Other Worldly Ways (Anthology 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

laughed.
    "You're not like anyone I've ever met before," he said, holding his mug out for the attendant to refill.
    "You probably should be thankful for that," I muttered. "If nobody recognized the Lord Marshall, imagine the chaos."
    "I think you could have taken out any opponent, if you'd gone after them like you did Iver," Pheran grinned as he changed the subject.
    "Iver provided motivation," I admitted. "Do you think he's been whacked, yet?"  
    "Most assuredly. The General doesn't waste any time."
    "Ah." I nodded and sipped my tea.
    "He and his father will be sent home in disgrace, and banned from future Trials," Pheran said.
    "That sounds fair," I replied.
    * * *
    "General."
    "Pheran?"
    "I had lunch with her after the bout. I had a beer, and she had tea. She thinks beer smells foul and won't touch the stuff."
    "What else have you learned?"
    "That she has only trained for nine moon-turns, and her Sursee forced her to come to the Trials."
    "She isn't lying?"
    "She's not lying. You know I can tell."
    "I do know that. We haven't seen a natural in a very long time."
    "I know that, General, but this is certainly looking more and more like it. Did you see that last takedown?"
    "Twice. The official and then the unofficial one. Iver and Lord Inver won't forget that for a long time, I think."
    "No, I would imagine not," Pheran smiled.
    * * *
    I meditated in my tent while I waited for the call to the final bout, and wondered in a distracted moment what the Warlord might be doing. I also wondered if he sparred every morning like Crane and Dragon did, or if he had other, important, Warlordy things to do. Yes, I realized that Warlordy likely wasn't a word.
    * * *
    My adversary resembled the bull of his tattoos with wide shoulders and narrow hips. I didn't think he worked much with his legs; they weren't nearly as developed as his upper torso, and wondered if he was from the cavalry.
    "Up," came the call, and then the signal dropped.
    My opponent had a bull's strength, too, and waiting for him to tire would be the wrong thing to do. He wasn't going to tire before I did. I'd have to best him with speed, if I were to have any chance at all. His reach was long, too, and coming up under his guard was dangerous. He fought like a shredder, and I felt like a branch waiting to be turned into chips.
    * * *
    "She fights well," the General commented as he accepted a cup of tea from an attendant.
    "Quite well. You could have taught her," the Warlord agreed. "That's how well trained she is."
    "I would have relished that training," the General agreed. "I do not recognize this Veykan, who signed her in. He would be a welcome addition to our training staff."
    "Find him, then," the Warlord shrugged and went back to watching the bout.
    * * *
    I met my adversary blow for blow—he wanted me to tire while he pounded away at me. I was worried he might succeed. He stalked me, too, whenever I pulled away to gain a few needed breaths. That's when it hit me.
    The next time he stalked me, I whirled away instead of meeting his blows. He wasn't used to walking, just as I thought. The weakest muscles he had were in his legs. He rode—and fought—from horseback.
    He struck out again, and again I evaded. He attempted to back me up against the edge of the square, but I didn't allow it. I'd whirl toward a wider space within the square every time.
    "Stand still and fight, dammit," he shouted.
    We both knew time was ticking—the bout would be called at the half-click mark and the officers at the bout were all counting time. My opponent cursed; his anger was rising as he slashed out with his blades once more. I came after him after ticks of whirling away, while he pulled his blades back into position. I had him, one blade at his throat, the other at his heart at three ticks before time ran out.
    "Bout over," an officer called. The bull warrior dropped his blades on the ground and bellowed as he stalked away.
    "Little warrior," Pheran Tiger—the Lord