Pepper, Cider, Haven, and I go to the rest of the stations, but I focus mainly on weaponry. The Capital has provided several trainers that assist us, giving pointers on swords and knives, even instructing me on archery, which I do well in, to my surprise.
"Practice with me, Echo," Pepper demands of me several hours into the training time. She tosses one of the long staves at me, and I barely have time to prepare myself before her onslaught.
She is well-adapted to the stick-as-a-weapon thing. She is so graceful, dancing circles around me and hardly breaking a sweat as she easily defends herself. Just as Haven knocked me to the floor, Pepper stands triumphantly over me at the end of our bout.
"You lose," she says grinning.
"Whatever," I grumble, pushing her staff away from me and rising to my feet. "Let's try something else."
We pick up swords this time, something I'm decent at. I choose a thin one, slightly curved, of folded steel. It is light and maneuverable, slightly longer than my arm, and I have complete control over it. I believe it is called a scimitar.
Pepper looks determinedly at me, holding a rapier, and I grin wickedly at her. Even though she has the advantage on range, I could tell by the way she held her weapon that she wasn't comfortable.
We circle around each other, brandishing our armaments, feinting periodically. I am the first to make the forward move, and our swords clash. Pepper swings her sword and I parry each blow, easily walking circles around her. My footwork is excellent for this type of weapon. My dad and I would practice regularly for the annual sword competition in District 4, and Jareth and I both have several titles under our belts.
Pepper fares well for a long time, but she makes the crucial mistake of letting down her guard, and I easily disarm her, leaving her defenseless and at my mercy. She stands panting with my sword at her throat, staring intensely at me before gently pushing the blade away from her.
"Alright, Echo," she says finally, bowing her head in respect at me, then glaring at me defiantly. "A tie breaker?"
"Terms?"
"Close-hand combat."
It soon becomes clear that Pepper and I are making the instructors nervous. As we stand off for the third time, the instructors eye us anxiously, and several come to stand near us, apparently afraid that we are trying to kill each other. It kind of makes me laugh, but I keep focused on Pepper, who is twirling two matching daggers in her hands.
I hold my knives tightly in my fists, not quite sure what my strategy is. We are evenly matched this time, so it will be a gamble, no matter what I do.
We go in fighting hard, our knives generating sparks, the room echoing with the clash of metal on metal. Several minutes into our battle I realize that the room has gone quiet and the other tributes have formed a circle around us, watching in awe as Pepper drives her weapons towards me. Both of us grunt with the effort of fending each other off, each of us quickly being drained of energy.
Finally, simultaneously, we each disarm each other of one knife. They were locked together in the hilt of her dagger, and a twist from her wrist had sent the two of them flying several feet away from us. She surprises me by whipping her other dagger away from her, nearly skewering one of the tributes from 10, and launching herself at me. She wrestles my knife from my hand, lashing at me with her teeth and a surprisingly firm grip. I realize that her struggling last night had only been half-hearted, and a quick knee to my stomach causes her to win the fight.
I back away from her, our eyes locked. A slight quirk of her eyebrows is the only warning I get before she hurls the knife at me. It occurs to me that she intends for me to duck the knife whirling towards me, but I can't act quickly enough, so instead I pluck it out of the air by the blade and wing it back towards her. It is a trick that Jareth and I practiced together. I have many scars and years of experience concerning this act of entertainment, and I can see the surprise in everyone's face.
Almost immediately after I release the blade, I regret it. Pepper doesn't have any form of warning that I would be sending the knife back at her, but she has sense enough not to move. Even though we have only known each other for a short time, I believe that her trust in me is strong—she has to know that I wouldn't be able to hurt her.
In any case, her eyes narrow on the knife and it gently ruffles her hair a mere three centimeters from the side of her face before sticking solidly in the wall.
The noise in the room is nonexistent. For the first time in my life I truly experienced the expression "you could hear a pin drop." I can hear the blood rushing in my ears and I can feel the adrenalin slowly ebbing away. Pepper stares at me for a long time as I straighten up. Her eyes are wide and she is breathing hard; her expression gives away nothing, and I fear that I have scared her. I give her a very small smile, and the tension in the room is broken.
The noise is suddenly deafening, and I am swarmed by tributes and instructors alike. I my eyes stay locked with Pepper's as the distance between us becomes a loud sea of people. Right before my attention is diverted, I mouth to her "I win."
"Oh my gosh, did you see that last move?"
"She was so amazing!"
"One of them will win!"
"Echo, you're an idiot!" The last exclamation comes from Haven. She is suddenly in front of me, her hands on my shoulders and her face red. "What were you thinking? You could have killed each other!" I grin widely at her, feeling the rush of triumph.
"Hey!" I yelp in surprise as I'm pulled away from everyone and roughly looked over by several trainers. They pull at my clothes and ask a million questions on if I am feeling pain or if I am hurt. Of course I answer no to each one. It was not a malicious fight. Violent, maybe, but not malicious.
Finally they release me and I fight my way to Pepper, smiling at the "that was so cool!"s and the "where did you learn to do that?"s. She is also being manhandled by the trainers but she fights them off.
"Remind me to never get on your bad side," she says to me, gently resting her hand on my lower back.
"I should say the same," I tell her, cocking my head to one side, wondering why she won't look at me. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" She meets my eyes then, and smiles softly; I realize that her face is kind of pale and I can feel the crease deepen in my forehead.
"No. Just almost gave me a heart attack." We laugh together and I relax a bit, slinging my arm over her shoulders.
"I'm sorry…I didn't really think about the repercussions of that last move…."
"I should say not. Where did you even learn that?"
"My brother. Nearly cut my fingers off lots of times." She smiles up at me again, a little bit of color returning to her cheeks.
"I guess I have to admit that it was very impressive."
"I think you should also admit that I win." She bumps her hip into me and her eyes narrow defiantly.
"Never." We laugh again and arrive next to Haven and Cider who are glaring disapprovingly. Their stance—arms crossed, foots practically tapping, anger in their faces—reminds me of my mother when she is crazy angry with me or my brother. The memories make me laugh harder.
"I think it's time for lunch," Haven says coldly. Haven takes my arm and marches me forward, Pepper and Cider following.
Haven remains stony towards me for the rest of the day. Pepper kisses me goodnight, and Haven slams the door to her room right before we go to bed. I decide that perhaps the bit of fame and the knowledge that I can defend myself is worth her anger. Even so, I fall asleep with a knot in my stomach.
`ΣΔ`
The next morning is rather uneventful. Haven still refuses to talk to me. She fumes over her fruited oatmeal and shoots snide comments at me until I can't take it anymore.
"I'm sorry, okay? I don't understand why you're so upset." Her brown eyes are hard when she looks at me.
"The only advantage we have is knowing what the nature of the Games really is, Echo. That little stunt you pulled yesterday was foolish and stupid. Who knows how many of the others have figured out what's going on! You know, and maybe you are prepared for tomorrow, but I'm not! I don't have the skills or the state of mind to kill and defend myself, and you've put the situation on a precarious point. I just am angry, alright? I'm scared and I'm angry, and right now I don't like looking at you."
I pick at my food dejectedly, muttering another apology and stewing in my own anger. It had only been practice. It wasn't as if I had been trying to attract attention. I figure that she is overreacting and needs to take a chill pill, but I refrain from telling her so.
The silence is deafening as our spoons scrape our bowls and I slurp my coffee. When I can't take the quiet any longer I shove my bowl forward and stalk out of the room. With every second that Haven is still upset, it makes me even angrier. Who is she, to act this way?
Without really thinking about what I am doing, I take the elevator down and stew by myself in the lobby. Today is the last day before the Games.
I look around, perhaps for the first time. The room is painted a serene color of blue, separated tastefully by mosaic murals of colored glass and mirrors. It reminds me of the people in the Capital: random and exuberant. Also, for the first time, I think that the appearance of the Capitolians may possibly be the reason that they are so care-free. Dressing the part may make them believe that there is nothing better than the "right now." Although I dislike the Capital, and it's people, and the false belief that there is nothing outside the Capital, I feel a slight connection to the people, and hate them a little less.
While lost in my thoughts, the room has filled with the rest of the tributes. Several of them crowd around me, including the little boy, Madeira, from 10. I smile softly at him and he grins back. He is one of the twelve-year-olds.
"Hi," he says shyly, looking down at his shoes. "You were really awesome yesterday," he continues. "I wish I could do something like that."
"Lots of practice," I tell him, reaching out awkwardly to touch his shoulder. "All it takes is a little practice." He smiles wider at me and then scampers off to join the other tribute from his district, a tall girl with thick brown hair and giant brown eyes.
Haven appears moments later, her whole manner rigid. I decide that arguing with her is not on the top of my list of things to do, so I ignore her, just as she ignores me.
The stern woman, who I still have yet to learn the name of, who gives us our morning announcements arrives at the front of the room, right in front of the doors to the training center.
"Good morning," she says, her monotone voice traveling coldly to our ears. "Today you will have twenty minutes to warm up. You will then retire to the banquet hall, and each of you will be called for your allotted time with the judges. When everyone is finished, you will have an early dinner, and then you will be transported to the location of the Games.
"You will move quickly and maturely throughout the rest of the day to ensure that everything runs smoothly. Are there any questions?"
A hand shoots up just to my left. It's the little boy from 10.
"I thought that the Games were being held here?"
"No. A location has been set aside for the Games."
"And what are we supposed to do, exactly?" Madeira's district partner stands defiantly with her arms crossed over her chest and the deadliest look I have ever seen on her face. "No one has told us anything about these damn Games except what you told us two days ago. What exactly are we doing?"
I can tell that the girl has crossed a line, for the stern woman narrows her eyes dangerously before replying.
"The terms of the Games will not be given. It is up to the participants to realize what the objective is and how to reach it."
"That's complete bullshit." I'm surprised to hear Haven's voice. She is glaring angrily at the woman and I realize why she has refrained from asking questions beforehand. "No other competitors go into the competition without knowing what the objective is and how to get it. Don't tell me that you can't tell us what the hell is going on!"
We are only met with the stony glare of the woman who turns abruptly and leaves us in the tense silence. I raise an eyebrow at Haven who gives me an exasperated look back at me. Today was not going to be fun.
Warm up is limited. All of the stations except the weapons have been removed from the training room, and soon there are twenty-four children swinging swords, knives, axes, and a number of other dangerous weapons.
I practice with a set of throwing knives, robin-hooding a pair of them, and I take a few laps around the gym. With five minutes left to spare, I scout out my competition.
The two tributes from 1 seem relatively harmless, along with ones from 11 and 12. The six of them are awkward with their handling of the arms, and by each of their expressions I determine that they have been uninformed on the use of most weapons.
My biggest worry is the tributes from 2. Canto Strike is a large, toned boy of fourteen or fifteen. Even though he is young, he is over six feet tall, and is as strong as an ox. I watch him for several minutes wielding a five-foot claymore sword, and my anxiety grows. He will be a great enemy.
His district mate is just as lethal. She is fifteen and is tall for her age as well. She is strong and determined, practicing with a foreign weapon that I have never seen. It is a long chain with a scary-looking knife on each end. She practices with the weapon on a practice dummy, easily decapitating it when I walk past. My heart beats rapidly in my throat as I quickly move on.
Yes, the tributes from 2 will be a big problem.
Electra and Shock are a tag team of lethality, sparring with each other in quick, deft movements. Only, instead of sparring against each other, it's as if they are fighting as one, each anticipating the move of the other and acting in unison. I fear them, just as well.
Madeira and his district partner, who I learn is named Syrah, are rather dangerous. They both can use a lasso with amazing accuracy, but the both of them seem down to earth, and I feel that the actual killing will be difficult for them.
The tributes from 9 are tied with 2. Their district focuses on hunting, a kind of mix between ten and 11. I am not sure why we have this district, but it will prove difficult to go up against them. The girl, Carrick, can shoot a crossbow and hit within millimeters of her intended target. And the boy, Mhikele, can do nasty things with a dart gun and a knife. Out of the two districts, I fear 9 the most, if only because they are skillful hunters; even so, district 2 takes the award for ruthlessness. I never see either of them smile, but I saw the gleam of pleasure in the girl's eyes when she beheaded the dummy.
Neither 8 nor 6 show any threatening abilities, but they are not weak or unskilled. The twelve-year-old from 8 is swift on her feet and fierce in her attitude, but she is quiet and scared. The tributes from 6 are younger, and they seem like they have been brought up on the higher side of society. Despite their lack of agility and strength, I realize that they are from the district of innovation, so I do not put them out of the game too quickly. What they lack in physical ability they make up for in creativity. I feel that any traps laid by those two will be a nightmare.
I am just settling down after my second turn around the gym when a loud siren goes off, supplying the obvious "your time is up."
We all file into the banquet hall, and I quickly find a chair and drape myself over it. It is going to be an extremely long day of doing nothing.
My time comes more quickly than I expect. Perhaps it was because I was distracted by the Oakame twins, but in any case, my name is suddenly being announced.
"Good luck," Pepper says to me cheerily. I smile back, but my stomach is writhing with butterflies. I look to Haven, hoping for some form of encouragement, but she is still angry with me and pointedly looks away.
I take a deep breath and follow the announcer out into the gym. My footsteps echo off the walls and it makes me nervous for some reason. The judges sit at a table on one side of the room. There are at least ten of them, each dressed in gaudy Capital clothes, and not one of them looks up from their lunch of…whatever they are eating.
I begin by tossing knives, each of which hit the center of the eight targets set up around the room. With my last two knives, I robin-hood two of the knives already embedded in the targets. I glance at the judges and see that I have interested a few, but none of them are writing anything down or talking about it.
With my knife throwing done, I search around for another weapon, and I pick up a sword, slashing violently at the dummies that litter the room. I feel extremely foolish as I "practice." It is awkward and cumbersome, not really showing my true skill, for there is no danger.
I have a couple of minutes left after the sword work, and I take up a silver trident. Hefting the thing, I throw it with all my might at one of the remaining dummies. It lands neatly with the middle spire right through the heart. To be honest, I am pleased. I had figured my best bet would be throwing knives, and it had not occurred to me yesterday that, since I was a fisherman, I throw spears all the time. My long-range ability just got stronger; not to mention, with both a trident and a set of knives, I can fight with a wide range, and also hand-to-hand, if necessary.
Soon, though, my time is up and I awkwardly leave the room. Again, none of the Capitolians look at me as I leave, and my annoyance with the finicky ways of the Capital grows.
`ΣΔ`
Another part, as promised! Again, the cut off is kind of weird here, so, when I get home from dress shopping, I'll post "chapter" 10. I hope you are enjoying the Capital Games, and the Games FINALLY start next chapter. Whoo!
