Tavaar - 4th Edition

I don't know how much of this I'm going to get in. I'm running out of time. Perhaps you're tired of reading about Tavaar anyway. Well, since Nobody has ever commented on anything on this blog, I'm going to assume Nobody likes it, so I'll keep posting. And if Nobody wants me to stop, Nobody is going to have to tell me. Okay? Good.

I left off when Tavaar was nineteen. Everything up to this point came from the the First Journal, titlted, "The Birth of a Girl". The journal continues to the present time. Then, beginning with the Second Journal, I return to the beginning of First Journal and put in details. For some reason, I want to include the detail portion of Tavaar and her friends before and during Shello's fight with Khaiu. Here it is.

Khaiu gave Tavaar a nod and started away, taking hold of Shello’s arm as he went. “Come along, little brother. You have a fight to prepare for.”

Shello began to leave, but suddenly he pulled away and came back. He kissed her, but this time it was short and sweet.

“You are much better this year,” he said.

“Really? How much better?”

He kissed her again. “You’re the best, Darling.”

“Come along, boy darling,” said Khaiu, taking Shello’s arm and leading him away.

Tavaar watched them. Shello frequently looked back.

“Well that was some congratulations,” said Ahzbah.

“So? How was it?” asked Sashwa.

“What do you mean, ‘how was it’? It was a kiss. Nothing more.”

“Oh, come off!” said Sashwa. “Who do you think you’re talking to? That was not just a kiss. I saw your eyes. His, too. He called you ‘Darling’, Tavaar. You two shared something.”

“It’s a good thing they weren’t alone or they might have shared a lot more,” said Ahzbah.

“Stop it,” said Tavaar.

“I don’t understand,” said Chahma. “How can you kiss Shello when he’s the reason you’re not an undefeated champion?”

The girls all laughed.

“Because he’s a boy, silly,” said Ahzbah.

“So?”

“You’re only fifteen,” said Sashwa. “You’ll understand in a year or two.”

“I know about kissing!” said Chahma.

“They why are you confused?” asked Sashwa.

“Because you don’t just kiss any boy!”

“Well, maybe not,” said Ahzbah. “But the only ones to avoid in my mind are brothers. Everyone else is fair game.”

The girls laughed again, but Chahma was still indignant. “But what about the sword championship?”

Ahzbah placed a consoling hand on Chahma’s shoulder. “Dearie, championships and sword fighting are fine and fun. But nothing compares with capturing a boy and getting him to do whatever you want. That’s fun!”

“That's risky. You could end up with an Unaligned baby.”

“Not if the boy’s under your control,” said Ahzbah.

“What about yourself?” asked Tavaar.

“Well, that’s the hardest part, isn’t it?” said Sashwa. “Controlling the boy is easy.”

“How? We’re not allowed to court until we begin flamesword training,” said Chahma.

“Well,” said Ahzbah with a sly grin. “There’s courting and there’s having fun. There are other ways of controlling a boy besides courting.”

“Look at Tavaar,” said Sashwa. “I bet Shello would stand on his head if she told him to. You should pursue that, Tavaar. It’s never good to waste power.”

“I don’t want him to stand on his head,” said Tavaar.

“You know what I mean. You’ve got him. I think you should keep him – at least for awhile.”

“What do you want him to do?” asked Ahzbah, getting a blush out of Tavaar.

Tavaar had to hurry for her award ceremony. She tried not to be obvious about looking for Shello’s face, but she didn’t see him. In her distraction, she hardly noticed the words of praise directed toward her, or the cheers which followed. Deschone, the current Head-of-Family, came forward to give her the proof of victory. It was a parchment written in his own hand. He gave it to her to examine. She glanced down at it and read: I, Deschone, Head-of-Family and Presider over the Council, herewith declare that Tavaar, daughter of Taylich and Odelmaar, of the line of Mines, in the house of Denya, has defeated all opponents in fair combat in age group fourteen to sixteen, and shall be known as Champion in the year 312. When she finished reading, she handed it back and Deschone rolled it and sealed it, pressing his signet ring to seal it. Then he returned it to her. He embraced and kissed her.

“Congratulations,” he said. “Bring that to your trading post and have them sew another stripe on your sleeve.”

“I will, Sir. Thank you.”

“I must say, you are one of our finest young warriors. We are all very proud of you.”

“Thank you, Sir. But you know I have yet to defeat your great-grandson even once.”

“Oh, I am not so sure about that. If I understood aright what I witnessed after your victory, you have indeed won at least once.” He smiled at her and leaned forward to whisper. “My guess is that there shall be other victories of a similar nature in the not to distant future.”

Tavaar said nothing. Her ears were burning and she was grateful to be free to leave. She found her parents before they left and gave them the scroll. Then she went with her friends to find a good place to watch Shello’s championship match against Khaiu. She was still trying to be discreet about seeing him. Sashwa wasn’t fooled.

“You won’t see him, Darling. Not for a while anyway.”

“Who?”

Sashwa rolled her eyes. “Who do you think? He’s way to the south with Khaiu.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked Wheylin to go find him and send back word. He wasn’t at the ceremony.”

“I know,” said Tavaar.

“Don’t feel bad, Darling. Do you want to know why he wasn’t there?”

“No. Why? Why are you calling me ‘Darling’?”

Sashwa grinned. “It’s what he called you, isn’t it? I like it. That’s my new name for you from now on: Darling.”

It was Tavaar’s turn to roll her eyes. “So why wasn’t her there?”

“Khaiu wouldn’t let him.”

“What? Why not?”

“For the same reason Khaiu’s got him at the south end of the training fields.”

“Why? Sashwa, if you don’t tell me, I’m going to hit you in the face.”

“Oh, ho! Keep your britches on, Darling. You got Shello so worked up with those kisses Khaiu’s got him sparring to get it out of his system. I told you that you made an impression, Darling.”

Tavaar’s friends all laughed, even Chahma. Tavaar didn’t laugh, but she couldn’t stop the smile on her face.

“You may have just made him lose,” said Chahma. “He’s going to be thinking about your kisses and lose.”

“That’s what Khaiu’s thinking,” said Sashwa.

“Poor Shello,” said Ahzbah. “He wants Tavaar to smack him on the lips, but instead it will be Khaiu’s sword on his head.”

“So you win after all,” said Chahma.

“I don’t want him to lose because he’s thinking of me,” said Tavaar.

“Neither does Khaiu,” said Sashwa. “That’s why he’s got Shello working so hard before they even fight.”

“Maybe he’s just taking advantage,” said Chahma.

“I doubt it,” said Tavaar. “Nobody wants to win like that.”

“Why?” asked Chahma. “What difference does it make how you win, if you win?”

Tavaar gave Chahma a condescending smile. “It matters.”

“But what about Shello? Didn’t he win the first time you fought because he tricked you?”

“He did. But he did it as part of his battle strategy. This is not like that. This has nothing to do with battle. I hope Khaiu succeeds.”

Chahma grunted. “It sounds to me as if you’re the one smitten. Have you fallen in love with him?”

Tavaar didn’t answer.

“What if she has?” asked Sashwa. “He’s as good a boy as any. Better than most, in fact. I think you should collect him, Darling. It will be a good experience for you – in more ways than one.”

“I agree,” said Ahzbah, laughing at Sashwa’s inference. “However, don’t stop with Shello. Methinks you could draw any boy you want. So my advice is: want a lot of boys.”

They found a place to watch the upcoming battle. As the time neared, Shello and Khaiu could be seen walking up from the south. Khaiu was still lecturing his brother. Shello looked distracted. Tavaar wondered if perhaps Chahma hadn’t been right after all. Perhaps Khaiu was attempting to steal and advantage from his younger brother. Then Shello’s eyes found her sitting on the grass looking at him and she knew it was not so. She was still taking up his thought. Khaiu saw and slapped his brother’s face.

The signal to begin was given, but the boys did not draw their weapons. Instead, Shello stood silent under Khaiu’s verbal assault, which was growing in its intensity. Every so often, Khaiu would slap Shello’s face and demand his attention. Then, suddenly, with a roar, Shello shoved his brother away. He stepped back and drew his weapon. Khaiu, his face showing more joy and expression than Tavaar had ever seen, drew his. The fight began.

Sashwa and the others called out taunts to Shello, but Tavaar doubted he heard them. He was focused on the task and not her. She sat silent and watched. Although this was not the first time she had seen the brothers fight each other, it was the first time she paid attention. Maybe it was because she could better appreciate their skill, or maybe the brothers were just so much better, but she found herself awed by the spectacle. Or maybe it was the kiss. She felt her arms chill as she watched the dance of death. True, these were only mock weapons and no one was going to die, but never before had she seen two warriors fight with such magnificence. Like the wind they appeared to be everywhere at once, and like the water they found every mistake and poured into it. However, the defenses were equal to the task. Like Fire Mountain itself, they were immovable when required. Like the great and might oaks they bent, but did not break.

After some time, Tavaar glanced at the judges’ table, where the time glasses were being dutifully turned in sequence. There were ten glasses, each holding enough water for one short turn. For most fights this would be enough, as disparity in skill usually meant fights seldom lasted even five short turns. A long fight might go as many as ten, and so a tally board had been added.

Three years ago, Shello and Khaiu had gone more than twelve. Today, they were already at fifteen. With a new thrill she looked back. How could they main this pace for so long? They took no respites. There were no momentary breaks to rest and take new breath. It just went on and on. And what was most amazing of all was that Khaiu was barking out instructions to his brother, warning him of letdowns in his guard and pressing attacks to prove his point. Spectators oohed and gasped as Shello recoiled from these assaults only to shift and retake the offensive. Nothing like this had ever before occurred. They had gone well past twenty short turns.

Then, shortly before thirty short turns, it ended. Tavaar, because she was so focused on them, actually saw the winning blow. Shello managed to slip his weapon past Khaiu’s defense. He brushed Khaiu’s ear ever so gently and let his blade fall onto his shoulder. Khaiu ceased fighting immediately. Tavaar couldn’t help her chuckle, nor its grimness. Shello had never been so gentle when striking her. Last year she had a headache for nearly a full turn. His killing blow to Khaiu had been more like a caress, or a kiss. Well, maybe not like a kiss, but she had kissing on her mind.

She hesitated to get up, waiting for the inevitable onslaught of congratulators to dispense their prayers first. Seventeen-year-olds didn’t often win the championship. To do so they had to best twenty-year-olds. With this victory – especially in the manner it was done – Shello had established himself as the most formidable warrior of their generation; perhaps ever.

When the crowd around Shello began to disburse, Tavaar finally got to her feet. Her friends had waited with her, keeping silent. Now they followed in her wake as she strolled forward. She smiled when she saw him see her. His eyes lit up like stars and he came to her. Their kiss was hardly congratulatory, and whoops and laughter surrounded them as they held it. Finally they broke, but they continued to remain in each other’s arms.

“Congratulations. You won again,” she said.

“Have I? Then why do I feel so wonderfully helpless?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Why do you think?”

“Right now it’s hard to think. All I want to do is kiss you.”

She paused a beat. “Okay.”

They kissed again and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. His arms were around her waist.

“Well, that did not last long,” said Khaiu, pulling the pair from their embrace.

“What?” asked Shello.

But Khaiu didn’t answer; at least, not directly. Instead, he spoke to Tavaar. “He works harder than anyone has ever worked before in order to prove he is his own master. And what does he do merely moments after achieving it? He surrenders to you without a fight.”

“So you would stand between us?” said Tavaar.

“Perhaps I should, for his sake,” said Khaiu.

Tavaar let go of Shello and sauntered to Khaiu, wrapping her arms around him. She felt his hand slide to her back. “For his sake, or for yours?” she asked.

She kissed him full on the lips and he responded appropriately.

“Hey!” cried Shello.

Khaiu broke the kiss and looked at his brother before speaking.

“See? He’s such a lad.”

Tavaar laughed and let him go. She turned back to Shello, who almost looked ready to fight again. “Don’t be jealous, silly. It was just a kiss.”

“What about us?” asked Shello. “Was that just a kiss, too?”

“No. Khaiu is fun, but you are special.”

He made to kiss her again, but she pressed her fingers against his mouth. “If we take this much further now, we are going to find ourselves in trouble.”

“Why? What’s wrong with kissing?”

“Nothing. But…”

“But what?’

"But neither of you is old enough to court, and you are using courting kisses,” said Khaiu. “Come along, little lover. You have an award ceremony to attend.”

“What about after?” Shello asked.

Tavaar laughed again. “I tell you what. Gahrem Village always has a bonfire at first moon. Why not come to it? The rules governing kisses are relaxed at bonfires.” She couldn’t resist adding, “Bring your brother. He might be fun.”

“We don’t need Khaiu.”

“I was talking to Khaiu.”

Everyone laughed at Shello’s expense.

“Will you come?”

She tried to sound nonchalant.

“We will be there,” said Khaiu. “Let’s go, little brother. Say goodbye to the lady.”

“Goodbye, Darling.”

“Goodbye. Lover.”