to his aide.
“He is sealing the ring,” the aide said. “It keeps out evil spirits.” “Evil spirits will be the least of his worries,” the king muttered.
Nai Khanom Tom returned to his corner of the ring. He knelt, touching his hands first to his forehead, then to the ring, then to his forehead, then to the ring, then to his forehead, then to the ring. A look of peace covered his face. He stood and began his ritual dance. The king watched as Nai Khanom Tom lifted first one knee, then the other. His movements were catlike, like a tiger, or maybe a leopard. He stretched and clawed, then turned to catch the eye of his opponent on the other side of the ring. The two locked eyes.
“Who is our first fighter?” the king asked the captain.
“The first fighter is one of my students, your majesty. He is young, but he is tough. He has an ability to wear down an opponent more thoroughly than any other man I’ve trained. He may not defeat Nai Khanom Tom, but I can guarantee you that after fighting my boy, Nai Khanom Tom will be lucky to still be standing halfway through his next fight.”
“Good,” said the king. “I’d enjoy seeing him so tired he could barely move. The man has far too much energy for my taste.”
Nai Khanom Tom and the young fighter faced each other. Then like lightning, the knees began to fly. Nai Khanom Tom landed an elbow, then a knee. As he pulled out, the young fighter followed him with a flurry of knee strikes to Nai Khanom Tom’s thighs and hips.
The fight wore on. It made the king tired just watching the punishment the two men were giving each other. He reached down to pick up his glass and ask for a refill. A gasp went up from the crowd. The king looked up. The young fighter was down.
“What was that?” he said.
“Nai Khanom Tom has injured my fighter’s knee,” the captain said. “How did he do that?”
“He waited until the foot was planted, and then he kicked it with his shin,” the captain replied.
“With his shin?” the king said, imagining the conditioning Nai would have had to do to use his shins as weapons.
The captain nodded.
“Well, if your man can’t fight anymore, get him out of the ring,” the king commanded. “I want someone else in there fighting right away.”
“Yes, sir.” The captain rose and, motioning for two of his men to follow, walked to the ring.
“How many has he fought?” the king asked, returning to his place. “He’s getting ready to face his ninth,” said the captain. “It’s been six hours.” Admiration shone through in his voice.
“Who’s your biggest, strongest man?” the king asked. “Send him in. This has gone on long enough.”The captain bowed his head and stood to approach the fight master.
The fight master whispered in his assistant’s ear, and his assistant ran off, returning with a man large enough to be two men. Nai Khanom Tom simply stood in the center of the ring and waited as the giant stepped over the ropes and removed his shirt.
“Perhaps the man never tires,” the king murmured to his captain when he returned. “But I would be willing to bet that he breaks. It looks like your boy there is just the fellow to do the job.”
The fighters squared off, Nai Khanom Tom dwarfed by the giant lumbering toward him. He snuck inside the big man’s guard and elbowed furiously at his ribs, but the great bear of a man didn’t seem to feel the strikes at all. Instead he grabbed Nai Khanom Tom and squeezed him so tightly that Nai Khanom Tom’s face turned red.
“That’s got him,” the king said, clapping his hand in pleasure.
“Yes, your highness,” his captain replied. But the captain saw weaknesses the king had obviously missed. Nai Khanom Tom saw those weaknesses, too. He stomped down hard on the giant’s foot, then elbowed back into him. The giant bent over in pain. Like lightning, Nai Khanom Tom struck, a quick blow to the giant’s head perhaps. The blow was far too quick to be seen clearly. The
Marjorie Pinkerton Miller