A Stone's Throw, page 32
part #2 of The Petralist Series
“You really have to stop that,” Professor Hector shouted.
“Take it up with the captain,” Tomas said. Turning to the crowd he added, “Maybe you don’t know as much as you thought you did. Anyone else want to take the challenge?”
Several seconds of silence hung over the crowd. Jok looked shocked to see Ivor so easily beaten, and refused to even look at Tomas.
Professor Hector took an angry step forward, tapping a bit of his granite to make his muscles stand out in even sharper relief under his leather shirt. “That match should be disqualified. You didn’t fight fair.”
Tomas barked a laugh. “Fair you say? You’re supposed to be a teacher and you still think battle is fair? Ten points off.”
“I don’t have standings,” the professor growled, his face red with rage.
Connor covered his mouth with his hand to hide his grin.
Cameron grimaced. “So you’re in the hole? How secure’s your tenure?”
“How dare you--” Hector began, but Tomas shouted right over him.
He pointed at Connor. “I bet even this Linn could tell you battle is never fair.”
Everyone turned to stare at Connor, many of them angry, and he sorely wanted to punch Tomas in the face.
“Go on,” Tomas urged. “Tell them.”
“Uh, battle’s not fair.” The very first contact in a real battle would teach every one of those students that grisly truth.
“Ha! I told you. The boy’s genius.”
Chapter 50
Before Tomas could manage to trigger a riot, Cameron took over and started calling students out of the crowd. He included those holding the coveted top ten seats in the Boulder classes, as well as most of the tertiary affinity students in attendance. They tended to be older, with the strongest affinities, and held the best times at the Rhidorroch. Connor wasn’t sure if it was Cameron’s wide, brutish face that cowed the students into listening, or if they lacked enough anger to spare from what they directed at Tomas.
Shona, Jok, Ivor, and Redmund all joined the new group, and Connor passed down the line, handing each student a fresh portion. The two Fast Rollers lined the students up in two ranks facing the plate-armored Boulders, then called another dozen students at random out of the crowd to bolster their side, including Catriona, who looked like she had won a major award by being chosen.
She was almost cordial to Connor as he handed her a portion. Her steady rise through the standings in recent days had bolstered her confidence. No longer did she act like a spoiled child, but carried herself more like a daughter of the royal house. It seemed strange to Connor that it should work that way. Her confidence should come from within, fueled by her sense of identity and commitment to her house.
Cameron strode between the forces, with the dozen plate-armored Boulders to his left and the forty or so students to his right. The students looked tiny and vulnerable in their battle leathers, even though several Linn workers passed out hammers and swords to all of them. The hulking Boulders maintained blank expressions.
“Everyone ready?” Cameron called.
In unison, and with a single, loud shout, the plate-armored Boulders dropped into battle stances with shields set and heavy hammers raised. The students retreated en masse a couple steps, and more than a few looked ready to panic. Notable exceptions were Shona and Ivor, who stood near either end of the front ranks. They both began calling out battle orders.
“Stand down,” Cameron called and the Boulders relaxed. He returned to the center of the gap between the forces. “Five points off for all of you.” As they protested loudly he said, “You’re not ready to face battle-trained Boulders head-on yet! Don’t forget that. No matter how much you think you know, you don’t know nothin’.”
“Have to use your brains in a bash fight as much as your brawn,” Tomas added.
Cameron nodded, “And if that block-head’s figured out that much, I know you folk can do it.”
He pulled both Shona and Ivor out of the ranks of the assembled students, assigned them as captains, then split the remaining group and assigned half to each of them. Redmund protested that he should be captain, but Tomas shut him down by threatening to take off more points from his standings.
“Now, we’re going to practice many-to-many combat to prepare you for the upcoming battles,” said Cameron.
He ran the students through a series of drills, explaining the concepts of facing enemy Boulder forces with large companies. He and Tomas led their Boulder comrades in demonstrating each drill, from frontal one-on-one fighting to more advanced maneuvers. One surprising tactic was allowing one or two enemy Boulders to slip through gaps in the line to give soldiers from the second line a chance to swarm them under.
“That’s a classic technique for winnowing out the enemy field,” Cameron explained. “Takes careful coordination, but can be extremely effective. Otherwise we could beat on each other all day. Usually we don’t get that much time.”
After an hour of heavy practice, they arranged Shona’s little army against Ivor’s to implement the practiced maneuvers. The other students and teachers had gathered closer and their scowls had faded to interest as they learned from masters of the art of bash fighting. The fact that Cameron awarded far more points than he subtracted helped a lot.
“This is a real fight,” Cameron explained. “You will be trying to beat each other. This is not a drill. Some of you are going to get hurt, but if you work together, chances are you’ll make it through.”
That generated a flurry of complaints from both students and teachers, which Tomas quelled with the simple question, “Are you not here to learn to be soldiers? You can’t learn to fight without fighting, or I guarantee you’ll die quick and ugly.”
Cameron issued the command to begin, and the two armies surged against each other. Ivor and Shona both led from the center of their lines, and as students began to engage, the two of them launched into such a savage duel that the other students retreated from them. The crowds began cheering for one or the other, and the rest of the battle fizzled out as everyone turned to watch the two powerful Petralists duel.
Connor hovered near Tomas, glued to the fight, not sure who to root for. He supported Ivor for Tir-raon champion. The man possessed qualities Connor respected. Plus he was a Guardian, and Connor longed to see a Guardian best all the Petralists. Then again, Shona fought with such daring, she inspired him with the same thrill she had the first time they’d met.
Ivor tried to overpower Shona, but she proved more nimble. She had real battlefield experience and she used that to full advantage. As he lunged in for a simple frontal assault, she caught his legs with her hammer, tripped him, and beat on his rock-hard back as he rose.
He surprised her by lunging under her blows, and the two crashed together, discarding hammers to beat on each other with fists.
The fighting filled Connor with remembered excitement and fear from the battles around Alasdair in which he’d fought at Shona’s side. He swayed forward a step, barely checking himself from leaping to her side again. She was fully committed, her beautiful face set in a frown of determination as she faced the bigger Ivor, who was clearly determined not to lose another match.
“Oh, Connor, I hope she’s careful.”
He turned to find Jean standing beside him. She gave a little shrug. “I hate this. I mean, I still don’t really trust her, but she’s so brave to face him.”
“She is pretty amazing,” he admitted, again feeling frustrated that things hadn’t turned out different with Shona. For a long time, he would have gladly committed his service to her without reservation.
Not any more.
He was relieved to see Jean. He’d seen her only rarely in the past two weeks. He longed to hear how her research was going. Before he could ask about it, Ivor managed to twist Shona around and wrapped his arms around her in a lock-hold. The two swelled with granite power as they max-tapped their strength and swayed against each other in their struggle to dominate. Several of the boys whistled or encouraged Ivor to enjoy the close contact with Shona. Catriona, looking disgusted, moved to intervene.
Jok intercepted her. “Battle’s still on. Want to go a round?”
“You’re such a pig.” She swung her sword at him, but he caught her blade and punched her in the stomach, tumbling her off her feet. That triggered a wave of outrage among some of the other girls, who swarmed over Jok and beat him to the ground. The fight threatened to get out of hand and become a general brawl as some of his friends moved to help him, but Tomas sent in the plate-armored Boulders to restore order.
“Five points off for hitting a lady,” Tomas told Jok as he hoisted him off the ground.
“But we were fighting,” he protested. “How can I fight without hitting her?”
“It’s all a matter of perspective.”
Cameron raised his voice. “This battle will be settled by the captains.”
Shona and Ivor still struggled together. She couldn’t quite break out of his hold, but clearly strained the limits of his strength in her attempts to do so.
Tomas motioned Connor forward and handed him a bow and an arrow. Then he declared, “A word of caution. If you ever find yourselves in a strength match like these two, it’s easy to forget to pay attention to more distant threats, like from archers or slingers.”
From where he struggled against Shona, Ivor snorted. “Arrows and stones can’t hurt us when we’re battle-tapping.”
Tomas muttered, “Some people never learn,” and motioned to Connor.
Connor knocked an arrow and drew. He thought back to the terrible midnight battle when the Grandurians had attacked by surprise, right after dropping a bomb on Carbrey’s sleeping camp and unleashing a wave of weakening powder. He’d learned about Boulder weakness points that night and could have killed Ivor at such close range.
The memory, complete with the remembered stench of burned flesh and entrails and blood, sickened him. He adjusted his aim and loosed. The arrow struck Ivor on the eyebrow and bounced off, leaving a tiny white scratch mark. It hit close enough to the eye, one of the few vulnerable spots for a Boulder, that Ivor flinched.
That was all the opening Shona needed.
With a shout of triumph, she drove an elbow into Ivor’s face, and as he rocked back, she threw him over her shoulder. He hit the ground hard and she kicked him in the face as he started to rise.
Ivor rolled with the kick and returned smoothly to his feet. He rubbed his jaw and grinned. “Nice move, Shona. What else have you got for me?”
She hefted her hammer and winked at him. “Come get some.”
“Enough,” Cameron interceded. “Very good match, both of you. Five points to your standings.”
Tomas shouted, “Class dismissed. Remember what you learned. It might save your life.”
Chapter 51
Students and faculty dispersed, some still arguing about whether or not the Fast Rollers had the authority to mess with their standings.
Connor turned to Jean. “How’s your work going?”
“Mostly, it’s been wonderful,” she beamed. Then her expression faded.
Connor wanted to ask her what wasn’t wonderful, but Shona joined them, still panting and sweaty from her recent battle, but smiling. “Thank you, Connor.”
“It was my pleasure,” he said, although he was still feeling rattled by the rush of memories about her, about them, and about the grisly reality of battle.
Ivor interrupted, with Jok right on his heels. He made a little bow to Shona. “Not bad, Shona. You fight like you do everything. With class.”
Shona gave him a genuine smile. “I know a few Petralists who could learn lessons on etiquette from you.”
Still smiling, Ivor said, “Next time I may not be at liberty to show such restraint.”
Shona raised an eyebrow. “And I won’t only hit you above the belt.”
“May I count on your support as the champion nominations are made official?”
“Oh, a lady never reveals her mind ahead of time,” she said in a teasing voice.
Connor could attest to the truth of that, at least where it applied to Shona.
“I look forward to learning your mind at the time of the choosing.” Ivor’s eyes drifted to Jean and paused there. “May I ask a boon, Lady Shona?”
“With such manners, I’d let you lie down in a puddle so I could walk across your back,” Shona said.
He motioned Jok forward, whose eyes were glued to Jean, his expression containing a hunger that made Connor want to punch him.
“Jok’s been interested in meeting your maid for some time, but she’s a difficult girl to track down.”
“I’m aware of that.” She glanced at Connor. “This linn brought word to me.” She gave Jok a disapproving look. “Jean’s a lot like me. Not everyone can keep up.”
“Let me try,” Jok said, reaching for Jean’s hand.
Jean looked afraid and Connor was just about to step forward to intervene, despite the beating he’d likely receive from Jok, but Shona moved first and pulled Jean a step behind her.
“Perhaps at a later date,” Shona said. “Jean is not one I grant just anyone access to.”
“Name your price,” Jok said, looking torn to have to beg to Shona.
“I’ll consider your request,” Shona said.
“You know my father,” Jok said. “I can offer much.”
“But does what you offer match what I need?” Shona asked.
“I’m sure we can think of something,” Jok said. He grinned at Jean. “I look forward to spending some quality time with you, Jean.”
Connor wanted to leap upon him and drive his dagger into the brute’s lecherous eyes. The way they talked about Jean as a piece of property filled him with a seething fury and reinforced his decision to do everything in his power to escape the role Shona planned for him. He’d rescue Jean from her current station too. He couldn’t imagine leaving her for Shona to give to Jok or whoever else she chose, based purely upon the benefit she hoped to receive.
“Only when I say,” Shona reminded him. With a final glance at Ivor, who again bowed to her, she spun on her heel and marched away, with Jean in tow.
Ivor let out a low whistle of appreciation. “That’s quite a woman, and I see what you mean about her maid.”
“Get her for me,” Jok urged.
“Perhaps,” Ivor said. “But don’t let your enthusiasm for a pretty face push you into making foolish choices.”
“I want that girl.”
“You also want a position of captain in my soon-to-be-formed army,” Ivor reminded him. “That’s a lot to ask.”
“Name your price,” Jok said, looking earnest.
“Very well,” Ivor said, his expression thoughtful. “I have need of couriers. You will assign several of your father’s personal Strider corps to attend my needs.”
“Done,” Jok said immediately.
“Your father also has in his service a lovely young Pathfinder named Sheigra. You will arrange for her to attend me daily.”
Connor should have retreated, but he lingered nearby, fiddling with his bow while listening to the fascinating exchange.
“I can arrange it,” Jok said, looking a little less sure of himself. “But she has a fiery personality, and she’s to be included in the pairings this year.”
“I know,” Ivor said. “She’s exactly what I need.”
“Have a care,” Jok said. “She’s not one to meddle with lightly.”
“Leave her to me,” Ivor said. “Do me these services and I will grant your requests.”
“Done.” Jok turned a victorious glance on Connor. “I win.”
“Not yet, you haven’t.”
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Jok said. “It reflects poorly on your breeding.”
Connor was tempted to thrust a hand into his satchel for granite, despite all the reasons he shouldn’t, but Ivor stepped between them.
“Jok, see to arrangements. I need to speak with this linn.”
Connor was amazed anew by the reversals in their roles. Jok should be the one in command, but Ivor had gained influence over him and acted as if he were the noble-born and Jok the servant.
Jok retreated, although Connor caught an angry glare. He wasn’t sure if it was directed at him, or at Ivor.
Ivor considered Connor, rubbing his eyebrow where the arrow had struck, even though no mark remained.
“That was a deliberate shot,” Ivor said. “You’re a linn, but you understand Boulder weaknesses better than most of the students. How is that?”
“I pay attention,” Connor said, wishing he had left when he’d had the chance. Ivor was far too clever.
“I hear that about you,” Ivor said, his tone approving. “You’ve become a bit of a legend in the gambling circles.”
Connor shrugged. “I’m well positioned at the Rhidorroch.”
“So are most of the students,” Ivor pointed out. “And yet most of them can’t win a gambling geall to save their life.”
“They have other things to worry about,” Connor suggested, taking a step toward Tomas and Cameron, who were speaking with the angry Professor Hector nearby.
“Don’t rush off,” Ivor said, stepping closer. “I have a geall to propose.”
“What geall?” Connor couldn’t resist asking.
“You’re friends with the girl, Jean,” Ivor said. “I know about your geall with Jok.” He gave Connor a knowing smile. “I know about your attempts to delay him, and I applaud your courage, but you lacked proper leverage.”
“What are you suggesting?” Connor asked, not sure where the conversation was going.
“I know you worry about Jean, and I know Professor Hector has taken an interest in facilitating access to Jean for Jok.”
Connor found it hard to breathe. Could Ivor know about the pendant?
Ivor continued. “I can help you.”
“How?” Connor was hoping Shona’s father would intervene with Hector, but could Ivor really help?
“I don’t think Jok means your Jean harm, but I can make sure he treats her with respect.” Ivor said, watching Connor carefully.
