Ricko Daggerheart's Arc

Chapter 9 of 18

The next morning Kelli waited for Ricko on the open sand. She had beaten him three times the day before, then let him touch her side once. Now she stood between the palms and the cactus, knife in hand, braid loose. "One more test," she said. "Then I decide if you come under the wall or stay in the dunes. The tunnels are tight. Slow partners get us all killed." Ricko understood. Yesterday meant nothing. If he failed now, she would cut him from the run, and the heist was the only road to the sultan's jewel. He picked up the practice stick. His pack was dead because he had been too slow to help them. He would not be slow again. Kelli came fast. She swept low, aiming for his ankles. Ricko remembered her spin from the day before. He did not watch her eyes. He watched her feet. He jumped the sweep and drove his stick down. She rolled away and grinned. "Better. But the tunnel floor won't let you jump." She crowded him toward the dry bushes, where the ground was narrow. The space pinched his steps. Ricko could not dance there, and she knew it. She tapped his shoulder, his hip, his ribs, each strike clean. He gave ground until his heel touched a cactus and stopped him cold. That was the lesson. In the tunnels there was no room to run. He could not outlast her. He had to end it quick, the way the pack had hunted, close and sudden. Ricko dropped the stick. Kelli paused. "Giving up?" "No." He stepped inside her reach before she set her feet. He took the cut on his forearm, felt the flat blade sting, and closed the gap anyway. His shoulder hit her chest. He hooked her leg the way she had hooked his the first day. Kelli went down on the sand, and his hand pinned her knife wrist. She stared up at him. For a breath she said nothing. Then she laughed, low and surprised. "You took a hit to land one. In a real fight that's a cut you keep." She slapped his arm where the blade had marked it. Ricko let her up. His forearm burned. He did not look away from her. "I'll keep it." Kelli sheathed her knife. She studied the red line on his arm, then his face. "You fight like a hyena who's already lost everything. That's who I want under the wall." She wiped sand from her palms. "You're in. We ride for the city at the full moon." Ricko's chest pounded, and this time he let it. He had earned his place twice now, but this one felt different. The wall was close. The moon was close. And the fighter who could get him beneath the sultan's stone had chosen him. He bound his cut and started packing for the ride.