The Eternal Rose by Dayton Gail

Author:Dayton, Gail [Dayton, Gail]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Juno Books
Published: 2008-07-16T06:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Eighteen

Fox looked around the arena when they entered, familiarizing himself with the space. Backless benches had been set up on all sides of the arena and strangers stood on one side, chatting idly, pretending not to notice as the Adarans entered. He couldn't afford any distraction. Obed had warned them that this competition could be more difficult than the trial itself.

They had debated long and hard whether Fox should participate in this contest, whether keeping his skill a surprise or letting the knowledge out to intimidate would be more effective. The decision had finally been left up to Fox, and if the choice was between doing or watching, his choice would always be to do.

He removed his belt and scabbard. Champions would enter the arena clad only in kilt, and shoes if they wished. Fox wore the light lace-on shoes. Most of the others did not, but he had grown up in Tibre's colder climate. He wasn't used to fighting—or doing much outside the bed and bathing rooms—without shoes.

The Heldring blades were fortunately not an issue. A champion always fought with his own weapon. Fox's sword was long and straight, sharp on both sides, what Adarans called a mountain sword. He used a dagger in his left hand. Obed fought with a long, curved, single-edged saber, using it with both hands, and Torchay had his short swords.

The other eight Adaran champion-candidates fought with an assortment of weapons, primarily mountain swords like Fox's, though two used paired short swords and one of the women had a halberd rising over her head and banging against her legs where she carried the pole weapon on her back. The long wicked ax with its razor-sharp spear points behind and above was a weapon Fox had no desire to face, even if he was a head taller than Genista. The shaft's length made up for the difference in reach.

“These will meet in the arena for combat to first blood,” Grand Master Murat said in his strong, old man's voice, “in the order that your name is called."

“Genista Fynli.” Obed named the halberd-wielding bodyguard.

“Ruel Dobruk-sa.” Murat called the name of the young dedicatcandidate they'd met as Genista's opponent, and they each took a step down onto the level just above the sand.

The matching-up went on, moving as planned up the skill level, though in fact the differences between fighters were small. Fox noted his designated opponent, but could tell nothing about him.

Then Obed called out the last name. “Torchay Omvir."

The echoing chamber already buzzed, but now the babble grew louder. Torchay and Obed had pitted their skills against each other almost since their first meeting, and neither had yet been able to win over the other. Obed had explained that the vanity of the skola's masters would have them believing no Adaran could hold his own against a Daryathi dedicat, much less best him. Naming Torchay last, after Obed, could do any number of things, from instilling false confidence that Obed's skills had

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