Book 2 Dead Man's Hand: The Knights of the Golden Dragon

by Troy Reaves

  “So ya take advantage of an offer of aid and won’ fight after ya do! Yer fear is carved into yer face, and I let ya take this dishonorable end to the challenge if ye’ve no more to offer me.” Boremac held his breath as he and all the other onlookers awaiting Madial’s reply.

  Madial practically hissed his retort. “Let us see what the old man has to offer.”

  The two mountain men stepped back in unison before coming at each other like furies. No more words would be exchanged, that much was obvious, as the pair of combatants hammered at each other’s defenses, each seeking a way to undo the other. All levity was gone and the blows were furious, the sounds of weapons and guttural exertions coming from the pair was like a primitive melody, like the base ritual songs of orc shamans preparing their tribe for battle.

  Neither of the pair seemed to be outdoing the other and yet Madial chose to step back from the fray first, bowing first to Landual and then to the crowd. “I defer to my elder. We call this a draw with no victor and honor the crowd as we honor one another and our people.”

  Landual’s reply was immediate. “We honor the mountains with the tools of our people and honor our people with the strength behind those tools in battle. We should each call a champion to start the day’s trials.” The whooping and waving of arms in the crowd the statement brought was instantaneous. Boremac thought better of trying to be called to the makeshift arena and tried to hide in the shadows of the crowd a bit more completely. Landual had other plans. “Frosstel, where are ya?!? Come on out and show us what ya can! I ‘ope your skills in combat is greater than yer stamina at drinkin’. Get out ‘ere, ya scrawny would be bounty ‘unter!”

  As Boremac delayed answering the call, Madial shouted out to the crowd. “Landual, I thinkin’ yer ‘hero’ seems a mite skittish. Well, mayhap he needs a look at the competition first. Let me ease his mind with someone easy. Step out, Hamil!” The man called Hamil stalked into the circle, taking the path that parted before him. He had been at the rearmost edge of the crowd more than likely, because he was readily tall enough to see over the others that stood in front of him. The man was easily the largest warrior that Boremac had ever seen; most of the people forming the path which allowed him entry barely reached his shoulders. He was as broad as the mountain men would have been at his height, if they were twice as tall as normal for them. There did not seem to be bit of fat on the man, just layers of honed muscle topped off by the ugliest face Boremac had ever seen. Hamil was clearly half-orc, judging by the protruding fangs that thrust out of his lower jaw and pointed toward his nose. The nose itself looked as though it had been many times broken and reshaped into a flatter state than it had started. Despite the severe look of the man, his eyes were sharp, filled with cunning that would have made any but the most ignorant shudder. As if the sight of him was not proof enough of his power, Hamil picked up the two mountain men and set them on his shoulders on opposite sides. They appeared to weigh no more than feather pillows to him. His voice was deep but surprisingly gentle. “Have a look, good warriors. See if you can spot your champion better from up there, Landual.”

  Landual responded gruffly. “Ya know I’ate it when ya do that, Hamil, but since you gone and done it, let me see if I can spot’im.” Landual homed in on Boremac much more quickly than he had hoped. “Ah, there he is! Frosstel, come forward so potential employers can see what yer offerin’!” Before Boremac could scramble away, hoping to toss an excuse behind him as he attempted to make a retreat, he was picked up by the crowd who proceeded to bear him forward over their heads and unceremoniously drop him in the ring of onlookers. He did manage to land on his feet at least.

  Boremac took a moment to look over Hamil as the man set down the two mountain men. The giant seemed gentle enough when he patted the two innkeepers on their heads, eliciting grumpy mumblings from the pair as they moved into the near edge of the crowd, but there was no mistaken his fighting experience when he turned to look at Boremac. Hamil stared down at Boremac for a moment, clearly sizing him up as well, with a thoughtful look generally found on scholar’s faces when they studied a mysterious new discovery. He was clearly a brawler, much like Sumar had been, judging by his missing teeth and some scars at the side of his head that never had healed properly, probably for the effect. His overall appearance was intimidating, and he made it more so by hardening his eyes and lowering his brow even as he smiled down at Boremac. Boremac chose to assume the grin meant he was not going to be killed, and that gave him some amount of reassurance. He guessed that being called out by Landual to represent the man gave a certain amount of respect on its own merit.

  Hamil broke the silent inspection first, speaking to Boremac and extending his massive hand in greeting. “Well met, Frosstel. Do you require a weapon? I will be fighting bare handed. I will try to keep the fight… entertaining. You seem quick. I hope you dodge and strike well. We have good healers here if not.”

  Boremac took the great man’s hand and gripped it as tightly as he could manage. Hamil was obviously holding back to keep from crushing Boremac’s slight fingers. “A small shield would be appreciated, Hamil. Perhaps I can wear you down by deflecting enough of your blows.” Boremac punctuated his statement with a tilt upward of one of his eyebrows in a small show of bravado he did not feel.

  “A valid plan, though perhaps it is undone by you exposing it. No matter, we will see.” Hamil picked one of the armor smiths out of the crowd and shouted to him. “A shield for my challenger! Put it on my tab if it gets broken!” A ripple of good natured murmuring went through the crowd at this request. Hamil was a local favorite, it appeared.

  The armor smith had thoughts of his own to share. “Will you be paying the healers to repair this one when you finish with him, too? You will have your shield, stranger, for all the good it might do. God keep your soul for there won’t be much he can do for the rest of you!” The crowd made way for the armor smith to go to his booth, returning shortly with a fine small round shield. Some of the crowd stepped forward to pat Boremac on the back and give him words of encouragement. Oddly Boremac found this less than reassuring, only serving to add to his disconcertion. He did find the weight of the shield somewhat comforting, however, and thought he might walk out of the ring at the end of the brawl.

  Boremac and Hamil bowed slightly as they stepped back from one another, each keeping their eyes leveled at their opponent. The crowd applauded the honor implied in the gesture, as well as the care with which each watched the other. Boremac drew on his experiences fighting Harse and Sumar, trying to formulate a workable plan of attack, or at least a way to avoid permanent damage. He chose to allow Hamil to make the frst aggressive move, falling back into a defensive stance with the shield before him. Hamil nodded as if he understood Boremac’s intention and closed the distance between them with two long strides.

  Hamil struck the shield with one hand, firing it from his shoulder, sending shock waves through Boremac but not forcing him out of his stance. He was holding back, testing Boremac. A single step back brought Hamil out of ready reach, forcing Boremac to expose his angle of attack when he countered.

  Boremac decided a test of his own was in order. He charged straight at the big man, deftly dodging low to the right of him and striking with his shield arm. His intended blow to the man’s kidney went astray, landing soundly on the man’s thick thigh with his other fist as Hamil swept the shield bearing arm down, assisted by the attack’s momentum. Boremac recovered without stumbling and spun himself to face Hamil’s back. The attack had not hampered Hamil in the least, but it did give Boremac something. The giant was quick, much faster than he had a right to be, and Boremac would have to factor that into his defense and attack.

  Hamil’s next move against Boremac actually helped him form something resembling a plan. Hamil turned quickly and grabbed the small shield in one hand and Boremac’s opposite shoulder in the other, picking Boremac bodily up from the ground. Hamil spoke a single word once he had pulled Boremac to him, their noses wer
e practically touching. “Sorry.” His arms pistoned outward, throwing Boremac across the makeshift fighting ring. Boremac landed hard on his back and slid a couple feet, just remaining in the ring of people.

  Boremac took a moment to rise, letting his shield fall in the process, and dusted himself off. He made an elaborate gesture of trying to brush all the dirt off his leathers while he tried to catch his breath. He had to do something and he had to do it now or this was going to end very badly. Boremac bent down to pick up his shield, shaking his head as if in dismay, hoping his plan would work. He rose and in one smooth motion hurled his shield laterally at Hamil’s chest, bringing the full force of his arm and legs into the throw. It cut the air with marked speed, slicing directly at the giant’s chest. Hamil stopped it dead in the air, gripping it with both hands, just as Boremac had hoped. He closed the distance between Hamil and himself in a blink of an eye, springing up onto the shield and jumping forward once more as he laced his legs around his target’s thick neck. Boremac drew the man’s face into his own chest and locked his arms around the back of his head, trying desperately to cut off his breathing with both his tightening legs at the his throat and pressing his nose and mouth against Boremac’s leathers.’Just hold on. Just hold on.’ Thought Boremac as he felt Hamil relax into his gripping appendages.

  Hamil had other plans. Boremac felt his challenger’s shoulders flex so hard that he was nearly thrown from his perch. His own shield slammed into his back once, twice before a brief pause. He felt Hamil try to draw in a deep breath just before he felt the impact of his own shield against the back of his skull. Boremac’s gripped appendages loosened of their own accord as he fell stunned to the ground at Hamil’s feet. Hamil was staring down at him when he regained his senses, appearing to have been amused by the rogue’s failed attempt at undoing him. There was no malice in the Hamil’s tone as he bent to grab Boremac by his neck. “Well done! That was the first, and I hope last, time someone tries that type on maneuver against me. We should end this now, I think. You are far too cunning for your own good, friend, and I would hate to have to break something.” Boremac sailed once more across the fighting ring as Hamil tossed him. He had just time to consider that the man threw boulders just as easily as he landed well outside the ring of spectators, slamming into the bare ground beyond the crowd. His back took the brunt of the impact, but the height from which he had been thrown allowed him time to reflexively relax and minimize the damage. It was not the first time he had had to protect himself from falling. It was standard training in Alchendia’s Path to learn to take just enough damage if one had to hit the ground to be able to get up quickly and flee. Unfortunately running was not an option this time, Boremac noted a path had opened between where he had landed and Hamil, who was already passing through the spectators on his way to collect his projectile.

  “A fine match! You and I should face each other again sometime!” Hamil appeared to be addressing the crowd as much as Boremac. “Any team would be lucky to have you, Frosstel! You are either extremely foolhardy or extremely brave, either of which are necessary to learn and earn in our trade! See that you are tended as soon as possible. The fight may not have marked you but the aches will come tomorrow, no doubt. The healers at our meager temple will take good care of you as they have me in the past and in honor of your performance the cost will be shared by Landual and me. What say you, Landual?”

  Landual’s reply came without hesitation. “You insult me with the asking, Hamil! My champion will be well cared for and will not remember the pains of your mistreatment on the morrow, old friend! He will be seen by the brothers and quartered at my inn! Any who wish to seek to employ him will see me while he rests, so no scoundrels need bother walking through my door lest you see the difficulty in leaving it! My men are not known to be gentle with the unwanted as they throw them out!”

  “Then it is settled.” Hamil stated as he reached down to help Boremac to his feet. “Who will take this fine man to the temple?” Boremac was glad for the help rising and the support of so many strangers, though he was mildly surprised at the’volunteers’ making way to his side to provide aid. He had half expected a farmer’s cart to transport him and was very pleased to note that two fine tavern women shortly flanked him, taking a firm grip at either side to lead him toward the small temple among the shops. He seemed to be in good hands as they led him, however he could not help but notice the less than pleasant looks passed between the ladies as they did. Luckily looks could not kill, and he made it to the brothers without incident, although he could not help but overhear the heated discussion between the ladies as they left him. Boremac thought he was definitely going to enjoy his time in Verson.

  Boremac found the temple in Verson was less a house of worship and more an infirmary for the wounded that dragged themselves into the stone walled building. The section he was taken to held more beds than any other piece of furniture, lightly made to be easily moved about within the large open room. Incense, of a scent he could not place, was soothing, and the lighting in the area hardly seemed adequate for the needs of the brothers that worked diligently there. There was no separation between the patients, and during the brief time he spent within he became familiar with many different voices of pain and suffering as the wounded were tended.

  The ladies that had brought him to the temple seemed to have come to some arrangement, visiting him often but always individually, and made his time there pleasant. He easily gathered much information about Verson from them. It seemed charming strangers were in short supply in the city, and each lady did her best to be accommodating. Boremac was glad to hear that Landual had secured his goods, taking the liberty to lock his room up tight, with the intention Boremac would return there shortly. The innkeeper had fielded a flood of requests from potential employers within a few days, and Landual was certain he would have no end of work. No one had put up such an interesting fight against Himal in quite a while, and curiosity ran rampant in the various taverns throughout Verson.

  When Boremac made his way back to ‘The Iron Hammer’, as Landual called his place, he was taken by surprise on two counts. No one waited at the temple door facing the street to greet him and get first shot at recruiting him. More importantly, a ghostly voice from his past whispered into his ear just as he felt a blade pressed flat against the middle of his back.”Boremac, so fortunate I could find you first.” The speaker was readily identified by the troubling giggle that followed the words. “I believe you will find my humble office much to your liking, just to your left and a few buildings down. Go through the alley and up the stairs at the back. We have much to discuss.”

  Boremac felt the weight of the blade disappear and turned to look for the person who had accosted him. He found the individual had vanished as quickly as their weapon’s weight. He was not surprised and even smiled a little to himself. Things were about to get interesting. He toyed with the idea of retrieving his own weapons from the ‘The Iron Hammer’ but dismissed the thought immediately. He knew they would prove to be of little use against Jun.

  Boremac found his way easily and mounted the well maintained stairs, coming to a wooden door reinforced with iron. Only a standard pull marred the ironwork, with no knocker to be found. There was no indication who lived there or what business took place, but Boremac knew the occupant well enough to guess the business. Any doubt was dispelled as he entered the door, curious to find that it was unlocked, and spotted Jun sitting at a large oaken table covered with innumerable parchment sheets and almost as many candles. It was a wonder that the place had not burned down judging by the various signs of use of the candles. They were all sizes and shapes, some in candleholders though most were not, and wax had pooled at various spots, even sticking the papers to the table itself. All across the rear wall behind the table were numerous cabinets and shelves holding haphazardly piled scroll cases. The place looked like an archivist had gone insane and redecorated at whim.

  Jun sat quietly at the far side of the table, motio
ning without looking up for Boremac to take the seat opposite him. He continued studying the papers in his hands as he spoke. “Boremac, my old friend, you have created quite a stir here in Verson. I am glad I was able to get your attention first. You are the most sought after unknown to enter the city in quite some time, for many reasons. Good work with Hamil. His approval alone gives you quite a bit of weight in this mercenary town.”

  Boremac nodded. “I would have thought you would be out and about doing whatever it is you do. I thought ‘collections’ were your specialty. I have assumed too much, judging from this office, with the little information we shared when we met last.”

  Jun smiled in a disturbing way before speaking. “You mistake my words. Let me clarify. Five dead mercenaries in the woods that were hunting you is reason enough for the guild leader to take notice. The fact that no one claimed responsibility for the deed is even more so, since he bothered to put a hefty bounty on the whole group after the militia were murdered. There are some things even mercenaries are not allowed to do in the course of the hunt. Killing constables is chief among them due to the complications created. When they did that, the contract became void and their slayer has a reward waiting from the guild master himself. He is quite keen on meeting the one who could rescue the ranger in those woods and take on that group of trained professionals.”