"Caber toss," McKenzie said, quietly, as the Keldara moved over to the next course. "I'll join in. The technique is like what Russell showed you on the stone, but you have to get a run going and really toss it. Watch me."
The log was about ten feet long and "the thickness of a man's thigh." Mike wasn't sure if it had been cut the night before by one of the other Burakan or if it was an old log, but it had been stripped of bark and sanded. There was a line on the ground and a flat area behind, apparently for the run up. Although Mike was trying to figure out how you were supposed to run with the damned thing.
A few of the Keldara lined up as Father Ferani explained for the non-Keldara.
"The contestants will pick up the log with their hands and run up to the line. Then they will toss it as far as they can. The first point that any part of the log lands on is the distance and that is the measurement for this competition. The competitor must not cross the line either before or after they release the log or the toss is disqualified."
The first Keldara got the log up vertical then bent down and got it up on his right shoulder. He backed up with the thing precariously balanced on his shoulder and ran forward, stopping at the line to throw it out. The log went forward still more or less vertical and the bottom touched the ground about ten feet out. It looked pretty respectable to Mike.
The rest of the Keldara tossed one by one, leaving divots from seven to eleven feet out, with one of them dropping it on the run; then it was McKenzie's turn.
Like Russell he had chalked his hands and at the beginning he started much like the Keldara, getting the log vertical. But he put it on his left shoulder and balanced it carefully, his hands locked underneath, before starting off on a run.
He ran faster than most of the Keldara but the big difference was in the toss. He turned at the last, throwing the thing backwards, his feet just at the edge of the line. The log, instead of staying more or less vertical, described a parabola in the air with the end impacting first. It gave him a good six to eight feet beyond the longest toss of the Keldara.
"Don't go as close to the line as I did," McKenzie said, walking over to Mike. "But toss it from your left and over. The body helps you get the lift on it and you can flip it over that way. The arms are also more suited for that sort of toss with a weight that strong. Put more strength into your right arm, too. Walk the distance off before you start and turn one step before the line."
The other Burakan went one at a time. Most of them were around the same distance as the other Keldara. Oleg was the exception. The massive Keldara still used the same technique, but he had the strength to really loft the damned thing, getting it to turn over like McKenzie and getting it nearly as far.
Mike ignored the eyes on him as he walked off the course, getting the distance just right and trying the turn. He marked the spot to start on the turf with his heel and then went over to pick up the log. He got it up easily enough, but balancing it was a different story. He was afraid he'd drop it on the run but put that out of his mind.
He carefully walked to the starting point, then staggered forward as fast as he could, keeping the log balanced, turning at the marked point and tossing it over his back like McKenzie.
When he turned around he had to grin. The divot that his log had dug was right on top of Oleg's.
"Looks like it's you and me, buddy," Mike said to Oleg as they walked to the next test.
"You are formidable, Kildar," the Keldara admitted. "As should be. It will be an honor to beat you."
"That's the spirit," Mike said. "I think you're going to lose a Kildar on the test of the bull."
"Watch me, carefully," Oleg said, seriously. "The other tests have their dangers. But the test of the bull is the true test of courage. You must first play with it and then stand your ground, letting it come to you before grasping the horns. That is the moment of truth; if you flinch you will be badly injured or killed. I would hate to see that happen."
"Me too," Mike admitted, waving to Adams.
"Got something for me?" Adams asked.
"Get with Doc Forgate," Mike said. "The test of the bull is coming up. Make sure he's standing by to give aid. Including advanced aid. If anybody gets really gored, he's going to have to stabilize them so we can get them to the hospital."
"Will do," the chief said, walking back over to the trainers.
The next test, though, was the test of fire. A large triangular area had been dug out and a fire laid on it. The fire had burned down, leaving only coals.
"This is the test of fire," Father Makanee said, waving at the coals. "The contestant must jump the coals, barefoot. He must choose the widest place he thinks he can jump. It is a test of both courage and wisdom. Knowing your limits is the true test."
"Point of order," Adams said, holding up his hand. "Does the contestant have to jump the coals?"
"To win they must pass from one side to the other," Father Makanee said, frowning. "The one to cross at the widest point wins."
Adams looked over at Mike and winked. It was all he had to do.
The military sometimes went through bizarre periods. During the previous administration, there had been a brief fad for bringing in oddball "motivational specialists" to "improve the understanding of the military." The guys were mostly idiots, or parroted stuff the military had dreamed up first. A few had had some useful things to say. But the one that Mike knew Adams was thinking of was the firewalker.
The teams, one by one, had been sent through this guy's "motivational course." Most of it was right out of the military handbook for using physical tasks to build confidence. The problem being that his "physical tasks" had been extremely basic from a SEAL point of view. He'd even had an "obstacle course" that was so laughably easy the SEALs had played through the whole thing.
But at midnight the fire walking had started. They'd had the theory explained to them carefully and it worked. You really could walk over coals just like these. You had to step carefully and, most of all, have absolute confidence. Nobody really had figured out why you had to be confident and calm to do it, but you did. However, Mike was "in the zone." He knew he could cross the widest part. And, best of all, in a way that nobody among the Keldara would believe.
He didn't pay much attention as the Keldara jumped the fire pit, letting himself fall into an alpha state that was much like autohypnosis. He simply envisioned himself walking across the coals and the fire not touching him. He dropped out a bit when Oleg came up, watching in disinterest as the Keldara backed up and ran at the pit. He didn't make the widest jump, that had been Vil, and when he landed his heel came down in the fire. He rolled over, grasping at his heel and grimacing.
Mike watched it all in disinterest then removed his boots carefully. He dragged his feet on the grass as he walked to the coals, ensuring that nothing was sticking to his feet, and then paused at the side of the fire.
"Kildar," Father Makanee said, quietly. "You cannot possibly jump here."
"I'm not gonna jump," Mike said, distantly but distinctly, his voice carrying across the buzz of the Keldara. Which immediately silenced as everyone turned to watch. He raised his face and hands to the sky and stepped off onto the coals, his mind adrift.
Slowly and carefully he walked across the hot coals. Each foot was placed perfectly, much like when he was doing a sneak, and his mind was sitting on another plane. When he stepped off onto the grass on the far side instead of applause there was stunned silence from the Keldara.
Mike lowered his hands and face and just rode the endorphin rush. It was amazing what doing the fire walk felt like when you finished; one of the SEALs had let slip that it felt like doing a line of coke. When he finally looked up the first eye he caught was Katrina's, who was looking at him as if he'd walked over water instead of fire. He couldn't help it, he winked.
"Are you well, Kildar?" Oleg asked, limping over.
"Very," Mike said, grinning at him. "It's an amazing rush. I'll show you how to do it sometime. It's like the thing with the bull; you have to know how and be supremely confident."
"You're not burned?" Oleg asked, amazed.
"Not a bit," Mike said, lifting up one sole to show him. The skin wasn't even red.
"The Kildar is the winner of the test of fire," Father Makanee said, clearly and distinctly.
"I've got to throw one of these," Mike said to Adams as they walked to the bull pen.
"Just checking out of this one might be a good idea," Adams said, quietly. "I took a look at that bull. It's a monster."
The bull was, indeed, a monster. It stood about five feet at the shoulder and must have weighed over a ton. This time there were a few Keldara baiting it from the solid stone walls, but nobody was getting in to play.
"The test of the bull," Father Shaynav said, standing on a platform to one side of the ring. He was wearing his bull cape and holding a stick with a hook on the end for controlling the bull through the ring in its nose. Evidently, if things went wrong it was the elder's job to control the bull. "Each contestant must bring the bull's body fully to the ground and hold it there for three seconds to pass the test. The contestant will be judged upon both his defeating the bull and his skill and prowess in working with the bull in the ring. The test is a test of courage, skill and wisdom. Those who do not know their ability will fall to the power of the bull."
Vil was the first to enter the ring. He leapt lightly off the wall, on the bull's offside, and ran around the ring to get behind it.
The bull saw him out of the corner of his eye, though, and turned in place, snorting and pawing the ground. As the Keldara continued in a circle the bull continued to spin in place, trying to get a good read on the adversary.
Vil trotted around the more or less circular enclosure once, then darted in to touch the bull on the flank. The beast spun quickly when touched and charged at him but Vil dodged out of the way, laughing, and touched it on the other flank.
He continued to play with the bull, touching it on the flanks and back and even once on the head. But it was clear the Keldara was running out of steam by the time he really confronted the animal, darting in just at the base of the neck and grasping the horns in both hands, then stepping forward and down.
The bull resisted the twist, trying to shake off his gadfly and then falling over on his side.
Vil held him down just long enough for the count, then darted up and raised his hands in victory as he ran to the wall.
Most of the rest of the Burakan duplicated the performance, running the bull in circles and then darting in at the end to throw it. The good part about it from Mike's perspective was that they were wearing the animal down; it was covered in sweat by the time Oleg got in the ring. But the bad part was it was also getting angrier.
Oleg was still limping from the fall in the fire and he wasn't as fast as the rest. The bull was able to line up on him more than once and charge. The second time required a roll away from a head sweep that surely would have gored the Keldara badly. That time Oleg was clearly done and leapt to his feet, getting behind the sweeping head and throwing the bull with a massive heave. Mike wasn't sure how well he counted against the rest; his throw had been almost effortless but his "play" time had been mediocre.
Unfortunately, it was Mike's turn. He decided that the only choice was to simply be confident that he could duplicate the performance but get it over with as soon as possible. He leapt off the low stone wall and waved at the bull.
"Come on, big guy," he said, taunting the thing to charge. "Come and get me."
The bull seemed confused by an adversary that didn't run in circles.
"Come on," Mike repeated, waving his hands. "I'm right here."
The bull swung his head from side to side, looking at the human doubtfully, then quickly put his head down and charged.
Mike was taken aback by the speed. He'd been watching from the wall but that was different than being the one on the ground. The charge was lightning fast and he half instinctively stepped forward. He tried to get to the side but the bull corrected at the last moment and he suddenly found himself right where he wasn't supposed to be: directly in front of a charging bull.
But the step forward had gotten him inside of the bull's intended charge. He grabbed the horns desperately, holding them off of him as the bull hooked upward for a gore.
Again, by instinct as much as anything he jumped as the bull hooked up, riding the gore instead of being thrown by it. He suddenly found himself heading upward at a tremendous rate and let go of the horns. The throw of the bull tossed him up and over like an acrobat. He'd been in the air before, though, in freefall and he quickly adjusted his body position for a landing, hitting the ground actually behind the bull and rolling into a perfect parachute landing fall that actually rolled him to his feet.
He hadn't intended anything like that but he dusted off his left shoulder nonchalantly as the bull spun in place, looking for its adversary. He wasn't about to try to replicate the feat, however, so he stepped to the side quickly, keeping inside of the circle of the bull's turn and out of sight.
The bull could hear him and it quickly turned back but Mike reversed course, still staying to the side. The bull was wearing and couldn't turn as fast as it had at the beginning so Mike was able to repeat the move a couple of times as he figured out exactly how you got your hands on the horns in the right way.
His first attempt, however, was nearly his last. He stepped forward to the base of the bull's neck like the others and grabbed at the horns but only his right hand connected. The bull reacted with a massive head toss and Mike, again, felt himself yanked through the air as the incredible strength of the bull made nothing of his weight.
The toss pulled him across the bull's neck, half wrenching his right arm out of its socket. He rolled with it, though, landing on his feet on the far side of the bull and letting go with his right. Just for shits and giggles he grabbed with his left and, sure enough, the bull dragged him across its neck again to land on his feet.
Mike reached forward with both hands this time but the bull had had enough and actually jumped half sideways to line him up for another charge.
Mike grabbed the horns more to keep them away from him than anything and found himself in the air again, this time in a flat toss across the bull's shoulder. There wasn't much he could do with that but take it on the chin. So much for points for grace.
He got up much more slowly this time and by the time he was on his feet the bull was charging again. He darted into it and caught the horns, first dropping his weight to try to pull it down and then, when it was clear he was about to be killed, leaping up.
This time he was ready for the ride through the air and managed a flip that landed him on the bull's rump. He only touched, jumping off immediately, and landing on both feet behind the bull again.
He quickly spun in place, into the bull's turn, and this time got both hands on the bull's horns with his weight down. He wrestled with the bull much less smoothly than the Keldara but in a moment he had it on the ground.
He'd had enough of fucking around with the damned thing, though, so as soon as he let go he was out of the enclosure.
"Impressive, Kildar," Father Shaynav said, walking over to him.
"Luck," Mike said, knowing the truth of the statement.
"You said you'd never wrestled a bull before," Oleg said, walking over to him. "You are, without doubt, the winner of the test of the bull. If you win at the test of the man you will be Ondah."
"Which is why I'm going to step out of the competition," Mike said, looking at Oleg and the elder. "I do not want to be Ondah. And I'm afraid I do have special training that would be unfair to use in the test of the man. Perhaps after we have done more training with the Keldara it would be a fair test. But after the test is complete, I will give a demonstration with Chief Adams."
"This is . . . not right," Father Shaynav said, frowning. "If you are the best, you should be Ondah."
"I am Kildar," Mike pointed out. "It is not right that the Kildar be the best, without being the Ondah? Which is the higher honor? Should I take the honor from my . . . retainers by taking their one chance of glory? If you wish me to compete, I'll compete. But if the test of the man is as lacking in rules as the other tests, I'm afraid I will do damage to the Keldara that I fight."
"We are strong," Oleg protested.
"You should compete," Father Shaynav said, definitely.
"Get the other elders," Mike snapped.
When the group had gathered together, with the rest of the Keldara held back from what was clearly an important discussion, Mike raised his hands.
"I will not take the honor of Ondah," Mike said. "With the other tests, frankly, I had hoped I would fail. But I strongly doubt, even against Oleg, that I will fail the test of the man. I have seen the Keldara in fights, I know my own ability and I doubt that I will lose. But I refuse to take the position of Ondah. What does Ondah mean to the Kildar?"
"If you do not, you take the honor of the position from the one who it goes to," Father Mahona said, angrily. "I have been Ondah. I knew that I was the best. You would take that from your people, Kildar."
"Yes, Kildar," Mike pointed out. "You have said before, is it not good that you have a 'true Kildar' again? Is it not good, correct, that the Kildar be the best? But why should he take the Ondah from such as Oleg or Vil? What is such an honor to the Kildar? And, understand, when I fight, without rules, damage is done. I'm a trained fighter. I am a trainer in hand-to-hand combat. SEAL hand to hand, which is dirty, brutal and short. If you wish, when the others have fought, I will either demonstrate with Chief Adams, who I know will not be seriously hurt, or I will fight against the winner. But if I fight against an untrained Keldara, they will be in Doc Forgate's care. Trust me on this."
"We must discuss this, Kildar," Father Kulcyanov said, formally. "The elders."
"Very well," Mike said, nodding. "I'm going to get a beer."
"What's going on?" Adams said when Mike walked over to the group of trainers.
"I'm in the running to win the medal or whatever," Mike said. "I don't want it. It's for the Keldara. I never should have been in the competition. I assumed that I'd get beat at some point. But I didn't. Hell, I even managed the bull."
"You were wonderful," Anastasia said, her eyes glowing. "You were much better than the others. Is this bull jumping an American thing?"
"Nobody, not even rodeo clowns, is stupid enough to do that," Killjoy interjected. "Were you fucking nuts?"
"I didn't mean to do it," Mike said. "I was just trying to stay alive. It was luck and some training in other stuff. But the point is, if I fight the Keldara—"
"You're going to kick their ass," Adams said, nodding. "And take the medal or crown or whatever."
"And not only is that their prize," Mike said. "But you know how I fight."
"You'd put them in the hospital," Adams replied.
"So I don't want to," Mike said. "I told them I'd demonstrate with you."
"What, you want to get your ass kicked?" Adams asked, grinning.
"You're out of shape and getting old, fuckwad," Mike replied. "I'd put you in the hospital. But you I can lose for a while; the Keldara start training on Monday."
"I'd put you in the hospital," Adams said. "You've been out of the teams too long to be any good anymore."
"Bets?" Mike asked. "The point is, I probably wouldn't put you in the hospital or vice versa. But I don't want to fight a damned Keldara. He doesn't know how to block for shit."
"There's that," Adams admitted.
"Here they come," Mike said as the huddle among the elders broke up.
"The Kildar has said that he does not want to take the title of Ondah," Father Kulcyanov said, facing the gathered groups. "The Ondah is a title for the Keldara. But to show that he is not fearful of the test of man, he has agreed to fight the winner. Not for the title, but simply for honor. As he has said, the Kildar should be the best. But the Ondah is a title for the Keldara."
"Thank you for this ruling," Mike said, waving at the elders. "Let's continue."
Two circles had been marked out on the ground in front of the Keldara houses. The competition was double elimination, with the losers facing losers and the winners facing winners until one person was victorious. The rules were rather basic, no kneeing of the balls and no gouging. Anything else, up to and including biting, seemed to be allowed. A fall was counted as any point other than the feet or hands on the ground, best three falls won. Anyone stepping out of the circle stopped the competition and twice out of the circle counted for a fall.
The Keldara were brawlers. In general, the two contestants would close, punch for a bit and then get into a grapple. They used backing and hip throws in the main. Oleg had a tendency to just pick up his opponent and toss him down on his back. Vil and Oleg were the last two fighters after about an hour of competition. Oleg got a good hold on Vil a couple of times and tossed him but the lighter Keldara was quick and landed on feet and hands. Oleg finally got him down three times, one on a hip throw and the other two by literally throwing him to the ground so hard it overcame Vil's ability to keep himself up.
"Oleg is the winner of the test of man," Father Kulcyanov said. "Oleg is the Ondah. But before he is crowned, he must face the Kildar."
"Crap," Mike said, stepping in the ring. "Oleg, you up for this?"
"I am well, Kildar," the Keldara said, crouching with hands half closed and his feet spread in what Mike would call a cat stance. He had a bleeding lip from a previous blow and a shiner forming on his eye. And his nose was bleeding. And he still had a slight limp from the fire. But he seemed pumped rather than battered. The guy just liked to fight.
"Well, try not to hurt me too much and I'll try not to hurt you too much," Mike said, standing on the balls of his feet in a horse stance. "Let's get this over with."
Oleg charged the Kildar and Mike let him come. The Keldara threw a strong roundhouse, which Mike blocked and then leaned into, grabbing him by one wrist and his shirt and continuing the rush over his outstretched leg. Instead of putting him facedown, though, Mike pulled back hard on the wrist, pressing down into the throw so the Keldara landed, hard, on his back. At the last minute he caught himself as he was about to break the arm across his leg. It was hard not to; it was a conditioned response, but he managed it. Oleg hit the ground, hard.
"Point to the Kildar," Father Kulcyanov said.
"Someday I'll show you what just happened," Mike said, helping the winded Keldara to his feet. "And how to fall."
Oleg waved his hands for a moment to get his breath and then got into his crouch again, closing much more slowly. He jabbed at Mike a time or two, which Mike easily blocked, and then closed.
Mike reacted automatically with a forekick to the Keldara's abdomen, following it up with a round kick that snapped Oleg's head to the side in a spray of blood and then a full flying kick to the back of the head that put the Kulcyanov on his face.
"Jesus," he said, darting forward. "Oleg, you okay?"
"I have never been beaten, Kildar," the Keldara said, getting up to his knees and hands and shaking his head as blood poured from his mouth. "But I am now. You hit worse than a bull. Where did you learn to kick like that?"
"I'm a damned SEAL instructor," Mike said, helping Oleg to his feet. "SEAL hand to hand isn't about fighting for fun. It's about doing so much damage to the other guy, he can't fight anymore. I was pulling my blows and not following through; you should be in the hospital with broken bones now. Or dead."
"And we will be taught this?" Oleg asked, wiping at his mouth.
"As much as I can," Mike said.
"Then next year, Kildar," the Keldara said, "I will purely kick your ass, as the instructors say." He spit out a mouthful of blood and worked his tongue in his mouth. It was obvious there were some loose teeth.
"Look forward to it," Mike said, laughing.
"I don't feel right taking the position of Ondah," Oleg admitted as the Keldara pressed forward. "You are the better."
"I'm the Kildar," Mike said. "I should be better."