D. MacHale - The Rivers of Zadaa

Loor was the worst. She had no mercy. The two of us would face off again and again. Day after day. Morning and night. After a while I didn’t even see her as a person. All I could see were those red spikes sticking out from her elbows and knees. Getting those spikes meant getting food. That’s all I cared about.

“Watch my eyes, and my center,” Loor would say, pointing to her gut. “In battle the eyes tell what your opponent is thinking; his center tells which way he is going.”

Yeah. Whatever. I’d lunge for a stake, and she’d bat me away.

“Never make the first move,” she said time and again.

“How can I get one of those stakes if I don’t try to get them?” I’d yell in frustration.

She wouldn’t answer.

I preferred fighting Saangi. She wasn’t as quick as Loor nor as strong as Alder. I took advantage of that. Rather than use my bamboo weapon and try to outduel her, I’d simply jump at her, take a few lumps, and grab a spike. Yes! It didn’t take any skill. I didn’t care. I was hungry. Saangi was getting angry at me for not following the rules, but hey, tough. This was about survival. If I didn’t take advantage of Saangi, I’d have collapsed.

Nights were the worst. I’d try to get some sleep, only to be thrown out of bed and dragged out into the compound for another game of “Let’s whack Bobby in the dark.” During these fights I tried everything to defend myself and get in some shots of my own, but it was futile. I’d stand there, waiting to get hit. If I heard a sound, I’d flail at it, only to get smacked around and pushed back.

“Never make the first move,” Loor would remind me.

“What am I supposed to do?” I complained. “Stand here and take it?”

“Feel us,” Alder would say.

Yeah, right.

As the days went on, Saangi was sent out to fight me less and less. Loor must have felt like I was winning too much food from her, without the benefit of improving my skills. But Saangi still played a part. She was the one who gave me the physical challenges, like hopping over the bars of the pit. Mooraj was full of these diabolical playground devices. She would always have a reward, and always make me work for it. Some of the challenges were fairly easy, like moving hand over hand on a frame that looked like monkey bars at a school playground. Other times I had to do simple exercises like push-ups. Did I say simple? They would have been easy in an air-conditioned gym. But in the shape I was in, under the burning sun, they were anything but simple. Other times the challenges were truly difficult, like running a gauntlet of heavy stones that were tied to the ends of ropes. There were about twenty of these painful pendulums. Saangi would get them all swinging in different directions, and I’d have to run through without getting hit. Usually I’d get beaned by one of the heavy stones, and let me tell you, it hurt. Worse, I’d have to start over. But every so often I’d make it through by ducking, dodging, hesitating, and finally diving over the finish line. My reward would sometimes be water; other times it would be fruit or bread.

As time passed I found myself winning more and more of these challenges. The fact was, I was getting stronger. And quicker. Winning some food helped build my strength too. But it was all the exercise that was paying off. I even got to the point where I could run across the pit with the bars every time without falling, no sweat. Well, okay, maybe some sweat. It was hot. I’ve mentioned that, right?

When I wasn’t fighting, I took off my Rokador jacket and went bareback. Slowly my skin started turning brown. I wasn’t exactly Batu dark, but I was getting close. I didn’t think anybody would mistake me for a Ghee warrior, but I was looking less like a white Rokador every day. And in spite of the daily pounding I was taking, I was feeling better than ever. I think my body got used to getting hit, because the black-and-blue marks went away. I even started to put on a little muscle. I think the weight-lifting regimen that Saangi put me through helped that.

But there was still something missing. Something big. Even though I was becoming more agile and strong, I wasn’t doing so well in the fighting department, and after all, that’s what this was all about. As I wrote before, what kept me going throughout this ordeal was the fear of facing Saint Dane again. Being in shape and having a nice tan wasn’t going to help much in another death match. I was beginning to fear that in spite of all this hard work, I might not be any better off. Then one night I was dragged out of bed for another pitch-dark slap session.

“Feel us,” Alder would say.

“I’m trying!” I’d say, waving my arms around like a frantic chicken.

Whack. Whack. Hands would come from nowhere to knock me around.

“How can you do that?” I screamed in frustration. “You can’t see me!”

“We see you, Pendragon,” Alder said. “Not with our eyes.”

“That’s stupid!” I shouted.

“Is it?” Saangi said as she smacked me around a few times.

I wanted to cry in frustration, and agony. “What does this have to do with being a warrior?” I screamed.

“It isn’t magic,” Loor said. “Fighting is a dance. Every move brings another. If you can sense your opponent, sense his movements, sense his strength and weakness, you will own him.”

Right. Use the Force, Luke. I tried to control my breathing. I even closed my eyes. Why not? They weren’t doing me any good. I listened. They weren’t ghosts. They had to breathe. They had to move. They had to give off heat and smell. As I stood there, trying to use every other sense but sight, I felt something. It was nothing more than a wisp of air on my arm. It lasted a nano-second. It was a slight breeze that came from something moving past. It was small, but I definitely felt it. Without taking a second to analyze, I reacted by sweeping my hand out to where I felt the body might be…and slapped somebody on the arm! I was so surprised, I actually said, “Oh! Sorry!”

An instant later, something was dropped at my feet. I didn’t see it, but I felt it and jumped back in surprise. I had no idea what it could have been, though I expected it to be some kind of decoy-trick so that when I reached down to grab it, I’d get pummeled again. So I didn’t move. Instead, I closed my eyes and tried to sense the others. This is going to sound strange, but after a second, I knew they were already gone. I had felt them. Or should I say, I didn’t feel them anymore. I don’t know how else to describe it.

After a few more moments, I cautiously knelt down to find out what had been thrown on the ground in front of me. I reached out and instantly felt something familiar, and welcome. It was a canteen full of water. Right next to it was a piece of fruit that felt like a pear. It was a reward. I had done something right. It wasn’t just luck, either. I had found my opponent without using my eyes. Had I made a breakthrough? I figured I must have, seeing as I was not only given a reward of food and water, but was then allowed to sleep through the night without getting another beating. It was the first full night’s rest I had since my stay at the Batu hospital. Man, I needed it.

I was feeling pretty good about myself, as if I had finally learned something. That was the good news. Bad news was that Loor felt the same way. I had finally shown a hint of promise; therefore she no longer felt the need to show me mercy. What followed on that dry, dusty training ground of Mooraj was the most grueling battle I had been through since my bout with Saint Dane.

This was going to be my final exam, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Counter a block with a strike,”Loorinstructed.”Itis when your opponent is the most vulnerable.”