From the far side of the crowd, a hushed murmur begins as the spectators begin parting for a procession of several individuals making their way to the fight area. “They’re here,” states the barkeep.
Five men come walking toward them, four of them obviously being from the Empire. The fifth man, larger than the rest is wearing a hooded cloak which covers his features. As the men approach, the one in the lead says, “We’re here. Where is the man to face our champion?”
Jiron steps forward and says, “Right here.”
Looking Jiron up and down, he grimaces and says, “I thought you had someone who would be more of a challenge than the last couple.”
“He can fight,” the barkeep says nervously. “I saw him in action myself.”
The man considers it for a moment and then nods his head, “So be it.” Saying something in their language to the rest of his group, they make their way over to the pavilion where they prepare.
“Hope you can fight well,” the barkeep says nervously.
“Why?” asks Fifer. “What difference would that make to you?”
“If they have another poor fight, it could be bad,” he admits.
“Been bringing him a few losers?” Jiron asks.
“You could say that,” replies the barkeep. “After the first couple of fights, no one around here is willing to face their champion.”
“Just who is their champion?” Fifer asks.
“A very fierce warrior,” he answers. “Brought up from somewhere deep within the Empire. Rumor has it he’s forced to fight for that man there, but why has never been told.”
“Interesting,” muses Jiron.
“Looks like they’re ready,” the barkeep says.
Glancing to the pavilion, Jiron sees the leader of the group and the large hooded man coming toward them. He and the barkeep, with Fifer staying several feet behind proceed to meet them in the center of the cleared area. A hush falls over the crowd as the two fighters meet.
Jiron looks beneath the hood but even with the light of the many torches illuminating the courtyard, he’s still unable to make out anything underneath.
The leader says something to his fighter who removes the hooded cloak.
Jiron hears Fifer gasp as the features of the man he’s to fight is seen. Tattoos cover most of his exposed skin. Bearing two swords, one longer than the other, Jiron knows exactly who or rather what his opponent is. A Parvati!
Breaking out in a grin Jiron gives the Parvati a friendly nod. A murmur grows through the crowd at his reaction. Never has anyone shown a reaction other than startlement or fear when he removed his hood. Now here’s this man, shorter and only bearing knives, giving him a friendly nod.
The expression on the Parvati’s leader’s face shows his confusion as well. He has always revealed his warrior’s features at the last minute to instill fear and doubt in his opponents. But that didn’t happen here and he doesn’t know why.
If the Parvati has taken any notice of Jiron’s nod, he fails to reply. His expression remains placid.
The barkeep steps between them and says, “There’s only one rule here. He who lives, wins!”
At that the crowd around them begins to cheer and call out. Raising a red flag high over his head, he continues, “When I let this go, begin the fight.”
The barkeep watches as the crowd moves back a little bit further to give the combatants room to fight. When he sees enough room has been cleared he waves the flag in a circle around his head. Just before he drops it, Jiron says to the Parvati, “May your swords drink deep.”
Stunned that he would know to say the traditional Parvati greeting, the Parvati stands there motionless when the red flag is dropped. “May your knives drink deep,” he says a smile coming to him as he draws his swords.
Jiron draws his knives and the battle begins. The Parvati begins with a few testing maneuvers to see how strong his defenses are. After several passes, he begins the fight in earnest.
When Jiron realized that he faced a Parvati, his first inclination was to produce the necklace and declare himself a Shynti. But what the barkeep said kept running through his mind. Rumor has it he’s forced to fight for that man there.
Working more on defense than actually trying to do him harm, Jiron easily blocks every strike, deflects every thrust. “Why do you do this?” he asks the Parvati during a series of intermittent probes from the Parvati.
“Do what?” he asks as he launches into a vicious attack which Jiron has a hard time in countering.
“This. Fighting for that man over there,” he clarifies. “From the Parvatis I’ve known, they would never let themselves be used thus.” Blocking an attack, he steps back a minute as they both catch their breath.
The crowd has been cheering the interplay of weapons. Over beneath the pavilion, Jiron can see the leader of the Empire’s men smiling. He’s definitely getting his money’s worth.
“I am honor bound to fight for him so long as he doesn’t set me against my own people,” the Parvati states. Coming at Jiron again, his blades are a veritable blur as they seek to penetrate his defense. But as Jiron is only concentrating on defense, he’s unable to find an opening.
“What happens if he should set you against one of your own?” he asks.
“Then I am free and no longer honor bound to obey him,” he replies. Stepping backward a moment, he says, “But that is not a very likely possibility.”
As the Parvati moves in to continue the attack, Jiron steps back and shouts “Hold!”
Only the fact that what he said was so unexpected did the Parvati pause in his attack. The crowd surrounding them, which had so recently been cheering and screaming at the fighters, have grown quiet at the odd way in which the combatants are acting. Blood should be flowing now, instead they’re standing still, facing one another.
Jiron glances over to the men from the Empire as he draws forth the necklace which signifies him as being a Shynti. An honor given only to the most ferocious of fighters, an honor which makes him one of them.
When the necklace comes free of his shirt and the Parvati’s eyes rest upon it, he asks in a hushed whisper, “Where did you get that?”
“I was given this by an old Parvati after defeating one of their number during a blood duel in the city of Korazan,” he explains.
“You’re a Shynti?” he asks, hardly daring to believe what his eyes are telling him.
The leader of the men from the Empire begins to sense things are not going as expected. “What’s all this?” he asks as he comes forward. “Fight!” The crowd filling the courtyard begins murmuring as they watch the scene playing out before them.
Ignoring the man, Jiron nods his head and says, “Yes, I am. I have feasted with the Eller Tribe.”
“Did you meet a warrior whose name was Qyith?” he asks as a strange look comes over his face.
Nodding, Jiron replies, “He was the War Leader of the Eller Tribe. A nice man all things considered.”
“He’s my brother,” states the Parvati. He suddenly tilts his head back and lets out with a loud, primordial cry.
Reaching their side, the man from the Empire grabs the Parvati’s arm just as his cry comes to a close and demands, “Why have you stopped the fight?”
Knocking his hand from his arm, the Parvati rounds on him and says, “I will no longer fight for you.”
“What?” exclaims the man. “You are honor bound to fight as I tell you!”
“No more will I fight honorless fights for you,” he states with finality. Pointing to Jiron, he says, “He is a Shynti of the Parvati’s which makes him one of our people. You put me to fight one of my own so that which was binding is no longer. I am free!”
The crowd, having grown restless when the fight stopped, becomes silent as they watch the growing drama unfold before them. From the pavilion, the rest of the Empire’s people come forward to stand with their leader.
“He is no Parvati!” the man cries out in rage. The thought that he’s going t
o lose his champion is almost more than he can stand. “If you do not honor your agreement, then you are an honorless swine!”
Moving so fast as to almost be unseen, the Parvati’s sword strikes out, severing the man’s head from his shoulders. As the head flies off and bounces on the ground several feet away, the crowd becomes deathly silent as the man’s torso stumbles about for a moment before crashing to the ground.
For a moment, the courtyard is silent as a grave, the shock of this unexpected event stunning the onlookers. Then the rest of the men from the Empire draw their swords as they rush the Parvati to avenge the death of their leader.
Laughing, the Parvati faces them with both swords as he blocks the attack of two men. The crowd suddenly turns into a panicked mob as they race for the exits of the courtyard. None wish to be around with an actual battle going on, not just because they may get hurt, but because they don’t want to be around when the city guard arrives.
Deflecting the attack of the two men, the Parvati has left himself open to the thrust of the third. The blade almost strikes his side when its course is deflected by a knife. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jiron coming to his aid. Laughing all the more, he cries out, “Come brother, let’s send these men to the other side!”
“I’m with you!” Jiron cries out as he follows through with his second knife, narrowly missing the man’s stomach.
Suddenly, one of the men facing the Parvati cries out as Fifer’s sword takes him through the side. The remaining man facing the Parvati hacks down with all his might. Using his longsword, the Parvati knocks the attacking blade to the side and then follows through with his short sword, sinking it to the hilt between the man’s ribs. Wedged in tightly, the sword is pulled from his hands as the man falls to the ground.
Jiron, now fighting the sole remaining man, captures his sword between his knives and kicks out, catching him in the groin. With a groan the man’s strength leaves him for but a moment which is all the time Jiron needs. A quick twist of his knives and the sword is wrenched out of the man’s hands and sent flying across the courtyard.
Jiron steps back from him just as a longsword strikes out, taking the man’s head from his shoulders. Glancing to the side, he sees the Parvati move to where his shortsword is still embedded in the dead man’s chest. Placing a foot on the dead man, he draws out his sword. Wiping both swords clean on his opponent’s clothes, he turns to see Jiron staring at him.
“Thank you my friend,” the Parvati says.
Jiron only nods as Fifer comes to him and says, “We’ve got to get out of here!”
From around them they can hear the shouts and running of feet as the city guard races into the courtyard. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the man with which he made the bet on the outcome of the fight. Running over to him, he asks, “Where’s my money!”
“What money?” the man asks.
“I won so where’s the money you owe me?” he demands.
Giving him a sardonic smile, the man says, “Your winning the bet was contingent on you winning the fight.” Nodding to the approaching Parvati, he adds, “He’s still alive so you didn’t win.”
“But…” he begins when Fifer grabs his arm. “We can’t stay here!” As Fifer drags him away, the man’s laughter follows him.
Suddenly from across the courtyard, men of the city guard begin pouring in from a side alley. “Guards!” cries out Fifer as all three of them bolt for an alleyway on the opposite side of the courtyard.
“Just a second!” he says as he alters his course slightly and heads over to the pavilion.
“What are you doing?” yells Fifer. The guards are coming fast toward them, one of them yells, “Halt! Stay where you are!”
Jiron reaches the pavilion and grabs something off the ground before turning to head for the alleyway where Fifer and the Parvati are waiting for him. With a quick glance back at the approaching guards, he enters the alley. Racing down to the other side, they pray they can prevent being caught.
Chapter Eight
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Startled out of a deep sleep, James sits up in the dark. At first not sure just what awoke him.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Again the incessant knocking upon his door thunders through the night. Getting out of bed, he notices the knocking hasn’t bothered his friend Dave who is still snoring blissfully. Dave always had been a deep sleeper. In a sleepy haze, he makes his way over to the door.
He snaps completely awake when on the other side of the door he finds a squad of the castle guard standing in the hallway. “Are you James?” the officer in charge asks.
“Yes,” he replies.
“You’re under arrest,” he says.
“What?” he exclaims in disbelief. “What for?”
“I wasn’t told that,” the officer replies. “Now, please come with us.”
“Let me at least get dressed first,” he says.
The officer glances at him standing there in his small clothes and nods. As James begins closing the door, the officer pushes it back open with his hand and enters. Several of his guards come in as well.
“What’s going on,” a groggy Dave asks from where he just woke up.
“I’m being arrested!” states James as he begins dressing.
“Arrested?” asks Dave, coming full awake. “Why in the hell are they arresting you?”
“I don’t know,” he says.
A commotion begins out in the hallway and then he hears Illan’s voice say, “James!”
“Illan,” he hollers out to him. “They’re arresting me!”
“Let me through,” he hears him say to the guards blocking his way into the room. One of the guards out in the hallway glances inside and when he receives a nod from his officer, steps aside and allows Illan to come in.
To the officer, he asks, “What’s going on here?”
Nodding to James, he replies, “He’s being placed under arrest.”
“By whose order?” asks Illan.
“By order of the Royal Court,” the officer says.
“Why?”
“He won’t say or doesn’t know,” James tells him. Finally dressed, he glances into the worried eyes of Dave and says, “Stay with Illan. I’m sure we’ll have this all cleared up in no time.”
“Okay,” he says.
Escorted out of the room, the guards fall in place around him as they lead him down the hallway. As he leaves the room, he sees a worried and anxious Miko standing in the hall not more than a few feet away.
“James?” he asks, fearfully.
“Don’t worry,” he assures his friend. “I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding.”
“I hope so,” he says as Illan comes out of the room and they watch him being led away. Just as he begins descending the stairs, he hears Miko holler, “Don’t eat anything!”
Don’t eat anything. That’s good advice. On a previous occasion back in Lythylla, he had eaten food laced with a narcotic which rendered his magical abilities useless. He may get hungry, but he really doesn’t plan on eating or drinking anything while he’s incarcerated. He just may need his magic working.
Outside the inn, their party turns down the street toward the gate leading into the castle area. The streets are filled with soldiers and guards. “What’s going on?” James asks his guards.
Unresponsive, they ignore his question as they continue marching on toward the gates. Once past, he’s led across the courtyard and through the gates of the castle itself.
The flurry of activity within the castle is even more harried than that which was witnessed outside. Pages are racing through the halls and men-at-arms are stationed everywhere.
Instead of taking him to the Royal Court as he at first expected, they take him through a different set of hallways and finally down a flight of steps into what has to be the castle’s dungeon.
At the bottom of the stairs lies a room with several holding cells for prisoners. Currently they’re all empty though
they look as if they could hold several hundred in a pinch. They move to the first pen and one of the guards opens the cell door. The guard behind James pushes him on the back, indicating for him to enter.
Seeing no benefit to resisting at this time, he acquiesces and walks forward. Turning around to face his guards as they close and lock the door, he sees them about to leave and asks, “Can you at least leave me a torch for light?”
One of the guards gives him a look of contempt and says, “You’re supposed to be some fancy mage, why don’t you make your own light?” His fellows all begin chuckling and laughing at that.
Shrugging, James says, “Very well.” Suddenly, the entire area is filled with a blinding white light as dozens of extremely bright orbs blossom into life throughout the room.
The reaction from the guards is all he could hope for when they turn tale and run out of the room. Chuckling to himself as the last man runs up the stairs leaving him alone, he cancels the spell. The darkness of the holding area lasts but briefly before his normal glowing orb springs to life next to him on the bench. He leans back and tries to get comfortable.
Smiling to himself, he feels under his shirt and rubs the slug belt he had put on when he got dressed to come here. The guards hadn’t even realized what it was. Alone in the dark, he ponders why he’s here and waits.
After James and his escort of guards goes down the stairs, Illan gestures Miko to follow him into James’ room and close the door.
To Dave he asks, “Just what happened?”
Shrugging, he looks up from where he’s sitting on the bed and replies, “I don’t know. They just came and took him.” Dave’s command of the language has greatly improved over the last week or so. Being completely immersed in it has helped. Though still not understanding every word and nuance, he’s a quick learner.
“What are we to do?” Miko asks.
“You two stay here and I’ll try to find out what’s going on,” he says.
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