The five opened their eyes. All were lying on their backs in a circle. Upon looking around, gone were the stone walls of Primus’ Inverted Tower. Now, they were surrounded by rolling green hills. A slightly chill wind blew as the sun sank into the west.
“Are we where we’re supposed to be? A young female half-elf called to the others. Her nimbus of black hair was being gently blown away from her face, revealing her expression of sardonic amusement.
“I think so. I sincerely doubt Primus would make a mistake,” replies a dark haired male.
“So, how will we proceed from here?” cut in the tired, irritated tones of the white-blond elf.
“Hmmm. We won’t know too much until this fog lifts. Then maybe I can find us a road to follow. Shall we camp here?” responded the blond female ranger.
“It’s as good a place as any, really,” returned the elf.
“Oh yes. We really should,” said the redheaded elven maiden as she made her way towards a tree. It had been ages since she had been able to see green life. Her warm brown eyes glowed in contentment as she stroked her palms over the rough bark of the alder tree.
Anwar, the blond ranger, gave the druidess a strange look with her golden eyes. “I love being in the wilderness too, but you don’t see me looking to hump the first tree I find,” she muttered. Then louder, “Ok guys, I’m going to do a little hunting and see if I can’t scare up a little dinner.” Upon receiving no response except for a loud snore from the now-slumbering blond elf, she quietly made her way towards a nearby grove.
When Anwar returned, about two hours later, she was pleasantly surprised to find a small fire burning, a pot of water set to boil, and her bedroll, set up a few yards away.
“This is different,” she commented, eyebrows lifting.
“Hey, you’re back. Hope you don’t mind your placement, but you seem pretty comfortable in cooler weather,” said the sable haired half-elf.
Anwar nodded. It was true. Though it was wintertime, these seemed mild lands. Especially when compared with her homeland, the mountainous north, also known as Argusund. The slightly chill breeze seemed more summer’s kiss.
“Thanks for getting a little order here. It was weird. I mean nice! Umm, weird-nice?”
“Aww, don’t thank me. I only helped a little. Nyran did a lot too.”
“Anyway, I’m glad you have water ready,” she held up a brace of rabbits, cleaned and ready for cooking. “I’m going to make stew.”
“Ooh! Those look soooo good! And I’m so hungry I could almost – oh! – drop.” Then with a dramatic hand to her forehead, the girl gracefully swooned.
Anwar stood over her with a wry expression. She shook her head.
“Arilyn, sometimes you are entirely too much.”
The half-elf’s golden eyes popped open. With a most serious expression on her face, she regarded the ranger and said, “I have absolutely no idea what you mean.” Anwar rolled her eyes.
“Yeah. Whatever you say. Puppybutt? Revive her.” Arilyn gave an undignified shriek as the jackal bounded up to her and started licking her face unmercifully. Soon her full-throated laugh could be heard floating over the hills.
“Ok. OK! I give. Puppybutt! I said I give. Ahhh! Geroff me you mutt!” she cried still laughing as she scramble to her feet. “It’s going to be great to eat something other than rations.”
“Yes, I just wish there was more to put in the pot.”
“Here,” called the soft voice of their druidess. “These should enhance the stew,” she said as she gave some herbs and a few small wild vegetables to Anwar.
“Wow, where did you get this, Elana?” She gave a shrug.
“I had wanted to restock my supplies. I found those along the way,” she responded in her quiet voice.
“Well, excellent. I think they will add the perfect touch.”
A couple hours later, the stew was ready and all sat down to eat.
“Do we have any idea where we’re going yet?” Arilyn asked around a mouthful.
“Well, while I was out, I noticed a village over that way,” Anwar pointed off.
“I don’t see anything,” Arilyn said squinting into the distance. The ranger and the druidess exchanged small smiles. They knew nature and the wilderness better than anyone.
“Trust us. There’s a town.”
The next morning, the group decided to get an early start. By the time the sun had crested the eastern horizon, Elana was praying for spells as Anwar and Arilyn broke down the camp.
“I think we need to wake Islan up now. I feel a little bad because he’s still hurting from the forge work at the Inverted Tower. But, he still needs to study his books,” said Anwar.
“Yeah, probably. You’d think he’d just know the spells by now.” An unholy grin lit Arilyn’s face. “I’ll take care of him.” She slowly moved to stand over to the prone body. Pausing to consider him, she idly commented “Such a pity. He looks so peaceful.”
“Arilyn? What are you going to do?” Anwar was watching closely. She knew Arilyn’s temperament pretty well. Couple that with the constant bickering between the two over the past journeys, well, Arilyn wasn’t one to let opportunity pass by.
As expected, Arilyn was already bending closer. The ranger could only watch, feeling a mixture of resignation, amusement, and horror.
“Islan,” she called softly. “Islan, it’s time to wake up.” Upon not receiving any response, not that one was expect with how quietly she tried to stir him. She looked over at Anwar with the same evil, toothy smile. “I don’t think this is working too well. Shall I use stronger tactics?” She held Anwar’s gaze. “Oh, I fell!” and dropped to her knees.
Right on Islan’s chest.
“Ooof! Bloody hell! Arilyn!” He scowled up at her beaming face.
“Good morning, sunshine. ‘Bout time you woke up. You need to go study ‘cause we need to leave soon. Anwar and I are already breaking camp.” Then she abruptly shifted position so she was straddling the elf with one knee to each side of his chest. Leaning forward so her long hair brushed his face, she softly inquired, “You’ve been out a long time, Islan. Are you sure that’s healthy?” Then, with a lift of her eyebrow, she got to her feet and walked away.
“A mite bit healthier without half-twits determined to split me upon her barbs,” he grumbled, glaring at her retreating back.
Soon enough, the fivesome was walking towards the town they had previously spotted. After journeying a bit, they noticed a crude archery range set up with a couple fellows practicing. Anwar smiled to herself. “Sometimes I can’t help myself.” Without further ado, she unstrapped her bow and took aim. Though the targets were some distance away, Anwar was a crackshot who rarely missed her intended target. This time was no exception.
Anwar watched the feathers clear the bowstring. A mere moment later, “Thuk!” The arrow buried itself in the center of the target. She smiled in satisfaction. The men who had been practicing looked around in confusion, trying to figure out who had shot the rogue arrow. Sighting the small group of travelers, their scowls became clearly visible.
“Are you making friends, Anwar?” Nyran asked politely. She looked back at the men again. One had raised his bow and was currently shaking it at them.
“Somehow, I don’t think I am.” She shrugged. “Impulse. Anyway, they’re lucky I didn’t send off a fire arrow.”
Upon reaching the town, the group decided to head to the inn. Casting Tongues on himself, Nyran made his way towards the innkeeper. After a brief conversation, Nyran procured the rooms and passed over the required gold.
“Ok guys. We have two rooms. Also, apparently there is going to be a tournament in town. Probably why people were testing their archery skills. But it’s going to be done by teams.”
“Ooh! A tournament! We haven’t been in one in a long time. So we’re gonna do it, right?” Arilyn looked around at apprehensive faces and again inquired, “Right?”
“Umm. . .” Anwar had a slightly panicked look in her eyes.
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun!” Arilyn was almost hopping in her excitement. Islan rolled his eyes at her.
“Ok, good. As long as we’re all in agreement. So how does a team tournament work?”
“We’ll have to go and register with the clan running it. I believe it is Clan Dougal.”
“Well, we should get this over with,” Islan sniffed.
“I don’t know about this combat for prizes concept either,” Anwar cut in.
“Yeah, what is the prize, Nyran?” Arilyn badgered. He smiled.
“No one seems to know exactly.”
“Figures,” she huffed.
“Can we please get walking since it’s basically been decided to follow through on this asinine idea?” said the drawling voice.
“Good idea. All work and no play makes Arilyn bored. And you wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“And why should I even care whether or not you are amused?”
“Because, when I get bored, I start devising ways of entertaining myself.” Back was the Cheshire cat grin. Islan gave a slight shudder.
“Yes, umm. Right now. Let’s get going.”
“At least it makes for a pretty walk,” came Elana’s whimsical voice. “Though, to the north, the land cries out loudly.”
Soon enough, our group of adventurers found themselves walking along the path towards the tournament grounds. Nearing it, they saw a small shrine off to the side of the road. It was being tended to by an old man in plain robes.
“Greetings! You must be here for the tournament. I am Aguer, a priest of Jerick. He told me of your arrival. Though you are late.” Most of the party looked at him blankly.
“Jerick did send you, correct?” The old man was starting to look concerned. Nyran, being the only one to understand responded.
“I’m sorry. We came here on our own. We received no message. Though, we are here for the tournament.”
“What’s he saying, Nyran?” interrupted Arilyn, tugging on his sleeve.
“Oh, you speak the dwarven tongue,” Aguer said, looking slightly surprised. Anwar and Arilyn exchanged a look saying “Dwarven tongue?” before returning their attention to the conversation.
“So where do we go to register for the tournament?”
“Simply follow this road. You will see many tents set up there. There is a great deal of excitement surrounding the event.”
“What’s the prize?” Arilyn said, butting in.
“There has been much speculation on that. Some believe the old laird will offer his daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“Oh,” was the quiet response from the disappointed girl. Then she brightened. “Is she hot?”
After directing a disconcerted look toward the too forward half-elf, he resumed speaking.
“Umm, however others believe the prize offered is a rare map leading to a great treasure.”
“Sounds most promising. So we follow the road,” Nyran said, once again taking control of the conversation.
“Correct. Just, please be careful. There are those who would not hesitate at anything to win. I will be there to assist proceedings once the tournament starts. Good luck.”
Soon, they came upon the tents. Walking closer to the platform, they were stopped my guards.
“State yur business,” one snapped.
“Hello, we wish to register for the tournament.”
“Ahh, another group. Well, then. I’ll go get Lord Dougal. E’s the one you’d be needin’ to talk to.”
“Many thanks,” Nyran replied with a slight bow of the head.
Shortly, a portly, balding man waddled up. By the looks of the grease shining on his chin and bejeweled fingers, the travelers were sure they were gazing upon the Lord Dougal, interrupted during his dinner.
“What do you want?” He had a harsh voice, like iron dragged over rock.
“Hello, we have heard about your tournament and wish to participate.”
“Fine. Wonderful. One hundred gold. You do have the entry fee, right?”
“Not a problem,” Nyran said, tossing a small pouch of coins over to the man. Quick as a snake, the greasy fingers snatched the bag out of the air. He hefted it thoughtfully, the slight grimace coming the closest he probably ever would to a real smile.
“Good. These men will tell you the rest. Good day.” He abruptly turned around and left.
“Sorry we interrupted your meal!” Arilyn shouted after him. “You fat bastard,” finished the comment under her breath.
“So, what do we need to know?” Nyran asked, turning his attention back to the two guards.
“Tournament stars in two days. It’s done in teams of three with one memba competin’ in each event. Arch’ry, swordplay, and spellcastin'. Oh yeah. No magical items can be used. No armor can be worn either. Everythin’ must be regular stuff. No masterwork allowed.”
“What?” gasped Arilyn. “I don’t HAVE anything like that!”
“There’s merchants all over town. Drawn like flies to dung, they are. Anyway, weapons can be bought from them. Now, what’s your team name? And who’ll be competin’?”
Team name? The travelers looked at each other. They hadn’t been expecting to have to come up with a name.
“Err,” said Anwar.
“Umm,” came from Nyran. Even he was at a loss. Elana said nothing.
“La la la la, la la, la la la,” Arilyn was humming, trying to look like she wasn’t paying attention.
“Honestly people. How about ‘The Tears of Jerick’?” Islan suggested in clipped tones. Everyone shrugged. It didn’t matter really. The guards glanced at each other confusedly.
“O-kay. The Tears of Jerick it be then. Who’s ta be your archer?”
“No question there,” Arilyn piped up, pushing Anwar to the fore.
“Your name?”
“Anwar Fin Jorag.”
The guard gave her a once over. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
“I’m not,” Anwar replied through gritted teeth.
“And your swordsman?” Arilyn and Islan looked at each other.
“You should compete, Arilyn. I believe you would hold an advantage over me in straight swordplay.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cause if you really want to. . .” she struggled over the offer. She had REALLY been looking forward to this.
“No, no. Be my guest. You seem much more enamored of the idea.” Arilyn looked hard at him a moment then nodded.
“Name?”
“Arilyn.”
“Anything else?” She cocked her head and gave him a cheeky grin.
“You need more?”
“Not really.”
“Then just Arilyn is fine.”
“Alright then. Spellcaster?” The three left appraised each other.
“I am not entering. I am a healer,” Elana spoke up.
“Again, I fear you have the advantage, Nyran. The deficiencies of learning dual skills,” Islan shrugged.
“Then it’s decided. Again, tournament starts in two days. Lot’ o elves entered. Be ready.” The fivesome shot quick glances amongst each other.
“We’ll be there.”
The opening day of the tournament dawned bright with a slightly chilly breeze. Already, mists were rising off the dew-covered grasses.
As the sun climbed higher into the sky, a young maiden ascended the platform to stand in the middle.
“Greetings everyone. I am Ysolare of Clan Dougal. Welcome to the first tournament of Clan Dougal. As you all know competition will be done on a team basis. There will be four events. Archery will be today. Swordsmanship tomorrow. The third test will be tomorrow evening during the feast. Lastly, will be the magic competition.” A servant brought out four goblets. “These goblets represent your standings in the tournament. The winner will receive three gold coins in their cup. The one in second place will receive two. Third will get one. Last place will result in losing your coins.
I am aware there has been a lot of talk over the prize to be awarded. Let me assuage your curiosity.” The girl paused to take a deep breath and maintain her composure.
“The prize is a map. It has been in my family for a long time, and I know many of you know of which I speak. For those of you who do not know, it has been said that, by following this map, you will find the tomb of our great ancestor Ansgar Dougal. There, lies a powerful treasure. A sword reputed to be able to drive back the chaos and reunite the lands of Lochlainn!” She paused to let the cheering crowd die down.
“So, this is also a tournament to decide whom will earn the right, who is worthy enough, to gain the right to embark on this great quest. Good luck to all. Now, let the tournament begin!”
“So the prize is a map,” Nyran mused.
Islan frowned. “It makes no sense. No blood-proud family would ever just willingly give up an heirloom, especially one leading to their leader’s weapon. This is most curious,”
“Shhh! They’re getting ready to shoot. YAY ANWAR!” Arilyn shushed them.
The four archers made their way to their marks when they noticed one man who looked a little familiar.
“Hey Islan. That guy. Isn’t he your school rival? The one that fought with the illegal weapon in the last tourney?”
“Shooting for team Keepers Of Mercy, Iarond DuVale.”
Islan’s normally pale face flushed in anger. ‘Of course,’ he thought, ‘the man said elves were here. It makes bloody good sense when one stops to think about who they most likely are.’ Then he smirked to himself. ‘It will be highly amusing to watch Anwar thrash him though. He never really was much with a bow.’
One hundred feet away sat the targets. Just waiting to be hit. Anwar stood in position awaiting the call. When it came, she brought the arrow up.
‘Forgive me, Jorag. I know you would never have intended for me to use my skills this way,’ she thought.
Sighting the bundled grass, she saw she had the perfect shot. The arrow released in slow motion. It streaked through the air before implanting itself clean in the center.
When the spotters indicated that all four had hit the target, the large crowd of spectators cheered.
“WOO-HOO! Yeah Anwar! Kick some butt!!” shouted Arilyn in encouragement along with a loud “You SUCK Iarond! BOOOO!”
As more shots were taken, the targets were pushed back further.
“Your mother was a human!”
It soon became clear just whom the contest was between.
Upon tying in the tiebreaker, the tournament officials grouped together to figure out a second way to determine the winner. Finally, they asked the competitors themselves. The robed gentleman named Horus turned to Anwar.
“How would you like to finish this?” came the quiet rumbly voice.
“Well, in my homeland, we don’t shoot for sport. We shoot to hunt. To survive.” A smile quirked the man’s lips.
“A hunt it shall be then.” The officials were unsure of this, but couldn’t think of a better solution. So they explained to the anxious crowd.
“This night, our two finalists will be taken by a guide into the forest. There they will hunt. In the morning, after they return, whoever has caught the most, bunny rabbits, shall be named the winner.” The crowd cheered half-heartedly. They were impatient to see the ending and didn’t quite agree with waiting until the morning.
Nevertheless, at dusk, the two hunters were led into different parts of the woods. Anwar kept her bow at the ready. She felt much more at ease in this setting. She softly padded along, keeping her eyes open for any sort of movement. A few times, she was forced to tell her “guide” to shut up and keep still as he continually lost sight of his charge. Apparently, he was not as skilled in the wilderness as Anwar. However, Anwar, even with the fumbling of her guide, managed to snare four rabbits over the course of the night.
‘That man will beat me for sure,’ she thought furiously. ‘I could have had at least two more kills if that moron had been a little quieter and not scared the game away.’
The following morning, Anwar was standing on the platform in front of the crowd. Though it was early, everyone, excepting Anwar, was eager to learn the results of the night’s activities. Horus stood as if the outcome didn’t matter one bit.
“Anwar of The Tears of Jerick has managed four rabbits!” came the announcement.
“Yay! Go Anwar!” Arilyn cried, stamping her feet, cheering with the rest of her team and the crowd.
“Horus of, um, Team Horus has three rabbits. Anwar takes this victory!” Anwar stood in disbelief as happy cries and congratulations rained down. Horus stood passive as gold coins clinked in the bottom of the goblets.
A short while later found Arilyn standing with her friends, stretching, along the side of the field designated for the fights. She was nervous, bit hid her anxiety under a guise of backflips and dramatic sword maneuvers.
“Let the contest of swords begin! In the first round, Arilyn versus Horus!”
Arilyn flipped her long hair over her shoulder. ‘Well, here goes nothing,’ she thought. Looking at her comrades, she commented “Y’know? I forgot how much easier it is to move without all that armor on,” before striding confidently onto the field.
“It is just me, or is out young half-elf practically bouncing?” Nyran muttered in amusement to Islan.
“Yes, she seems too excited by half to bloody her sword,” replied the stony-faced elf.
“Aren’t you even going to cheer her on?” Islan looked surprised by the question.
“Of course I will. That is, if she does anything worth cheering for.”
Meanwhile, Arilyn engaged in a clashing of steel.
“Come on. Attack me.”
“No need to ask twice.” Arilyn swung into motion. Sliver flashed in the morning light, quickly becoming coated by Horus’ blood.
Horus managed to pant out, “You’re pretty good. Again.” Arilyn shot him a questioning look before shrugging and continuing on with her dance. Blood was flying, spraying from the multiple slashes appearing on various parts of the man’s body. The blades dipped under his defences, nipping here. Tearing here. Opening rents in the light fabric. The air started smelling metallic.
Finally, Horus, eyed slightly glazed with pain, grunted out, “You’re very good with those swords. This match is yours.” Then he walked off the field. Arilyn stared after him. With streaks of blood running down her face and her mouth hanging open, she looked like a very confused little savage. She gave a forced grin and waved to the crowd as the results were announced before tromping back to her friends. She flopped down on the grass and complained, “It’s like it wasn’t even a real fight. He just let me attack him. Where’s the fun in that? Like he was taking my measure, y’know?”
“But why should you be upset? You won without doing or taking more damage,” Elana inquired, after healing the minor wounds the pouting girl had sustained.
Arilyn gave a great sigh. “Because, it’s a contest. You’re supposed to give it everything. Not just roll over and take it.”
“Hey, the next fight is starting,” Nyran called. “Don’t you think you should watch it to see what you’ll be up against?”
Arilyn cracked a grin. “Yeah, that’d probably be a good idea.”
The whole of the second round of swordplay was ugly. From start to finish. Iarond came mincing onto the field as if he owned the field, the town, and especially this match. His opponent, Beremon McKrae, strode onto the field. He walked with the assurance of one who knows they own it.
“Ooh, I don’t like the look of that big dark guy.” Arilyn was not alone in this observation. The townspeople shied away when he passed. Not to mention, Aguer had earlier approached them, asking that they make special effort to see that Clan McKrae not win the competition.
Immediately, Iarond starts spouting off. “How dare you raise your sword to me, filthy mongrel. You are not fit to shine my boots. You cannot possible comprehend the importance of one as great as my with you tiny human mind.” And other nonsense like that.
Beremon looked at him, blinked, and without further ado, made his reply. But not with his voice. He made sure Iarond understood every syllable with the point of his sword. After butting him around the head a couple times, Iarond received a brutal cleave to the side.
In a smattering of seconds, Iarond’s sword lay broken a few feet from his broken body. Beremon looked down impassively at him. His lip curled slightly. Then he turned on his heel and walked off the field.
Arilyn, wide-eyed looked up at Nyran and Islan standing over her. She started moving her mouth, but no words came forth.
Nyran chuckled. He could understand her trepidation, having just witnessed the gory spectacle himself. “You look a little poleaxed, Arilyn.”
She gazed vacantly up at him. “Poleax? No, I’ve never really used one of those before.” Then, quite subdues, turned her attention back to the dark man.
“Apparently, something has put fear into our little guttersnipe,” Islan murmured to Nyran.
Arilyn tossed a disdainful look up at him. “Islan, if you don’t want to end up as my sparring dummy, I suggest you shut your piehole.”
“Ooh,” Islan chuckled, warming to the game, “I was just pointing out your usual affinity towards, ahem, brawling.” He smiled cockily at her. “I’m just surprised at you showing such trepidation. Maybe I should have competed myself after all. I surely wouldn’t be bellyaching about it now.”
At this, Arilyn shot to her feet, her nose barely an inch from his. She took a single heaving breath before she spat “One, I have not said, one, bloody, word. I was just keeping quiet. YOU had to go say something.” She gave him a venomous look. “Two, if you had really wanted to compete, you should have opened your bloody mouth instead of sitting back ‘well I think you’d have an advantage,’ she mocked as Islan’s eyes started to cloud over in anger. “Three, you make me sound like some wild barbarian whose only interest is in knocking heads together!”
“Well, looking at you right now, you do look very heathenish. Hair all snarled and crusty with dirt and blood. Clothes scuffed. You’re quite an unpleasant sight.”
Arilyn gasped and narrowed her eyes. “You should take a look at yourself. Your nose is so high up in the air most of the time I’m surprised you don’t trip more often. Your only interest is moldy old books. You may as well be a wrinkled up old man whose winkie has fallen off.”
“Let’s examine your other favorite pastimes. Drinking and making a general nuisance of yourself.”
“At least I’m FUN. YOU are obnoxious, moody, and act like you know it all!”
“I am obnoxious? You, my dear, give the word new meaning.”
As the argument went on, neither one noticed the people around giving them a wide berth or staring in open curiosity as the mud slinging continued.
“Degenerate little twit.”
“%@&( *#&( @(*!!!”
They were so engrossed that they failed to hear the call for the final match-up.
“Arilyn! What are you waiting for? They’re called for you! Get you arse out on that field!” Anwar shouted at her.
“Oh!” She glanced over in surprise. Looking back at Islan, she found him standing with arms crossed over his chest. Though he tried to look angry, she could see the faint smug traces in his face. Rolling her shoulders, Arilyn realized she was now good and charged up. Ready to hit things. She tilted her head at him with a dark look, but softened it with a tiny smile. “Thanks,” she muttered. He inclined his head as she lightly ran onto the field.
Nyran shot Islan a questioning look. “What?” Islan snapped. “She needed something to get her mind off her nervousness and focus her energy.”
“Was the shouting necessary?” Nyran questioned with a raised brow.
lslan allowed a small self-satisfied smirk to grace his lips. “Perhaps not, but I got something out of it. I thoroughly infuriated her, and managed to make her grateful at the same time. Besides, she had it coming. Actually, her self-control has improved. Before, she would probably have hit me long since.”
Out on the field, Arilyn was facing her fears. Upon advancing, the first thing Beremon did was knock a rapier out of her hand. She looked up into his forbidding face.
“You dick!” The she attacked with her other blade. Apparently, the man didn’t appreciate the three gashes she opened upon his skin. In retaliation, he broke her second rapier with one powerful swing of his own sword.
Arilyn dropped, rolled, grabbed her remaining weapon before scrambling to her feet and lashing out with her sharp pointy.
That would be the last attack she’s see with those swords. In a heartbeat, the girl found herself holding the grip of the sword. She blinked at it, scowled, and threw the handle at her opponent. As it bounced harmlessly off Beremon’s chest, she put one hand to her hip. He had stopped his attack to watch her antics.
“Was that REALLY necessary. Now I’m out forty bucks to my friend.”
He looked at her with a forbidding face. “You have no weapon. You cannot continue to fight. Do you concede?”
Arilyn looked at him like he was stupid. She thought to herself, “Ok, I don’t have a weapon and he does. I can just give up, or I can fight, prob’ly get really hurt; he’s got a BIG sword. But, at least I would finish the bout. Hmmm. Yeah.” She smiled at the man. Then she jumped at him.
“What is she doing?” Elana gasped. “She’s defenseless. Doesn’t that end the match?”
“No, it ends when one concedes or can’t move,” Nyran replied.
“That’s so brutal!” Nyran turned to smile gently at the druidess.
“I hope you’re ready to heal her. Because I think she’s going to need it. You didn’t expect her to just give up, hmmm? This is a matter of pride to her.”
Arilyn was, indeed, taking many blows. Time and again, she attempted to snatch the large sword out of Beremon’s meaty fists until, “Oh!” Arilyn looked in surprise. She was holding the sword. It was almost as big as she was. Slowly, she brought her eyes up to meet his, smiling her wildest, craziest, blood-smeared teeth grin.
“Hi.” Before he could respond, Beremon found himself doubled over from the blow dealt from his own blade.
That was enough from this little upstart.
Baring his own teeth in a feral growl, he almost missed Arilyn’s “Uh-Oh” face before launching himself onto the half-elf. Wrapping his tree-trunk arms around her, Baremon lifted the girl off the ground and squeezed.
Arilyn let out a low grunt as all the breath left her body. This was not a good situation, she knew.
“I have you now. You won’t break free. Submit to me!”
Arilyn would have laughed had she the breath. Instead, she squirmed, kicked, and writhed. Anything to extricate herself. The crows grew more subdued as they watched the punishment meted out to the half-elf for her refusal to give up. Now that he had a good grip on the slim girl he turned her face to him.
“Do you surrender?”
Arilyn still managed to kick, wildly shouted, “Never! I never give in.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Especially not to such a greasy stinky little pig-faced man like you.” He gave her another, more brutal squeeze. Arilyn gasped and her eyes watered as she felt ribs pop. “Bastard,” she panted. “I’ll NEVER give you the pleasure.”
Even her friends were stunned at the amount of abuse she received. “She needs to quit. She can’t keep up like this. He could kill her.” Elana’s eyes were wide. She had not been expecting this level of violence. Their sassy half-elf was caught and bleeding freely. They knew the match would last as long as she could force her body to keep moving. By the looks of things, the end would quickly be on its way.
Lifting the slight body against his chest, Beremon grew more irritated at the minx. She should give up gracefully. He snarled in her face, “Submit! You will lose anyway!”
Arilyn gathered every last vestige of strength. She feebly struggled. Gaining control of her lolling head, she looked Beremon in the eye. Disgust and self-satisfaction shone in the green orbs. Pursing her lips, she spat a mouthful of blood full into his face. “I would never submit to you.” Rage contorted the man’s features. He gritted his teeth, then slammed his forehead into her face.
He silently watched her fall to the ground. She moaned softly as she sank. Though he was surprised, when she turned her bruised, blood-cover face up to him and beamed happily.
“I’ve still got your sword,” she whispered, taunting him, before her eyes rolled back in her head.
Sneering at the still body, Beremon nudged her onto her side with his foot. He bent to retrieve his sword stained with both of their blood. More of hers though. Arilyn’s friends came running onto the field.”
“Arilyn! Byurgen! She’s unconscious.” The two women quickly set to working, bringing their broken friend around.
“Did I win?” were the first words out of her mouth. The other two exchanged a glance.
“Of course you won, Arilyn,” came the gentle reassurance from Elana. Arilyn squinted up at them with the eye that wasn’t completely swollen shut. Swiftly noting the uncomfortable faces, she closed her eye again.
“Hell.”
Evening came quickly. With it, the feast. As the fivesome strode in, every eye turned their way. All conversation stopped for a brief second, before hushed conversations started all across the room.
“Arilyn, you did your best. That’s all we could ask for.” Elana was busy trying to placate a huffy Arilyn.
“Yeah, but I wish I had thought about him breaking weapons.”
“Why? Would you have had me purchase you another sword?” Nyran asked with a smirk.
“Noooo. I would have had you buy a dozen. I’d have worn them as a skirt. And then I could do the hula.” She danced around a minute, swaying her hips before a sharp pain in the side reminded her that, while now healed, her formerly broken ribs were still tender.
“What’s the hula?” Elana wondered aloud. Such things do not exist in her Geas.
“Nevermind.”
They found a table and began chatting quietly amongst themselves. Soon enough, runners were hefting large platters of food down the isles. There was boiled everything. Islan wrinkled his nose in disgust before pushing his plate away. Reaching for a chunk of bread, the only food that appeared to not be in liquid form, he commented, “Haven’t these people ever heard of haute cuisine?”
All to soon, Ysolare made her way to the center. “Ladies and gentlemen. Now that you have supped well,” at this point, Islan sat back in his chair and scoffed, “it is time to begin the third task. Each group is to name one spokesperson. Speak then, to me and everyone gathered here, why you should win. Why Clan Dougal should grant you a prize such as this map. Why you compete. Speak now, the floor is yours.”
Horus was the first to stand. “I think you all know who you want to win. I’ll just let you reveal your decision at your leisure.” The crowd sat in surprised silence. Arilyn’s battered face cracked a grin as she quietly laughed.
“Okay, well. Umm.” Ysolare didn’t quite know what to say.
“The Keepers Of Mercy should receive the map. We are more suited than anyone here. We only wish to ease the suffering of the world, after all,” Iarond spoke in oily tones.
The gathered people were underwhelmed.
Then it was Nyran’s turn. “Friends, let me first say that we are honored to compete. We really would be the best choice. While we may see odd, this is just something we feel compelled towards. Lochlainn would not be the first land we have helped. Indeed, we have traveled the world. We do what we can to help protect those who cannot protect themselves. We fight for freedom. In proof of my words, I’ll tell you this: whether we win this honorable battle or not, we are going to the north. We are going to attempt to rid the land of its disease of chaos. Thank you.” There was much applause at the end of this heartfelt speech.
Beremon stood and waited for the noise to die down. Then he stood in the ensuing silence just to make sure he had their attention. “Clan McKrae deserves the prize. The treasure to be found is said to be on our lands. But that is of small matter. Ever since the northern lands were given over to the chaos, my family has stood steadfast in defense. So that the whole of Lochlainn is not swallowed as well. Show support for our strength. Enable us to set the land right. We are the ones to do it. Real Lochlainnders. Not outsiders, with their pretty words. Remember who we are.”
Ysolare stood and stared at him for a minute, as if trying to discern the meaning behind the words. Then she moved back to her seat. Murmuring to the other officials, they then indicated that the lady needed some time to reflect on her decision. The party went on.
After a few minutes, Ysolare rose with a resolute face. Making her way to the goblets, she gestured for the gold coins. She looked out at the crowd, and then dropped three coins into the goblet of Clan McKrae. She dropped two into the goblet belonging to the Tears of Jerick.
“Oh, you gotta be kidding!” Arilyn cried. She patted Nyran on the arm. “Don’t worry about it, Nyran. You talked real good.”
“Thank you,” Nyran responded wryly.
“That ties us with the McKraes,” Anwar pointed out. “Guess it comes down to you again tomorrow.”
“You are going to be able to pull off the magic we were practicing, correct?” Islan questioned.
“No need to worry about it.” Nyran’s voice lowered to a growl. “I’ve been waiting a while to face off with Teravus. I plan on taking him apart.” Sometimes you could almost feel the crackle of magic if you stood close enough to the black haired Elan.
“Teravus,” Arilyn murmured to herself. Her face took on a black look, made all the worse for the two black eyes she was currently sporting. She had good reason to desire this one’s blood. She tossed back a shot, shuddered, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her friends were disturbed by their look. There was genuine malice burning.
The third day was gray. The wind blew chill. The mist that usually rose, hung heavy and cloying on whatever it touched. Making their way to center stage, the officials announced the first match-up would be Nyran versus Horus. Horus approached with a trace of a smile.
Turning to the officials he spoke in a low, clear voice, “I do not possess magic, therefore, I cannot compete in this fight. I must forfeit.”
Nyran raised an eyebrow, considering the man before him. The officials blustered for a moment, but there was nothing they could really do. They sent the two back to the sidelines and called for the other competitors.
What followed was a relatively short round of magical jousting. Though the wizard representing Clan McKrae had some power, Teravus still mowed him down. Buffeting the old man with smaller spells, then unleashing more devastating attacks once he was off guard. The glittering dome collapsed around them, allowing healers to get to the wizard. Teravus just sneered at them, stalking off the field.
“Well, good to see what you are up against, right?” Anwar tried to smile. Elana looked a little angry. Nyran picked up on this.
“Don’t worry about me. I have things well in hand. I’m in even better shape, since I didn’t have the first round and am at full power.” Arilyn who had been sitting on the sidelines quietly throughout the match, suddenly rose to her feet to confront him.
“Remember Nyran, you said you would take him apart. No mercy!” Her face was calm as she spoke. Her eyes betrayed some of the madness she kept locked inside herself.
Nyran gave her a slight bow as he locked his eyes with hers. Arilyn saw what seemed to be a bolt of lightening flash across the clear orbs. “You have my word on that.”
Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long. A relatively short time later, the magic-users were called to take their places for the final round. Nyran smiled to himself. The magical dome they would have to shape would prevent lethal damage, but it was an excellent chance to test himself against a powerful member of the Keepers Of Mercy. He knew that was more than a random appellation, these two, Teravus and Iarond were part of an organization determined to bring about a special brand of mercy. Only the destruction of all, nothing too serious.
They faced each other at a length of sixty feet. When the cry was made to begin, Nyran tapped his power. He stopped everything moving around him. He could see cheering spectators caught midclap. He could see his opponent, paused in the motion of bringing his hands up, bright red electricity already cracking between his fingers. Knowing he didn’t have but a few stolen seconds he quickly brought out another power. ‘All it takes is will. I just have to believe it. I am a wizard. I am a wizard,’ he chanted in his mind. This was the magic he practiced with Islan. Wizards have their own brand of magic. Being what he was, he couldn’t directly imitate the power to make the dome. Therefore, a little, subterfuge was needed to pull the effect off. Pretty spectacularly too.
A shimmering golden dome rose up around the two. Teravus scowled down the length of the battlefield. “I believe I will enjoy this, human.”
“I certainly hope you do. I know I will,” Nyran responded pleasantly.
Nyran set about creating some of his pets, beings of magic that he could fashion to have different abilities. Teravus scowled. With a wave of his hand the first one was banished. Over and over, different jets of light were shot. The crowd was on its feet. It was difficult to see through the dome. All they knew was that neither had dropped yet.
And that’s the way it went for a while. One would attempt to cast a spell. The other would attempt to counter it away. The match stayed fairly even until Teravus shot green light from his hands.
“Oh, no,” Islan muttered, watching the two, now flying opponents.
“What spell is that exactly?” Anwar asked him. Islan didn’t have to think too long. He turned to face her, looking a little paler than usual.
“Disintegrate.”
Nyran watched as the light sped closer to him. He wasn’t quite prepared and the shot hit him full in the chest. Emerald flames licked over his body. He was caught up in the pain as his nose started to bleed and every muscle clenched. ‘Focus,’ he told himself. ‘Just let it sweep across the edges. You can take the pain.’ His body shook with the effort before slamming itself back into consciousness.
Nyran opened his eyes. He was quite upset. He leveled his gaze at the dark elf. “You little pissant. I just bought these robes.” Lightening flashed across his eyes as he spread his arms and rose another twenty feet in the air. Black hair stood on end as crackles of magic arced around his body. “Let’s see how you like that spell.”
Emerald flames danced from his fingertips. They winded their way towards the dark wizard, who didn’t seem to be expecting the quick retaliation. He never stood a chance. The gout of green light bathed him, swallowed him up whole. A mere second later a loud howling started up, magnifying itself over the roar of the flame.
Teravus gasped as he fell. The spell had done its work. He was coughing blood, bleeding from his nose. It trickled down from his ears. Indeed, he had even shed one perfect tear of crimson hue. He hit the ground with a wet thunk, wheezing. The large gashes that were spread over his body grew inflamed by the mud he was laying in. Gradually, he became aware of that the useless fop Iarond was standing over him.
“Well, they certainly are not going to be pleased with us, are they? And I thought that ‘the skinny human will never know what hit him.’ That ‘he will be sorry he ever decided to enter this tournament.’ Honestly,” he mocked.
Teravus mentally grumbled to himself. ‘One day, toad, I will have you dangling at the end of a very thin rope.’
At another corner of the battleground the other group welcomed their champion back into the fold.
“Well, that locks it! We got first place,” said Anwar happily.
“Yes, but do you think we were just awarded a whole other group of problems? We do have much to concentrate on,” Elana spoke.
“Yes, but if this map can lead to some sort of weapon made to fight the evil that befouls the north, it would be worth our efforts to collect it. Besides, you never know what else you may find in a tomb. We could use a little extra weight in our purse,” Islan intoned.
“Well, I guess that settles it,” Anwar muttered looking at the resolute faces around her.
“And the next step in our insane path will begin when exactly?” Arilyn piped up.
“It’s probably best if we start as soon as possible,” Nyran voiced.
Islan agreed “Tomorrow then? After getting a good night’s rest, of course.”
“Then we’d better leave around midday. There’s bound to be a party tonight!” Arilyn exclaimed.
“Can’t wait to break into your usual keg can you?” Islan shot back.
“At least I won’t nance around with my one modest glass of overpriced wine!”
“You’re supposed to savor your drink, you mannerless little-“
“Guys, guys,” Nyran interrupted, throwing an arm over each shoulder. “Remember, this is supposed to be a time a celebration. Not argument. I myself am going to find a pretty little thing and congratulate myself on a job well done.”
Islan rolled his eyes while Arilyn pretended to gag.
“Nyran!” she cried. “You’re not supposed to say things like that! Yucky!” Elana and Anwar exchanged amused looks. Nyran was good at distracting those two.
“Just as long as you don’t turn me out of the room,” Islan was commenting dryly as he let himself be led to the tent set up for the feast. All five were laughing as they found a table, awaiting their victory meal and a well-deserved drink. They relished this one night to spend at leisure. They knew it would only get tough again tomorrow.
|
