“Those are the wisest words you have uttered since setting foot in the citadel, boy,” Kallistos declared loudly, again drawing approving cheers from the crowd. “Now step off my field so that I might give these good people something meaningful to cheer for.”
The crowd roared with unified approval at this latest insult, causing Nikomedes to flush with anger.
“Guardsman Nikomedes surrenders,” Nazoraios declared with no small amount of amusement in his voice. “Exit the field, guardsman, so we may crown a champion and proceed to the festivities in Zenobios’ honor.”
Nikomedes could not have cared less about any festivities, but he was mildly surprised to hear that they were being held on Zenobios’ behalf. Public displays of gratitude for warriors were generally reserved for when those warriors accomplished some meaningful feat—and the rescue of an abducted baby, along with recovering that baby’s family wealth, was far from significant enough to warrant a special festival, so Nikomedes suspected that Zenobios had done something fairly remarkable to warrant such a reception.
Although, it would likely be a mixed experience for the man after having his face rearranged by Nikomedes just a few minutes before Nikomedes himself left the field and made his way to the bench near the Hold Mistress’ bench.
He pointedly did not make eye contact with Kephus, but it was not shame that kept him from doing so. It was the fact that he knew Nykator’s eyes were on him, as well as those of the wizened Nazoraios, and he did not wish to give them any more information than absolutely necessary.
At least I can watch Kapaneus and Kallistos do battle, he thought grimly as he fought the urge to rub the back of his head where Kallistos had dishonorably struck him.
“Kapaneus,” Nazoraios said, his voice silencing the crowd, “and Kallistos will now face each other for the sixth time in this tournament’s history.”
As Nikomedes watched, he saw Kallistos eyeing Kapaneus appraisingly. In spite of his recent defeat still figuratively—and literally—ringing in his ears, Nikomedes felt a thrill of anticipation as the two squared off. He could learn much more by watching them this way than he could have done by fighting them individually.
“Combatants,” Nazoraios said in a raised voice, “begin!”
The competitors engaged, with Kallistos moving lightly on the balls of his feet and Kapaneus driving forward with brutal, ruthless efficiency as he made high and low attacks. After eight exchanges, Nikomedes could tell the two were well-familiar with each other’s style as they almost comfortably went through the early motions of feeling the other out.
Nikomedes could not quite tell whether or not their hesitance was due to genuine uncertainty or if it was something decidedly less honorable, but after another seven exchanges he became increasingly convinced it was the latter. Their movements and maneuvers—while drawing gasps and cheers from the crowd—were not those of two men seeking to undo one another. Rather, they appeared to be a well-disguised dance where each man knew what the other would do before he did it—precisely like a stage actor would know his ‘opponent’s’ actions long before he took them.
Nikomedes’ brow lowered thunderously as he watched them continue the ‘duel,’ which would yield no useful information for him to incorporate into his plans, and stood to his feet making his disgust no secret.
He turned, deciding to leave the spectacle to the onlookers, but Lady Adonia’s ice blue eyes met his before he could do so and they somehow held him in place. She regarded him in cool, calculating silence for several seconds before turning her attention back to the farce taking place on the field and curling her own lip in disgust.
He was uncertain whether she meant for him to stay, but the fact that she found the display unsavory gave him an idea. As Kapaneus and Kallistos continued their mock duel, his mind raced as he ran through the possible outcomes of taking the action which he now contemplated.
Nikomedes knew he needed to stand out from the others in some way, and it seemed that the Land Bride felt much as he did regarding the dishonest display taking place on the tournament field. This bespoke her own ability as a warrior as much as her personal ethics, since only a real warrior could see through the ruse of Kapaneus and Kallistos’ fake fight.
So he turned slowly and deliberately to face the field, remaining standing and watching the two ‘combatants’ for several more exchanges before Kapaneus disarmed Kallistos and send him sprawling with a short blow to the back of his head. They were nearly at the center of the field by the time Kapaneus landed the blow, so Nikomedes could not genuinely tell whether or not Kallistos had been put down by the blow or if it was simply a good piece of choreography.
“Kapaneus is the victor,” Nazoraios declared with what seemed to be genuine enthusiasm, and the crowd cheered with somewhat muted enthusiasm. It was clear that he was the heel while Kallistos had been the crowd favorite—likely owing to his silken tongue—but the crowd seemed to have genuinely expected Kapaneus to win.
Kapaneus strutted to the section of fence behind which the Hold Mistress, Protector Nykator, and the Land Bride sat. Nykator stood and gestured for a boy to move to the fence. The boy did so, holding a pillow before himself with a drape laid over it, and when he came to Nazoraios’ side the old man removed the drape to reveal a bronze crown of laurels which glinted in the last orange rays of the sun as it neared the horizon.
“Receive your honor, Kapaneus,” Nazoraios instructed, and Kapaneus removed his helmet so he could allow the older man to place the crown over his head. “Our thanks go to all of the competitors who have taken the field this evening,” Nazoraios congratulated, “the festival will begin shortly before midnight. Let us now thank our competitors as they deserve.”
The crowd hooted and howled, clapping wildly as Kapaneus took a bow. Even Kallistos seemed to enjoy the moment, though it was clear that while they may have worked together in their ‘duel,’ Kallistos and Kapaneus had no love for each other.
The crowd began to dissipate, but Nikomedes did not move. Kallistos’ eyes eventually found his own, prompting Nikomedes to begin removing his armor as he glared at the other man.
“Why do you remove your armor, guardsman Nikomedes?” Kallistos asked in mock surprise, causing nearly a fourth of the departing crowd to turn in confusion before they saw what Nikomedes aimed to do. Kapaneus eyed Kallistos before doing likewise to Nikomedes, but Nikomedes paid him no attention.
“There is a matter of honor between you and I, Kallistos,” Nikomedes said after removing the armor from his torso and beginning to do likewise with the pieces covering his arms, “which must be resolved before we can quit this field.”
He felt the Land Bride’s eyes on him as he continued to doff his battle gear. He also felt Kephus’ gaze on him, and he could sense the displeasure from the other man as he continued to prepare for his next fight. He ignored Kephus, however, and kept his eyes pinned on Kallistos.
“I admit that I am attractive,” Kallistos said playfully, his tone belying the hardness of his eyes, “but I fear I must refuse your advances, Nikomedes, since from a very young age women have found me irresistible—and I them.” A chorus of snickers came from the nearby crowd, including from Hypatios Nykator himself, but Nikomedes kept his eyes on Kallistos.
“You talk too much, Kallistos,” Nikomedes growled after removing the last piece of his arm protection and proceeding to remove his greaves, kilt, and boots. “You betrayed me on this field,” he continued tightly, “and honor demands that I redress that betrayal before leaving it.”
“I fear the guardsman’s ego has been bruised,” Kallistos said conspiratorially as he turned to sweep the crowd theatrically. “But I do not recognize the source of your discontent, Nikomedes, since my word was never given that I would not betray you. Consider it a valuable lesson,” he added with an insufferable twinkle in his eye, “one which I graciously provided you free of charge.”
Again the crowd snickered, this time more vociferously, but Nikomedes was not about to l
ose the initiative to the man’s glib tongue. “Do you refuse to face me as Men made us, Kallistos?” he demanded a bit more hotly than he had intended.
“I refuse to recognize where you have been wronged, Nikomedes,” Kallistos flared, finally showing genuine emotion rather than a well-kept façade. “I find your interpretation of honor as repugnant as your stench, boy,” he continued scathingly, “and would not subject myself to the presence of either any longer than necessary!”
He turned his back on Nikomedes, who had just finished removing the last of his armor and stood with only his codpiece covering his skin.
“Then I say you are a coward, Kallistos,” Nikomedes roared angrily, putting more emotion into the words than he genuinely felt, “and that you are unworthy of the honor I have shown you with my challenge.”
“Kallistos!” Nykator’s voice boomed as the silver-tongued warrior began to walk away. The Protector’s voice froze Kallistos in his tracks, and the tournament’s runner up turned to face Hypatios Nykator with a barely-concealed scowl on his face. “I will not allow one of my commanders to refuse public challenges—however unfounded they may be,” he said, his voice barely above a growl.
Kallistos looked ready to retort, but something in his warlord’s visage kept him from doing so. He drew a deep breath and then sighed emphatically, “I suppose my largesse can accommodate a second lesson for this bumpkin today.”
The crowd cheered as Kallistos began to strip out of his fancy armor, which came undone far more quickly than Nikomedes’ armor had done. Nikomedes was uncertain whether or not this was due to excessive practice due to the supposedly insatiable interest Kallistos experienced with the ladies or if it was simply due to his armor having been of finer quality, but at that moment he could not have cared less which it was.
“Nikomedes challenges Kallistos in Naturales,” Nykator’s voice boomed across the field, causing the milling crowds as far as Nikomedes could see to turn in unison. “Kallistos accepts,” he added, making no secret of his amusement at his lieutenant’s discomfort at having to do as he had been commanded.
Nikomedes easily scaled the wooden fence and landed on the balls of his feet before removing his codpiece and moving toward Kallistos, who did likewise and stood ready to meet him not far from the fence.
“Does the Hold Mistress approve of this contest taking place without the Great Hall?” Nykator asked, acting as if receiving her approval on the matter was more of an afterthought than a primary concern—which, by all rights, it should have been something the Protector did prior to sanctioning the bout at all.
Hold Mistress Zosime nodded after Nikomedes turned to make his respect to her. “I do,” she said airily before resuming her seat, causing Adonia to do the same with what could only be deemed an eager look on her face—a look which was quickly masked when Nikomedes made eye contact with her.
“Then by all means,” Hypatios Nykator boomed, gesturing to Nikomedes and Kallistos, “let’s get it on. However, since I happen to share some of Kallistos’ reservations regarding the validity of guardsman Nikomedes’ challenge, I’m restricting this bout to five hundred beats of the drum. Declare the count at intervals of fifty, Nazoraios,” Nykator instructed.
“Of course, Protector,” Nazoraios replied, the barest hint of a sour note in his voice as he turned to the drummer. Satisfied that he was ready, Nazoraios turned back to face Nikomedes and said, “The bout begins with the first strike of the drum. Drummer…strike!”
The drummer, holding a stick in each hand, began to rhythmically beat the leather drum and Nikomedes knew he had no more than two minutes to finish Kallistos before the assemblage or he would lose the challenge by default.
He also knew that would be more difficult than normal since he would still need to hide his speed, but he had several moves which could end the fight within that interval, so without waiting for his opponent to so much as flinch he lunged at Kallistos with his right hand cocked.
Kallistos’ footwork easily carried him out of Nikomedes’ swing path, his body swaying well to his right as Nikomedes’ fist found nothing but air. Nikomedes followed the punch with a long, sweeping kick of his left leg, which Kallistos also avoided.
Kallistos fired a short, crisp right hand at Nikomedes’ jaw, and Nikomedes barely slipped the lightning fast attack. Kallistos’ thumb actually caught on his ear, causing bright pain to flare across the side of Nikomedes’ scalp as the other man swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet in order to avoid Nikomedes’ counterattack.
“Fifty!” Nazoraios called out just as Kallistos’ right leg slammed into Nikomedes’ left arm. He would be lying if Nikomedes said that the blow did not hurt, but it did hurt less than he had expected it to given the man’s admittedly fine, robust physique. Nikomedes knew from experience that some men, no matter how muscular they looked, were simply made of weaker stuff than others and it appeared that—given the fact that he was comparing him with the top warriors in Argos—Kallistos had something of a deficiency in the raw strength department.
But the dandy clearly made up for that shortcoming with superb footwork, agility, and coordination. He jabbed three times in rapid succession, causing Nikomedes to dive under the third punch and rush toward Kallistos’ legs.
Kallistos reacted more quickly than any man Nikomedes had fought before him, sprawling out on top of him and denying Nikomedes the chance to clasp his long arms around Kallistos’ hips in preparation for a body slam into the dirt—the first of Nikomedes’ chosen moves for finishing this fight within the allotted time.
“You should go back to the farm,” Kallistos growled as he hammered punches into Nikomedes’ kidneys while using superb balance to deny Nikomedes the opportunity to complete his takedown attempt. Nikomedes decided to abandon the move, eating another kick to his left arm as he broke away from the other man. “I’m sure the sheep miss you—especially at night,” Kallistos added with a sneer as he launched a six move combination featuring punches, kicks, and knees as he deftly avoided each of Nikomedes’ counterattacks.
“One hundred!” Nazoraios declared, signifying that one fifth of the bout’s allotted time had already expired.
Trying to hit Kallistos was like trying to hit a leaf adrift on the wind while using only one eye, but Nikomedes did manage to land a left kick to Kallistos’ head which clearly stunned the other man for a brief moment. Kallistos’ footwork, however, was good enough to avoid a follow-up attack long enough to regain his sense of equilibrium and initiate a takedown attempt of his own.
Nikomedes sprawled his legs back to defend against the smaller man’s shot, but too late he saw that Kallistos had only made the attempt as a feint. After Nikomedes had sprawled, Kallistos delivered a vicious knee to his jaw which briefly saw his vision fill with stars and the ringing in his ears to return.
If the knee had been delivered by a man with greater strength than Kallistos, it may well have rendered Nikomedes unconscious. But he was able to keep his feet beneath him as Kallistos followed the surprisingly effective ploy with leg kicks and a short, crisp elbow which caused Nikomedes to bleed just below the left eyebrow.
“One fifty!” Nazoraios declared just as the stars began to clear from his vision.
Nikomedes saw Kallistos’ leg driving toward his liver, but was unable to block in time and the shot struck with a surgeon’s precision. But Nikomedes was able to trap the leg against his body with his right arm, which he clenched as tightly to his body as he could before bringing his left elbow up and slamming it down onto the other man’s thigh.
Kallistos had clearly expected Nikomedes to punch at his head, and a brief yelp of pain escaped his lips as Nikomedes felt his elbow bury itself in the rope-like muscles of his opponent’s thigh. Nikomedes slammed his elbow down again, aiming for Kallistos’ kneecap, and he suspected that it would take only a handful to seriously damage the limb.
Kallistos’ assessment seemed similar, as he launched a kick with his right leg—the only one which had remai
ned beneath him—at Nikomedes’ head.
The blow caught Nikomedes by surprise, and again his vision was filled with stars. He kept hold of Kallistos’ leg throughout the haze, however, and the two began to scramble after falling to the ground in an awkward heap when Nikomedes’ balance finally failed him.
Kallistos’ foot slammed into Nikomedes’ head after they hit the ground, but Nikomedes’ vision was already returning to him along with his sense of balance. He knew that in a fight on the ground he held a measurable advantage in both strength and size, so he moved to grapple with the other man while Kallistos fought desperately to extricate himself from Nikomedes’ iron grip.
The scramble continued for several seconds until Nazoraios called out, “Two fifty!”
Somehow, Nikomedes had missed the call for two hundred drumbeats, but he did not care. If he kept his hold on Kallistos, this fight would soon be over.
Kallistos had clearly arrived at the same conclusion, and he somehow managed to get his feet beneath him before Nikomedes could complete his body lock. Growling in anger, Nikomedes kicked out with his right foot as he released the grip, tripping the other man and sending him to the ground where he landed on his pasty, pampered rump.
Knowing Kallistos would soon regain his feet, Nikomedes surged forward like a mad bull and wound up as though to deliver a vicious front kick to his face using his right leg. Kallistos flinched, swaying his head to the outside of Nikomedes’ kick path, but Nikomedes had already shifted his weight over his hips by slamming his right leg down while bringing his left up and hammering his left instep into Kallistos’ ear.
Kallistos’ eyes rolled around, but he kept his feet beneath him as Nazoraios called, “Three hundred!”
Nikomedes rushed forward, surprised at how quickly his opponent was able to backpedal even while stunned, and saw Kallistos’ eyes lock onto his after just a few seconds. Nikomedes knew that the other man would just run away if he let him recover, since the onus was in no way on him during this honor duel, so Nikomedes feinted a takedown in the hope that Kallistos would sprawl.
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