“Before you,” he boomed, “is the finest fighter known in the shire of the rheas!”
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His voice shook the very air, resounding like thunder. The chattering spectators summarily shut up.
There was an instant of calm, of silence. Then, with a great wave of his arm, Wizard Boy said as if he had sucked in all the air in the stadium:
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“Her first mentor was the renowned adventurer, he who went there and back again deep under the mountain, the great swordmaster of the rheas!”
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He actually remembered it! The rhea girl found her eyes going wide under her helmet.
It was an old story, of which she told him only bits and pieces. She didn’t despise the shire, but it held few happy memories for her. Her eccentric and somewhat off-kilter grandfather had taught her to use a sword, forcing her to practice until she nearly collapsed.
That was how it had all started. If the old man hadn’t taught her the blade, she wouldn’t have been here now.
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“Day and night, she trained, a thousand days spent learning, ten thousand more refining her craft—and now she stands before you!”
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She couldn’t help smiling at that. She wanted to object that she wasn’t that old.
That was all it took to get her quivering chin to relax. The feeling soon spread to the rest of her body.
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“Her strikes fall like lightning upon the enemy! I urge you, watch what she does!”
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The young man bowed elegantly. There was the briefest of beats, and then the stadium erupted in cheers. Even then, they weren’t for the rhea girl. Their cries consisted of simple passion, excitement at the prospect that things might turn out more interesting than anticipated.
And yet for the girl, they felt very different. As the boy came back, his breath heaving, she gripped his sleeve with one gauntleted hand and said, “Hey, where’d you learn to do that?”
“From the old guy,” he said, apparently meaning their master. “He told me a wizard needs something to impress at the right moment.” He didn’t sound very appreciative. Finally, he gave her another gentle slap on the back. “Eyes front. Don’t forget what I said.”
“R-right…!” The rhea girl took several deep breaths, then took the donkey’s reins and urged the animal forward.
This was nothing like where she’d fought in the shire. This was a proper jousting field. The other end looked so far away, and there her opponent sparkled in the sunlight, acting as if the match was already won.
Or—no. Was that just her imagination, her assumption? She wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter.
That’s right. My strikes are like lightning.
The judge gave a great wave of his flag. The rhea gave her donkey the spurs.
“Y-yaaaahhh…!”
“Hrrrrahhhh!”
She felt as if time was running slowly, the air fighting her as though she was underwater. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was her opponent.
She raised her right hand. She had to couch the lance. No. There—there it was. No!
“Listen.”
It was something the boy had said to her over and over as they made their way here. Now, at this moment, it came tumbling out from the storehouse of her memories.
“Power is simple logic. It’s made up of three things: speed, weight, and force.”
That and transmission. “So four things,” he’d muttered.
“This transmission, it has three parts. The fulcrum, the point of action, and the point where the force is applied.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It doesn’t make any sense to me.” She could listen as hard as she wanted; some things still just wouldn’t click.
“You’re gonna lose out on body size, so that already puts you at a disadvantage. And you can’t put out a lot of force. I mean, that’s just a fact.”
“Uh-huh.” The girl had nodded dejectedly. She was all too aware of the difference in size. And she couldn’t shake the thought that calculating advantage and disadvantage before a fight was the sort of thing that only a coward would do. But the boy, he was telling her how to win. So she’d nodded along. She’d listened to him.
“Speed, the opponent will provide. Which means all that’s left is transmission.”
“So what do I do?”
“Stay on your mount. Don’t take the blow head-on. Keep a firm hold on your lance, and make sure you stick it in the right place.”
She felt the lance click neatly into the metal rest as everything came together.
The rhea leaned forward as far as she could. It was very uncomfortable on her chest, which was squeezed by her chest plate.
Overhead, something grazed the top of her helmet, scraping along. She heard wood splintering. A shock. She was shaken violently.
Don’t think about it.
Then with a great shout, “Kiiieeeehhhhh…!!” she brought her spear up with all the force of a burning brushfire. Her right arm felt like she’d struck a brick wall; it went numb with the impact, while the tip of her spear splintered and went everywhere.
The flow of time spontaneously caught up to her.
Air came rushing back into her lungs like she’d broken through the surface of the water, and there was noise everywhere.
“Haaah…!” Inside her suffocating helmet, she gasped like a fish thrown onto dry land.
There was no time to rest, however. Burgeoning panic was all she could feel as the blood rushed to her brain.
“The sword contest!” she shouted and leaped down from her donkey. The heavy armor caused her to lean vertiginously as she landed. Or was that the lack of oxygen? She wasn’t sure.
Just as she thought she would tilt clean over, she felt a lean arm grab her from one side and hold her up.
“My armor! Fix my armor, quick! The shoulders—!”
“Calm down.” With a clank, her helmet was removed, and then someone grabbed the padding beneath and tore it away. She felt the wind hit her sweat-soaked cheeks and forehead.
“Phew!” she breathed. “I—I am calm! But there’s no time to—”
“I told you, calm down. Eyes front.”
“Wha—?”
She looked where she was bidden and discovered her opponent flat on his back. In fact, his helmet was rolling across the field, clanking as it went. The herald rushed over and splashed him with water but to no avail.
“You knocked him out in one blow,” the boy said with a grin, and finally the girl came back to herself.
She also noticed that every eye in the coliseum was on her.
That produced an urk. It gave rise to an eep. Hesitation, embarrassment, excitement, and confusion.
Amid the swirl of emotions, the girl felt the boy take her hand, his grip strong for such a slim arm, and hold it aloft. The tight shoulders of her armor miraculously accommodated the motion. She looked up in amazement, the audience filling her vision.
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“Behold! The Sting of the rheas! The blow that can bury even a spider in the dark!”
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Another cheer rent the stadium air, and this time, it was for her.
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