Gestation by John Gold (love books to read .txt) 📗

Bernard’s joking, but his voice is still serious.

“Bet my ten silver coins on me.” I hand him the money. “Before every battle, I’ll tell you if you should bet on me or my opponent. I know my skills better than you do.”

“Okay. Go ahead, get over there and let them know you want to join.”

I sign up for the tournament and head over to my first battle, where my opponent turns out to be Grunt. Even though he’s taller, I’m stronger. Father’s been pushing me hard. I’ve been in a lot more fights back at the orphanage, too. It isn’t worth showing my whole hand, however, so I just shove him back onto the ground and beat away with my fists. Grunt breaks into tears and leaves the tournament.

The second battle goes much the same way as the first. My opponent is an eighteen-year-old at Level 15, and he tries to kick at me. All I have to do is pull out a trick—kicks to the knee hurt like hell. In his case, my strike turns out to be critical. The game is realistic, and he’s too badly hurt to walk away. I watch the healer patch him up as the argument turns in my favor. I didn’t break the rules.

Bernard bet on me both times, though my next opponent is a tough one: the very same Level 16 friar. There’s the height difference, not to mention his class skills and equipment. If you add up my attributes, I’m about Level 12, meaning that he has more stamina and strength, too.

“Only bet my money on me.”

Bernard is an inveterate gambler. He puts his money on me, too. Really, it’s the intrigue that gets him going more than the winnings.

“What are you going to use on him?”

“Some things only adult wanderers know.”

There’s no point telling him ahead of time.

Galboa told me that I always need to have an advantage. And if I don’t have one, I need to create one. The guy uses all his class skills, unleashing a barrage of blows in my direction. But what he forgot is that his class skills burn strength, and that I can dodge or parry them. Only a psychopath would try to block his blows. Finx showed me how to do that, though I haven’t been able to practice what he taught me on my own, just with him down at the docks. It’s tough to use things like that in a fight.

Settling into a defensive stance, I start ducking away from everything he throws at me. It’s a good thing he doesn’t use his legs—I wouldn’t be able to dodge them. In the end, he expends all his stamina, giving me an opening to rush in and start laying into his head.

The difference in levels comes into play, though. Even in his condition, he’s strong enough to get my health into the red sector. This time, the judges check to see if I have any buffs. I don’t, of course—I don’t even know how to get them. The friar, on the other hand, is compromised: he used a potion and the blessing of a goddess, so his reputation drops precipitously, and the guards lead him away.

“Sagie, you surprise me! What else don’t I know about you?”

Bernard is practically dancing for joy.

“Quite a bit, but why spoil the prize?”

“Because your opponent took second place last year. I remember him. He’s fast and strong. The last champion isn’t here today since he’s fighting in the next tournament, the one for Levels 20 to 40.”

Bernard suddenly calms back down, a turn of events that unnerves me. Either he’s good at controlling his emotions or he’s a sociopath.

“Got it. Bet my money on me.”

“Once again, strange behavior for a kid.”

“Just imagine what I’d be like if I grew up in a family of bandits. A family where everyone wants to kill you…just because. Would I have grown up to be a normal kid? Nope.”

There’s no point waiting for an answer. The battle is already beginning. My opponent is definitely a robber or an assassin. It’s the way he fights: he wants to finish this with just a few quick strikes, so he’s going to unleash and back off. I know what to do with that. When your opponent has longer arms, you use that against him. Finx was all about that, using your opponent’s strengths against him. And that’s what I’m going to do right now.

I turn slightly, my left arm for defense and my right arm poised to attack. My legs are a bit apart to make sure I can hurl my center of gravity forward when needed. And that’s how it happens: my opponent quickly closes the distance. I cock my right arm as he moves, the fact that I’m left-handed turning out to be one more advantage for me. I dodge his swing, move forward, and level a jab at his chin, putting everything I have into it. My opponent is stunned, leaving him open for a quick succession of blows aimed at the same spot. His health hovers right at 1.

Then, other battles begin. Bernard walks over to me.

“You aren’t from a bandit family; your father really is a fisherman.”

As soon as I turn to him, he continues.

“He’s standing over there with your mother. It looks like they’re very worried.”

It’s true. Father is holding mama close, and she’s crying. I wasn’t trying to upset her! Without listening to anything else Bernard says, I run over. Father frowns.

“Why’s mama crying?” They can see my childlike look and sincere wish to share her pain.

“What do you think? How did you think she was going to feel when she saw her son getting beaten up by some people trying to kill him?”

Mama sobs even harder. Tears well up in my eyes, too.

“Sagie, when you’re done, you’re getting a whipping and another punishment. Don’t say another word. I imagine, you blew all your money on treats, and now you’re trying to win it back in the