Chapter 5: Flirt Fight

To this day, I still have no idea what happened to Lucille. Either she or you were meant to be the heir to the Lurranna clan. If one was free, I might have considered crossing Chissler, but not with both gone. For all I knew, he had Lucille as well, and just hadn’t revealed it to me yet. It was time to strike another deal.

Éclair lunged at her opponent yet again. Though he was much larger than her, he was no less fast as he easily deflected her barrage of dozens of separate kicks and punches. Almost before she could react, he turned her attack into a counterstroke as he swung at her with a powerful right hook. Éclair deftly jumped back, knowing full well that the wall was close behind her. Her opponent had been steadily trying to box her in, but she was having none of that. Instead of putting her back to the wall, she planted her feet against it, kicking off at the wall and soaring over her opponent seconds before he slammed into the wall with his shoulder with the intention of flattening her. The impact was so powerful that the metal wall was shattered, the crater at least as large as her opponent himself. Éclair smiled to herself as she somersaulted, twisting to her feet gracefully behind her opponent.

He’s going all out today, she thought with no small amount of pride. He must finally be taking me seriously as an opponent.

Grafael removed his shoulder from the metal wall with a grunt, his movement causing more dust and debris to slide off the damaged wall and his shoulder. Grafael T’Macor was a Saurian, a subspecies of the Dragons that lacked wings, and thus were sometimes called Wingless Dragons. He was over eight feet tall, powerfully built with a humanoid torso, but the long claws on his hands and feet were very not human. Three sharp spikes stuck out from the top of his skull in place of hair, and he had small, slightly pointed ears on the sides of his head. He had a short snout and a strong jaw with a mouth full of sharp teeth. Many Pure-Skins would call his appearance repulsive, and yet, for Éclair, there was something in his reptilian face that could almost be described as handsome given his smooth chin that resembled a human’s, and his intelligent, azure eyes. He wore nothing but black pants, revealing his muscular chest covered in hard, blue scales. His long, thick tail thumped the ground behind him. Éclair was also barely dressed in a revealing white tank top and tight blue pants, but she only wore such skimpy garments when she sparred with Grafael to honor his traditions.

The Wingless Dragon was grinning maniacally. If anyone else saw that grin of pure battle glee, they’d probably be peeing their pants. But for Éclair, it was confirmation that Grafael was having fun. Saurians only considered physical challenges to be fun. He’d shown her that grin rarely in their sparring matches, but when he did, she knew that it meant that she was giving him a good workout. Éclair might’ve been human, but she understood the emotion. Win or lose, battling a worthy opponent was fun for her too.

“A little overzealous, don’t you think, Grafy?” said Éclair chidingly, though not really meaning it as she circled him, waiting for an opening. “What if I hadn’t dodged?”

“I’ve trained you better than that,” he said, mirroring her movements as he circled as well. He stepped lithely with obvious finesse despite his bulk. “If you’d fallen for that old trick again, you’d hardly be a worthy student. The fact that I didn’t wait to see if you would dodge is a testament to my faith in you.”

Éclair tried not to beam at the compliment as she wanted to stay focused on the fight, but it was difficult. Despite the way he acted like her subordinate most of the time, in many ways, Éclair considered their relationship the opposite. Though Grafael had little to do with her training in Elemency, his teachings in the ancient Saurian martial arts was perhaps the greatest honor that any Earth Dragon could show an outsider. In many ways, he was like the big brother she’d always wished she’d had. And like any sibling, she’d developed a bit of a competitive nature when it came to their sparring sessions, which were too few and far between. True, she’d never beaten him, and she doubted she ever would. Only Elemental Beaters with strength enhancement had even a prayer of competing with Saurians physically in hand-to-hand combat. But still, she could be proud of the progress she’d made in her own journey of martial arts, one which would never have come to pass without Grafael T’Macor.

The Wingless Dragon didn’t wait for a reply as he swung at her with his tail, its length easily closing the gap between them and nearly sweeping her off her feet. As Éclair jumped over the tail, she grabbed it as it soared under her. She knew it was a little underhanded to touch Grafael’s tail which was a testament of his honor, but he always told her that those rules did not apply in the midst of combat when a warrior was inclined to use every available resource. She would have to find out more about their tail-thing, but those thoughts were quickly expunged as she soared with the momentum of Grafael’s powerful movement. Eclair’s arms went taut as she was swung around by Grafael’s tail, but she had a very specific trick she’d been thinking of trying, and she knew that it would only work once. Before Grafael even realized that she held onto his tail, she let go, letting the power of his attack swing her into the air, giving her ample height to aim a kick at Grafael’s neck, the only soft spot on his body. Or rather, the least hard spot as she knew his neck was still much stronger than that of a human. Even his nether regions were as tough as iron. She knew this as she once tried to kick them to get an advantage in one of their matches, but Grafael had only laughed and swatted her away like a fly.

As Eclair twisted in midair to kick his chin, Grafael still dodged the blow, though only barely. She’d caught him by surprise with that one. However, being in midair did give him the opportunity to attack without hope of dodging. Éclair braced herself, blocking with both arms as Grafael punched at her face with a powerful downward thrust that slammed her back to the ground. Though pained, Éclair hardly acknowledged her defeat as she rolled away before Grafael could crush her as he stomped down where her body would’ve been. Still, she did manage to trip him up a bit as she kicked at his shin while she spun to her feet in a move similar to break dancing. For a moment, Grafael tittered on one foot, giving Éclair enough time to regain her own footing.

And then they were at it again, trading blow for blow. Grafael mostly blocked Éclair’s quick, jabbing attacks while she had to dodge most of his blows as it would be nearly impossible to fully block his big, heavy arms. She’d learn how to cope with Grafael’s superior size and strength. He’d forced her to cope, telling her that she would rarely be up against opponents with similar weight as she was so light. Although Éclair had never considered herself short, comments like that did sting a bit, making her feel puny. Though she was physically stronger and faster than most normal humans, Éclair could see his point as Elementals quite regularly went up against adversaries much more dangerous than the average human.

Seeing an opportunity to turn the tables, Éclair grabbed Grafael by the elbow, and twisted with his movement in a technique that he’d taught her for dealing with larger opponents. This successfully swept Grafael off his feet, an accomplishment that she’d rarely been able to achieve. However, Éclair didn’t stop there. She improvised the move with a hold that she’d learned from Saria. A grappling move used by Ancient Earth wrestlers, though she had no idea why the Minister knew anything about wrestling. It was called an armbar, and it was done by holding the opponent by the wrist while crossing one’s legs over the arm with the feet taking up position on either side of the opponent’s head. The leverage it provided negated size and strength, making it ideal for Éclair to use against Grafael. It was one of several holds she’d learned from Saria, but one she’d never used against the Saurian before.

“By Rhuknor,” said Grafael with chortle as he found his head forced to the ground in Éclair’s submission hold. “You’ve never honored me with this lesson before.”

Saurians considered new moves to be ‘honored lessons.’ They often adapted the martial arts of other races and peoples into their ever-evolving fighting style. For a Saurian, learning new ways of fighting was tantamount to breathing.

“It’s called an armbar. A submission hold,” said Éclair breathlessly, straining as Grafael tried to break free of the hold. She increased her pressure with her legs to deter him, but she’d never considered his raw power when she’d thought of using this particular hold. “Saria taught it to me. Do you like it?”

“I love it!” he said excitedly as he twisted unexpectantly.

She didn’t know exactly how, but within a blink of an eye, Grafael had twisted out of her grip, and had her in his own submission hold, one that took advantage of his tail as an extra limb as he entangled her in his arms and legs. He held her head to the ground with both enormous hands as his arms went under her pits. His legs and tail wrapped around her legs, effectively immobilizing her. Éclair growled as she tried to wiggle out. She’d gotten much more limber in the years learning how to break out of various holds, and almost managed to get free as she slipped her arms out from Grafy’s and got him in a headlock. However, he just as quickly performed a reverse hold, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her back as he shoved her face into the sandy earth.

Knowing that she was trapped for good this time, Éclair tapped the ground in defeat. The pain and tension subsided as Grafael withdrew, and Éclair tested out her taut limbs, groaning slightly from the strain as she stretched her arms out. He hadn’t hurt her exactly. Grafael was always careful in their sparring not to do anything that Éclair couldn’t take. But it did smart something awful.

“I thought I had you for a moment there when I tripped you up with a submission hold. Judo combined with wrestling. Though I should’ve known better than to get into a wrestling match with you.”

He’s not even breathing hard. Or sweating. Though I wonder if he’s even able to sweat, thought Éclair dejectedly. She tried not to take her loss too hard. She knew she wouldn’t win. But still, that wouldn’t keep her from trying no matter how many times they fought.

He smiled encouragingly at her, though it only made her feel slightly more patronized. “You did surprise me, my lady. You should be proud of that. In a few years, you shall be my equal in Vok’Gar.”

Éclair scoffed. “Don’t give me false hope where none exists. You know full well that only Physical-type Elementals can ever hope to match a Saurian fist for fist.”

Grafael shook his head ruefully. “I once thought that too, my protectorate. But you ... there’s something different about you. Even though you are a Medical-Type, you get stronger and faster every time we fight, well beyond the boundaries of your psionic abilities. It may not be at the level of a true Beater whose gift is strength, but it’s coming close.”

Éclair sighed loudly, flicking her hair back and dusting the dirt from her bare arms and legs. “Please don’t patronize me, Grafael. I’m no closer to beating you than the first day we started.”

“I never patronize!” boomed Grafael in a loud voice.

Éclair flinched back at his sudden intensity.

“I don’t think I have to tell you what such a thing would mean for me. To patronize is to say an untruth. And that goes against every code of honor of the Ektoh.”

Éclair cursed herself inwardly. Ektoh, the Saurian code of honor. The ancient laws that forbid them from attempting any deception outside of battle. To attempt deception with words, to manipulate others with diplomacy and pandering, was like admitting that one’s peers were too strong to defeat through honest battle. For Saurians, lying of any kind was a form of weakness. Not just weakness. Cowardice and hypocrisy that they considered beyond despicable. That’s why Saurians only said what they meant and meant what they said. Even going so far as to avoid metaphors and similes.

“Of course, Grafael. I should know you better by now. Forgive me if I insulted you,” said Éclair solemnly with a dip of her head as a show of respect.

Grafael rose to his feet swiftly, took Éclair by the arm, and hoisted her up in one smooth motion. “No insult was perceived, precious one,” said Grafael as he bowed.

His head came so low that she could look down at him for a moment. Only he and Zanderius called her ‘precious one.’ They were the only ones she would ever permit to call her that.

As he rose, his eyes narrowed to slits somewhat indignantly. “But you should know that I only give praise where praise is due. If you think that I go soft on you in battle or with words, then you do not know me as well as you should.”

Éclair reached up and stroked Grafael under his chin, which made him growl softly, though it was a contented growl. She knew the difference by now. “I do know you, old friend. And I thank you for your praise. I know you don’t do so lightly.” She still didn’t think she deserved such praise, but arguing with a Saurian was like telling the sun not to rise.

Grafael stood back up to his full imposing height and gave a hard nod, clearly satisfied. Sometimes, Éclair envied the honest, simple way Grafael approached every aspect of life. She wished she could be like that, though she knew that such a lifestyle would war against her nature. There was something to admire in the absolute identity that was a Saurian. Though Éclair doubted she would ever peg down her own identity so well.

Éclair turned away, and then spun on her heel, extending her leg up in a kick that she stopped just short of Grafael’s jaw. He didn’t even flinch as he just smirked down at her with her toes only centimeters from his jaw in what would’ve been a crippling blow, even for him. It was a tease for her really, or perhaps a test to see how he would react. Éclair would never attack Grafael in an underhanded way during their sparring matches. Such actions were reserved for assassins, considered the lowliest of the low in Saurian society. To attack without announcing one’s intentions, and furthermore, to hide one’s actions afterwards amounted to a crime worse than cowardice in a Saurian’s eyes. To kill for the sake of killing while trying to avoid the challenge of a fair fight was another form of weakness that Saurians would never allow. Saurians believed that to have the right to kill someone, one must best one’s opponent openly under fair conditions. The reason for the feigned kick was that Éclair wondered if Grafael considered her a true practitioner of Ektoh, at least when it came to battle. The fact that he hadn’t moved meant that he did.

With her foot still suspended high above her head in a fairly impressive frozen kick, Éclair said coolly. “Shall we continue?”

Ryan tiptoed ever so stealthily through the various training arenas that dotted the grounds around the base. It was a lot easier to sneak without shoes, which he didn’t have to wear in his civilian clothes which comprised a simple white T-shirt and black pants. Torsha walked lazily beside him. The half-bemused slant of her eyes told him what she thought of his sneaking skills, which wasn’t much.

“I still don’t get why we’re doing this. True, you’ve earned a little break for your progress, but you’ve still got a ways to go before you’re ready for the final. Which, need I remind you, is only a few days away.”

“Keep your voice down,” he whispered and gestured with his finger frantically. “Explosion Logan is just down there.”

True enough, Explosion Logan was training in a stony arena blowing up rocks with various explosion techniques. He handled his Psionic Gun assiduously as he changed from target to target almost quicker than the eye could see. It seemed obvious that he took care of his weapons as the gun glistened brightly as if it’d just been polished. Ryan could learn a thing or two from this guy about taking care of his own weapons. Ryan only felt the slightest twinge of jealousy that Logan could make things blow up without touching them.

Although, I guess I did pull something like that off once when I made that chandelier blow up over Graf’s head. Man, that was hilarious, though it might not have been worth it considering what happened afterwards. The ‘afterwards’ being a fistfight with Grafael that Ryan still smarted for losing.

“And this needs to be secret, why?” asked Torsha sardonically, tossing her mane irritably.

Ryan scowled at her in annoyance. “Because I’m scoping out my competition to see if anyone of them has the brass to beat me. It’s your fault, you know? You’re the one who won’t tell me anything about the Final Exam except the fact that we’ll be competing against our fellow finalists.

Torsha sniffed loudly in a very dog-like manner. “And you’re honestly not even a little bit shaken by the fact that the Minister flat-out told you that someone might be coming after you during the exam ceremony?”

Ryan waived dismissively without looking at her, still studying Explosion Logan. “Please. At this point in my life, someone trying to kill me is like every other Tuesday for me.”

Torsha scoffed, and then muttered under her breath. “Well, I suppose this is one way to get an edge, but with the training that Thisy and I are giving you, you hardly need it.” She sounded slightly offended, as if Ryan should have more faith in her training.

Ryan gave her a level stare. “Is that supposed to mean something important?”

Torsha’s ears lowered bashfully as if she had said too much.

“I’m gonna assume that was something important. I’ll probably figure it out later. I usually do with this kind of stuff. So nothing to worry about for now.”

Ryan turned his attention back to his sneaking. The gray metallic labyrinth that made up the countless training arenas was quite extensive. He noted the more than usual number of guards prowling around and giving him the stink eye as if they had the only ‘prowl around’ license and he was infringing. Then again, since they were guards, maybe they did have a ‘prowl around’ license.

As Ryan peeked in on the next training arena, his breath caught in his throat. Éclair was there. She was training with Grafael and she looked magnificent, as always. Even while training, she was still so beautiful with her long, silver-gray hair that went down almost to her waist, her nearly-pale fair skin, her violet eyes, her slender frame, her long legs, and her ample bosom.

Éclair’s movements were so fluid and acrobatic, Grafael couldn’t even land a hit. She looked more like she was dancing rather than fighting as she flipped, twirled, ducked, and weaved past Grafael’s blows. She still leveled a few attacks of her own at Grafael, and amazingly, the way he blocked her moves showed that there was real force behind her punches and kicks. Éclair, a girl who couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, was holding her own against a seven-hundred-pound Saurian Warrior, and she was making it look easy. He could tell that she was hardly breathing heavily, and barely even sweating besides. Ryan had sparred with Grafael many times, but he could only battle the Saurian on equal ground when he had his sword and armor and could use Elemency like during the preliminaries. Éclair used neither weapon nor armor and didn’t employ any Elemental attacks whatsoever, even though she had many nasty techniques she could use without the aid of Psionic Weapons.

Ryan might have felt a pang of jealousy if not for being mesmerized by Éclair’s performance. Although her clothes, or lack thereof, might’ve had a little to do with his fascination. She wore a white tank top that came short right at her lean belly button, and very tight-fitting light blue pants that outlined her curvaceous thighs perfectly.

“What’s so interesting?” asked Torsha behind him. She peeked over his shoulder and gave a loud groan.

He probably should’ve assuaged any thoughts of innuendo the Werewolf might’ve been having if his brain hadn’t gone dead at that moment. He could’ve sat there and watched Éclair practicing all day if not for what happened next.

Éclair pivoted under Grafael’s jab and saw an opportunity to aim a withering attack to his armpit. There was a slight weak point just under the joints that, if hit properly, could immobilize a Saurian’s limb, but only for a second or two. Unlike humans, Saurians had little to no pressure points, making it near impossible to stun them completely for long. However, it would give her ample opportunity to come at his chin for a finishing blow once he was down an arm for a split second.

Unfortunately, Éclair couldn’t have foreseen Ryan. She noticed him out of the corner of her vision just before she struck. The little numbskull was spying on her from one of the overseeing balconies that dotted the arena. She had never had an audience in the sparring sessions. In fact, she made sure she wouldn’t as she asked the guards to deter anyone who might’ve been lurking about. But there Ryan was, as bold as brass, just ogling her like he had nothing better to do. She knew it was her own fault for getting distracted, but Ryan’s presence offset her so much that Grafael landed a solid punch that sent her reeling across the arena before she even knew what was happening.

Éclair’s world spun as she continued to roll almost endlessly. When she finally stopped rolling, it took some effort to get back to her wobbly feet. Even with the dampening fields softening their blows so no one suffered fatal injury, Éclair still felt like she’d been hit by ... well, by a Saurian. If she’d been struck by a train, she doubted she’d feel any worse. She stood to her full height and only wobbled a little as she leveled a menacing glare up towards Ryan. Putting her in an even dimmer mood was the fact that the annoying wolf girl stood just behind him grinning in satisfaction. Éclair opened her mouth to speak, but felt a small dribble of blood from her lips, and wiped it away irritably.

Grafael looked abashed as he ran to her, muttering apologies and promises of punishing himself by cutting off his own tail. It had been a long time since he managed to land such a solid hit to her face, and with her guard down no less.

And I thought it was degrading enough when that idiot outright spat in my face! Ryan Uruks! Did the Caretaker just send you to torment me?

Grafael was still quite flustered as he fussed over her, dusting the scuffs from her clothes like an overly concerned governess. For all his talk of not going easy on her, she knew he took great care not to press her more than what she could handle. “My protectorate! I ... I didn’t ... I thought your guard was up! I swear! It’s been so long since I’ve caught you unaware, so I got used to not going easy on you! I wouldn’t have struck you that way if I’d known-”

Eclair silenced Grafael with a finger to his mouth, though she never removed her glare from Ryan. Being part-Saurian rendered Ryan Uruks an intriguing appearance. Bright, golden skin-like scales, smoother and harder than normal human skin. Irises as red as blood. Short, unkempt scarlet hair just as crimson as his eyes. Fingernails and toenails slightly longer than the norm so as to resemble claws. And large canine teeth that almost looked like fangs. When he first came to the Fire Ministry, Ryan was short and skinny due to years of malnourishment, but now, almost two years later, he had grown tall and muscular due to his training. His young face was ruggedly handsome too, but Éclair preferred Leon’s more elegant features, of course, especially considering how annoying Ryan could be sometimes.

At least the half-breed had the decency to look sufficiently ashamed of himself given what he caused. He was trying to slink away as he slowly drew his head back to the exit doorway. Éclair probably should’ve just let the moron go and gotten back to her training. But dash it all, she’d been humiliated and he was going to just leave with nary a word of apology.

“I suppose your training is going so well that you no longer feel the pressure of the Exams pressing down on you? That’s the only reason I can think of for you to ogle me despite the fact that we’ve all been granted the right to privacy while preparing for the Finals.”

She shook her head contemptuously and crossed her arms under her bosom. She knew full well that she was being puerile, but her wounded pride demanded some satisfaction from her teammate; not just for this, but for several recent infractions besides.

“During the Second Phase, I almost thought for an instant that you matured. However, you’ve been backsliding to the fool so much lately, I must rescind that assessment. Ryan Uruks. It’s a miracle you’ve made it to the Finals at all.”

Ryan slowly ducked back in, wincing at her scornful tone. Though Ryan could have a temper to match her own at times, he still seemed more apologetic than annoyed at this point as he held his palms up in a bashful shrug. He wore one of his favored casual outfits. A tight white T-shirt that outlined his toned physique, black pants, and no shoes. He still found excuses to go barefoot, even when they were in the middle of the Exams.

“I don’t suppose a heartfelt apology would cover for this ... or the time that I spit in your face ... or for taking your stepsister out without telling you, resulting in the most awkward limo ride the universe has ever known.”

His humility was going a long way to ease Éclair’s temper, but the boy still had much to account for as far as she was concerned. “Not to mention, harassing an important delegate and implicating the rest of Squad 99 by association.”

“Wait? What? I don’t remember doing that?” Ryan turned to Torsha questioningly. “Did I do that?”

“Of all the times to regress to childish antics,” muttered Éclair under her breath. “That poor Telepathic Sage who got caught in the crossfires of one of your ridiculous pranks. Sages are respected ambassadors of the Triumvirate. He was obviously just coming out of a meeting with the Minister, and you made a mockery of this Ministry when you humiliated him.”

Ryan snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah! That guy with the freaky black eyes who looked like a bobblehead. No wonder they’re natural telepaths with heads that big.”

Éclair put her fists squarely on her hips and gave her best disapproving frown. “I can only assume that I was the target of said prank?”

And he even corrupted those adorable little Elf children with his shenanigans, Éclair thought in annoyance.

Ryan waved his hands in front of him as if panicked. “No you weren’t! Only Leon was! I was gonna push you outta the way and blame it on the Elf brats to get brownie points! Ow! What the crap?!”

Torsha had taken Ryan by the ear, and he wiggled helplessly in her clawed grasp as she forced him to stand on his tiptoes with a twist of her wrist. “Well, this has been ... uh ... fun’s not the right word. Uh, interesting? Annoying? Maybe slightly disturbing? But we better go and work on our own training regime.” The Werewolf yanked Ryan back, ushering him towards the exit.

They were almost out of earshot when Grafael shouted, “Good! With the way you’ve mishandled my little brother, he’ll need all the extra training he can get if he’s to have a prayer of passing the Finals!”

Though Éclair shared the sentiment regarding Torsha’s training, she wished Grafael hadn’t said anything as the Werewolf stopped in her tracks. She said nothing at first, as she released Ryan’s ear, but the shift in her bearing had suddenly gone menacing. As Éclair stared at the Werewolf’s back, Torsha’s yellow fur seemed to stand on end and Éclair could hear a low growl emanating from the girl. Éclair had never been afraid of Demihumans as a general rule, but she had heard stories of Werewolf packs doing horrible things in the olden days. Things that would give even Mystics pause.

“Excuse me,” said Torsha quietly, though the metal walls carried her voice well in an echo that reverberated off the walls.

The Werewolf spun on her heel to face them so fast that Éclair instinctively took on a defensive stance. Even though the Werewolf was a good twenty feet above them, her agility could close that distance in seconds. Éclair had studied the physical prowess of Werewolves, and they were almost near the level of Saurians in strength, but infinitely more dexterous.

Torsha suddenly grabbed Ryan by the back of his neck.

Ryan eyed her in alarm. “Torsha. What are you ... DOING?!!”

Before Ryan could finish, Torsha jumped, taking him with her in a single leap over the balcony railing. They landed squarely in front of Grafael and Éclair. Surprisingly, Ryan maintained his feet as he had jumped with Torsha at the last moment. Amazing how his agility was equal to that of a Werewolf. However, he still seemed plenty distressed as Torsha shoved him forward, almost right into Éclair’s face.

Torsha snarled menacingly, but her glare was directed at Grafael. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been on this boy’s case night and day since I became his mentor! He hasn’t been able to sit straight since I’ve ran his ass so ragged, but he sure as hell can fight! I’ve trained the crap outta this kid! So much so that I’d stack him up against the best candidates this ragtag Ministry has!”