thomas. Thomas was screaming. Dying on the ground.

I still had a lot of people to fight. I didn't have time to feel bad about this. Later, I told myself.

Okay, I heard myself reply.

That caught me by surprise. I wasn't used to that. It hadn't been my Chi, talking. Who...?

Not now. Later.

Hearing Thomas's cries subside, I opened my eyes to see him panting on the ground. He gave me a vaguely wounded expression. "Were you toying with me?" he asked.

"Who's after you?" I asked.

He pushed himself off the ground, and sighed. "Dominic. Wiry guy. Red hair. Look, you were totally going easy on me for a second. At the end." I nodded. "Why?" he asked, frustrated. "Didn't want to hurt my feelings?"

I hadn't anticipated the emotions he was experiencing. But it wasn't my problem. "No, nothing like that," I replied, and stepped over to the bamboo mats, feeling his hurt, angry eyes on my back. He could deal with it. I approached Dominic.

~

I didn't get very far through the second mat before Kelechi dismissed the class. Just two fights. Interestingly enough, both Dominic and Giorgio had been markedly less accomplished fighters than Thomas.

He trains the lower levels, I'd realized. He didn't challenge people to rank up so he could stay on the first mat. Strange.

Rodrigo had come over and asked me how it was going. I hadn't been very conversational, though. I just said "Good", and didn't answer any of his further questions, so he'd left.

I'd been thinking about what I'd felt from Thomas. Now that I was fighting some people with a stronger and stronger Art, and my senses were so tuned by my Chi, I was starting to feel more attuned to that sense I'd had. Thomas had been an Empath, and it colored his fighting. The next person had been a Seer, and I'd given myself a few extra seconds to ask them what it did for them. I was right — it was about the same thing as being an Empath, though the intuition they received about their opponent's movements was more visual-perceptive than feeling oriented.

And then I'd fought Giorgio, a Duelist. It made all the difference in the world. They were faster, sharper, more precise. More deadly. A relatively new Duelist had a huge edge over the other Art specialties. That being so, I learned that the higher you rose in the ranks, the fewer Empaths and Seers there were. And also, after a very specific point, everyone had Set. Some people had managed to slip past Thomas's club with just a dagger, but nobody had slipped past a Set guy without a necklace.

Well, nobody but me.

The next class came in. Kelechi looked so excited to tell me to move over to the first mat, but I hadn't put away my Chi. I saw it coming — according to Caer'Aton's inefficient ranking system, I hadn't actually beaten Thomas, as there were people below his rank I hadn't fought yet. So I was on my way to the first mat for the beginning of class, making note of all the newcomers I'd missed last class.

And of Derrik, as he walked in. He and Kelechi exchanged a few quiet words near the middle of the room, and then he'd said something to a tall, brown haired guy in bright blue sweats on the third mat before Kelechi's piercing whistle had indicated the beginning of class.

I started filling in the holes. The people I'd missed on the first mat that were here now. When I was done with them, I moved back to the second mat. The fights there took longer, so I still wasn't done by the time class was over. The next period was a shorter period that had used to be my meditation class with Jet. But I'd only gone, what, once?

Things were moving fast here. Doubly so today. Thankfully, I had yet to be struck by anybody in any of my fights, so I wasn't sore yet. And my movements thus far had been precise. Sparing. I didn't need to use my healing brew.

I asked the person I'd just defeated who was next. A thick-bodied, older man with gray eyes, he stood up and gave me an appraising look. He wore a brass Stone pin. "There's no mat training next period," he said.

I blinked. No training?

That didn't work for me. I did my best to memorize the faces of everybody left on the second and third mats, a feat which felt considerably easier in the focused state of mind I was currently inhabiting.

During that intermediary period, I trained with my Chi. Then I scarfed down lunch without a word to Fred or Jules, despite Jules's incessant, amazed barrage to Fred about what it had been like losing to me.

I spent the break between lunch and the next class running around Moleh, challenging the people I'd yet to challenge. I brought them to the mats, got the next person's name before the fight, won as fast as I could, and left while they were still screaming, clutching at wounds that weren't there.

It sounds horrible. I guess it was. There was probably a reason people didn't hang out on the grass near the bamboo sliding door that led from the courtyard to the mats that day. Despite the soundproofing I'd seen in the bedroom doors, there seemed to be none of that for the bamboo, and I'll be the first to let you know the screams people make when they feel like they're dying are an order of magnitude more loud. More hysterical. It gets into your bones.

But I had to shake it off. I could feel the day wearing at me. Sometimes I heard small, panicky sounding voices in my head, repeating things like Just stop, just stop, just stop, just stop.

I pushed past it. I tracked one guy down to the private rooms.

Incidentally, did you know that you can open those doors when they're locked? You just have to try really, really hard.

The door slammed into a tree with a loud crash after I kicked it for the fifteenth time, and I walked out into a jungle. The guy was being...

Well, I'll tell you one thing. Seeing a guy get fucked in the ass by a beautiful girl with a strap-on is about as close to breaking my focus as I got. It was the bed that nearly did it — the huge, monstrous bed with white sheets and pillows and an elegant headboard was totally incongruous among the jungle foliage.

They both looked at me with astonished expressions.

"How-how-" he muttered.

"Quiet!" interrupted the girl, who was balls deep inside of him. Plastic balls, that is. She smacked his ass punitively, and then turned her attention back to me, regaining some of the composure and control she'd no doubt been...asserting over him. "Can I help you?" she asked, as haughtily as you can while pegging someone. A monkey howled in the distance.

"He-" began the guy.

She thrust forward, angrily. "Shut up, slave!" she commanded. He whimpered.

"I just need to borrow William for a few minutes," I said.

"William is occupied," she replied, drumming her fingers on his lower back.

"I can see that," I said. Turning to the William's grimacing expression, I said, "I challenge you, William, for your rank."

The words sounded a little official. People had respect for the ranking system. In a place as concerned with reputation as Caer'Aton, you couldn't afford to be seen as a weakling. William shot an apologetic look backward. "Sorry," he muttered. The monkey howled again, but its voice sputtered out. It sounded an awful lot like it had just been eaten.

"You're not going anywhere," said the girl, glaring at me.

"Neither am I," I replied, and fixed my gaze on her.

Let me tell you something about fighting. Something you may already know. When you sink as deep as I had into this physical work, it changes how you see the rest of the world. Everything else starts to feel inconsequential. And it is — one thing is practicing how to save your life when someone is trying to kill you. The other is, well. The rest of the world.

It changes your eyes. Your gaze. You are astonishingly present, very aware, and as calm as the ocean asleep.

She didn't hold my eyes for very long. "Fine," she muttered, withdrawing from William with a sound I tried to forget. I couldn't have my Chi out outside of the mats, so it was a lot more of an effort of will to keep up the mental lockdown.

Just stop just stop just-

She stepped over his clothes, and kicked them under a leafy bush. "But you don't get your clothes until you come back." Her eyes were defiant.

William looked flabbergasted. "You're kidding me," he said.

She looked at him. He flinched at whatever he saw there. "Uh, yes...sorry, Abigail..."

"Chop chop," she said, clapping her hands. "Go."

"Thank you," I said, and gestured for William to leave before me.

He slumped his shoulders, and gave me a defeated look. "Jesus, dude..." he said, leaving. He was, of course, still unabashedly, fully erect.

I would never forget my fight with William. Not in a million years. It was maybe one of the funniest things I'd ever done in my life. Of course, I'd had to bracket that thought away the minute I had it. When I won the fight and he keeled over, panic-eyed and clutching at his stomach, I had the thought that I was grateful they didn't shit themselves when they momentarily lost consciousness.

I reflexively shut down that avenue of thought as well. I gave it its own home. A place to do what it wanted, away from me.

~

It was getting late. It was the last period of the day, and I had to break into the top twenty before the end.

I was in good shape, though. I'd dealt with everyone on the first and second mats, and the second to last guy left to me on the third mats was a particularly fun fight with a man who wielded a long, black broadsword. He pushed himself off the ground, grinning. "Damn. That was a hell of a fight. Thanks, Tristan. I learned a lot."

I didn't even think to respond. I spotted my next, and final target. We're almost there.

Stay focused, I reminded myself.

No, you stay focused, I heard myself respond.

Don't tell me what to do! I replied. I frowned, trying hard not to feel concerned. That hadn't been me that had just replied. Who'd thought that? God, these voices...

"Can you show me that spiral thing you did?" said the guy.

I cleared my head, and looked at him, puzzled. "Spiral thing?"

"Yeah." He pointed his Chi at me, and motioned for me to match him. "It was something like...I don't know. You just curled around my sword a few times and then I was totally open."

"Was it this?" I asked, remembering something like what he was describing. I did the movement, and it ended with his sword knocked sideways and his chest exposed. I poked him in the sternum.

"Yeah!" he said, then his eyes looked up as he thought it over. It was a really familiar gesture to me by now. It's what everyone looks like when they're trying to replay something over in their head, or trying to remember the next move. You don't always look up, but the eyes get faraway. "Shit, can you show me one more time? Slower, maybe?" he asked hopefully.