Solbidyum Wars Saga 5: Desolation (38 page)

“I see your point; thanks for calling it to my attention.  This being an admiral in the Federation is very restricting, I'm not liking it at all,” I replied.

“Will First Citizen Kalana be accompanying you?” Kerabac asked.

“Ah, actually she doesn’t know I am going to the surface,” I replied.

“But surely with as close as she is to Jenira, she would want to be there,” Kerabac said in astonishment.

“She doesn’t know about the duel, unless Jenira told her, and I don’t think she has, or you would see Kala here ready to go into battle,” I said, “and I’d appreciate it if she didn’t find out about this until it’s all over.  I’m going to have a difficult enough time explaining how I let this all take place as it is.”

Kerabac feigned a wince and said, “I’m glad it’s you and not me that will have to answer to Kalana about this one, Tibby; and I certainly hope for your sake Jenira wins this match, otherwise you may be sleeping alone for a long time.”

“That wouldn’t be anything new,” I muttered, “Since we’ve left Desolation, Kala and I have hardly had any time together.  Recently, I’m starting to feel like a house guest when we are in the same room.  I expect to walk in the door one day and find out my kids are teenagers, and I’ll be wondering when they grew up.”

“Well sir, I can’t speak from experience, but from the way I hear my friends with family’s talk, that’s pretty much the way it happens for them all.”

“Well, let me change this uniform while you round up Padaran and a guard contingent made up of Ruwallie Rasson,” I said as I saw Jenira walk through the Cantolla gate from the
DUSTEN
to the
NEW ORLEANS. 
The sooner this is all over the better it will be for us all.”

I’d expected that the contest between Jenira and the Ruwallie Rasson catas master to be either in a small building someplace or on one of the Ruwallie Rasson estates, possibly Tondor’s as he was acting leader in Padaran’s absence.  Instead, we were taken to a huge coliseum that could easily seat 5,000 people, and every seat was filled with the black faces of the Ruwallie Rasson. I was amazed that the event was organized so quickly and word spread that so many were in attendance.  The only white faces anywhere were those of Padaran, Jenira and me.

As the leader of the Ruwallie Rasson, Padaran had a box set aside for himself and his guests, and it was in this box that I sat with him and the Ruwallie Rasson guards we brought with us from the
NEW ORLEANS
.  Tondor officiated the duel.  It was his responsibility to stop the fight at any point where he thought one contestant had received a wound and to see if it had drawn blood.  If the wound was not serious or life threatening, the contest would continue until one combatant received three blood wounds, at which point the contest would end and the contestant with the least amount of wounds would be declared the winner.  Unlike the
Kandi Mondong
challenge, which Padaran had made to Tondor, this battle did not require the non-Ruwallie Rasson, in this case Jenira, to be naked; and oddly, there was no name for this particular challenge other than a challenge for the right of one to bear catas.  The Ruwallie Rasson were proud of their culture and had many strange traditions that were set up to protect their beliefs, even if they had to stack the deck to gain an unfair advantage for them to win.  If it had been otherwise, Jenira would not have needed to face the best swordsman the Ruwallie Rasson had but any seasoned Ruwallie Rasson warrior would have sufficed; but like I said, the Ruwallie Rasson preferred to stack the deck in their favor.

The two contestants were called to the center of the arena by Tondor.  A loud cheer went up when he called out the name of Jenira’s opponent, a Ruwallie Rasson called Nybidong.  The crowd let out a deafening cheer as he walked to the center of the arena, and he raised his arms in the air in a salute to his fans.  He was a slender man and tall like all the Ruwallie Rasson.  He wore a short sleeveless vest of a vibrant orange and dark-green  trousers with bellbottom flares on the legs, his black skin glistening in the sunlight and his broad smile accented by his gleaming white teeth.  Tondor was less than kind in introducing Jenira, in my opinion, as he referred to her as a former prostitute slave who had taken up the swords in Ruwallie Rasson fashion, with no regard for their traditions. His announcement was received with hisses and cat calls by the Ruwallie Rasson.  Jenira had elected to wear an outfit similar to the one she usually wore, only this one had short sleeves; usually, she had sleeves that reached her wrists.  I assumed this choice was to make it easier for anyone looking to see if she had been wounded or not.  She wore her dark hair in the usual single braid she preferred, but instead of having it hanging down her back as she usually did, she now had it piled up in some fashion on top of her head.

“Tondor is being a bit rough on Jenira, isn’t he?”  I asked Padaran, who was seated next to me in the skybox.

“He has to be Tibby, otherwise he would lose respect as a leader from the Ruwallie Rasson,” he replied.  “If Jenira loses this battle I will no doubt be replaced as the Ruwallie Rasson leader and Tondor would once again have that position.”

Tondor had Jenira and Nybidong stand about four meters apart, and I could see him saying something to both, but at the distance, we were unable to hear what it was.

“He’s instructing them to limber and warm up with their catas,” Kerabac said from the other side of Padaran.

Nybidong was the first to reach over his shoulders and draw his swords and begin flexing and twirling them around him as the sun flashed off their polished blades. The crowd cheered as Jenira looked at him a moment, before she reached over her shoulders and drew her catas slowly.  She began twirling them much slower than Nybidong and snickers and laughs could be heard around the coliseum as she twirled her blades.  Then as the laughter was reaching its peak, she gradually began picking up speed; the blades twirling more rapidly until they became a blur of flashing light and gleaming metal.  Where moments before laughter had filled the stadium, now silence hung in the air; and then, in a motion almost too quick to see, Jenira brought both arms back, and without hesitation slid both catas back into their scabbards.  By now, Nybidong had stopped his catas twirling and stood looking at Jenira with his mouth hanging open.  Realizing that everyone was staring, he placed his catas, with far less finesse than Jenira I might add, into the scabbards on his back.  Tondor just stood looking at Jenira with his jaw gaping until the silence of the moment was broken by someone in the stands crying out, “Let the fight begin!”

Tondor shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts and gave one last set of instructions to the contestants and then stepped back and gave them the word to engage.  Instantly Nybidong’s arms flew back, and he retrieved his swords and advanced on Jenira.  Jenira made no move to retrieve her blades and Nybidong’s own whirling blades flashed as they drew ever nearer.  Jenira moved cautiously about in a dodging fashion as someone from the crowd called out, “What are you waiting for, cut the doesee!” 

Nybidong made a lunging strike clearly intended to slice Jenira on the arm, only when his blade got to where Jenira’s arm had been, it met with a metal catas instead.  The crowd gasped because it had all happened so quickly that no one had seen her draw the blade.  Nybidong swiftly attacked her other arm to find it now also held a blade; instantaneously the clash of metal and flashing light ensued as the two danced around each other, amazing those in the stadium.  For nearly ten minutes they danced, and metal clashed.  Sweat could be seen running down Nybidong’s skin, and you could see he was breathing hard.  Then Jenira seemed to pause, and Nybidong’s catas nicked her arm and a thin line of blood appeared.  The crowd went wild with cheering as Tondor stopped the two contestants to examine the wound on Jenira’s arm.

“What’s she doing?” Padaran exclaimed, “she deliberately let him nick her.”

“I do not know either,” Kerabac said stiffly, “I have sparred with her hundreds of times, and I can attest to the fact that she let him cut her for some reason.”

By now, Tondor had examined the wound and confirmed that Jenira could  continue fighting and the fight resumed much like it had before, only now it was becoming obvious that Nybidong was tiring, and his motions were not as smooth or fast as earlier; Jenira, on the other hand, seemed composed and in total control.  The battle continued another ten minutes until once again Jenira paused for a fraction of a second and Nybidong scored a second cut on Jenira’s other arm.  The Ruwallie Rasson in the stadium were on their feet cheering and patting each other on the backs, as Tondor once more stopped the fighting to examine Jenira’s wounds.

“I don’t get it, Tibby,” Padaran said, “she’s letting him cut her.”  I looked at Kerabac who was looking at Jenira through a vision magnifying device.

“Neither of her cuts are more than surface deep, barely enough to draw blood.  She obviously is letting him win for some reason,” Kerabac reported, “she is hardly bleeding at all.”

The two had squared off again and Nybidong was moving in for his third and final cut with a smile on his face.  Jenira stepped back, and then, with what I can only describe as a partial bow with her swords at her sides, she stared Nybidong in the eyes and gave a mischievous smile.

“Oh no!” Padaran exclaimed, “I’ve seen that look before.  Nybidong has no idea what he is in for!”

As if Padaran’s words were a release of prophecy, Jenira’s catas suddenly became a blur of motion, and it was clear that Nybidong was now backing away and fighting as hard as he could.  Jenira cut Nybidong’s vest to shreds without ever once marking his skin.  Tondor stopped the contest several times to see if she had grazed him, but could find no wounds.  By now, the crowd had grown silent as the realization sunk in that Jenira had been merely playing with Nybidong all this time.  The contest resumed with Jenira slicing the straps on Nybidong’s sandals until they fell from his feet.  She cut locks of his hair from his head, barely missing his scalp but still did not nick his skin.  Soon, nearly 30 minutes of battle had gone on, and other than for breaks while Tondor checked the combatants for wounds, there was no respite.  Jenira slowly made cuts in Nybidong’s pant legs until the lower portions fell off, tripping him several times; each time Jenira stepped back allowing him to regain his feet and leaving him in what now looked like shorts.  It had become obvious at this point that what before had looked like sweat rolling down Nybidong’s face was now tears, and finally he dropped to his knees sobbing, and he turned his catas’ hilts out, handing them to Jenira in defeat.

There was a long moment of silence and then suddenly the crowd went wild cheering.  Over the din of the crowd, Kerabac shouted to me.  “I do not believe that ever in the history of the Ruwallie Rasson has a master swordsman been defeated without receiving a cut.  This day will go down in Ruwallie Rasson history as a first for sure.  I doubt it will ever be repeated.”

Down on the floor of the coliseum I saw Jenira take her own two catas and break them across her knee, and then she took Nybidong’s swords and placed them in her own scabbards and reached out her arms and helped a still sobbing Nybidong to his feet and hugged him.

Tondor was at a loss and was not sure what to do, not that it mattered as the crowd was cheering so loud that no one could have heard him anyway.  By now, many had jumped down into the arena and were running across the stadium to pat Jenira on the back.  Several were bowing at her feet and raising their arms toward her, and some were handing her their catas wanting Jenira to kiss them.

“They want her to kiss their catas,” Kerabac said, “The Ruwallie Rasson believes that if a master swordsman kisses their swords that some of his skill is transferred into the sword.”  Then he paused, and added, “Only, in this case, it’s
HER
skill they are wanting.  This definitely is a first for the Ruwallie Rasson, as they forbid women from touching their fighting catas.”  Then he threw back his head and laughed deeply.

Out in the arena I could see Ruwallie Rasson singing and dancing about.  It was like a huge festival.  My elation at Jenira’s victory was short-lived as a message came to me from Marranalis, who was now on the
NEW ORLEANS
and looking for me.  “It appears that I need to get back to work.  Padaran, I leave it to you to see that Jenira gets back to the ship safely.  I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay that long.”

“It may be hard to get Jenira away anytime soon,” Padaran said, “I suspect she will have many Ruwallie Rasson wanting her to share dinner tonight and to celebrate.”

“Please get her away as soon and safely as you can, Kerabac needs to get the
NEW ORLEANS
on its way to Mars tomorrow, and I want you and Jenira back aboard before then,” I answered.

When I arrived on the
NEW ORLEANS
I was met by Marranalis, who took one look at me and said, “You’d better get back into your admiral’s uniform before Kalana or anyone on the
DUSTEN
sees you.”

“Why?  What’s happening?” I asked.

“First, Kalana has been looking for both you and Jenira all morning, and she is steaming,” Marranalis said in a stressed tone, “I think she was expecting Jenira to be there to take care of the twins this morning, and when she didn’t show she started looking for you, who also appeared to be mysteriously absent.  Things only got worse from there.  Once her meeting with the representatives from Kendrop and Gochian started, both sides immediately started to fight, and both sides were asking for you to be present as an arbitrator as well.”