the arena and paced across the circle, absorbing the textures of earth, air, and light as he mentally prepared for the match. There might not be another Westerner in the world who knew as much about pentjak silat as he did. Bereft after Helena's death and desperate for distraction, he'd accepted Suryo's offer to teach him the Island form of fighting. The training had opened a whole new world that required skill, discipline, and a high tolerance for pain. Beyond that was a spiritual dimension which eventually helped pull him from his black depression.
Gavin hadn't known that many Asian cultures had secret warrior traditions, with the skills being passed from teacher to trusted disciples. He'd quickly recognized the honor in being chosen as Suryo's student. The two of them practiced everywhere they traveled, the tight quarters on shipboard being a particular challenge.
During the seasons Gavin spent in Macao, he'd met other martial arts practitioners through Suryo. He'd learned about different Asian schools of fighting, and how to ward off attacks of up to seven men at once. More than once that had proved useful.
As drums began pounding rhythmically, Gavin turned to face Kasan, who stood on the opposite side of the circle. They were wellmatched physically, Gavin a little taller, the sultan broader, though in silat size wasn't important. The trick was to use the opponent's own strength against him. Suryo was three stone lighter than Gavin, but he could still throw his student into a wall with ease. Breathing deeply, Gavin narrowed his focus down to the dangerous, arrogant man across the circle. This match he could not afford to lose.
Sheng Yu called, "Let the warriors engage!"
Kasan pressed his hands together in front of his chest in the ritual salutation at the beginning of a fight. Gavin copied the gesture awkwardly, as if it were unfamiliar to him.
The sultan moved forward with hands open and the smooth, flowing movements of a trained fighter. He'd probably been studying pentjak since he was a child.
Instead of taking a similar posture, Gavin took the stance of a Western boxer, hands fisted and body upright as he advanced. Pentjak adepts generally preferred to let the other man strike first because an attacker left himself open to a wide range of ferocious countermoves. Though it was risky to give Kasan that opportunity, Gavin feinted a jab at his opponent's midriff, hoping Kasan would react with overconfidence.
The sultan avoided the blow with contemptuous ease before closing in for a grappling hold that could be used to slam Gavin to the ground. For an instant they were locked together, and Gavin saw something dark and forbidden in his opponent's eyes.
"Today you become mine," Kasan growled. "You should have saved your refusal for this test, for I am a master of pentjak silat."
"Don't underestimate Western fighting skill." Having anticipated the sultan's hold, Gavin broke away and dropped low to grab the back of the other man's knee, yanking him off balance while shoving hard into the ribs. Before the astonished sultan realized what was happening, he was flat on his back.
"First fall to Tuan Elliott!" Sheng Yu called as the crowd roared with surprise. Kasan rolled to his feet, eyes glittering with anger. "You were right-I underestimated your skill, and your cunning. But not again."
"We are well matched, Your Highness." Gavin relaxed into a defensive posture, knowing the risks had just increased sharply. Silat relied on memory trained into the muscles-Suryo often said that a move practiced three thousand times became part of one's body-and most moves were meant to cripple or kill. Kasan had the same training. He wanted to win, and if he thought he was losing-well, Gavin dead was no more useless to him than Gavin gone to England.
While Gavin didn't want to injure the sultan, in the tension of battle he might unintentionally break the other man's back, drive splintered ribs into his lungs, or worse. With both of
Gavin hadn't known that many Asian cultures had secret warrior traditions, with the skills being passed from teacher to trusted disciples. He'd quickly recognized the honor in being chosen as Suryo's student. The two of them practiced everywhere they traveled, the tight quarters on shipboard being a particular challenge.
During the seasons Gavin spent in Macao, he'd met other martial arts practitioners through Suryo. He'd learned about different Asian schools of fighting, and how to ward off attacks of up to seven men at once. More than once that had proved useful.
As drums began pounding rhythmically, Gavin turned to face Kasan, who stood on the opposite side of the circle. They were wellmatched physically, Gavin a little taller, the sultan broader, though in silat size wasn't important. The trick was to use the opponent's own strength against him. Suryo was three stone lighter than Gavin, but he could still throw his student into a wall with ease. Breathing deeply, Gavin narrowed his focus down to the dangerous, arrogant man across the circle. This match he could not afford to lose.
Sheng Yu called, "Let the warriors engage!"
Kasan pressed his hands together in front of his chest in the ritual salutation at the beginning of a fight. Gavin copied the gesture awkwardly, as if it were unfamiliar to him.
The sultan moved forward with hands open and the smooth, flowing movements of a trained fighter. He'd probably been studying pentjak since he was a child.
Instead of taking a similar posture, Gavin took the stance of a Western boxer, hands fisted and body upright as he advanced. Pentjak adepts generally preferred to let the other man strike first because an attacker left himself open to a wide range of ferocious countermoves. Though it was risky to give Kasan that opportunity, Gavin feinted a jab at his opponent's midriff, hoping Kasan would react with overconfidence.
The sultan avoided the blow with contemptuous ease before closing in for a grappling hold that could be used to slam Gavin to the ground. For an instant they were locked together, and Gavin saw something dark and forbidden in his opponent's eyes.
"Today you become mine," Kasan growled. "You should have saved your refusal for this test, for I am a master of pentjak silat."
"Don't underestimate Western fighting skill." Having anticipated the sultan's hold, Gavin broke away and dropped low to grab the back of the other man's knee, yanking him off balance while shoving hard into the ribs. Before the astonished sultan realized what was happening, he was flat on his back.
"First fall to Tuan Elliott!" Sheng Yu called as the crowd roared with surprise. Kasan rolled to his feet, eyes glittering with anger. "You were right-I underestimated your skill, and your cunning. But not again."
"We are well matched, Your Highness." Gavin relaxed into a defensive posture, knowing the risks had just increased sharply. Silat relied on memory trained into the muscles-Suryo often said that a move practiced three thousand times became part of one's body-and most moves were meant to cripple or kill. Kasan had the same training. He wanted to win, and if he thought he was losing-well, Gavin dead was no more useless to him than Gavin gone to England.
While Gavin didn't want to injure the sultan, in the tension of battle he might unintentionally break the other man's back, drive splintered ribs into his lungs, or worse. With both of
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