The House of Grey- Volume 2 (10 page)

Seeing that the alternating sword/hand technique was not working, he switched back to his previous strategy of rapid sword strikes. On the last swing of the second of these barrages, something changed in the flow of the match. Cyann deflected the blow and took a step towards Damion using a signature move, the Flash Forward. The Flash Forward was nothing more than speedy footwork; its name came from the fact that the speed one used in the move seemed slightly superhuman. For a few microseconds, it was almost as if Cyann disappeared from view and reappeared several feet in front of her starting point.

 
Damion brought his long sword down sharply before she could take more than a step, effectively cutting off the Flash Forward and creating a small opening in Cyann’s previously flawless defenses. He could not take the advantage, however, as Cyann retreated and repositioned herself almost as quickly as she had moved forward.

“
Impressive,” Casey said out loud. “He actually anticipated the Flash Forward.”

Artorius and Monson were too entranced to answer.

Damion matched Cyann’s
en garde
stance. They eyed each other for a moment more. Then Damion attacked, this time with light, cleaving slashes. On his second volley, it appeared as if he overreached his attack, creating a small opening in his defenses. To their amazement, Cyann did not capitalize on this.

“
That was stupid,” said Casey, apparently noticing Cyann’s lost opportunity.

“
Not in the least.” Monson squinted towards the combatants and then towards Casey. “Did you miss it?”

Casey looked at him, confusion evident on his face. Monson heard Artorius laugh on his other side.

 
Monson glared at Casey. Was he joking? Playing dumb just to get a rise out of Monson? No, that wasn’t it, he really didn’t know. Even if Casey had missed it, Monson knew he was right; something suddenly clicked into place.  Speaking with confidence, Monson continued. “He was feinting, Casey. Damion was just trying to goad her into trying to end it early.” He leaned back so that he could see both of his friends. Casey and Artorius scrutinized him. He stared back.

“
Grey….” Artorius looked particularly perplexed by his words. “That’s amazing. I was just thinking the exact same thing.”

Casey stared at them, puzzled. “I don’t get it. How did you know he was feinting? It didn’t look like he was feinting to me.”

Monson pointed towards Cyann. “Cyann is a very technical fighter. She’s totally clean in her defense and while her offense isn’t as strong, it’s very hard to fight her one-on-one. Her greatest weapon is her patience and the fact that she doesn’t make any mistakes. That’s what she used against you, Casey.” He glanced at the battling duo, in particular at Cyann, and then turned his attention back to Casey, who gawked at him.

 “
Offensively you’re much stronger than Cyann. If you faced a dozen of weaker, less technical opponents all at once you would have a much better chance at winning, as your style is designed to take people out quickly, thus lessening the chance of extended combat. Cyann, on the other hand, has a style that allows for extended combat with a single individual.  It was exactly what happened to you. You got angry and impatient….”

He stopped talking. He tried to think back to that epic first encounter between Casey and Cyann. Casey and his powerful full-body blows that twisted and grinded against the grain of physical strength and mental endurance. His overhead strikes and furious slashes that rained down with precision, all aimed at the head, legs and chest, each becoming increasingly violent and brutal. Monson could remember the tough offense, the raw attacks that left nothing but the blow itself. Attacks that became…overextended! He started back up.

“
You overextended your attack, Casey. In doing so you couldn’t recover on the counter-strike. She took at advantage of that by attacking the
blow
instead of the body.”

Silence greeted the end of his sudden discourse. Casey and Artorius looked at him, then at each other. Monson felt suddenly embarrassed.

“
Grey, I take it back.”  Casey’s voice was low and thoughtful, like he was in awe.  

“
Take what back, Case?”

“
I take back what I said about me being the main character of your life story.”

Monson tried to think back to what he was talking about. He suddenly remembered that whole movie thing.

“
Yeah, what about it?”

“
I take it all back, as it seems you’re much more interesting than I originally thought.”

“
Thanks, Casey.” He paused.  “I think—”  

“
Grey.” Artorius’ voice sounded serious. “
I
think we’re fast approaching that time when you tell us who you are and how you know so much about things you say you know nothing about.”

 
Taken aback, Monson looked downward.

“
I’ll tell you what I remember.” His voice was barely a whisper. “But not yet. Please not yet.”

Monson could tell without looking up that Casey and Artorius were communicating silently.

“
OK, Grey,” said Casey. “When you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

Their attention returned to the match, which was really heating up.

 
Damion was good. Really good, actually. His form seemed balanced, alternating between aggressive blows and well-executed defensive measures.  His style was not as form-heavy as Cyann’s or even the
Ja-no
. It was quite obvious that whatever the style Damion Peterson had learned, it was very different.  His style relied on strength, which was an advantage in this situation. This was not the impressive part, however. What was truly impressive was his patience. It appeared as if he were trying to wear down Cyann, forcing her to defend heavy overhead and cross-body strikes. Most of these Cyann was able to avoid completely but it was apparent that the ones that found her sword were taking their toll.  The repetitive concussive force was having a visible effect; it was jarring her out of position and dulling her reactions. This was not surprising as she was, after all, a great deal smaller than Damion. Being so close, Monson and the others could hear pieces of the fighters’ running conversation.

“
You’ve improved a great deal, Damion.” She blocked alternating blows aimed at her head and limbs.

“
I told you I would.” He sounded proud. He re-posed as he spoke, centering himself. It was obvious that the constant onslaught was taking a toll on him as well. “You’d better not back out once I beat you.”

Cyann countered a move that looked very similar to the Two Step. It was not quite a Two Step; the footwork seemed off and Damion was over-extending his thrusts a bit, but it was very close. She deflected both thrusts of the modified Two Step using the same downward-pointing cross-body block that Casey and Artorius had used on Monson earlier. After blocking the last thrust, she did not re-pose, but swept her blade up in a clockwise motion and knocked Damion’s blade away from his body. Everyone one saw it. Damion was open and for real this time. Cyann arced her smaller blade towards his head. She barely missed as he dropped back panting.

Cyann’s voice was like a calming breeze.

“
If
you beat me, Damion.
If.”

Casey turned to Monson and Artorius. “Did you guys catch that?”

“
Yeah, Cyann almost took the Diamond’s head off!” exclaimed Artorius.

“
No, not what
she
did; what
he
said.” Casey answered.

“
Yeah, I heard.” Monson looked solemnly at Casey. “Back out of what? I don’t understand—what are they talking about?”

Casey answered, a malicious grin beginning to creep across his face.

“
He wants to go out with her!”

Monson’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding!”

“
No way.” Artorius added.

Casey laughed. “Think about it. Why would he be fighting her otherwise?”

He made a very good point. There was no reason to fight Cyann unless you were trying to hook up with her.

It
was
true. It had to be.  Damion Peterson was jonesin’ for Cyann Harrison.

There was a moan from the crowd, then silence. The three boys swung their attention back towards the fray just in time to see Damion’s mock long sword soaring overhead and the tip of Cyann’s blade coming to rest on his throat. The two opponents stared at each other.

Damion’s expression was a mix of awe and admiration.   

 “
Well played, Cyann.”

“
You too, Damion.”

His gaze bored into her and seemed to intensify by the moment.

“
If
I beat you….” His words trailed off.

“
If
you beat me,” she repeated.

 
Cyann removed her blade from his throat. Damion looked like he wanted to say something, but was unable to as she turned from him. Indigo called her name, beckoning her forward to a waiting group of girls. Damion watched her go, following her every step as she walked slowly away from him. His behavior reminded Monson of something. He paused in an attempt to center his thoughts. He realized something.  This had happened before; it was not the first match between Cyann and Damion.

Cyann’s gaze fell upon Monson. He lifted his to meet her.  The timing! It was spooky, as if she was reading his mind or maybe his…mood? He shifted as he looked at her and she at him. This was making him very uncomfortable.

What’s going through your head, Cyann? What is it you’re thinking?
he wondered.
Nerves…confusion…gray…very gray…belief…pain…so much pain….
 

 
Casey’s voice jarred Monson from his reverie.

“
Is there anything that kid can’t do?” His voice boomed as if it was coming from a megaphone. “Football, basketball, baseball and now bastardized fencing?”

Monson broke eye contact with Cyann as he looked towards Casey.

“
What was that, Casey?” His eyes darted back to Cyann to get in a sneaky double take. “I wasn’t exactly paying attention.”

Artorius spoke up.

“
It does seem rather amazing.” He looked quizzically at Monson and Casey. “But there is no way that was just natural talent. Someone taught him, just like Cyann. Someone gave him lessons. Someone with a lot of talent.”

“
Hold up fellas,” said Monson before either could make additional comments. “What are you guys talking about?”

“
Damion Peterson’s fencing ability,” said Casey.

“
And who taught him,” added Artorius.

Appropriately enough, it was Damion who answered their question. He was again standing among his groupies and speaking to the very last person the three boys expected to see.  

“
I’m sorry. I did exactly as you showed me, but it appears that Cyann may have been holding back last time.”   

Monson, Artorius and Casey looked on in disbelief, all of them thinking the same thing.

“
Mr. Gatt?”

Chapter 19- Pudding

“
You’ve got to be kidding me. Mr. Gatt taught Damion?”  The voice of Taris Green exploded across the table.

Monson and his friends nodded.

She sat back, a look of total astonishment across her features.

It was dinnertime, mere hours after the match between Cyann and Damion. An odd assortment of students was sitting at a table in a back corner of The GM’s massive cafeteria. Taris Green, Indigo Harrison, and their circles of friends sat chatting with Monson, Casey and Artorius, meriting frequent and furtive glances by envious upperclassmen.

Monson looked around at the peculiar collection of girls.
How the heck did this happen?
he thought.

Dinner that evening began normally enough. Monson, Artorius and Casey were discussing the match when Indigo and her friends overheard. Indigo switched tables right away, while the others, including Ignace Ikeco, waivered before eventually joining them. Taris made her appearance shortly thereafter, with Coren’s upper echelons of sophomore, junior and senior beauties in tow.  Taris venturing into the main cafeteria at all was unusual enough, but eating with Monson and his friends was something else altogether. During the subsequent conversation, Monson discovered that she and many of her friends had not actually witnessed the match, being among the few who either did not receive the viral invite or just could not come. Whether this was the reason for Taris’ sudden excursion to the dining hall, he did not know and did not feel like asking.  

The outcome of the big match produced many questions. The first and most intriguing had to be Mr. Gatt. How does a history teacher understand the mechanics of medieval fencing techniques? Movie stuntmen learned that stuff, not high school teachers. Furthermore, how would Damion know that Mr. Gatt had this skill when it came as such a surprise to everyone else? And why go through all the trouble?

Actually, they all knew the answer to this last question.

Cyann
.
 

After all, she
was
absolutely gorgeous with her black hair and icy blue eyes.  It was more than her outward appearance, however.  She expressed an inner power, an unflinching, unassuming strength that boasted absolute control. Absolute confidence.

Absolute confidence
,
thought Monson. He thought back to their conversation right before the match. He remembered the unsettled rhythm of her walk, an unsure step, a wavering thought. Discordance… a great deal of discordance.

Monson shot a glance at Cyann, who sat two tables away eating alone with earphones on and her face in a book. Monson studied her for a moment as she subtly swayed to the music of her iPod. Monson had the distinct impression that her interest in the book was not as earnest as it seemed.