The House of Grey- Volume 2 (9 page)

Artorious shot them both dirty looks and then turned his attention back to Ignace. “Where’s the fire? Where’s everybody running to?”

“
Cyann Harrison!” she blurted out. “She has another match. Everyone is going to watch.”

Monson stepped forward.

“
Cyann has matches every day. Just about every guy in this student body has challenged her. Why should we care about this one?”

Ignace blushed deeply.

“
It’s not Cyann people are going to see.”

The boys stared at her. Monson spoke.

“
Then who are they going to see?”

“
Well, her opponent of course.”

They were getting nowhere.

“
And who’s her opponent?”

The girl’s eyes widened in anticipation.

“
Damion Peterson.”

Chapter 18- A Strange Courtship

“
I think the whole school is here.”

Monson looked around as he, Casey and Artorius followed Ignace. The crowd of students rushed down the hall away from the secondary gyms and converged on the main corridor exiting to the Battleground. The mob rushed through the massive doors and hurried down dozens of stairs until they finally reached the guardrail separating the field from the spectators.

As excited as he was, Monson could not help but again marvel at the main field chamber. The Battleground was not like most football stadiums. True, it had all those indispensable items that a massive football stadium should have: tiered seating, press boxes, lighted score boards, concession stands, VIP boxes near the field with private entrances for the rich and famous.   In these details, it was like any other shamefully expensive sports stadium. There was, however, one defining characteristic that set the Battlegrounds apart from all other sports complexes: This stadium was completely underground. When someone entered the Battlegrounds, they suddenly found themselves at the very top of the tiered seating, with seating flowing downward in the traditional fashion. Because the entrances of the dome-structure were at ground level, whoever built the complex had to dig one massive hole. Why the architect decided to design the field like this, Monson did not know. It seemed outrageous. In truth, he could not think of anything less practical. Moving the dirt alone probably cost a fortune. Despite all this, the home field of the Coren University Legionaries did have a certain beauty.

He looked around at the mass of the oncoming students when a thought occurred to him. He looked at Casey.

“
How does everyone know about this fight? It seems unlikely that it’s just word of mouth.”

Casey shrugged, but Ignace flipped open her phone to answer the question.

She showed them a message:

Attention All. Battlegrounds, Cyann and The Diamond. It’s go time!

Well, that explained it.  

Students continued to file down the long, descending stairway and flowed over the field like cattle. Those at the head of the pack stopped short as they reached the center of the field.
That must be where everything is going to go down
, thought Monson. In the distance, he saw two groups of students standing around the fifty-yard line, gathered on opposite ends of a large red wrestling mat.

Though the mob of people made it difficult, Monson, Casey and Artorius caught a glimpse of Indigo talking excitedly with some of her friends on one side of the mat. On the other side, two older boys held up a corny banner with the words “Damion ‘The Diamond’ Peterson” splashed across it. The trio could also see The Diamond himself, although the angle made it impossible to see his face. He was chatting with a group of four or five people, none of whom Monson readily recognized. The three boys stood at the guardrail for a moment more, surveying the scene until Casey gestured towards Indigo.  They rushed towards her.

 “
Hey boys, glad you made it.” Her tone a bit on the sardonic side, she was nevertheless clearly excited and beaming at the assembling crowd. It was obvious that she was enjoying the attention, even if it was not totally focused on her.  

 “
Damion Peterson challenging your sister to a fight? No way we’re gonna miss this. That’s the stuff of legends.” Casey looked at Monson and Artorius, who nodded in agreement.

 “
I doubt there’s still a student in class,” replied Indigo. The teachers are gonna be pissed.”

Monson glanced over at Cyann, who was checking the armor she used for official matches. Casey and Indigo continued chattering beside him, but Monson could not take his eyes off Cyann. She was a ways off, resting casually on one knee with her back to them. Without even realizing it, he found himself moving towards her. Why was he approaching her? To talk to her? What was he going to say?

“
You certainly know how to draw a crowd.”

Cyann froze, probably trying to figure out who was speaking to her over the din. Her body seemed to ripple as if a sudden and overwhelming chill enveloped her. She ran a hand through her hair.

“
We’ve been over this, Mr. Grey.” She did not sound surprised. “I don’t draw crowds. I’m a mere victim of circumstance.”

She did not look up from her armor as she ran her hands across the leather straps that held the breastplate in place. Monson stood in silence for a moment, and then plopped down next to her.  She looked up from the heavy armor, a guarded expression on her face.

Monson gave her a quizzical look. She always looked tense, but that was not what was bothering him. Well, actually, that did bother him, but what was
really
bothering him now was…

“
How did you know it was me?”

Without missing a beat or showing any trace of a smile, she answered. “The smell. You’re very pungent.”

What
? he thought.
What was she talking about
?
Wait…
he could not believe it. She was
joking
!

“
Cyann!” Monson looked at her amazed. “You made a joke!” He turned around as if he were searching frantically. “I need to write this down, take a picture, something. This is momentous.”

Her eyes scrunched again, though this time he could not tell if she was upset or trying not to laugh.

Come on, Cyann, laugh
,
said the voice in his head.

She did not laugh. Her guarded expression returned. She sounded offended.

“
I do know how to joke, Monson Grey—”

“
Well, that’s obvious. I’ve never even seen you
smile
, let alone laugh. I’m sure you’re capable, but I’ve never seen you actually do it!” He sighed. “Such a pretty girl, too. I’m sure you have a beautiful smile. What a waste.”

This time, Monson froze.

What in the world just came out of his mouth?  Did he really just say what he thought he said?

Slowly, he brought his gaze up to hers. Their eyes met. She no longer seemed offended, but she did look …confused.

Cyann turned from him and stood, scooping up her helmet and the rest of her gear. She walked away, an unsure step disrupting her normally smooth stride.

Wonderful! Just call me Mr. Smooth
, he thought.
He wandered back towards the others and stood in between Casey and Artorius, who had not paid the slightest bit of attention to his encounter. Really, he should start carrying a roll of duct tape for occasions when he felt like talking—especially to the opposite sex, he mused.

After another fifteen minutes or so, he noticed others becoming restless.  Nothing was happening. Only the annoying chatter of unusually high-strung students echoed around the gathering. A pang of unfamiliar emotion coursed through Monson. It startled him.

No, not now
, said the voice in his head.  He looked at Artorius and Casey, who were still off in their respective worlds.
It’s that feeling again, the dangerous one
.

He stopped.

No. This was…different. It was not
that
feeling. It was…something else. It was…worry?

He felt worried? But why? What reason was there to worry?  He looked around for Cyann and then Damion. He found himself among the same people as before.

Then it hit him.

Monson was worried about Cyann.

Damion Peterson. The Diamond.  He was a lot bigger than Cyann. Cyann flattened Casey, but how was she going to handle someone who had a hundred pounds and at least six inches on her? True, she had technique and power, but could she defeat someone like Damion?

He gave himself a mental shake.  He was being stupid. This girl remained undefeated. Undefeated, as in had never lost a single match. Instead of worrying about a girl who could obviously take care of herself, maybe he should just pray that he never had to fight her.

Yeah
, he thought,
that would be a much better use of my time
.

He turned his attention back to Cyann.  Her armor in place, she was now strolling slowly towards the middle of the mat. Her pace looked confident, bearing no marks of the uneasiness that weighed her down moments ago. She walked with her short
bokken
at her side, bringing its weight up to rest on her shoulder only when she stopped. She waited.

Tumultuous applause caught many off-guard, erupting with all the warning of a night raid siren. Finally visible as he emerged from a large group of friends on his side of the mat, Damion Peterson walked towards Cyann. His ensemble was totally random and borderline humorous. Instead of the kendo armor that Cyann was so fond of, he wore a tight-fitting, long-sleeved shirt and matching leggings that many of the boys used for football. What were they called? Under Armour! Because he was wearing more than one layer of the thin clothing, it was bunched and rumpled all over. His weapon of choice was a wooden shaft cut expertly in the shape of an English long sword. It looked very complete with its oversized pommel and cross-shaped hilt. True enough, if not for the wooden blade, the weapon in Damion’s hands would be a sword in every sense of the word. Monson had to wonder if the choice was deliberate. Were they about to see a different sword-fighting style?

Damion came to a halt about five feet from Cyann. He turned back and put up a hand to quiet the crowd. They fell silent immediately. Satisfied, he faced Cyann.

“
Are you ready for our match?” His voice was quiet but carried across the crowd nonetheless.  

Cyann was as calm as ever but sounded resigned. “I am, but didn’t I tell you to go train first? Why are you back so soon?”

“
I have been training.” Damion sounded prideful. “I found an excellent teacher and practiced just like you said, and it’s about time I put that first tick mark in your loss column.”

He was not boasting, for people like Damion Peterson did not need to boast. He was merely stating a fact.

Cyann shook her head. “OK, Mr.
Diamond
, let’s see the fruits of this training.”

Cyann began her routine of bowing and offering and twisting her weapon. Monson remembered the movements from her fight with Casey; they felt odd and out of place both then and now. He wondered what their purpose was.

Damion Peterson interrupted his thoughts.

“
Same rules as last time?” He sounded hopeful.

Cyann nodded. He beamed.

Monson leaned over to Casey who was next to him.

“
What rules? I didn’t know Cyann played with rules.”

Casey looked at Monson incredulously.

“
What rules? Grey, have you been living under a box?”

Monson scowled at Casey. “Not unless you have been living in the box with me, because there’s hardly a day that I’m not with you and Arthur.”

“
Don’t call me Arthur!”

Monson grimaced. “Sorry…Artorius.”  

Casey answered in stride as if the interruption had not happened. “True enough. OK, I guess I should explain.”

Monson tilted towards him. Casey gathered his thoughts.

“
Well, you’re well aware that Cyann doesn’t like to be confined by the normal fencing rules.”

Monson nodded.

“
I found out she started her own little fencing club a while ago. A club with only one rule: There are no rules.  When Cyann says there are no rules, she means it.” Casey pointed towards Damion. “Do you see how he’s barely wearing any protective gear?”

Monson again simply nodded.

Casey smiled. “Good, I’m glad you noticed. Now, let me ask you this, why would he do that? But before you answer, remember that Cyann’s hits have all the impact of a bullet train. Just remember what she did to me.”

Monson thought for a moment, but the answer seemed obvious.

“
Well, obviously he feels that he can gain some sort of advantage from less protective gear. Maybe his speed will increase?” Monson looked at Casey expectantly.

Artorius cut in. “That may be part of it, but think of something more direct. More brutal.”

It hit Monson.

“
His
hands
…he’s planning to fight
with his hands and not just his weapon.”

“
Bingo,” said Casey and Artorius in unison. Casey finished up.

“
And that’s not all. According to Cyann’s rules, you can strike with hand, foot, or weapon, it doesn’t matter. You lose if you’re disarmed, knocked out, or taken down and you tap out.”

Monson was at a loss for words. Why would she go to such lengths? Just for a good match? He did not understand.

Their conversation remained unfinished. Before the three of them could plunge deeper into the topic, movement from Cyann and Damion stopped them. The two combatants were starting to move in on one another. The boys’ attention shifted quickly towards the battling duo.

It was actually very surprising. Damion displayed some good footwork, skirting the edge of his weapon’s reach and testing Cyann with very basic slashes at her mid-section. Cyann dodged or deflected these attempts easily, as Monson could see there was barely any force behind them. Damion switched tactics and volleyed half a dozen attacks, each stronger than the last, augmenting his sword strikes with blows from both his hands and feet. Casey looked over at Monson smugly, with a what-did-I-tell-you sort of look.  Damion paid the price, however, as every weaponless strike was met by Cyann’s sword.