The Sword and the Dragon wt-1

by Michael Robb Mathias

  The air around them crackled and popped. The old woman’s face was wrinkled and withered again. She gave Hyden a blank look that might have been full of fear, then began coughing and gasping for breath.

  Gerard didn’t notice. He was in a trance brought on by the woman's strange prophesying and caught up in his own struggling emotions. She started to gag and was turning purple. The veins in her neck and forehead stood out like earthworms. Even though it was happening right in front of him, it wasn’t registering in Gerard’s mind. He seemed to have his eyes locked onto the empty space where the crone had just been.

  Hyden looked around the tent for a skin of water, or a flask, but he didn’t see anything. He was starting to panic. The woman was choking to death right there in front of them. The telling of the two fortunes had apparently drained the life right out of her.

  Wheezing and hacking, she grasped at her throat desperately. She tried to rise to her feet, but ended up falling on Gerard. He pushed her away hard, as if she were on fire, or contagious. She rolled across the flaming candles and the bloody bones on the floor, and then coughed out harshly one last time. Her body extinguished the flames, leaving the tent in darkness. Her breathing filled the sudden silence, ragged, wet, and harsh, but steady nonetheless.

  “Leave me,” she croaked.

  Her words were wasted. Gerard was already throwing open the tent flap and Hyden was right on his heels. He stopped, and looked back, to make sure that there wasn’t a fire, but he wasn’t lingering. By the light of the lantern poles along the Way, he saw that there was blood, bones, and globs of candle wax stuck to her robes, but she was struggling to rise to her feet. Satisfied, he hurried to catch up to his fleeing brother. He felt guilty leaving her in that condition, but she had told them to go. Who was he to argue with a demon witch?

  Trying very hard to put what had just happened out of his mind, Hyden gained Gerard’s side. He saw that his brother was just as troubled by the ordeal, but Gerard’s expression showed more anger than confusion.

  “Are you all right?” Hyden asked.

  Gerard started to dismiss the question, but changed his mind.

  “I felt…No, I saw her…Shaella, betraying me in a cavern.” He unconsciously covered his ring with his left hand.

  Hyden noticed the protective gesture, but ignored it. He wanted to say that the crone had said that he may or may not be betrayed, but he held his tongue. He could tell that Gerard was confused and searching for words.

  Gerard was searching for words all right, but not in the way Hyden suspected. He was trying to sort through all the strange visions he had seen in his mind’s eye, especially the ones that he wouldn’t dare tell Hyden about. He had envisioned dark and powerful things that he would never speak about to anyone, sinister and malignant things, that he might someday have control over. The idea of it was intoxicating and he liked it.

  “I’ll be going with Shaella,” Gerard finally said. “When they leave the festival for the marshes, I’m going with them.”

  The conviction with which he spoke left little room for argument, so Hyden didn’t bother. He wasn’t sure he wanted to dissuade Gerard from his adventure anyway. The fortune-teller had spoken of great power and of commanding legions. How could Gerard not want to seek out his destiny with the beautiful swordswoman Shaella? As with his own prophetic glimpses, he was sure that there were a lot of truths to what had been predicted for Gerard. Some were obvious. He had already begun using the ring to get his way with the people around him, and he was already considering a journey to a black formation that supposedly resembled a fang.

  “Do you want to go with me to the Brawl?” Hyden asked, even though the idea of watching two men beat the hell out of each other somehow seemed a little less exciting after hearing the old woman’s grand prophecies.

  To Hyden’s surprise, Gerard lit up at the suggestion.

  “Yes! Let’s go. Bludgeon, the Seaward Monster, is in the group going with Shaella to the marshes!”

  Gerard had instantly changed back into the little brother Hyden loved so much. His excitement was contagious, and he picked up the pace as he spoke.

  “He is huge Hyden! His arms are as big as your waist, and his legs are like tree trunks. He’s covered in tattoos, like that fire breathing guy we saw earlier, but without all the red paint.”

  “Lord Gregory, the Westland Lion, is pretty big himself,” Hyden said. He had watched the Lion Lord destroy the Valleyan Stallion a few years ago. Bludgeon would have to be good to win against him.

  “My money is all on Bludgeon,” Gerard said, with a devilish grin on his face. “I already wagered most of my profit on him, all but a few golden lions.”

  “I hope he wins,” Hyden said, wondering why his brother would do such a thing with so much money.

  Chapter 11

  Every year, the Brawl drew a massive crowd, and this year was no exception. The fighting grounds, where the combatants would actually battle, was a circle about thirty feet across. Its boundaries were marked with a rope line, and the area was illuminated from overhead by dozens of lanterns dangling from poles planted into the ground. It was the largest open space the eye could see. Men crowded its edges, buying and selling betting tickets, gold for the Western Lion Lord, and blue for the Seaward Monster. A dozen or more of Wildermont’s most intimidating Redwolf guards worked the perimeter of the fighting circle, trying to keep order where there was none. They were extremely busy. The fight was scheduled to start soon, and everyone was jostling and screaming, trying to get a last minute wager put in.

  A slight, natural hill rose up and away from the ring, thus creating a sort of riser for some of the spectators. Some enterprising young men had also built wooden scaffold stands around the rest of the area. They offered tiered seats above the heads of the rest of the crowd. Seats on these platforms sold for three times the cost of a regular spot. It was from one of these structures that Hyden and Gerard were looking down at the fighting circle. The view they had was one of the best available. Hyden had paid the handsome bit of coin to treat his brother to this, and both were extremely excited and pleased with their vantage point.

  All thoughts of the future and the past were lost for the moment. Hyden had all but forgotten his archery competition, and Gerard was thinking about the fight, instead of how he would explain to his father that he wasn’t going back to the clan’s village when the festival was over. Now, it was time for the Brawl.

  Trumpets were sounding in the distance, and there was a snakelike procession of torch bearers that were weaving their way through the darkened crowd towards the lighted ring. As the parade grew closer, it became clear that it was the Westland Lord and his entourage. The banner they were flying was raised so much higher than the torches they carried, that just a hint of its golden field flashed here and there. Every now and again, the triangular pennant would catch the light just right, to reveal the reared and roaring lion silhouetted on it. Men cheered, and reached out to pat the Westland Lord on his huge back as he passed. Some booed and heckled, and some raised their fists and shouted encouragement. By the time he reached the roped fighting circle, a chant was resounding through the crowd, “LI-ON LORD! LI-ON LORD! LI-ON LORD!” The sound, and intensity of the voices, increased tenfold when the banner man ran around the lighted circle, waving the Westland banner back and forth crazily.

  It became obvious to the boys that the amount people from the huge Kingdom of Westland far outnumbered those from the smaller, eastern kingdoms. The boys didn’t know it, but Westland by itself, was nearly as big as all five of the eastern kingdoms combined. Hyden had already decided that he would buy a map of the realm later. He had seen a map maker hawking maps of the recognized kingdoms while he had been searching for Gerard earlier on the Ways. He wanted to have some idea where Gerard was going, and where Shaella’s home, the Kingdom of Dakahn, was. He knew both places were far to the south, but that wasn’t enough information to satisfy his curiosity. He hoped that someday Berda would show him
on the map where all the places she’d told him about were.

  A loud, groaning crack resounded through the night, silencing all that heard it in an instant. A good portion of the crowd were still obliviously chanting, but those closer to the brightly lit fighting ring, were hushed, and staring at one of the scaffold stands with wide eyes and open mouths. Another crack, followed by a long series of crunching noises quieted the rest of the crowd. Fingers pointed at the particular bleacher as it lurched a few degrees to the side, and then stopped. Screams filled the night when the bleacher fell a little bit farther. The people sitting on it began scrambling down in a mad rush. Some leapt into the throng of people below, some clung to the splintering wood with all they had. It was total chaos. Both Hyden and Gerard watched the whole scene in utter disbelief. More than once, Hyden shook himself in place to check the sturdiness of the structure they were sitting on. It felt good and rigid, unlike the one they were watching. Instead of leaning further over to the side, the whole structure suddenly tumbled straight down upon itself. The massive crowd all watched the madness in stunned silence. A handful of people got caught under the platform when it fell. Dozens were injured, and a few were even killed.

  Again, Hyden tried to rock the scaffolding that they were sitting on. It was sturdy as far as he could tell. Gerard hit him in the arm to get his attention.

  “Look!”

  A great gout of fire jetted up into the sky in the distance, and suddenly the sound of drums filled the silence. It was a feverish beat, deep and solid, and it was being pounded out over the gasps and screams of the crowd. The fallen structure, and the injured people beneath it, was seemingly forgotten. The Seaward Monster was coming to the battlegrounds.

  As with Lord Gregory’s entrance, a long string of torches was weaving towards the circle, but every few moments, fire blasted skyward, lighting the huge combatant, and the four, red painted fire breathers who we’re taking turns exhaling the flames before him. In the bright explosions of light, the rectangular Seaward Kingdom banner, an orange sun rising from a blue sea, reflected clearly and proudly, and a new chant began to form to the rhythmic beat of the drummers.

  “EAST-ERN BEAST! EAST-ERN BEAST! EAST-ERN BEAST!” This mantra slowly, but steadily, overtook the Lion Lord’s chant, as the other eastern kingdom folk, from Valleya, Dakahn, Wildermont, and Highwander all joined in.

  The event was turning into an East versus West grudge battle, which brought the intensity level of the crowd up to a fevered pitch. The betting became furious. The eastern kingdoms, well known for their constant squabbling amongst each other over borders, trade tariffs, and river crossing rights, pushed their differences to the side for the moment to cheer on the Seaward fighter. Nearly all of the people from the eastern kingdoms wanted to see the overbearing Kingdom of Westland’s favorite fighter go down.

  By the time Bludgeon stepped into the circle, the chant for him was completely drowning out the voices of the people still cheering for Lord Gregory. Two of the red and black painted fire breathers, sent up simultaneous pillars of flame for the monster to pass between as he entered the fighting circle. The crowd exploded into screams and cheers. The people that had fallen with the scaffolding were long forgotten as the two brawlers paced around the fighting circle, flexing and stretching their massive muscles.

  Bludgeon was a bit larger than Lord Gregory, Hyden saw, but the Valleyan Stallion had been bigger too. Hyden had been planning to root for the Lion Lord, until he learned about Gerard’s foolish bet. If Gerard lost his wager, his entire harvest this year, and the risk of making it, would’ve been for nothing. The idea of risking that much coin on a gamble disturbed Hyden. He could see betting enough to make the fight more exciting, but the amount Gerard had wagered was extreme. He found himself wanting the giant tattoo covered Seawardsman to win, just so that Gerard didn’t lose all of his money. He glanced at his brother. Gerard was on the edge of his seat with excitement radiating from him like heat from a forge fire. It made Hyden smile despite his concern over Gerard’s purse.

  “I hope you win!” Hyden yelled, but Gerard didn’t hear him.

  Hyden looked back to the fighting circle, and saw why Gerard wasn’t paying any attention to him. Shaella was down there among the fire breathers, wearing a hooded cloak that didn’t quite conceal the bulge of her sword hilt, or the swell of her ample bosom. She threw the hood back, and her face was the most beautiful thing visible in the entire crowd. She spoke a few words to Bludgeon, and then she was pulled out of the roped off area by another tattoo covered Seawardsman, just before the Wildermont Redwolf soldiers began clearing the circle for the Brawl.

  As soon as the ring was cleared, the Redwolf guards took up positions spaced evenly around the battleground. Each of them turned their bladed pike to a horizontal position, and then passed the tip end of it to the guard on his left. When the synchronized maneuver was finished, each soldier had the butt end of his own spear in his left hand, and the business end of his neighbor’s spear in his right. The pike shafts created a waist high rail that was intended to keep the pressing onlookers out of the fray.

  There were very few rules to the Brawl. The main rule was that were no weapons that were to be used by the brawlers. Other than that, it was a battle to the death, unless one of the fighters yielded, or was incapacitated due to unconsciousness, or severe injury. Once a fighter yielded, the other man couldn’t continue to beat on him. If a fighter went down, and lay still for any length of time, he could not be molested until he made it back to his feet. Biting, eye gouging, hair pulling, and blows below the belt, were sometimes booed by the crowd, but were all legal maneuvers.

  A hush fell over the crowd as the two combatants began to slowly circle around each other. When his back was to them, Hyden saw that Bludgeon’s tattoos formed the skeletal shape of a winged creature, whose skull and beak climbed over the top of the man’s head. Its wings and body spread out across his back, the wing tips reached around the back of his arms to his elbows. When Bludgeon’s arms were held at his side, the wings looked to be pulled back, as if the creature were in a dive. When he threw out his arms to dart in at the Lion Lord, it looked as if the tattooed skeleton was spreading out its wings to take flight.

  Bludgeon attacked first, feigning a grappling hold, and then throwing a looping right handed punch. The Westland Lion leaned back, letting the huge fist pass a hair’s breadth in front of his determined face. Then he ducked under with his head down, throwing a thundering flurry of blows to the bigger man’s gut. It sounded like a butcher’s tenderizing hammer, smashing into a thick slab of fresh meat. The Seaward Monster roared and flexed his body. He growled at the crowd, as he took each and every punch without faltering. Then, he brought both his fists down like war hammers into Lord Gregory spine, and sent the Lion Lord to his knees.

  Gerard jumped to his feet, shouting his approval with thousands of others. At the moment, Hyden thought that his brother might have made a good bet. He only hoped that the steadily rocking scaffold they were perched on would hold until the fight was over. Already, it was rumbling and swaying more than he would’ve liked.

  Lord Gregory seemed stunned, but only for a heartbeat. He lunged forward from his lower position, into Bludgeon’s knees, and lifted the big man’s feet clear of the ground. The thump of the Seawardsman’s body when he slammed flat onto his back, into the trampled grass, caused an audible gasp from the crowd. The onlooker’s collective intake of breath sounded in perfect unison with the whooshing exhale from the Monster. Since Bludgeon was still moving around on the ground, the Lion Lord didn’t hesitate to pounce. He leapt to the big man’s waist, straddled him, and began throwing violent hammer blows at his opponent’s head. Left and right, left and right, over and over, he pounded, to the cheers of the Westlanders in the crowd. Lord Gregory’s shoulders rolled with the force of his blows, and soon his hands were slinging blood.

  Just when it began to look hopeless, Bludgeon somehow managed to heave, and bring a knee up into the Lion
Lords back. With a scream of fury, he took advantage of the moment of imbalance, twisted, and rolled out from under the Lion, then staggered to his feet.

  His face was a bloody mess. Already, one of his eyes was swollen closed. The white of his other eye was as red as the blood pouring out of the gaping gash above his brow. His nose and lips were battered flat, and a tooth was missing from his jaw. A triumphant cheer exploded from the groups of Westland spectators when they saw him.

  “Come on Bludgeon!” Gerard yelled down at his fighter. His voice was but one of thousands urging the big man on. He glanced nervously at Hyden, who was already looking at him worriedly. They both cringed in unison and shared that old excited, anything can happen, look. Hyden turned back to the fight and yelled for Bludgeon to “Stomp the Lion!” Gerard joined in the call as the Seawardsman attempted another attack.

  Bludgeon stepped in, just like he had the first time, throwing that same looping right handed punch that had missed. This time, when Lord Gregory leaned back to slip the blow, the Monster took another step forward and kicked out hard. His heavy boot hit the Lion Lord square in the chest, with such force, that the Westlander’s hands slapped his boot tips in midair as he was launched backwards. A cheer and a sympathetic “Oooh!" swept through the mass of people simultaneously when Lord Gregory crashed into the ground in a heap. He tried to roll to his feet, but ended up clutching his chest and yelling out in anguish. Bludgeon saw his chance and dove in at him.

  Momentarily satisfied that his wager was safe, Gerard scanned the edges of the fighting circle for Shaella. If Bludgeon went on to win the fight, there would surely be a celebration. He wanted to be there to see her, to taste her lips again. He wanted to tell her that he was going to go with them to the Dragon’s Tooth Spire. In his mind’s eye, he had seen her betray him there, while the old crone had been telling him his future, but he knew in his heart that he could change that outcome. If he could make her love him, then there would be no betrayal. And if that didn’t work, he knew he could always use the ring to keep her from it. The other things he’d seen happen in that black rocky cavern were dark and grand, and far too tempting to resist. He pondered those vexing thoughts while he searched for Shaella. He looked at the faces, but didn’t see her again. He did, however, see a face that commanded his full attention.