Private Carlson squirms under the scrutiny. “We watched you do the ten-man challenge. Three times. In a row. How can we learn if you knock us down in a minute?”
Taylor’s presence is intimidating enough for the recruits, and the way she postures herself and glares at them isn’t helping. “Then do not get knocked down it a minute.”
With an eye roll, I step quietly behind her and lean into her ear. “What is this exercise?”
“Hand-to-hand combat. No weapons. Similar to the sparring I did with you, except these soldiers will try to take me down for real.”
Glancing up at this pitiful display of recruits, I can’t see any of them posing a real challenge, other than one rather sturdy blond fellow at the end of the line with huge shoulders, wide jaw, and a head like a toaster. “They’re gonna beat the crap out of you?”
Taylor scoffs. “I said try.”
“Shouldn’t you have some kind of protection, then? Wrap your hands? Use a mouth guard? A shin guard? A helmet?”
“I am not a child riding a bicycle, Miss Piccolo. The hand-wrapping is to protect the bones of the hand if a punch lands incorrectly.” Her eyes meet mine. “I do not land punches incorrectly. I could do this with my eyes closed.”
“Aha. Hold that thought.” I jog to the belaying tree and nab a free handkerchief from one of the stations. Taylor consents tomy covering her eyes with the blindfold and I cinch it behind her head. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Fair enough, Private?” Taylor rolls her shoulders and steps into the ring. “One at a time. Once I hear you yield, clear the ring. The next opponent will clap their hands once to begin the next fight.” First to step forward is Private Carlson, bless her heart. Once she finds the courage, she claps her hands.
No recruit stands a chance. I don’t know how she’s doing it without vision, but no one lays a hand on her. It doesn’t matter where they start or if they strike first, Taylor anticipates every move. She dances around her opponents, a swirling vortex of autumn air waltzing with dried leaves. At one point she dodges a punch by bending completely backward, then flips her legs up to kick her opponent in the face. It truly is a martial art, beautiful and scary, like a nightmare Francisco Goya could put to canvas. Despite my aversion to violence, something about her pugilistic display of grace is unexpectedly provocative.
A diminutive girl who looks like a miniature, pale version of Taylor excitedly takes her place. “Before we start, I—I want to say it is an honor to spar with you, Eos.”
Taylor puts one hand on her hip, and though the blindfold remains over her eyes, she is most certainly glaring at her opponent. The disapproval is palpable. “You are not old enough for this training, Private Frank.”
Private Frank scuffs the ground with her toe. “But I—I’ll be sixteen in a month. Can I try this one time, please? I’ve been practicing since I was young, like you. I swear, I’m good. I’m ahead in my classes. I may never get this chance again and—and we aren’t supposed to waste opportunities. That’s what Theia says. You don’t have to go easy on me or anything.”
Though I can’t see it on her face, this earnest display of zealotry cracks my hardened captor. “Fine. At the ready, Private Frank.”
Private Frank claps and advances in a charge. Taylor easily dodges her, planting two hands on the private’s back as she runs by her, pushing and sending her struggling to keep herself upright. If she hits the ground, it’s over.
Taylor circles her like a hawk. “Pay attention! Distraction means death.”
The young girl sucks in a deep breath and advances again, more sure-footed. They spar for a few minutes and it’s obvious to me Taylor is taking it easy on her, until she lands a solid punch on Private Frank’s face, hard enough I hear the snap from outside the circle. Private Frank stumbles back but doesn’t fall. Taylor swings and Private Frank drops to her butt to dodge it, landing with a thud on the dirt.
“Yield.”
Taylor nearly loses her balance, skidding in the dirt before finding her center and righting herself. Then, surprisingly, she laughs. “Well played, Private Frank.”
She pulls the recruit to her feet and pats her on the shoulder. The girl squeals softly and hops up and down as she retreats to the edge of the circle.
“As Private Frank showed us, you do not only learn by winning. You also learn by failing and understanding your failures. Next time she and I spar, she will be better, and that is what I want.”
Taylor and her next contender prepare to parry, and her fan skitters over to me. “Is it true Eos is training you one-on-one?” she asks, an endearing mix of jealousy and interest in her tone.
“That’s right. News travels fast, huh?”
“It’s pretty big news. She hasn’t trained recruits since the invasion.” The invasion? Presumably the invasion of the Southeast region, where Taylor was busy garroting old men and shooting children.
“You can count me amongst the surprised.” Surprised being a massive understatement. She can’t imagine howsurprisedI am to find my deft dancing partner is my and Papa’s would-be killer. Or the surprise at how easy it is for me not to hate her the way I should.
Without taking her eyes off Taylor, she continues, “She’s a living legend around here.”
“So I hear. What’s the ten-man challenge, anyway?” I’ve got a lot of ideas about what it could be, but I’m not sure the answer lies in the gutter where my mind resides.
“Oh, boy. Well, every so often Theia hosts competitions in camp to keep people’s spirits up. The ten-man challenge is the hardest. One person has to take down ten challengers in a single round. It’s always unarmed, like sparring. Except it gets intense and people get hurt a lot. Barely anyone finishes the challenge once. Last year, Eos did it three times in a row. Thirty soldiers taken down in thirty-six minutes.” The young soldier sighs dreamily. “I’d kill for her to show me how she does it. How did you get so lucky?”
Lucky. By accident of birth, I’m the sole heir to the second-largest fortune in the country. Through no fault—okay, maybe some fault—of my own, I’m the kidnapped ward of a terrifying warrior. Not sure luck has anything to do with it. I answer her question as honestly as possible. “I don’t know.”
