Ben stood on the swording platform thinking about Lyil. It was nine days ago that she had asked him to spend the night, and he hadn't spent another night in his guest quarters since. He only went back to get his things and to check out.
Ben's relationships with women in the past had always been fleeting and noncommittal. Considering his age, this didn't bother him, and in his mind he had reasons why he never formed a permanent relationship—such as, he was too busy with swording or he was too busy with his professional life as an Archaehistorian, but now he was beginning to think that they had just been excuses while he was waiting for someone like Lyil. For the first time in his life he was forming a solid relationship, and it was at the worst possible time. Crap, he thought as he flexed his sword. He was on a planet far from his home planet, and he was busier now with swording and Archaehistory than he had been during the past.
Ben looked to his left at the ringside box seats, which were designated for his friends and family and saw Lyil sitting with Tam and Rand. Her long red hair was a sharp contrast amongst all the Tarmorians throughout the stadium with their heads of black hair. He nodded in her direction, and she smiled back.
He whipped his sword through the air a couple of times. It whistled, sharply. Then he turned and looked at his opponent.
Doog was a man who looked darker than any of the other Tarmorians Ben had seen. It wasn't so much his brown skin nor his black hair, which made him look dark, but rather his deep set, penetrating, black eyes, which lurked behind a long, sleek nose. As a result he had an almost sinister look about him.
Ben noticed that Doog seemed fidgety and anxious. Perhaps he was nervous, after all there was only one match remaining after this one. And whoever won this one would be going to the finals.
This was the tenth round, the semifinals. Everyone had been knocked out of the tournament except for four—Ben, Doog, Zirnen, and Julian (an offworlder whom Ben had beaten in the Galactic Games). The odds-on-favorite to win the semi-final matches and advance to the finals were Ben and Zirnen. In fact the odds were overwhelmingly in favor of Ben and Zirnen at ninety-five to one.
Ben looked at one of the four clocks, which was located on one of the walls above the spectators. There was a little more than two and a half minutes before the match would begin. It wasn’t customary for Ben to be looking at the clock like a nervous novice anticipating the beginning of the match, but today he realized he was anxious to get started. He didn’t care about winning as much as he was looking forward to having dinner with Lyil and her friends. He wanted to finish this match quickly.
He glanced at the stands, and what he saw was a crowd of people composed mostly of Tarmorians, some G-staff, and some offworlders dressed in brightly colored, vacationers’ clothing. The stadium was packed to capacity. Excitement permeated the air. The spectators were anxious, and so was Ben.
He did some stretching motions to limber his muscles. And while he was doing them he decided to take his mind off Lyil and concentrate on Doog. He was, after all, close to winning a Tarmorian tournament.
Ben was waiting for the buzzer, when Doog suddenly did the unexpected. He put his sword on the mat and walked toward Ben until he was but a few feet away. "I just wanted to shake your hand before the match begins." He stuck out his hand and grasped a hold as Ben extended his. "Swording is my life," he said. He let go of Ben's hand. "And I've never crossed swords with anybody as high up in the ranks as you. This is a great honor. And believe me I want to beat you, and I'm going to do my best."
"I would expect nothing less," said Ben.
Doog smiled. "Yes, but I've seen you perform. So, in the event that I should win I just wanted to say I'm sorry, because it'll have to be a lucky strike."
Over the years Ben had heard some great psychological ploys, but this ranked among the best. Doog was obviously trying to get an edge by making Ben overconfident, by making him think Doog was not nearly as skilled as Ben. Oftentimes swordsmen would talk to their opponents during a match, trying to psych them out, but this was the first time he had experienced it before the match was about to start.
Ben replied in a calm manner. "I accept your apology and your compliment, but I'm sure it wouldn't be luck. I've been told your sword play is very good." He paused, and then said, "Nevertheless, I'll do my best to live up to your expectations."
Doog bowed his head and walked back to his side of the platform. He picked up his sword and waited for the match to begin.
The buzzer sounded.
Ben walked to the center of the platform and crossed his sword with Doog’s above their heads. He was ready.
The buzzer stopped and Ben jumped back. But instead of following the normal swording attacks he decided to resort to a trick. It wasn't an unusual or rarely seen trick, but it was used by only those adept with either hand. If it didn't work, the swordsman would merely continue swording with the other hand.
Against another Grand-Master Swordsman the trick would have been useless, but Doog was nervous and was quickly reacting to Ben's moves—too quickly. Ben feinted twice, moved his body to the left, and started his right hand, with the sword in it, to the right. This maneuver would leave Ben exposed for a fraction of a second. His right hand continued to the right, but the sword was no longer in it. It was suspended in mid air.
Doog continued to follow Ben's right hand with his own sword, and by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late.
Ben plucked his sword out of the air with his left hand and thrust the balled point against Doog's chest.
The kill buzzer sounded and the match was over.
It was the shortest match in Tarmorian recorded history lasting only fourteen seconds, and it tied the all time Galactic record. Previously the shortest match in Tarmorian swording had been twenty-three seconds—a record which was set when a Galactic Grand Master sworded in the third round against a novice who had made it that far because the swordsmen in his two scheduled bouts had unexpectedly withdrawn.
Today’s new record would probably never be broken.
Most of the crowd was not happy since they had not bet on the first fifteen-second window. On the other hand, even though they had lost money, they loved to see new records being set. And now they could say they were there when it happened.
A great roaring of the crowd and stomping of their feet shook the arena as they showed their appreciation for the match.
Chapter Thirteen