Chapter 44: The viper pit
Hastur's hand found itself caressing the hilt of her trophy dagger. Her finger rubbing the smooth skull shaped pommel. Her eyes watched on at the sight of the fight commencing before her. The sweat and the sight of conflict made her grin. She sensed her eye lids becoming heavy and blinked the tired away. Not too much time had passed since she noticed the drowsy feeling. She looked down at her feet and found her furry companion barking and wagging his tail at the fight happening below them.
Thaelin ducked under the swing of an incoming axe to his head. He threw a left hooked punch to the knight's torso. He lunged into another strike and jumped away as the axe head neared his chest. The ranger grabbed the haft of the great axe. The two fighters locked into a grapple. Thaelin's knuckles were turning white from the strain. His opponent leaned into the man and growled at him.
"Give up boy!" grunted the knight
I'll do that right as soon as you quite bleeding on my knuckles."
The ranger pushed with all his might against the grapple. He licked his lips and hacked a glob of spit into the man's face. Taken by the ploy the ranger ripped the axe from the knight's hands and tackled him to the ground. Punch after punch was sent to his opponent's face. Left, right, left, right, left. The attendants rushed the arena and dragged the two men apart, but the combatants pushed them away so they could continue their match
The view of the brawl warped through the King's scrying portal Of the Dark Realm. His eyes fixed onto the ranger's every feign strike. His Steward sat on the armrest to his throne. Arms crossed and smiling intently on her amused master.
A helmet with two tankards of ale and a reed straw replaced his crown. He laughed and mirrored every strike the ranger made in the air.
"Haha! Now this is what I call a tournament. If only I could have that man's soul! He could entertain me for centuries. The possibilities are endless."
"He is certainly a vigorous mortal indeed, My King. And a Handsome one as well."
"Oh indeed. His eyes are gorgeous. I could just rip them out of his skull and wear like rings." The king laughed. Ah, but business is business. Time to spread disorder upon this happy little tournament arc. It was getting boring anyway."
The King clapped his hands together and the echo thundered through his island into the void. Darkness weaved and coiled between his fingers. The chill of death followed the black worm as it squirmed towards the portal. Samara watched the omen flow between the worlds and eagerly awaited to see when and how death will come to the mortal realm.
Even Hastur joined in with the common crowd, yelleing for her champion to keep up his efforts for the fight.
"Thaelin! Left hook! Come on! Hit him!" Her face went bright red as she felt every eye of the noble's stage fall upon her.
With a final strike, Thaelin grappled with the axe man. The two held the haft of the axe and resulted into a strength match to see who would buckle under the weight of the other. The ranger could feel himself faltering. In a last ditch maneuver, he let one hand free from the axe handle and threw a fist into his foe's adam's apple. The axe blade became buried into the dirt as its owner fell to a knee grasping his throat. Thaelin took the opportunity to place a foot on the knight's back to strike a victorious pose.
Showers of laughs and applause fell upon the ranger. His second match of the tournament and final of the day was concluded. So far, he was still doing well. Two matches won, but that was still a long ways away from tournament champion.
Sir Minot let out a groan as more of his gold was depleted from his strong box. Duke Du'Fenn too handed the half elf a handful of gold coins.
"I must admit, your champion has an unorthodox flair about him." Hummed the Duke.
Hastur patted her swollen purse. She had never been in possession of so much gold in her life. But she had to be careful. A cut-purse was surely to be amongst the many in the crowd. If she wasn't vigilant, it could be stolen right out from under her.
Thaelin's opponent was dragged off the arena and the final fight of the day and the second round would begin.
On one side of the arena entered the most flamboyant knight Hastur had ever seen. The device of a sparrow hawk on a yellow and white field. Tucked under his arm was an open faced sallet helm with a bird shaped crest in the center and etched wings that folded down to cover the ears. A yellow linen cape flapped behind him. The evening sun shined brightly against the polished parts of his armor. In his free hand, a pink carnation flower."
Every woman in the commoner's audience swooned at the sight of him as he blew a kiss to the crowd and waved in their admiration. A small buckler shield hung from his hip and a thin rapier much like Hasturs sat in its frog awaiting to grace his battle.
"Good people of Hayak!" the knight said raising a hand for the spectators to subside their applause. "I am Kaleb of Esolban. Heir to Bristel Hall, Sworn-sword to the Southern lands, and I wish to be your champion. Will you have me?"
"Well now. That is sure a peacock if ever I hand seen one." Remarked Duke Du'Fenn
Sir Kaleb waved to the audience once more and approached the Duke's stage. He and Hastur locked eyes. And the man bore his ivory white smile to Hastur.
"Dear Lady. A token to you." He said outstretching his hand offering his flower to the half elf. "Your beauty fills my heart. With your permission, I would like to write poem and sonnet dedicated to you and only you. What is your name?
The cleric rose from her seat, approached the railing, and accepted the flower. "Its Prynn, Hastur Prynn."
"Thank you gentle muse."
Freki, crept up next to the cleric and poked his little head between the balusters. He stuck his tongue out and grunted at the knight.
Sir Kaleb offered his hand to the puppy and Freki buried his head into the knight's gauntleted palm. "Protect your mistress, little friend."
From the opposing side came The Beast. In his dark armor and terrible sword, The Beast strode forward and took his place against the Southern knight.
Sir Kaleb put on his helm. He stood like the hawk on his emblem. His talon gripped in his hand, wings fluttering behind him, and determined eyes watching his prey.
From her vantage poaint, Hastur could have sworn she saw a shadow in the arena. A dark mist floating around The Beast's armor that wrapped itself around becoming one.
"My Lady, Hastur Prynn, I shall win this tournament for you." He said flourishing his blade out of its frog.
On the first note of the trumpet's blast, the Southerner danced forward. Feet and sword moving in perfect step to deflect the blow of The Beast's greatsword. He placed several notable strikes against the champion's armor, but nothing could showed signs of hampering The Beast.
The Esolban knight bashed the rim of his buckler into The Beast's helm, but there were no signs of the monstrosity becoming dazed. Sir Kaleb flourished his rapier into a spiral pattern around him and thrust it forward. The beast stopped it with on gauntleted hand. The needle of a blade became engulfed by The Beasts armored glove and with a powerful flex
-snap-
The rapier broke. Hope abandoned Sir Kaleb when his blade hit the dirt. The Beast raised his greatsword up high and brought it down onto the knight's tiny buckler.
As expected the small shield split in half, the greatsword blade glanced off the knight's pauldrons and struck a gap between his sallet and the gorget around his neck. A bloody film splashed The Beast's armor.
Hastur jumped out of her seat and screamed.
The knight clutched at his throat. Choking on his own blood. His shining armor painted red. He fell to his side and writhed until a thick mud pooled under him. Then stillness.
Hastur turned away and held the pink carnation in her hands. Duke Du' Fenn placed a hand on Hastur's back. "Im sorry you had to see that." The Duke looked to Sir Minot and reluctantly handed him a pouch of gold for their bet. "My dear Friends, I shall see you on the morn. Give my best wishes to your champions."
Outside the armory tent, Thaelin found his partner and her dog waiting for him standing next to his banner. Thaelin knelt down and rubbed Freki's shaggy head. "Hey boy. Enjoy the show?"
"Tell me again why you aren't using your swords?" scoffed Hastur, her hand still holding the flower.
"Because I am a baddass, Hast. And with other badasses in this game, I need to make myself stand out. A knight winning by not using a sword, now that's going to get me famous. Perhaps I will have a song about me."
Well they can play it at the tavern come on. I'm buying." she said untying a pouch from her belt and let the gold coins fill her hand.
"WHAT AND HOW!?" Thaelin gasped at the sight
"I made a few bets. Keep up this stupid plan of yours and we may be able to buy our own place instead of that shitty apartment."
"Bitch, I win this. We are buying our own castle with the winner's purse."
"Focus on just winning your next match tomorrow. And don't spend all my gold at the bar tonight."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll meet you there, I'm gonna drop off my armor off at our place first."
"See ya. Come along Freki, lets get you a chicken dinner, my treat. And I need a drink…or thirty."
Thaelin threw off is armor and slung the pieces over his shoulder. It felt so good to be out of that constricting padded coat. The sun was starting to set. And smell of dinner coming from campfires filled the field. The rumble of his stomach and aching muscles worn heavy on him. A cold tankard of beer and a trencher of plump sausages would quickly remedy this. His mouth watered just thinking of the feast
Out of the corner of his eye, a thick mustached man starred at the ranger as he walked by. Thaelin perked his ears up, and could hear the muffled sounds of footsteps coming up behind him. They were slow, it wasn't an ambush per say, but there was many of them. Four of them. Maybe more.
The man turned on the balls of his feet and dropped the load of armor off his shoulder.
"Is there something I can help you with?" He said with annoyance brooding.
"Si", spoke the mustached man "You can help us greatly, by withdrawing from this contest. It is for real knights, not insolent children like yourself."
Thaelin shifted his stance. He placed a hand on the hilt of his bollock dagger. He watched the men spread out. He could smell a fight coming. His opponents were still armored all except the black mustached man. His wore a red vestment with thin blue stripes and a long blue sash at his waist. A curved silver sword on his waist. There would be no easy fight here. Out manned, out classes, and out armed. He knew he didn't have a snowball's chance in the Nine Hells to survive this unscathed. And his mouth was about to get him in much worse trouble.
"See, if you want me to kick your asses that badly you could have waited for the tournament, but seeing how rude you, poor excuses of a men are, than I'll gladly do it here."
"You have quite the tongue there, boy. How about I cut it from that ugly head of yours?" the men drew their swords.
"Sorry but this tongue is for your sister only."
The mob encroached upon the ranger. Encircling him from getting help. Thaelin wanted to draw his blades. It would have given him something of a chance, but his stubbornness in wanting fame decided against it. He lowered his hands and let his sword belt fall to the dirt.
"Come on, I'll take all you bitches on!" he said
The men came at him at once. Thaelin ducked and rolled backwards. One man yelled as he swung a sword aiming at his head. The ranger gave him a sharp kick to the kidneys and grabbed ahold of the sword arm. He pulled the sword free and gave the man a strong smack to the head with the flat of the blade. The sword was light in his hand. Its pattern welded blade was impressive. And the intricate design work was remarkable. Perhaps after their fight he would sell the blade so he could drink his fill that night.
Thaelin didn't see where the hit came from, but there was a solid strike to his temple. The ranger's vision blurred and then a second strike to his back. This second hit knocked him to the ground where he became assailed by kicks and punches. The ranger felt a small hand grab him by the hair and pull him a few feet.
"Pathetic. Just like the rest of you Northerners. Non hai onore né rispetto. I will let you live, but I expect you to drop from the lists in the morn."
"Fuck you…bitch" The ranger managed before he spit a glob of saliva and blood into the face of the man
The southerner gave his foe a backhanded hit to the face. THIS Northern dog has a disgusting mouth. Lets see to it that he doesn't offend our ears again. Thaelin wanted to break free, but he felt too weak to even move. He was taken by the arms and felt a hand wrench his mouth open. He felt fingers grip for his tongue, and with his last bit of strength he clenched his jaw shut and tasted blood. Thankfully not his own.
The mustached man wailed and struck the ranger in the head but Thaelin held his jaws tight. "You bastardo! I am tired of dealing with this pig-dog. Kill him."
He stood there on his knees, watching one of the men draw his sword and poise it to cut the ranger's throat. But in his fading eye sight, he saw the swordsman look behind and swear in some language he didn't know.
he heard the sound of steel clanking, a man's scream, and then he saw the men run away. Scared of some demon that came to his aid. a figure in dark armor. The same dark color of the armor cloaked him as he lost consciousness.
The man rolled to his side and found a world of pain filling him. His eyes flashed open to find the white sheets of a hospital bed. A canvas ceiling was above him, He grunted as he pulled himself up and found a red glass vial on the table near his head with a note that said 'drink me'. Not one to question a bottle he did just that and got a mouthful of thick syrup-like taste of a healing potion. When his senses came to, he heard the distant yell of a mob of people and remembered
"Oh Shit! I'm late!"
His equipment was placed at the foot of the bed. He left the infirmary tent buckling and lacing on his armor while he made his way to the arena.
Outside the arena gates He saw Hastur and Freki waiting for him. "Where in the Hells have you been?!" Hastur said barely yelling over the crowd. She took his sword belt from him as he fumbled to put on the last of his armor.
"Long story." The man said hastily fixing the last buckle of his gambeson and sliding his cuirass over
"Explain after you win. I have Sir Minot wagering 50 gold that you fall in the first minute."
"Relax. I got this"
"You're going up against a master swordsman from Sol Lancia, be careful. And don't embarrass me."
As he passed the archway, he met his adoring fans.
"Fri-dulf! Fri-dulf! Fri-dulf!" they yelled
The crowd cheered as they saw him pass by. Men patted him on the shoulder, women blew him kisses, and children waved small sticks with Thaelin's banner colors.
The ranger let out a sigh as he entered the swordsman's arena. The crowds cheered as he waved to them. Fame was starting to reach his ears.
"Sir Fridulf. Glad of you to final arrive. Sleep well?" sneered the steward.
"Yeah. Lets get this over with. I have some asses to kick after this match."
"-I wish you Luck, Sir Fridulf." can a voice from under a conical bascinet helmet. Thaelin's opponent raised the visor and flashed a big bushy mustache poking out.
The trumpets blasted and Thaelin's Anger boiled within him. But he couldn't let that cloud his judgement. He needed a clever action to win his match and serve a great insult to the Sol Lancian
The professional swords man flourished his sword in the air. His swordplay was good. The ranger raised a hand "Sir, I don't believe I caught your name, last night."
"I am Sir Jacopo del Farran."
"Well then, Jacopo del Farran, would you do me the honor or a gentleman's handshake before we begin? I knight wouldn't dare refuse an offer of good will towards his opponent."
The Sol Lancian was sure this was a ploy. He had seen the low born man's fights thus far. And was sure this was something suspicious. But honor among the knighted class dictated he oblige. He removed his visor helmet. And approached.
"Mind your tricks, bastardo." He said taking the man's hand and firmly shaking it.
"This is no. trick, but this is."
As fast as he could, thaelin lobbed a glob of saliva into the knight's face , pulled his grasped hand back, and slammed his forehead into the olive skinned man's face. The ranger boxed the knight between the ears and watched his opponent fall. The crowd roared like a pride of lions.
"Bastardo!" The man yelled as several other knights rushed the stage coming to the Sol Lancian's aid.
"Gentleman!" Yelled the steward, but the men paid no heed to him. They drew out their swords.
"Surrender scoundrel!" declared the Sol Lancian gesturing to his reinforcements "Or die."
"That's just like a Sol Lancian. always tougher when they have others to do their dirty work." The ranger retorted
The men encircled him once again. This time, the day was on his side.
Hastur's eyes went wide with fear. She had to do something. Anything to help. She looked to the Duke who looked all too enthralled in the scene
"Do something! You have to help him!" cried Hastur
The Duke hopped off his seat and approached the railing his placed his head between the balusters and yelled to the knights
"Sir Fridulf. Are you in need of assistance?"
"No, I got this. If I survive this. Build a statue to me. Solid gold would be preferred."
The Lord of Hayak smiled and gave him a nod. When he turned back to Hastur, he shrugged his shoulders at the cleric "He says he's got this. Let their fight begin!"
