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    The Tournament
    The Tournament
    The Tournament
    Ebook68 pages47 minutes

    The Tournament

    By Dean Giles

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Only true warriors can police Earth-Government, warriors, but Klay doesn't possess the killer instinct. However, Master has given him the skills for battle. Klay just needs a little motivation, which comes in the slender form of fellow student Zasha. He will do anything to protect her, even kill for her... if only it were that easy.

    LanguageEnglish
    Publishertwbpress
    Release dateNov 4, 2012
    ISBN9781936991471
    The Tournament
    Author

    Dean Giles

    Dean lives with his wife and two young children in Surrey, UK. He owns a business jointly with his father, developing and manufacturing fibre optic components and instruments for the telecommunications, sensing, and data industries. His day job consists largely of shining light through fragile glass fibres, and trying to glue very small things to even smaller things. Dean is a 2nd Dan Black Belt in Kickboxing and has won national and international titles in the sport. In 2003 he spent a few months living and training at a Shaolin Kung Fu academy in Northern China. Dean writes science fiction and horror, and his short stories have appeared in webzines in the UK and US. A love of reading, gaming, and watching SF/F has given him the motivation to put his ideas onto paper.

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      Book preview

      The Tournament - Dean Giles

      tmp_fa8e45cdc11bf5e81ec6f5ba8aa95178_8pxwO2_html_55036244.jpg

      The Tournament

      By

      Dean Giles

      Copyright by Dean Giles 2012

      Published by TWB Press at Smashwords

      All rights reserved. No part of this story (ebook) may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or book reviews.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Edited by Terry Wright

      Cover art by Terry Wright

      ISBN 978-1-936991-47-1

      tmp_fa8e45cdc11bf5e81ec6f5ba8aa95178_8pxwO2_html_8b41ccd.jpg

      by

      Dean Giles

      Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the other students, I scanned the hundred-metre length of the training hall. Sunlight beamed in through windows that wrapped around the entire building. From the other end, Master strode towards us, past murals of ancient warriors painted on the stone walls, and racks of weapons: spears, swords, sticks, and chains. This time I wasn’t going to get my ass kicked.

      I took a calming breath of air tainted with the smells of floor varnish and stale sweat. Students cheered Master’s arrival. The old man followed the time-honoured ways and wore traditional gung-fu garments, a purple tunic and loose fitting black trousers. When he moved, his clothes snapped, a hint at the power this man could generate.

      I glanced at Zasha standing down the line. The black sash tied around the waist of her orange uniform disguised her powerful frame with delicious curves. She smiled her crooked little smile at me. My only friend in this academy of hard knocks.

      Master shouted. Klay, you’re up. Tank, you’re up.

      Adrenalin pumped through me, hot as the cook fires that burned in the kitchens.

      Not Tank. Anybody but Tank.

      These sparring sessions were getting tougher, full contact with gloved fists until only one fighter remained standing. Technical knockouts were rare. I’d rather pilot a Class Nine Shuttle with one blown thruster and no servo boost through a dead-man spin. That didn’t scare me, but Tank, he was another matter.

      His wide mouth curled into a wicked sneer that revealed his pleasure in having me as his opponent. His hulking frame bulged with pumped muscles. Shovel-sized fists clenched and opened in anticipation of bludgeoning me to unconsciousness.

      I took hold of the rising fear in the pit of my gut. My body was telling me: fight or run.

      I would fight.

      An adrenaline buzz flowed through my veins, heightening my senses. I accepted the challenge with a bow to Master. The students cheered and broke ranks.

      Zasha rushed to my side, touched my shoulder, and whispered into my ear. You can take him. Remember, bend like the wind. You are faster, stronger, and fitter.

      I repeated her words in my head: faster, stronger, fitter, bend like the wind. But Tank possessed some things I didn’t have, a killer instinct and a joy for causing pain.

      Under a barrage of chants: Tank, Tank, Tank, I stepped to the fighting mat.

      Don’t listen to them, Klay, Zasha shouted. Klay, Klay, Klay.

      Students surrounded the mats. Their furore grew. Tank, Tank, Tank.

      To hell with

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