The King's Games

8. Hryggspenna

"Oh, shit," I swore under my breath as the medics rushed out onto the field to tend to Isak Lonn's leg, which now hung at such an odd angle, I wasn't sure how it was still attached.

Despite Isak's agonized groans, it didn't stop Östen Sundt from doing a victory lap. He walked in front of the bleachers, both his fists raised in the air, encouraging the crowd to cheer him on.

Fortunately, I wasn't in the bleachers, so I didn't have to pretend to be excited for his win. My match was next - the last match of the day - so I was standing off to the side, preparing. Tilda and Simon were with me, helping me not get totally psyched out.

When Östen reached the end of the stands, he turned his attention to me. He grinned at me, smiling like a twisted version of the Cheshire cat. Like he meant to devour me.

"You're next, halvblod," Östen said, then laughed and stalked off to further celebrate his crushing win.

"That's enough!" Dekan Lindström shouted and walked out. He held his hands up, silencing the crowd.

Medics had loaded Isak on the stretcher. The healers had already done some work, helping to ease his pain, so he'd stopped crying out. Once the medics took him away, leading him into the school to finish fixing him up, Lindström turned his attention to the audience in the bleachers.

"That kind of violence is not what we want to see here," Lindström said, his dark eyes scanning the crowd before stopping on Östen. Östen had been standing proudly, but under Lindström's harsh glare, he finally took a seat next to Aleksander.

"This is a game of fun and sport, not a game meant to torture or maim," Lindström had started walking as he addressed us, his arms folded over his chest. "That is what separates us from other tribes like the Vittra or the Omte. We are not barbarians. We do not act like animals. We live in a world of order and honor.

"The judges and I will discuss Östen Sundt's behavior," Lindström continued. "If we deem his actions to be excessive and unnecessary - actions that resulted in the serious injury to one of our own trackers - he will be prohibited from going further in the competition. We will decide on our ruling tomorrow, before the next round."

There were a few groans and murmurs, but I said nothing. The fight between Isak and Östen had been the most brutal of the day, but I hadn't seen any obvious signs of disqualification. If there had been any, Lindström would've intervened.

"From here on out, I expect clean, fair fights," Lindström said. "You will not use anymore force than absolutely necessary to defeat your opponent. This is not the King's Games. Are we clear?"

"Yes," came the echoing reply from the crowd.

"Good." Lindström took a deep breath. "Now, I'll give you a few moments to prepare, and the next match will continue as planned. Janus Mose will face off against Bryn Aven in the Hryggspenna."

With that, he walked over to sit at the far side of the yard, where the other two judges were seated. Everyone in the stands began talking amongst themselves, but I didn't have much time, so I hurried to finish getting ready.

For the Hryggspenna, combatants wore a dräkt - an outfit made out leather that was sort of a cross between a singlet and overalls. It wasn't exactly practical, but the King's Games abided by rules from centuries ago. Most of the boys just wore their boxers underneath, but since I was a girl, I kept on a pair of spandex shorts and a sports bra.

Quickly, I stripped off my tee shirt and jeans. Then Tilda helped me as I stepped into the dräkt. Simon stood in front of us with his back to me, partially shielding me from the nearby spectators.