Riley had trouble sleeping the rest of the day. She tossed and turned on the cot.
Lissie in a duel. Sweet Lissie. Beautiful, calm, compassionate, patient Lissie. Her thoughts were racing.
She got up from the cot, and went to find her best friend. She offered to show her some basic swordplay. Lissie refused. She said, “I’ll just try my best.”
Riley tried to push the issue, and Lissie swore at her. Riley had never heard her swear before. She gave her friend a hug and went back to her tent.
She slept until she heard drums. She followed the sound to a gathering.
Riley stared at the bonfire. Lissie was standing in front of it. She wondered what they were burning. It smelled nice.
Lissie gestured her closer, and Riley saw a woman was painting Lissie’s face. Riley watched, and listened to words she did not understand.
Then she was ushered in front of the flames. The heat at her back was flickering with the wind. The painting took forever, and it reminded Riley of Miriam doing her makeup at home.
At least they didn’t put on mascara, she thought.
She kept expecting to hear her mother’s voice scolding her for fidgeting.
Elders came to them, and spoke in turns. Lissie translated for each one. “She says that we may use any weapons we wish in the duel. She said it’s to first touch only.”
“First blood, that’s a lot better than what I was thinking. You just need to be careful Lissie.” Riley turned and looked at her friend as she spoke. Lissie’s face was a fierce mask.
After the second elder’s speech, Lissie translated. “We must weave our horses through spears in the ground, and not topple a single one.” Lissie cringed and Riley saw her looking over at the row of spears. Riley followed her gaze, and saw the spears were uneven, and close together.
The last to speak was the elder from the tent, and Lissie translated. “He said the spear doesn’t matter as much as the horn. The only thing that matters is the blood.”
“Let’s just get through the first two, and then we’ll figure it out.” Riley took Lissie’s hand and squeezed. When Lissie squeezed back she felt her pulse racing.
They took a step forward together, and the drumming stopped. There was a circle drawn in the sand ringed in torches, with weapons laid on a blanket in front of it. Lissie looked at the blanket, and eventually picked a long, skinny spear.
At least she’ll have reach, Riley thought.
The Nomads moved to surround the circle, and a boy no more than thirteen was pushed forward out of the crowd. He was ropey, and moved gracefully. He walked to the blanket, sparing Lissie a glance before taking an identical spear.
The drumming picked up again, slower. Like a heartbeat. The flames swayed together in the wind. Lissie crossed the line into the circle, and the boy followed. He bowed to her, and she returned the bow. The rhythm didn’t change but the drums grew louder.
Riley scanned the crowd and saw Cora and Alexander had made their way to the front. Alexander put his fingers to his lips, and a high whistle keened. “Give ’em hell, Lissie!” He shouted. Cora grabbed his hand, her face was pale. The drumming ceased once more.
The boy began circling, and Riley watched his feet.
Feet tell you more than eyes or hands, her father’s voice said in her mind.
Step, step, and Riley knew he would thrust before his arm moved.
“Dodge!” She yelled before she could stop herself. She clapped her hands over her mouth.
Lissie had moved though, and was circling herself. They were nearly the same height. The spears were long and light, tipped with sharp cutting bones. Circle, circle, thrust. The boy was predictable, and Lissie had always been a fast study. She refused to attack though, and after another circle, it began to look like a dance.
In a whirl, Lissie backed away and threw her spear in front of the boy. He stepped into it. The tip barely grazed his ankle. Riley could see a pinpoint of blood. He stopped, and looked down at it. Laughter erupted from the crowd, but the look of disappointment on the boy’s face was enough for her to know that it was over.
Lissie ran to the boy, and he embraced her before kneeling. He said something, and Lissie grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. The crowd roared their appreciation, and the drumming returned. The slow, steady heartbeat.
“I did it Riley!” Lissie ran toward her, and swept her up in a tight hug. “Now you!”
Riley stared down at the weapons on the blanket. There were swords like she’d never seen, edged with black stones. They seemed to be as much club as sword. There were spears, flails, nets, shields and whips.
“Lissie, can you ask them if it would be acceptable for me to use my own,” Riley asked, gesturing to the display of unfamiliar but dangerous-looking weapons. “I just don’t want a repeat of what happened with Jon.”
Lissie smiled, and turned to the elder, she spoke briefly and with confidence. Then she frowned at his words and translated. “He says that you may, but he said ‘a child that carries a weapon thinks themselves grown.’ I don’t think they realized that your stick was a weapon before.”
I’ll show them, Riley thought, and stepped across the line into the circle.
She drew the hickory blade, and the crowd did not laugh as she expected. The drumming grew louder. There was a commotion growing and the loud sound of many people whispering. A man was pushed forward, not a child.
Riley looked at him. He was tall and had shoulders wider than her father’s. His body was a tapestry of scars, and his white hair was tied in tight braids behind his neck. He strode to the blanket, and snatched up one of the swords made of stone. It was as tall as Lissie, or looked that way in the torchlight. The drumming kept getting louder and faster until he stepped across the line. Then it stopped. There was silence, save the wind.
The man bowed low, the massive blade held horizontally in front of him with one hand.
He holds it as easily as I would hold Ruskin.