by M. D. Massey
She tilted her head from side-to-side. “I taught them a little. I’d done some survival courses for fun when I was in high school. Girl Scouts was too tame for me, and cheerleading and all that happy horseshit—forget it. But Reynard and Tuck helped me out a lot, too.”
“They friends of yours?”
She shook her head slightly. “No, at least not at first. Just a couple of guys who happened to be at the Ren fest that weekend, who saw that I needed some help. Reynard had a thing for me— he’d been hitting on me all weekend. I think that’s why he stuck around at first. And Tuck—well, Tuck is just a good guy.”
“Whatever their motivations, I think they’d have taken advantage by now if they weren’t honorable men.”
She laughed. “Oh, it’s been tense, believe me. Tuck has it worse for me than Reynard ever did. Those two have a rivalry going that you wouldn’t believe, each one waiting for me to pick one of them. It’s infuriating, like I’m the last woman on earth or something.”
I chewed my lip and considered my next words carefully. “What do you think is going to happen when these boys all grow up?”
She tossed her head back and rolled her eyes. “Oh gosh, don’t even remind me! Little Matthew was nine when this shit all went down—nine! Now, he looks at me in a way that seriously creeps me out. I know he doesn’t mean any harm, but I don’t know what I’m going to do when the rest of them start looking at me that way.”
I tapped my foot against the dais. “Well, I can’t make any promises, but once I get my people back, we’re heading to a safe place. We have plenty of room, and we could use more people we can trust to rebuild.”
She looked at me with a combination of hope and skepticism behind her eyes. “That’s a lot of maybes and ifs. But when you roll back through here—if you roll back through here—I’d be tempted to consider your offer.”
“Fair enough.” I stood up and brushed my hands on my pants. “Well, I guess I’d better see how Gabby and Bobby are doing.”
She smiled and crinkled her nose at me. “I bet Gabby is getting all sorts of attention right about now.”
“Yeah, but she’s into older men.” She gave me a weird look, and I quickly held up my hands in disgust and confusion. “What? No, not me! God no, the kid is like a daughter to me. But Bobby, though, I think she has a bad crush on him.”
She nodded. “It’s easy to see.” She held out her hand. “My name’s Anna, by the way. But Sweetlove actually is my last name.”
I shook her hand and smiled. “No wonder you’re so tough.”
She groaned and arched with her hands in the small of her back. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it!”
I began walking out and paused, looking back over my shoulder. “Anna, how did you know that you could trust me?”
She chuckled and ticked off each point she made on the fingers of her left hand. “Let’s see. A full grown man with two kids in tow. Both well-fed, and free of any signs of abuse. By all appearances, they both think you hung the moon. And, you didn’t kill any of my boys when they surprised you.”
I nodded once. “Seems legit. Now, about this trial by combat thing—”
“Oh, Reynard is going to try to take it to you, no doubt about it. He was an ARMA champion in longsword and sword and buckler. And Reynard probably sees you as a threat, a challenge to his leadership here, I think. Or, he might just be bored and spoiling for a good fight. Sorry, but you should expect to have a fight on your hands.” She smirked and shrugged. “Rules are rules. No hard feelings, you know.”
I shrugged. “I suppose I understand. Just don’t hold it against me if I damage your champion.”
She laughed. “Oh, I do like you, Scratch. But good luck with that.”
EIGHT
DOOMED
The next morning I got up early to stretch and mentally prepare. I knew it was just going to be a matter of who took the worst beating first, but nerves could always do a number on a fighter before a match. I did some deep breathing exercises and visualization techniques to calm me down, the same stuff I used to do for panic attacks after I came back from the ‘Stan.
The LARPers, as we were calling them, had put us up in decent digs the night previous. As it turned out, the castle house had an entire sub-basement that was designed to withstand a nuclear apocalypse. It had been made for fortification rather than comfort, however, which was a surprise to me considering the opulence apparent in the rest of the mansion. Anna had explained that it had belonged to a friend of theirs, someone who had been heavily involved in LARPing and other similarly geeky activities. He got killed early on, but before he died he’d given them keys to the place and provided all the access codes as well.
And truly, this place was a fortress. Even in the house above there were iron bars on the windows, reinforced doors, and the remnants of a security system that was utterly useless now. Anna openly lamented the fact that her friend had neglected to consider alternative and emergency power sources. They’d scavenged some solar panels and rigged a rudimentary system, but it was barely enough for a few LED lights at night and to keep the emergency backup batteries on the keypads charged up. For safety’s sake, they locked themselves in at night and only used the keypads in emergencies. But, once someone shut the doors to the vault, without power there’d be no way to access it from outside.
At any rate, they seemed to be doing okay. Reynard kept the boys busy with lessons in swordplay and archery, and with hunting and scouting. Tuck took the role of their schoolteacher; apparently he’d been some kind of engineering geek before the War. And both allowed Dame Sweetlove to maintain her position as queen and leader of the entire operation. I had to hand it to them; they were decent men. But I think they also knew that she was the natural leader of the group, and I doubted either of them wanted the responsibility of making the tough choices.
After breakfast, Bobby and Gabby came back to the large guest room where the LARPers had placed us the night before, with the dog at Gabby’s heels. Gabby was clearly upset, while Bobby appeared to be excited at the prospect of seeing me take on Reynard. The dog didn’t look to be interested in much, except taking a nap.
Gabby plopped down on the bed across from me and gave me a hard look. “So, I guess you’re still going through with it? Even though we aren’t obligated to follow any of their stupid rules?”
I shook my head. “That’s not the point. The point is that we’re trying to make some allies, and sometimes when you’re trying to get an in with the natives, you have to concede to their whims and wishes. Besides, this is the only way I’m going to get the respect of their entire group. Remember, we have no idea how many of the settlers are left alive. If we’re going to start over after we get them back, we’re going to need more able bodies.”
Bobby nodded and his face grew uncharacteristically serious for a moment. “Yeah, and besides that, Gabs, those teenage boys out there have been training to scout and fight since they were kids. By the time they become full-grown adults in a few years, they’re going to be a group of badasses. I honestly would rather have them as friends than enemies. I mean, if it was up to me.” He coughed and looked off to the side, as if embarrassed to have shown some sense for a change.
I nodded. “Bobby, you’re starting to think like a leader. Good for you.” The kid blushed and pretended to mess with his kit on the bunk behind him. I looked at Gabby and grinned. “The truth is that I’d like to see if we can create an alliance with them. Or, even better, if I can convince them to come back to the Facility with us. That is, if we return from the Corridor alive.”
Gabby harrumphed. “First, you have to make it past ‘knight boy’ down there.”
I stood up and tousled her hair, and she shook off my hand with a lot less anger than she probably wanted to display. “Trust me, kid, I have this under control. But speaking of which, you two need to pay close attention to this match today. The type of people who manage to survive in a world l
ike ours will always have unique survival skills. Sometimes it’s knowing how to fight, sometimes it’s knowing how to hide, sometimes it’s knowing how to run, and sometimes it’s knowing how to use violence to get what they want. Reynard survived because he knows how to handle himself, and believe me, you’re going to come across people who have the same skills in the future. Watch how he fights, and learn from what you see today.”
Bobby turned around, and his face lit up. “Oh, believe me, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Getting to watch you kick that guy’s ass medieval-style is going to be the highlight of this whole trip.”
I smiled as I tightened up the laces on my mocs and made sure my pants were tucked into them properly so they wouldn’t get in the way. “Well, at least someone in this room has faith in my abilities.”
Gabby frowned. “It’s not your abilities I’m concerned with, viejo. It’s your health. What if you have one of those attacks again?”
Granted, she had a point. I was still pretty worn out from everything we’d been through over the last couple of weeks, as well as from the constant war my body was waging against the Z-venom. But, a soldier fights the battles he’s faced with, not the battles he chooses. “I haven’t had one of those episodes in a few days, Gabby. Trust me. I can handle Reynard.”
She shook her head and looked at me like I was an idiot. “Del dicho al hecho hay mucho trecho.”
Bobby looked at me in confusion. “What’d she say?”
I chuckled softly. “‘Easier said than done.’’
The match was to be held in the training yard directly behind the castle house. Whoever had built this house was definitely a trip. Instead of the typical pool and cabana house that you’d expect to see behind a mansion, there was a large patio of smooth limestone blocks surrounding a smaller circular area covered in crushed red granite, approximately ten meters across.
Positioned around the yard were several wooden pells covered in layers of carpet, with duct tape or rope to secure the material to each post. There were also archery butts, and cross-sections of logs set up for knife and axe throwing. Apparently, this guy knew how to have a fun time. I wondered to myself if girls like Anna had been impressed with this sort of thing before the world went to shit. I also wondered how the guy had ended up getting himself killed.
If I had to guess, I’d have said that it probably had to do with treating survival like a sparring match. Warfare and survival were a far cry from sparring with your friends, that was for sure. Afghanistan had taught me that. And, I was counting on the fact that old Reynard still had a bit too much of the reenactor in him to be any good against a seriously ruthless son of a bitch like myself.
When I walked out into the yard, Reynard was already there warming up with a wooden sword. He was wearing breeches, a wide leather belt, combat boots, and a loose leather jerkin. The waister he was warming up with was a monstrous thing, roughly the size of William Wallace’s great sword. His muscles flexed and bulged in his arms as he swung it around, thrusting and parrying, then using footwork to dance around and follow up each movement with flawless precision.
Without a doubt, this guy knew his shit when it came to period weaponry.
Anna was sitting on a raised dais off to the side, this time dressed in a white lacy get-up that showed an ample amount of cleavage. She may have been worried about all the attention she got from the boys, but she damned sure wasn’t above using it to her advantage, that was for certain. She nodded at me as I walked out into the circle and began pacing about the area. I ignored her; although I didn’t blame her for enforcing her own rules, I needed to keep my mind on the fight, and she was a distraction. I was still human, after all… well, more or less.
Matthew came running up to me from some log benches across the way. All the other boys were sitting around on one side on the benches, watching Reynard warm-up and chatting excitedly amongst themselves. As he strode up, he did a quick bow, and when I didn’t respond he stood up.
“Dame Sweetlove says I am to be your second for this match.”
I stuck out my hand. “Well then, I’m honored.” The kid looked at my hand, hesitated for a moment, and then shook it with no small amount of vigor. “Sir Matthew, tell me about the rules.”
He looked around thoughtfully and then gestured to some racks off to the side. “You are allowed to choose the weapon of your choice. Sir Reynard almost always fights with a sword, and although he’s warming up with the Zweihänder, he’ll most certainly fight you with a standard longsword. I suggest a weapon with some amount of reach—perhaps a polearm, or something to give you some protection like the sword and shield.”
I nodded to show I was listening. “Please, continue.”
He cleared his throat and went on. “The match is fought exclusively inside the ring. If either of you steps completely out of bounds, the bout will be stopped, and you’ll be brought back inside. This is merely a safety precaution and not a stipulation against running to evade an attack, although it is considered poor form to step out of bounds—”
I gestured to interrupt him. “How do I win?”
“Well, normally when we practice, it’s to the first touch. But in this case, you’re fighting a trial by combat. So the match ends when one person concedes or when one or the other contestant cannot continue.”
I chuckled. “So, I could just throw down my weapon at the beginning of the match and claim forfeit?”
Matthew looked at me in horror. “Why would you want to do that? Besides, if you did so you’d be declared craven, and they’d place you in the stocks for a week.”
I smiled. “Alrighty then. So, I get to choose my weapons. I can’t concede the match outright, at least not without serious repercussions. And, the fight continues until one of us can’t go on. Anything else I should know?”
Matthew looked over at Reynard as he considered my question for a moment, and then he looked me in the eye. “Be wary of his tricks. He is fond of feigning fatigue, and then he sucks you in to finish you off with half-sword techniques. He’s also a bastard when it comes to grappling, and likes to throw his opponents hard to the ground. I once saw him knock a man out in just such a manner. Remain on your guard at all times.”
I slapped the kid on the shoulder. “Thanks for the advice, Sir Matthew. You are indeed an honorable man.” He cracked a slight smile, nodded, and then walked off behind me to take a knee at ringside.
I looked around, stretched my arms, and yawned. Then I sauntered over to the weapons racks to see what I could find. Although Matthew’s advice was sound, I knew that this would be no picnic if I had to fight Reynard’s fight. He was used to fighting guys who fought the way he did, and likely beat them with a combination of superior speed, power, and guile. So, I intended to fight him in a way that allowed him to use none of his skills in the manner to which he was accustomed.
Stalling for time while looking through the racks, I waited until Reynard selected a wooden longsword, just as Matthew had predicted. Now that I knew what I’d be fighting against, I chose a pair of sturdy gladius-style short swords of sufficient weight and length. Typically, most shorter practice weapons were made tip heavy, both to produce grip strength and to strengthen the wrists and shoulders. I intended to use that to my advantage, because while Reynard undoubtedly was using a practice weapon that was as close to his everyday carry as possible, it meant that his narrow longsword would be lighter and hit with a bit less impact than the thicker short swords I’d chosen. I assumed that he chose that sword because he likely intended to wear me down, in an attempt to humiliate me in front of Anna.
Me? I had no such intentions, and planned to introduce this guy to the down and dirty blade fighting methods of Southeast Asia. I grabbed the two swords and spun them in my hands to get the weight and feel of them, and then strolled out to the mark that had been placed on my side of the ring. Tuck walked out to the center, and instructed our seconds to inspect the other fighter’s gear and attire. The kid who walked
over for Reynard was the chubby boy who’d carried all my firepower back yesterday, and he looked me over with more scrutiny than a pissed-off TSA agent. He gave a curt nod to Tuck, then jogged back over to his own side. Matthew inspected Reynard’s waister, patted him lightly to check for hidden weapons, and then nodded to Tuck and ran back past me, presumably to wait until it was time to drag me out of the ring.
Tuck backed out of the way, looked at each of us in turn, and then shouted, “Begin!”
NINE
CONTEST
Reynard practically sprang to the center of the ring, so I moved quickly to meet him halfway and then started circling away from his probing thrusts and slashes. He was spry for a big man and wasted no motion whatsoever. Me, I merely backed away from his cuts and thrusts and used the ring to the best advantage possible. I knew I couldn’t run forever, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to see how Reynard moved and to wait for him to commit to a powerful attack.
While I was still sizing him up, he leaped forward and began to attack with a series of two-handed cuts that came at me from different angles. And man, was he fast; almost superhumanly fast. In fact, outside of practice with Gabby, I’d never seen a human move as quick as this guy.
Thankfully, my serum-enhanced perception speed and reflexes were working just fine, so I took one more step back, and then flipped my left-hand sword around into a reverse grip. I rushed forward into his next attack, using the flat of the sword like a tonfa to block his weapon and allow me to get in close. I used the handle of the sword in my right hand like a fist load and punched him right in the mouth… once, twice, three times as I wrapped my left arm around his arms and stepped on his lead foot to keep him from backing up on me.