Chapter 7: The Thief and the Warrior
"She's pretty good, isn't she?" Ruby said.
Neo yawned.
"Not bad," Emerald said. "But nothing special."
Below them, in the arena, Pyrhha Nikos finished up the last of Team CRDL. Three were already down, lying in various stages of incapacitation. Only the leader was left, dressed in full plate mail, swinging a mace larger than his own head. He charged forward, bringing his mace down with both hands in a crushing, savage blow that would've annihilated Pyrhha had she not easily dodged it and smashed her shield into his face. Ruby almost felt sorry for Cardin; the last two tries hadn't worked, so why had he expected the third to? But there was something to be said for determination, she supposed, as Cardin stood up again, ready for a fourth attempt. Pyrhha knocked the mace out of his hands. He stared dumbly down at the space where it used to be. She struck him six times more times in the chest, spear point meeting plate mail in a rapid scale of metallic clinks, culminating with a dual-handed spear thrust that launched him backwards into the wall. With a groan, he fell forward and lay still.
"Match over!"
The teacher walked forward. She spoke with Pyrhha before turning to the rest of the audience.
"We have time for one more sparring match. Any volunteers? Miss Belladonna? You've been rather – "
"Ooo, pick me, pick me!" Ruby raised her hand, leaning over the railing. "I'll do it! Pick me!"
"We're trying to keep a low profile," Emerald hissed.
"Ruby, is it?" Goodwitch said, adjusting her glasses. "Very well."
Ruby leapt down from the seats, Crescent Rose already in her hands. In a series of clicks, it extended to its full length, taller than she was, blood-red blade catching the gleam of sunlight. She grinned. The thrill was there again, a rush of blood that heightened her senses until the world popped with color; she could see each stray stitch on Goodwitch's dress, smell last night's rain rising from the dirt, hear her own heartbeat like cymbals in her chest. Effortlessly, she twirled Crescent Rose in her hands, resting it over one shoulder.
"I've heard about you," she said to Pyrrha. "You're the four-time winner of the Mistral regionals! I was hoping we'd come across each other in the tournament."
"Eh-hem," Goodwitch coughed. "I'm afraid Miss Nikos has just finished a match. I recommend you choose another partner."
"What!"
"No, it's fine," Pyrrha said hastily. "I'd be happy to oblige."
"Alright!"
Goodwitch sighed, rubbing her temples. "Very well. Just…try not to get carried away."
They took their positions on opposite sides of the arena. Distance was approximately three hundred feet, Ruby judged, which would be easy to close, both for her and her opponent. Pyrrha's weapons were quick and flexible, able to attack and defend at the same time (Ruby would've love the opportunity to study them, and she had to clear that distraction with a shake of her head), but they lacked the pure destructive power of Ruby's two-handed scythe. In her peripheral vision, Ruby saw Neo lean forward with her chin against the railing, and it was a toss-up whether she wanted Ruby to win or lose. Next to her, Emerald was mouthing words that looked suspiciously like low profile.
The gong sounded.
Before the reverberations left her ears, Ruby vanished in a swirl of rose petals. Pyrrha's eyes widened in surprise, but still she managed to bring her shield up in time. Crescent Rose crashed against it with a force that sent tremors along Ruby's arms. Ruby followed through with two more strikes, but even before she lifted her scythe she knew it would be fruitless; the element of surprise was lost. Pyrrha blocked them easily. Before Pyrhha could retaliate, Ruby leapt back, scythe held in a guard position.
She had expected Pyrhha to rush at her. She had not expect Pyrhha to throw her shield, a whistling blur of razor-sharp metal that could've severed her head from her neck. Ruby knocked it aside, and, sure enough, Pyrrha followed behind it, spear already thrust forward. Ruby ducked under it, only to meet Pyrrha's knee-strike across her face. Blood welled in her mouth. Blindly, Ruby lashed out with her scythe, expecting to hit nothing, and she didn't. But it bought her enough time. When the stars left her head, Pyrrha was twenty feet away, watching her closely, shield already back on her arm.
Ruby spat out the blood. She had lost the opening gambit, but the game was far from over.
She fired off three shots. The bullets bounced harmlessly off Pyrrha's shield, a momentary distraction. Ruby appeared behind her, scythe raised for a decapitation. Pyrrha spun around. Ruby pulled the trigger. The recoil propelled Crescent Rose into a downward swing, blade meeting shield in a high, pure ringing so beautiful Ruby mourned the silence that followed. Pyrrha grunted. Her feet sank an inch into the dirt. She lunged with her spear, but Ruby had disappeared again, this time coming from her right. The most terrifying thing about the Huntress, Ruby thought, was her efficiency. Pyrhha had the discipline of a solder, never making a wasted movement, each attack and counter as precise as the second and minute hands of a clock. No matter which direction Ruby struck from, Pyrrha met her with calculated precision; no matter how much strength she put into her blows, Pyrrha met her with equal force and, immediately after, a counter-strike of her own. In school, Ruby had heard, Pyrrha was supposed to be quite a nice girl, but you wouldn't know that from the battlefield. She bore the grim, unchanging expression of a machine.
Yet even without the Aura indicators, Ruby knew Pyrrha was tiring. Her strikes came a half-second slower than before, her blocks giving inches more. Ruby herself was tiring. One way or another, the battle would end soon.
Ruby braced Crescent Rose's hilt under her arm, blade pointed upwards, willing herself to go faster, faster, faster, flitting around Pyrrha with the evanescence of petals in a blizzard. When at last she struck, Crescent Rose bore the full revolution of her body. Pyrrha skidded backwards along the dirt. But her shield held. Ruby spun on the ball of her foot, scythe-blade slashing from the opposite side, and I've got her, she thought, I've got her for sure this time, not even Pyrrha is fast enough to defend against that, and, sure enough, Pyrrha's eyes widened for the second time that fight, a look of defeat – no, not quite defeat, something hard still glittered in those eyes, and on the periphery of feeling, more impression than vision, Ruby caught the golden blur of Pyrrha's spear darting towards her, victory at any cost, and Ruby took a moment to relish the sheer unexpectedness of it, like finding a knife in your morning cereal, and the only question that remained was which weapon was faster…
"Match over!"
Ruby felt her body freeze. Something lifted her into the air, dangling like a fish on a hook. In front of her, Pyrrha, too, was suspended, and equally surprised.
"Unfortunately, we are out of time," Goodwitch said. With a flick of her arm, she unceremoniously dumped them onto the ground. "Please return to your teams."
Ruby lay still on the floor, getting her breath back under control, waiting for the adrenaline to wear off. She closed her eyes. In the distance, she heard a roar, a sustained wave of noise that swallowed her and stadium whole, and it took her a second to realize it was the audience cheering. When she opened her eyes, she saw Pyrrha's hand offered towards her.
"Thanks," she said, pulling herself up.
Pyrrha, she was disappointed to see, wasn't as out-of-breath as she was. Endurance was something she would need to work on. Sweat gleamed on Pyrrha's forehead, clear-crystal drops like jewels on olive skin. Dirt streaked across Pyrhha's armor. Ruby's own clothes were in a similar state. Just half a second more, she thought, eyeing the spear slung across Pyrrha's back, and I definitely would've won. Probably.
"A good fight," Pyrrha said, smiling.
"You're as good as they say," Ruby confessed.
"If your team's as strong as you are, I don't fancy facing you in the tournament."
"Oh, no, not even close. I'm the weakest one on my team."
Pyrrha took a step back. Her surprise was a lily out-of-season, Ruby thought: a single-second bloom – a widening of the eyes, a tightening around her jaw, a half-intake of breath – and then, much like on the battlefield, her emotions were once again reigned in.
"I find that difficult to believe."
"Tied for weakest, anyway," Ruby said. "But you really can't compare Neo to anyone else, and Cinder's like ten years older than me."
"I…see."
"I can definitely believe you're the best student in your year, though," Ruby continued. "Oh, don't try to deny it. Everybody knows it. Those weapons of yours are top-notch! Mind if I take a look?" Eagerly, she grasped Pyrrha's left hand, turning it over to reveal the shield strapped to her wrist, smaller now than it had been in battle. Its hue and weight seemed like it was made of bronze, but surely such a flimsy material could not have withstood so many blows from Crescent Rose without a mark. Perhaps the secret lay in the curvature…
Pyrrha laughed, gently extricating her arm. "Another time. My team's calling for me. Perhaps we'll meet each other at the tournament."
"In the finals," Ruby said, grinning.
And next time, she thought, there won't be a Glynda Goodwitch to interrupt us.
A/N: Sorry for the delay, but RL stuff keeps getting in the way. This chapter was actually pre-written months ago.