Mask of Bone - ONC2021

2 - Rhys

Between the rough clothing, the severe braid she'd pulled her hair into, and the half-mask obscuring her nose and mouth, Zaketa hoped she'd have a chance to test Rhys before she was recognized.

Masks were commonplace in a world rife with airborne diseases, though rarely worn within the walls of the fortress. The guards and people who lived in the lavash comfort of the fortress were well fed, clean, and above taking such precautions. Disease ravaged the poor and the weak, not the strong and powerful.

Crucis slipped in as she arrived, arranging the match before melting back in among the guard. Recruits and the lower-ranked guardsmen of the capitol had been trickling in over the last few weeks to try their hand at the chance of promotion. An increased need for security for the masquerade was proving a lucrative opportunity to those looking for a more comfortable position inside the fortress walls.

Zaketa was introduced as she stepped up to the ring as a potential new recruit. She was the lowest of the low, untested and unknown. The Veterans grinned and taunted, bemused by the prospect of fresh meat.

"Who let that girl in here? She's all baby fat!" one called.

"What's with the mask? What are you hiding?"

"Poor baby scared you'll catch a cold?" a raspy-voiced man spat.

"Probably all pockmarked. Fat little merchant's daughter, grasping at glory. It ain't worth it little girl! Go home to daddy!"

Good, Zaketa thought, let them jeer. If they'd known she was The Wolf's daughter they wouldn't dare to be disrespectful. The very idea of their princess getting her hands dirty was impossible enough that they didn't think to question why the Princess's own guard would bring in a recruit.

Rhys shook out her shoulders, practice blade held loosely at her side. She was so at ease with a weapon in her hand, the prospect of yet another challenge of little consequence. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, the only sign she'd been culling recruits like Zaketa all morning long. Zaketa stepped into the practice ring, heart thundering loud in her ears.

"Put the kid in her place, Rhys!" called one of the onlookers.

An involuntary burble of nervous laughter escaped Zaketa's lips. She felt jittery, her sword hilt slick with sweat. At least she would appear to be the eager young recruit she was pretending to be.

"Begin!" barked one of the trainers.

Zaketa lept into motion, nearly stumbling in her excitement. As expected, Rhys avoided her advances, working to wear her down just as she had done in the earlier match. It wasn't long before Zaketa was sweating and breathing hard. She grit her teeth.

I have to change tactics, she thought. Something unexpected. If I could get closer— Zaketa moved before she could second guess herself, swinging wide with a feint and spinning in close enough to land an uppercut to Rhys' jaw.

She hadn't expected to make contact. The crack of her knuckles against solid bone was satisfying, the impact jolting all the way down her arm. The momentary victory was short-lived. It had been little more than a grazing blow. Rhys barely even hesitated before landing a solid punch of her own to Zaketa's side.

The sheer strength of the blow sent Zaketa flying. She landed hard, sprawled, and gasped for breath for a moment— far too long, she realized as Rhys advanced on her. Zaketa rolled, hand clutching her side as she staggered to her feet. A bubble of laughter sparked through her, causing an agonizing jolt in her bruised ribs.

"Nice!" Zaketa managed to gasp out, held upright by nothing more than adrenaline.

Rhys hadn't held back and Zaketa relished the knowledge. Crucis and Ismay would have never hit her that hard. It felt amazing to be actually fighting. Not just practicing the arts, going through the motions of technique, reserved and disciplined. No, this would hurt later. She'd have bruises to show for her efforts.

Rhys rubbed at her jaw and spit into the dirt. The taller girl's brow furrowed deeply as she studied Zaketa, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

Zaketa's body hummed, and she hoped to ride the high just a little longer. The pain shooting through her hindered her range. Time and time again, Zaketa's attacks met empty air. She finally slipped past Rhys' defenses only once more and managed to slam the hilt of her blade into Rhys' ribs, a delicious bit of payback.

It was her undoing. Rhys took a half step back and repaid Zaketa the favor with a quick jab, slamming her own hilt into Zaketa's face, just by her ear.

The world sparked white and sound turned to static. She wasn't sure how much time passed before she realized she was sprawled on the ground once more. Zaketa blinked up at Rhys standing over her, blade at her throat. "You should stay down," Rhys said softly, her voice holding a softness that Zaketa hadn't expected. Was it respect, sympathy, or just pity? Zaketa wasn't sure.

"Not a problem," Zaketa choked out.

Her opponent nodded, lowered her blade, and offered her a hand. Zaketa took it, allowing Rhys to haul her to her feet. She staggered despite herself, and Rhys caught her, leaning in close. "Not bad, Princess."

Zaketa's eyes widened, that delirious laughter bubbled up once more. She sputtered out a bark of laughter. Rhys had nearly knocked her unconscious, despite knowing. "What gave me away?"

"I know you aren't all that you pretend to be," Rhys replied simply. "Crucis bringing a young trainee with your complexion and build to train? It wasn't hard to put together."

Zaketa raised a brow. Rhys was everything she'd hoped and more. She had to have her. "Don't call me Princess. It's Zaketa. If you can't stomach that," she glanced at Crucis, "Miss or Mistress will do." Zaketa rolled her shoulders back, straightening. She refused to let on just how much her head pounded and her ribs ached. "You are quite impressive, even more so than I'd expected. I'd like you to join my private guard."

The hardened guard eyed her warily. "I am your servant," came the stilted answer.

"Good," Zaketa replied, turning on her heel. "Crucis will speak to you privately to make arrangements. I expect to be seeing much more of you, Rhys Ward."

1103 words
2,335 words total