by Dave Skinner
“How much is the purse?”
“Usually four gold pieces.”
“Weapons or hand-to-hand?”
“No weapons. It is just a friendly match. Are you interested?”
“Why not,” Ran stated.
The man stood. His gold teeth flashed again. “I will see what I can arrange. Be here around mid-afternoon,” he stated before leaving the table.
Bray watched the three leave the common room. “I hope you know what you are getting yourself into.”
“Oh, what can possibly go wrong?”
Bray heard Mearisdeana snort. It summed up his thoughts exactly.
***
Gold-teeth returned in the late afternoon, trailed again by his two large protectors. He led Ran, Bray and Mearisdeana to an open storage area behind a warehouse down by the dock gate.
“The fights are organized and controlled by the Bentmen,” he explained as they walked. “Anyone can put a fighter in as long as they pay the entrance fee. I paid your fee for you. We will add it to the three silver you owe me and take it from the prize money.”
“And if Ran does not win, what happens then?” Bray asked.
“Then he only wins on his side bets, right?” Ran stated.
“Exactly,” Gold-teeth answered with a laugh. “I cannot lose no matter who wins.”
“Who are the Bentmen?” Mearisdeana asked.
“They are the thieves’ guild,” was the answer.
Ran noticed that Bray was shaking his head again. Gold-teeth pushed his way through a crowd of men into a cleared circular area. “Wait here,” he ordered. Ran watched as he made his way across the open space to a group of men gathered around a bare-chested individual he figured was the other fighter. Ran striped his jerkin off and started stretching.
“We have a problem,” Gold-teeth announced when he returned. The referee says the match is not even. You are in a different weight class than your opponent. The match is forfeit, and they will not return the entrance fee. You now owe me another three silver.”
Ran smiled. He had been expecting something like this. He continued to play his part. “Is there nothing that can be done? Do they have a larger fighter?”
“Their heavy-weight fighter is not around,” Gold-teeth paused, “but you have another fighter available.”
Ran expected Bray to say something, but he just stood silently shaking his head. Eventually Ran spoke. “I would do it if I could, Bray, but you heard them, wrong weight class. Not my fault.”
“It is always your fault, Ran,” Bray stated as he stripped off his jerkin, “and it always lands on me.”
Bray made his way to the centre of the circle amid cheers and jeers. Ran bent his head to Mearisdeana. “Follow my lead, girl,” he whispered. “Who are you betting on?” he asked Gold-teeth.
“I have to go with the regular. No offence to your friend, but I have never seen him fight.”
“What are the odds?”
“Three-to-one on the regular.”
“Will you take a bet of one gold on my friend?”
“I thought you were broke.”
“Not for me, for his girl here.” He pulled Mearisdeana forward.
“I hope you know what you are doing,” Mearisdeana whispered when the bet was firm.
“Watch,” Ran answered.
The two men circled each other testing for an opening, searching for a weakness. Ran had fought Bray many times over the years. He knew that Bray would wait for his opponent to make the first strike. He would block a few punches and kicks to gauge the man’s strength and speed before he made his own move.
The man attacked with a sequence of blows using knees and feet, an attempted elbow jab and a flurry of punches. Bray blocked them all. His next attack was almost identical to the first. Ran identified where he would make his move if he was fighting. The final punch was a roundhouse aimed for the jaw which he would allow to strike his shoulder as he stepped in to begin his own attack.
Bray must have decided on just that move because as the man finished his next flurry of strikes, Bray did exactly what Ran would have, but instead of initiating his own attack, Bray rolled away from the punch to his left shoulder. His left arm dropped to his side. Ran saw Bray attempt to raise the arm, but it looked as if it was a dead thing. As Bray spun away from the man Ran saw the blood on his shoulder. He glanced towards Gold-teeth who was displaying all his gold, but his smile disappeared immediately as Ran reached out and grabbed him by the ear. Gold-teeth’s body guards started to step forward.
“Take one step and I will rip this ear off his head,” Ran growled. Mearisdeana spun around to face the bodyguards. Ran saw that her knife was in hand. The two toughs stepped back. Gold-teeth whimpered.
Bray’s opponent started another attack. His face ran into Bray’s foot. He staggered back. Bray’s second kick struck the other side of his head causing the man’s eyes to glaze. Ran listened for the sound of the man’s knee breaking as Bray foot struck the side of his leg. “Softy,” he thought when the sound did not come. The fighter still crumpled. Bray stepped forward onto the wrist of the man’s outstretched arm and then stomped his other foot onto the man’s hand. A piece of metal with three wicked spikes extending from it rolled from the man’s now open hand.
Ran stepped forward dragging Gold-teeth by the ear. “You call that unarmed?”
The circle suddenly became larger as men started to shuffle away. “Hold where you are!” an authoritative voice said softly. “Kill anyone who tries to leave,” the voice continued. A barrel-chested man stepped into the circle as guards carrying crossbows suddenly appeared at the entrances to the yard. His authority was obvious as the man walked to Bray. He knelt and picked up the device from the downed fighter’s hand.
“Sorry, son, this type of thing is against my rules. How is the arm?” Ran heard him say. For such a large chested man his voice was amazingly soft.
Bray was able to move his arm some. “Getting better,” he responded, “but be careful, there is some type of numbing agent on those spikes.”
The man motioned to the large henchman with a scarred face who had followed him into the circle. “Take him to the warehouse and find out who put this together.” The downed fighter was lifted by his hair and dragged away.
“Make your payments, or gather your winnings, and get lost,” he ordered the crowd. He turned and walked over to Ran with Bray following behind.
“I am named The Baker,” he announced when he reached Ran. “I lead the Bentmen here and, no, I do not call this unarmed.” He held out the metal. “What can you tell me about this, Watt?” he asked Gold-teeth.
“Never seen it before,” Watt whined. “Make him let me go, Baker. My ear is almost off.”
“When I find out what I want to know, Watt. Terry was your fighter, right?”
“Yes, Terry fights for me, but I would never put him up to something like this.”
Ran was sure he could guess how this talk was going to end. “This weasel owes us money,” he told The Baker.
“Well then, by all means pay up, Watt.”
Watt managed to reach into his pouch and extract some coins. “I could do this better if you let go of my ear.”
Ran kept his outstretched hand open and the other one closed around the man’s ear. Watt started counting coins into it.
“Four gold for winning the fight, and three more for your bet. The last has to be in silver. I do not have any more gold pieces.”
Ran released Watts ear, and picked six silver coins from the wealth now gracing his palm. “The three I owe you from last night, and the three for the entrance fee.”
“The entrance fee is only two silver,” The Baker announced.
Ran reached over and picked a silver coin back out of Watt’s hand. “If I see you again, Watt—” He left the sentence unfinished. “Let us return to the inn. I need something to wash this bad taste out of my mouth.”
As they w
alked away, Ran heard The Baker speaking quietly. “Now, Watt, let us find Terry, and see what he has to say for himself.”
Chapter 44
The three companions had just finished dinner when Bray recognized The Baker’s henchman as he entered the inn’s common room. He made his way to their table. “The Baker would like to see you,” he announced. “He said there was no rush if you were still eating.”
“I believe our meal is finished,” Ran informed him as he stood. Bray and Mearisdeana followed his lead.
The henchman led them to a bakery not far from the inn. The Baker and three other men were seated in a large space outside a smaller inside office. A lamp sat on the table, casting the only light except for the glow from below the ovens in the back.
“Thank you for coming,” The Baker said in his soft voice, while a friendly smile graced his heavy features. “Please have a seat. Did you get dessert at the inn? I have a lovely apple pie here if you are interested.”
“It smells wonderful,” Mearisdeana answered immediately. “I would love a piece.”
“Certainly,” The Baker motioned to his henchman. “Anyone else?”
All the others indicated no. The Baker waited until Mearisdeana had her pie before he proceeded.
“These three business men were Watt’s partners,” he explained to Ran and Bray. “Watt has left the business, and they assure me that they knew nothing of his deviations from the rules. I am inclined to believe them. They also tell me that Watt has left them in an awkward position. Their reputation has been destroyed by his actions, and the debts they had to pay out after the match today were enough to ruin them. With their reputation gone they have no way of reversing their fortunes and, unfortunately for them, they still owe me money for my services. If they could stage another fight they might be able to recoup their losses and start over. I was wondering if you would be interested in fighting tomorrow.” He addressed that question to Ran.
“The same amount of prize money?” Ran asked.
“Yes.”
“What about the weight class?”
“That will not be a problem. Their heavy-weight fighter has returned to the city.”
“And they feel they will make enough money with one fight?” Bray asked.
“They will put it forward as a grudge match. Their heavy-weight fighter is the older brother of the man you beat today.”
“I have no problem with that,” Ran told everyone.
“I would like to state one condition,” Bray put in before anyone could slap the table. “This is the last of it, no matter who wins, no matter how hurt either fighter is at the end. As long as no weapons are used there can be no recourse. This ends the business.”
When no one objected, The Baker slapped the table. “You have my word on it.”
***
When they pushed through the crowd into the circle the next afternoon Bray laughed aloud. “Well, they got the heavy-weight part right,” he said with a grin.
“That man is a giant, Ran!” Mearisdeana said with concern.
She was right. The man was huge; a full head taller than Ran by Bray’s estimate, powerfully muscled, and long faced like the moose he resembled.
“They probably call him Tiny,” Bray observed.
Ran finished stripping off his jerkin and started stretching. Ran was a big man, muscled and rippled like the warrior he was, but he looked like a youth compared to his giant opponent.
“You are enjoying this too much,” he commented to Bray who continued smiling.
Bray turned to a man behind them. “What are the odds?”
“Ten to one on the giant,” was the reply.
“Well, I have four gold to support my friend. Any takers?”
He was almost crushed by the number of respondents. With the bets placed, he slapped Ran on the back. “Go get him,” he said as he pushed him forward.
“He is going to get hurt,” Mearisdeana stated.
“Maybe,” Bray said.
“Then why did you bet on him?”
“It is his money. He can do what he wants with it.”
“But if he loses, we are back where we started, without the money to cover his fare.”
“No, he is back where he started. We have enough to cover our fare.” Then he lowered his head and whispered, “Ran has only lost a fight to one person since he turned sixteen years. He will win.”
“Who beat him?” she whispered back.
“Me.”
Both fighters had reached the centre of the circle. The Baker was there acting as referee with a white apron wrapped around him. He had them both open their hands. “When you hear it,” Bray heard him say as he walked to the edge of the circle. He turned and whistled. The giant charged.
Ran ducked left. The giant’s hand barely missed his face. He is fast, Bray thought. Ran rolled left on the next charge also. The giant barely missed again. On his third charge the giant anticipated Ran’s move. At the last moment he reached far to the left, but Ran had ducked right. He spun and launched a brutal kick to the giant’s exposed side. Bray heard ribs crack. The giant, unbalanced went down. Ran attacked without mercy. Bray heard bones break every time Ran’s knees, feet, and elbows landed. He literally kicked the consciousness out of the man by stomping repeatedly on his head. He was not even sweating when he walked back to Bray and Mearisdeana.
There were a number of dark looks as the bets were paid, but no one said a word to Bray although he noticed The Baker was in a heated argument. Bray made his way over after he collected his winnings.
One of the three men from the previous night’s meeting was arguing loudly with Baker. “You agreed to the conditions,” Baker stated softly.
“But look at our fighter. He will be out of commission for months.”
“You agreed to the conditions, and I gave my word on your approval,” Baker stated.
“I do not stand by your word. You can—”
He never finished his statement. Baker reached out, grabbed his throat, and squeezed. “But I stand by my word,” he said as he lifted the man from the ground. “Do either of you want to say more?” he asked the other two. “Good. Now leave and take this piece of garbage with you.” He dropped the dead man at their feet.
“Come over to my place for pie tonight, Bray. Bring your friends. I am writing a letter of introduction for you to my counterpart in Waysley. It might come in handy.”
Chapter 45
I will be alright, Mearisdeana assured herself. It is a much larger ship. This is my fourth trip on water. There is nothing to fear. It is a larger ship. I will be fine. The thoughts rolled through her mind, over and over, like the waves she could hear lapping on the sides of the ship as they walked up the wharf. The rising sun was starting to chase the shadows away when they reached the Red Witch.
It was a much larger ship with a raised area at each end and a large mast in the centre. Aside from the smell of the water around them, there were no offensive odours coming from this vessel as there had been from the other ones they travelled on. But she could see holes along the side as they approached.
“It has holes in it. We should find another,” she said. Her voice sounded as anxious as she felt.
“They are for the oars,” Ran told her. “Refer to them as oar ports.”
She counted the ports, anything to distract her frantic thoughts. Fifteen holes, fifteen oars per side. Thirty oars in total. It was indeed a much larger ship.
“I see the fellow we arranged passage with,” Bray stated. “Do you remember his name?” Ran said nothing. “Tyhan Door,” Mearisdeana offered. “He said he was the first mate.”
“Right,” Bray turned and walked easily up the narrow plank that accessed the ship’s deck. The plank bounced as he walked. Mearisdeana let Ran go next. She waited for the bounce to finish before she walked the plank, taking care not to look at the water below her. When she reached the end, Ran lifted her down to the ship’s deck, spinni
ng her around as he did. He was in a playful mood with his winnings from yesterday in his pouch.
Mearisdeana could see the difference in this ship compared to the others. The deck was clean and uncluttered. Sailors were busy mopping morning dew from it while others were wiping the railings. Everyone she saw looked busy. This was a cared for ship, even the ropes that still secured them to the dock had their excess neatly coiled into spirals where they lay on the deck adding to the sense of order.
Tyhan Door, also looking clean, trim, and erect, was at their side shortly after they stepped onto the timbers of the deck. “Good, you are here on time. I will get the cabin boy to show you to your berths, and then take you to the captain to pay your fares.” He looked about. “Whitey,” he called. A young boy with hair so bleached it looked white, came running. “Take them to the passenger cabins, and then to the captain. Wait for them and bring the men back up here. I will put you on the oars while we get underway. Then we can talk about your experience and abilities.” He turned and walked away bellowing orders that Mearisdeana did not understand.
“Follow me,” the young boy told them in a voice that cracked. His eyes stayed on Mearisdeana as he tried to see into the shadows beneath her cowl. He finally gave up his attempt, and led them to a door at deck level, leading into the raised area at the front of the ship. They followed a short corridor past a neat cooking area to the last two doors, one on either side of the hallway. “Two berths, one berth,” he told them indicating which door accommodated what. Mearisdeana took the single without comment.
Whitey then led them back out the corridor and across the deck to an entrance in the raised area at the other end of the ship. A stair led to the upper level which was dominated by a large spoke wheel set close to the rear railing. Whitey knocked on the door.
“Come,” a voice commanded.
Whitey opened the door and led them into a large, well-appointed cabin. The right wall contained a built-in, stand-at desk that was surrounded on both sides by square pigeon holes stuffed with rolled up bundles of paper. A number of bundles were spread out on the desktop. Mearisdeana wondered how they made the paper large enough. The left wall contained a clothes chest and a large bed. Mearisdeana estimated it would almost be wide enough for two bodies, but was definitely wider than the one she had glimpsed in her cabin. The rear wall contained a substantial floor-to-ceiling square column that effectively separated two glass doors which were open to a balcony. Everything was made of a rich, highly polished, reddish wood. Along with the odour of the wood, Mearisdeana could almost smell the love that had been lavished on the room. In front of the opening sat a large, carved, wooden desk. Behind the desk and in front of the doors sat a high-backed wing chair containing an individual. Mearisdeana could not see the captain clearly. The light streaming in the doorway was blocked by the chair and placed the person’s features in shadow.