“Security and medical assistance to Zone C.” The announcement was repeated.

Jal walked out of the zone to Sage Elvan. “Jal! Sit down!”

“Why?”

The arbiter gripped Ela’ Krol’s arm as she tried to leave the perimeter of the zone. The two joined Sage Elvan at the sidelines.

“Didn’t you feel that?” Sage Elvan looked worried.

When the medics finally got through the crowd, they found Jal lying on its stomach. Sage Elvan’s hands were clamped around one of Jal’s legs, in an effort to stop the blood loss. A Medii had done the same thing to the other leg.

“Please release your hold,” a medic told the Medii. “We’ve got this.”

The arbiter said something to the Medii, who turned away.

“Don’t go! What’s your name?” Sage Elvan asked.

“I have to go! My son’s in the zone!” He left before Jal could thank him.

There was a horn, and the activity in the building paused. “Attention, beginner level participants! Ela’ Krol has been ejected from the competition for unsportsmanlike violent conduct. The advancement rankings are being adjusted accordingly. There will be a delay while Jal Jomari is treated for injuries.”

The medics transported Jal and Janto a tented area away from the crowd. There, they looked at the gashes in Jal’s legs, placed gauze over the wounds and applied pressure. When Sage Elvan removed its hands from Jal’s left leg, they repeated the process. Jal listened as they discussed the situation. In moments, Jal was laying on a bed in an emergency treatment room at the hospital in Nik.

A doctor came and looked at the injuries. “You were fortunate. The cuts didn’t go into the tendons on your legs.”

“Will I be able to return to the tournament?”

“Let’s see how you’re doing when I’m done here.”

“Sage Elvan, did you bring my pack?”

“Yes. It’s here.”

“There are healing potions in the front pocket.” As Jal directed, Sage Elvan handed him a bottle. It tasted awful, but Jal guzzled it down.

Jal’s hair slowly changed colors in the next few minutes, as the doctor stitched the long cuts closed and Sage Elvan spoke with the tournament officials. When it was finished speaking, it sat down in the chair next to the bed. Jal’s hair was a deep red and its eyes were orange.

“Jal! Take a breath!"

“I am.”

“You’re really mad.”

“Why did she do that? I want to know why!”

“The tournament officials are doing an investigation. They’ll figure it out.”

“Did I do something wrong when we were fighting? I did knock her onto her butt, but that’s part of the sport. I was really having a good time," Jal sighed. “I’m really looking forward to watching the advanced fighters.”

The doctor spoke. “It looks to me like your potion is doing its job. I’m almost done with the stitches on this leg, and I see that the skin is sealing nicely on the deeper layers.”

“Do I need to drink another potion?”

“Do you have another?”

“I have three more. They’re different strengths.”

“I’d take the weakest one. That way if you need something later, you’ll still have it.”

“Jal, where’s your necklace of charms?”

“My charms. Of course.” Jal found the green one. “Helsan.” The doctor began on the other leg.

Jal’s communicator beeped. “Jal, where are you? I see the beginner’s sessions have been paused. You're the reason?” Eiske asked.

“Yes, I’m getting stitched up.”

“Should I come there?”

Jal looked at Sage Elvan, who shook its head no. “There’s no need for that. I’ll be back there as soon as I can.”

They agreed on a place to meet. While the doctor finished stitching, Sage Elvan looked at Jal's boots. “I can’t believe it! Jal. She cut through the reinforced part of your boots! I'd say that took extra strength.". The sage used a repair spell on them.

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After the gauze was taped over the cuts, Jal dressed as the doctor watched. “You can fight today,” she said. “Try to check between fights to see that the stitches aren’t pulling apart. It looks to me like your potion is working. The stitches will dissolve in a day or two."

Jal and Sage Elvan went back to the tournament. Once there, they were escorted into the officials’ tent. Ela’ Krol sat in one corner with a guard.

“Jal, tell us what happened during your contest,” one of the officials said. Jal gave a short account.

“Did you exchange words with your opponent?”

“No. She didn’t say anything at all.”

“Do you have anything you’d like to add, Ela’?” With her arms crossed in front of her, Ela’ glared at Jal. Seven people stood waiting for some sort of response. She was silent. “Are your parents here today?” an official asked her. She didn’t respond. “We’ll have them paged.” Several minutes passed.

“If they’re not here in the next few minutes, we’ll take her to the local lockup.”

Just then two people entered the tent. “Why are we here? Is our daughter injured?” The officials informed them of what had happened. “She would never do a thing like that!” her mother exclaimed. “She’s very conscientious about her training and would never harm anyone.”

“Were you at the zone when she was fighting?”

“Of course, we were. We didn’t see her do anything wrong!” The two adults looked at one another. When an official introduced Jal and stated that he had received treatment for the injuries she had inflicted on him, they turned to her.

“I didn’t do anything,” she said finally.

“Ela’ slashed at the back of Jal’s legs before she got up from the ground.”

“There must be some mistake,” her parents insisted. “She didn’t do anything!”

“She did. I saw her, and so did a lot of other people. Ela', since you’re not willing to apologize or explain your behavior, you are barred from competing in the next two tournaments. Jal, go to the official who is handling the advancement board. She’ll check you back in and reset the schedule.”

Ela’ let out a yell and charged at Jal. It put out an arm and stopped her an arm’s length away. “You are a bully!” she screamed. “Just because you’re bigger than everyone, you think you can push me around!”

“Do you enjoy fighting?” Jal asked her. She stared at it. “Pushing people around is part of fighting. We each fall. We get up. Over and over. It’s part of the fun. If you can’t handle falling, then stop fighting.”

Fifteen minutes later, the announcer spoke. “Contest twenty, Beginner Division. In the purple, representing the Ridali family from Iragos Peninsula, Jal Jomari. In yellow, representing the Bonet family from Darob, Naynur, Restu Bonet.”

Eiske watched with dread as Jal swung its sword. The weapon bounced off Restu’s shield, which was already visibly damaged. Restu, ran forward with the sword held in front of himself, as if it were a fencing foil.

Jal stepped back. “Does he not know what he’s doing?” it thought. “He’s trying to fake me out. How else would he have gotten this far?” Jal stepped aside and Restu raced past it. Jal turned and came at Restu with a wide swing and knocked Restu’s shield again. It very nearly knocked the boy off his feet, but he recovered his balance and managed to get a wild swipe in.

He was meters from Jal, waving his weapon wildly. Back and forth, up and down. Jal looked at Restu’s face. It was clear that he was terrified. Jal ran at him. Restu crouched and held the shield over his head. Jal leaped over him. Now behind him, Jal dropped its shield, flipped its sword into its left hand and grabbed the handle of Restu’s weapon with his right hand.

Restu didn’t give any resistance. “I concede.”

“Jal Ridali advances to the next round!” blasted over the speaker.

“Who is your master?” Jal said into Restu’s ear.

“Rufo Casariego.”

“Where do you take your lessons?” Jal asked him.

“Lessons?”

“Who taught you how to fight?”

“No one taught me. I came here to learn.”

“What is Rufo Casariego a master at?”

“Weaving.”

Jal looked at him. “Restu, I hope you are still in one piece at the end of the day. Keep your shield up, like this.”

Sage Elvan and Eiske checked Jal’s legs and were satisfied that things were holding together. “What did you say to him?” Sage Elvan asked Jal as they stood waiting for Jal’s next opponent.

“He told me that he hadn’t had lessons. He’s a weaver.” Sage Elvan and Eiske looked at each other. “I told him to keep his shield up. It was the best thing I could think of to do with only a moment.”

The following match wasn’t even a match. Jal’s opponent entered the zone, and after a minute withdrew. “You’re too big for me!” she called out. “I wouldn’t even have a chance.”

“This is our final contest in the Beginner Division. In orange, representing the Malu family from Nik, Voltan Malu. In the purple, representing the Ridali family from Iragos Peninsula, Jal Jomari.”

The two fighters entered the zone, greeted one another, and raised their weapons. They advanced toward one another, both swinging, and holding their shields high. After they had exchanged several blows, Jal realized that once again, Voltan’s eyes were distracting it. “I have to ignore that. They remind me of... the tiljeekik’s eyes! I don’t need to be afraid of Voltan. He’s just another one of Master Barloch’s students!”

Jal’s demeanor changed dramatically in that moment. It chose deliberate moves like it had with Puta, Karriya, and Waza. After a few moments of this, Jal thought it had figured out what Voltan’s weakness was. It took two steps backward and launched itself into the air. On the way down, Jal tried to knock Voltan from behind.

Jal’s fighting partners had always gone to their knees, but Voltan didn’t. He swung his shield back and clipped the side of Jal’s. Voltan spun, swung the sword at an angle from right to left, and missed!

Jal jumped over him, turned, and they faced one another again. Jal focused on Voltan’s sword, began to swing to meet it, but saw Voltan’s eyes move. Voltan’s knee met Jal’s shield, as it tried to knock Jal off its feet. Jal pushed back and upward.

It grinned. “Now Voltan can’t see his hand!” Jal reached below his left arm and smashed his sword up against Voltan's sword. It flew into the air. Jal’s success looked like it would be short-lived, as the Medii scrambled to pick it up, but Jal dove for Voltan’s feet. As Jal fell, it threw its sword aside, so neither of them would be injured.

Now Jal had only the shield, but Voltan had recovered its sword. Jal had recently read of a new technique using a round shield but had never practiced it. “I have to try,” Jal thought. Without hesitation, Jal grasped its shield at the edge and spun it through the air at Voltan’s sword. A moment later, Jal launched itself into Voltan. The shield and sword flew into the air and Jal lay on the ground on top of Voltan.

“I concede,” Voltan laughed and pushed Jal up. “Jal Ridali, you were just supposed to beat me, not try to kill me!”