Read Suppliant Page 26


  Chapter 26

  “Today we’re going to work on all of the Combat skills you have learned up to this point,” Kale announces. I look around to see some excited faces, but mostly dull, unhappy ones.

  “Grab your partners and protective gear and meet in the courtyard in ten.” Both Damien and Zeke help me get properly--fitting protective gear. It’s odd that neither one of them get any of their own.

  I saunter out into the courtyard with a mask, gloves, and elbow and knee pads. I think it’s rather stupid to make me wear all of this, since it’s only going to slow me down. The gear is bulky and stinky. At least I will get practice on focusing on the task at hand instead of thinking about the smell.

  Damien fights Zeke first to demonstrate technique. I would bet that Damien did some research on Zeke after he found out that we’re joined. He probably knows his whole life story and fighting style.

  They step up to each other, and the match begins. Zeke takes the first swing. Damien catches his arm and twists it behind Zeke’s back.

  “You’re going to have to do better than that,” Damien says. Is that a smile on Zeke’s face? If I didn’t know better, I would think that these two were enjoying this.

  After Damien lets go, he takes a step toward Zeke and shoots a punch toward his stomach. Zeke nimbly dodges out of the way and returns with a strike to the jaw.

  I can feel Damien’s anger, and I bet it has to do with Zeke making the first hit. Zeke tries to hit him again in the ribs, Damien blocks and jabs him in the chest.

  Zeke takes a step back, clearly winded. They begin to circle. It’s then that I notice that most of the fighting has stopped around us. The class is focused on Zeke and Damien. Some are cheering on Zeke, and some Damien.

  I glance back at the boys to see that Damien has Zeke in a choke hold, and Zeke wiggles out of it. At least they are careful not to mess up each other’s faces.

  “I bet Zeke is going to win. I heard that his dad taught him how to fight,” I overhear a student say.

  “Damien has won every fight he has been in since he started here. He has beat Professor Kale. There’s no way that Zeke will beat him,” another student shares.

  “If Zeke fights like his dad, then he will.” Who is Zeke’s dad, and how does everyone know him?

  The boys take a bow and call a draw, the crowd disappointed. As Professor Kale rounds the corner, it quickly disperses.

  “Now let’s see what you learned, Layla,” Zeke offers.

  I step up and raise my fists. I have no idea how to fight. This is the first fight I have ever been in. I hope that Zeke takes it easy on me.

  Zeke takes a step toward me, and I try to punch him. He catches my hand much like Damien had, and pulls it behind me. The pain from my twisted limb infuriates me, fueling my urge to fight. I pound on his foot, and he reflexively pulls away to nurse his wound.

  “Practical, and girly.” Damien is critiquing me without judgment.

  “It worked,” I smirk back.

  Zeke sneaks up behind me and wraps an arm around my neck. I can feel my wind pipe being crushed. I can’t breathe. I’m upset that he’s not being fair but then again, neither am I. Wiggling, I elbow him in the ribs as hard as I can.

  I manage to knock enough of the breath out of him that he lets go. I turn around and slap him right in the face.

  I hear Damien chuckle as Zeke stands there, clutching his stinging cheek.

  “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s start with the basics, Layla.” Damien beckons me over. I have already worked up a sweat, and the stinky pads are starting to smell worse.

  We go over to a tree with a punching bag hanging from it.

  “You need to learn how to punch first.” He demonstrates how to throw a proper punch while I watch.

  Zeke walks over. “What was that for?”

  “You weren’t playing fair. So why should I?” I start to reach for his face to heal it and think better of it.

  “Layla, if you are attacked, you can bet that the other party isn’t going to play fair,” Damien says. “Zeke was teaching you a valuable lesson. He did the right thing by challenging you.”

  Damn him for being right. I know Zeke was just keeping me on my toes.

  “Now try this.” He punches the bag with a swift jab. Zeke is standing in the shade with his red cheek to the tree.

  I try to mimic Damien. “Put your body into it, follow through.”

  My frustration flares. I’m not any good at this and they know it. It’s going to take me forever to be able to defend myself.

  After I throw off a few good--enough punches, Damien shows me how to block.

  “Try to hit me.”

  I jab for his ribs with all my might. He’s pissing me off by pointing out everything that I’m doing wrong, so it isn’t hard to hit him.

  He brings his arm down tight to his ribs, and my hand bounces off. We try this a few more times, and each time I am unsuccessful.

  “Now I’m going to hit you; try to block it.” His words hadn’t yet registered when his fist comes barreling toward my stomach. I try to pull my hands down, but I’m too late. A burning pain radiates through my stomach, making me cough. My lungs are burning with each breath.

  “Did you have to hit her?” Zeke rushes to my defense. I check my wall, and it’s down for the count. I guess it’s a good thing that during a fight, I will automatically lower my wall so my Protectors can sense my danger.

  “She won’t learn if I don’t.” Damien looks a little guilty. Both of them can feel my stomach burning.

  “Just calm down and breathe, Layla; it will go away in a few seconds. He just knocked the breath out of you.” Zeke is running his hand down my back.

  “I’m fine. Try again,” I say when I’ve caught my breath. Damien looks amused and jabs me a few more times in succession.

  I manage to block one blow to my ribs, but by the time he stops, I’m doubled over in pain. I can feel blood rushing to the surface in my abdomen. I know that I will be in pain for a few days, and the bruises will be hideous.

  Zeke is instantly at my side with a plastic cup of water, and Damien is trying to pull up my shirt to see the damage, when Professor Kale’s voice breaks through.

  “Gather around class. I have something to tell you,” he says.

  I push both boys away and limp over to hear the announcement.

  “It has come to my attention that some of you are using magic to fight. This class is called Combat, not Powers. Save your powers for another time. Chances are that you and your partner are not ready to try to defend yourself against magic, and someone will get hurt.” He was looking around, expecting pure obedience.

  “That’s doubtful. We need to learn how to defend ourselves against both. In the real world we don’t get to pick and choose how our opponent will fight us. We need practice.”

  I can’t believe that someone has spoken up and challenged him. The speaker sinks back into the crowd, trying not to draw any more attention.

  “It seems a demonstration is in order. Damien?” he says. Please say no, I think toward him. I don’t want you to get hurt. Why did Kale choose Damien; why not ask for a volunteer? That would have settled the argument.

  Lay, he chose me because I’m the most experienced here. I will be fine.

  I’m getting the feeling that Kale is challenging Damien. There must be something there that I don’t know about.

  As Damien draws near to Kale, the class pushes closer. Everyone is eager to watch a fight with powers.

  Kale takes his stance, and Damien follows suit. Kale jabs at him and shoots an orb with his other hand. Damien has a choice to make in a split second. He can either block the orb or the punch.

  Damien pulls back his hand and shoots an orb at Kale, which leaves his chest open for the punch. He tries to bring his arms down, but it’s too late. The blow to the chest knocks him back a few inches.

  “When you fight with magic, you can either bloc
k the magic, or block the attack. Either choice leaves you vulnerable. As you can tell it’s even hard for someone that’s advanced to accomplish. You will practice fighting with magic after you master the basics of combat. Thank you, Damien.” They both take a bow and Damien walks away.

  “Class is dismissed,” Kale says.

  On my way to the locker room, I hear the students abuzz with gossip about magic and fights. Lucky them, I think, if they only knew.