DISCLAIMER: Tamora Pierce owns everything. I'm just a poor little amateur who doesn't have enough dedication to flesh out and work with her own characters.
LOVE IS BLIND
Chapter Four
Fight
Before Alanna realised what had hit her, it was midsummer. The heat was sweltering, and bathing was extremely popular. To avoid any conflict or embarrassment, she kept indoors. Whenever the word 'Bathing' was mentioned, she would be gone by twenty seconds.
Meanwhile, tensions between Tortall and Tuisane were beginning to grow taut. As rumours about Tuisane intentions of taking Drell Valley from Tortall amassed, the Tuisane King sent over his ambassadors, for diplomatic negotiation (by request of King Roald). Roald was desperate to avoid war. Unlike his temperamental father, King Jasson 'The Empire Builder', King Roald relished his title of 'The Peacekeeper'. It seemed as though everyone but Roald realised that the Tuisane ambassadors were seeking to take advantage of Tortall's weak stomach.
Inevitably, the delegation consisted of a variety of Tuisane personalities, the most avid being the young Tuisane knights, eager to prove their strength over their 'weak' cousins. Alanna's femininity was made much of.
There were endless dances, dinners, balls and outings. If there wasn't a hunt one day, there would be a ball; if there wasn't a ball, there would be dinner; if there wasn't dinner, there would be something equally as frustrating and pointless. For Alanna, it was sheer torture.
Being Jonathan's squire, Alanna was expected to attend every single event, if not as a server; it was as a spectator, or a supporter. She was in the thick of things: serving drinks, fanning presumptuous nobles, and acting a temporary ornament for Jonathan at dances, before he found himself yet another noble-blooded girl to flirt and bed.
As the days wore on, the Tuisane delegations became more presumptuous, thinking that the King was weak, when he was merely being quiet.
The one particular party, the beginning of the end, started off very much the same as the other parties. The courtiers were dressed in their finest; with the ladies in long, rustling gowns, cut in the latest style and the men in stiff, tight circulation-stopping breeches. The squires were posted around strategic spots, bearing pitchers of drink, eagerly keeping their eyes and ears alert for any useful information.
And it was the combination of testosterone and alcohol that fuelled Dain of Tuisane's folly.
It had start out as a 'friendly' debate, where the knights from both sides were comparing the strength of their arms, when suddenly, a Tuisane knight by the name of Dain burst out in a scornful remark.
"Fencing?" he scoffed. "I have seen what your country calls fencing, Prince Jonathan. In our country, we call that dancing. Our three-year-olds can fence better than your trained knights!"
Instantly, the noise level dropped. All the Tortallan men in the room (save Myles, who was just sipping his brandy, his expression mild) had their hands on the hilts of their swords, faces red with wounded pride and anger.
It was Gary who spoke up, his voice tense and strained with suppressed anger. "You are unpardonably rude in the country of your host," he said. "If only it was possible I could teach you a lesson."
Now, the room was silent. Then, Ambassador Mikal spoke, his voice oily. "I apologise for the offence young Dain has caused," he said, his voice ringing with insincerity. "But… I must agree with him. Your majesty, perhaps peace has dulled your, ah, fighting edge?"
By now, all the Tortallan men were swollen with anger. Raoul was clutching his brandy glass so hard; it was on the verge of bursting. Alanna quickly intervened, whispering in Douglass's ear, referring pointedly to Raoul. The young man instantly hurried to his knight master, whispering choice words in his ear. Raoul relaxed – slightly, and released his white-knuckled grip with a sigh.
"I disagree," Jonathan said loudly. "Why, even our women can handle a sword against a full knight, when taught by our fencing masters." He nodded to Duke Gareth.
Dain smirked. "Bring on your champion, your highness," he said, uproariously. "I could defeat him in my sleep, with one hand tied behind my back!" he added.
Jon matched the smirk with a calm smile of his own. "I said, women." He raised a brow, darting a look to Alanna. "Not champion."
Instantly, Alanna knew what Jon had in mind. It was a very good idea, if she could pull it off. Dain was so pumped with arrogance and self-assurance, defeating him would deliver an undeniable message to his countrymen; that Tortallans were not to be trifled with.
She walked up, bowing low to Jonathan. "Your Highness?" She murmured, deliberately pitching her voice to sound more feminine. Dain had snubbed her badly the day before. She was determined to win, and gain her pound of flesh.
"My personal squire, Alanna, would not mind a fencing match," Jon said coolly.
Dain stared at Alanna, mouth dropping open. "You want me to fence with a woman?" he said, his incredulity causing his voice to slip several octaves higher. "Surely, that is… unchivalrous."
"Are you afraid?" Jon said in a soft, concerned voice, smiling slightly just so to aggravate the foreign knight. "If so, I wouldn't blame you. I am told Alanna is excellent at swordplay."
"I'm not afraid," Dain snarled. "If the wench wants to fight, I will oblige her! I fear no woman, Prince Jonathan."
Jonathan turned to his parents, bowing. "Your Majesties, please excuse us, we have an… disagreement to settle at the courts."
Whilst the servants prepared the largest fencing court, Timon was sent to retrieve Alanna's fencing gear. Alex, Duke Gareth and Alanna stood to one side, discussing fencing tactics, while the monarchs, Ambassador Mikal and his Lady Aenne debated on the outcome of the 'disagreement'."
"This will be - interesting- entertainment, no doubt!" Lady Aenne said, laughing lightly.
"It certainly will," said King Roald, thoughtfully.
Mikal shook his head. "There is a reason why women are not warriors," he said. "And we are about to see the proof in action."
Myles was furious. He stormed into Alanna's conversation. "Are you crazy?" he demanded. "Why are you throwing everything away?"
Alex was hasty to reply. "Alanna is very good," he said at once. "We've trained together, she and I, under Duke Gareth's instruction. Female or not, it will be no easy match." He excused himself, and went to find Duke Roger.
There was something very strange going on. Alanna studied Alex as he went off. He seemed a little bit too eager about the upcoming duel. The very thought that he would wish her harm was laughable. After all, they had been good friends for quite some time.
An hour before the match was scheduled to begin, both Alanna and Dain had arrived to the fencing courts, and were sent to opposite ends. Whilst Dain joked with his comrades, and cast sly insulting glances (and undoubtedly, comments) towards Alanna's direction, Alanna began her limbering exercises, while accessing him in the back of her mind.
He was overconfident. It was in his stance, his words. If his attitude translated into the match, it would be advantageous to Alanna. He had also been drinking. With luck, both would affect the quality of his sword-skills.
In the stands, Mikal didn't even bother to lower his voice. "How brave this woman must be!" he said mockingly. "Truly, I fear for her. Dain is very good and he knows no boundaries when enraged." He paused, his eyes passing through the court with fevered excitement of one who was assured of victory. "This match will have a sorrowful outcome."
The hour came.
Alanna and Dain came together at the centre.
"Are you prepared?" The King's voice rang commandingly through the courts. The courtiers hushed in anticipation.
Both Alanna and Dain nodded, mouths set in a straight line. They faced the king, bowed, and then saluted him with their swords. Quickly, almost reluctantly, they bowed to each other then moved until they were a sword lengths distance apart.
"Cross your weapons," the King said, watching as the two obeyed. "Do honour to your laws and chivalry and to the customs of your land - Guard!"
They both darted forward. Dain instantly assumed the position of the aggressor. His sword met Alanna's with a loud clang. When she blocked as he expected, he began to bear down, attempting to force her sword to the floor. Alanna gritted her teeth, resisted and held. Her muscles were aching with protest, but ever alert, she caught the flash of annoyance flickering through Dain's eyes, as he read her full measure. He had realised that she would not be an easy opponent to beat.
He broke away, and circled her warily. "Prepare to die, wench!"
Alanna did not reply. Although it was customary to hurl insults at your opponents, Alanna found it to be a waste of energy—and breath. It was also a good tactic, as often, her opposition would become unnerved by her uncanny silence. Nervousness increased. Performance decreased.
She kept her eyes on his torso, watching for his next movement.
When Dain whipped his sword down and in, a quick movement, she responded by striking it away, and aiming her own blade straight to his heart, prepared to pull back if necessary. He had to step back. She retreated before she lost balance.
"An amateur move," Dain scoffed. He sounded less confident, now.
The King winked at Roger, smiling. The match was turning out to be quite enjoyable. The Ambassador was squirming slightly. "That 'child's trick' nearly worked," Roald said, enjoying Mikal's obvious discomfort.
Dain continued to attempt to distract her with insults, circling and quick blows. Alanna was forced to assume defensive. Whilst she fended off his blows, she looked for an opening. She didn't want bloodshed. She just wanted to knock the sword out of his hand, so the match would finally be over.
The minutes ticked past. Sweat was now trickling down Alanna's cheeks, and Dain's shirt and tunic were soaked. He was breathing heavily. He was tiring. Alanna allowed herself an inner smile. If only Dain had begun fencing with Coram's sword! He would not be near half as weary as he was now.
But her sweat was making her nervous. If by chance, it dripped into her eye and obscured her vision, or dripped onto the floor…
Meanwhile, Dain was blabbing every insult that he could think of, from Alanna's parents to Alanna's looks; beneath that, was the sound of padded feet and Dain's heavy breathing. The audience was captivated, silent.
In a desperate move, Alanna lunged forward frantically, forcing Dain to stumble back. While he recovered, she attempted to quickly swipe a clothed arm over her face. However, she was not fast enough.
Dain darted forward with a triumphant yell. Her reflexes were too slow. His blade sank deep into her right arm, below the elbow. Regretting her bad timing, Alanna lowered her sword, accepting defeat. Dain had won according to the rules. He had drawn first blood.
However, Ambassador Mikal's words proved to be true. For Dain, the battle had just begun. He lunged for her chest, eyes crazy. Alanna jumped aside, narrowly missing death by his sword.
"Foul!" Gary cried. He was not the only one.
Dain just ignored them, circling Alanna. Duke Gareth strode in, his sword shimmering, with all intentions of cutting the fight short, but Alanna shook her head. The knight had disobeyed the Code of Chivalry. For that, he would pay.
There was blood on the floor. As she transferred Lightning to her left hand, she took especial care not to slip on it. She stepped away, to face Dain.
This time, Alanna assumed the role of aggressor. She lunged forwards viciously, her sword meeting Dain's with a painful clang. Pulling away, she repeated the move again and again. With each clash, Dain's block became clumsier.
Her sword never stopped looking for an opening. And then, at last… she found one.
Bringing Lightening down, under and up, she sent Dain's sword went flying. Dain stumbled, trying to escape, but Alanna darted forward to press Lightning to his throat.
"Yield," she said to him, her eyes glowing with cold fire. "You should be glad I am not remotely like you, Sir Dain, or you would be dead."
Faced with no choice, Dain yielded.
She turned disdainfully, but her graceful exit was immediately countered, as she stumbled. Her right armed dangled uselessly. Jon was right behind her. He caught her, and held her steady as Duke Baird bound up her wound.
"You all right there?" he asked her.
She nodded mutely.
In the stands, Ambassador Mikal was thoroughly embarrassed. "All along, she was holding back, the girl was holding back!" He shook his head, torn between humiliation and admiration. "Are all your warriors so formidable, or is it just the women?"
King Roald attempted to fight back a smile, but finally succumbed. The turnabout was amusing. He looked to where Alanna and his son stood, bandaging the wounds. For a moment, he couldn't articulate his thoughts. "What we have there is a promise," he said finally. "A promise to a bright future, a future we want to preserve."
A/N: I have taken quite a few chapters to get to the exciting stuff, but the next chapter has... dum dum dum... DELIA!
Thank you to: Forget-me-not, Reaya, HuntressDiana, froggy, Chopstix, Arcander, cow