by Andrew Lynch
All the bandits looked shocked, and Heaver dropped his hands, starting to complain. ‘But that’s not—'
Gar floored him. He might not like fighting, but he knew when to give it his all. The form and follow through on this strike could have been used in textbooks the world over. The knife edge of his palm connected with Heaver’s cheek. Heaver had his neck strained, cheek and nose broken, and wouldn’t wake up for several days.
‘I was only joking,’ said Tunney.
‘Can’t be helped,’ the leader said. ‘This man wins his freedom!’
Bandits clapped politely as three of them carried Heaver off to a tent.
‘For future reference, there is no penalty for any of my syndicate, apart from whatever happens in the ring.’ Gar was guided to a chair on one side of the camp so he could watch proceedings. ‘Next! Name?’
‘Just get on with it,’ Jess said. Lucian admired her gumption sometimes. This wasn’t one of those times. Watching her get killed because she annoyed a bandit would… well, he’d probably be more sad about it than she would, actually.
‘What do you think, sir?’ Tunney drawled. Slowly, probably just to show he wasn’t above annoying his hostages.
‘Magic, if ever I’ve seen it,’ the leader said.
‘Rare breed though. No one been through in months.’
‘True. A shame. Your game, Tunney, you call it.’
Tunney looked around and up to the observation point the team had wanted to use, with two bandits still sitting there. He pointed their way. ‘Without leaving the ring, kill those two men.’
Jess turned, raised her gaze to the hapless bandits, and scoffed. ‘I’m above killing unarmed men.’
An odd thing for her to say. Surely killing a Human for her would be like stepping on an ant for Lucian. Right? He was sure she could muster a quick fireball. Collapse a tree with lightning. A localised blizzard, perhaps. She had plenty of time.
Jess was kicked into the ring, although her Elvish grace turned it into a smooth glide and she didn’t even need to dust herself off. Lucian could have sworn he heard Khleb shout “Bloody elves”, but if he did no one else seemed to react. Must have been in his head.
‘You’ve got one minute.’ Tunney ordered one of his men to menacingly sharpen his blade for inspiration.
Jess stood, one hip cocked, looking completely uninterested in her upcoming fate.
‘Come on, Jess,’ Lucian said. ‘You can do it.’
‘It is not about whether or not I can do it, Lucian. It is about principles.’
Lucian accepted this was down to her and that there was nothing he could do to help out as he’d done for Gar. Or was there? He’d freely admit that he didn’t know much about Elvish history - he was still trying to learn Human history after all - but he knew two things about Elves. The first was that they all, regardless of how much extra weight they were carrying, could walk on top of snow and barely leave a footprint. The second… might just save Jess.
‘Quick question!’ Lucian shouted again.
‘Really? All right. Get on with it, she hasn’t got long left,’ the leader replied.
‘Love the work your chap over there is doing with the sword sharpening, but for Jess’ inevitable execution, how about a different weapon?’
‘Your concern is how we kill your people?’ The leader wasn’t following, but shrugged and answered. ‘We have some halberds? Tunney, it’s your show!’
‘We have a morningstar. Could be very messy!’ Tunney said with the utmost enthusiasm, and Lucian imagined that his eyes lit up at the idea. Of course all Lucian could see was a rather dusty patch of dirt and the edge of a blade that had thankfully inched away from his neck a bit. He was losing the feeling in his legs, and almost wished it was his turn next just so he could stand up.
‘Good call, but what about an arrow through the eye?’ Lucian suggested.
‘Had a friend die like that once.’ Tunney said. ‘Not as messy, but very impressive. I'll allow it!’
A bowman moved forward at Tunney’s signal and lined up opposite Jess. Bow held at rest, quiver at his hip in the Western style.
‘He may want to be point blank,’ Lucian said. ‘Wouldn’t want to botch a perfectly good eye shot.’
‘Must say, I do like a leader that thinks of his followers’ well being,’ Tunney approved. He signaled the bowman to move next to Jess.
Jess sighed and looked at Lucian with disdain. Lucian shot her a smile from his awkward kneeling position, and saw her sneer soften just a fraction. Practically a grin by her standards.
Lucian couldn’t keep his head up for long, so dropped it. The dusty dirt was all he could see once more.
The bandits started enthusiastically counting down from ten - apparently keeping track of time was not a problem despite Lucian seeing no dials. They reached two and stopped.
Lucian heard the crash of a man hitting the floor and the thrumming of a bow, fired twice, faster than most Humans could blink. He didn’t need to look up to know what had happened. Elvish archers deserved their reputation.
‘Blood of the Gods,’ he heard Tunney murmur.
Again, Lucian was sure he heard a mutter from Khleb. Maybe Khleb’s speech patterns were identical to those of the bandits. Lucian had no time to think further on this, as one of the bandits guided Jess to sit next to Gar, using the utmost caution, keeping her at sword’s length. His method of disarming her was a “please” and “thank you”.
The leader eventually closed his mouth. ‘Next! Name?’
‘Why do you ask our names?’ Darrius asked. ‘You’re just killing us.’
‘Games have rules. The idiocy! Bandits are well known sticklers when it comes to rules.’ The leader, along with every other bandit, laughed uproariously at the stupid question.
‘Fine. I’m Darrius.’
The leader studied Darrius intently, his gaze flicking between the kneeling man and Tunney. ‘Hmm, a tough call. What do you think, Tunney?’
‘I would have challenged him to a duel myself, but no rapier, so he’s clearly not a duellist,’ Tunney said thoughtfully.
‘See! No rapier, so no one takes me seriously,’ Darrius said to Lucian. ‘Either way, chaps, can we get the kick out of the way?’
Darrius was kicked into the dirt. On his own terms, which Lucian decided was marginally better than being kicked into the dirt on someone else’s terms.
‘Has the look of a bard, perhaps?’ the leader guessed.
‘No instrument though,’ Tunney replied.
‘This is a pickle... well, man, what do you do?’
‘No, no. We can’t just ask him,’ Tunney argued. ‘That’s not fair.’
One of the bandits standing near Gar and Jess uncovered their face. The pushed back hood revealed hair kept in a functional ponytail, and the pulled down face mask showed feminine features. Lucian risked a quick peak, and while he wouldn’t say she was well groomed, she was definitely pretty. He couldn’t hold her unkempt state against her - life on the road was not conducive to personal grooming and hygiene. Jess of course had those things lumped in with her other Elf benefits.
‘He may be an incubus?’ the newly revealed female bandit asked.
‘Why does everyone assume an attractive man is a demonic entity?’ Darrius complained.
‘Ooh, bit full of himself,’ Tunney noted. ‘Maybe we should cut him open and see if he is demonic?’
It occurred to Lucian that Tunney might not be entirely stable.
‘We could do,’ the leader said. ‘Certainly. But let’s just give him a challenge instead?’
‘That works too, I guess,’ Tunney conceded.
After a long debate conducted in a large huddle by the bandits - which was pointless because Lucian could hear everything - he learned almost nothing, except the female bandit’s name: Josie. None of his group were any good at communicating complicated escape plans with just their eyes - although Jess was rolling hers excessively, Lucian couldn’t tell if that was out of bored
om or if she was trying to tell him something. Also, the guild of creative ideas wasn’t losing any standout members to the pull of crime syndicates, if this brainstorming huddle was anything to go by.
They broke the huddle. ‘Okay, that’s settled. I'll duel him,’ Tunney said, not setting another bandit to guard Lucian, which allowed him to sit up. The entire kneeling ordeal was really starting to fray his nerves, possibly more so than the whole life or death situation they had going on here - which was quite common these days. That position could have caused knee and lower back issues for weeks to come.
Clearly Tunney was taking this very seriously. He swapped his broadsword for a jewel encrusted rapier - with all the jewels missing from the hilt, but the blade looked in good shape - and sent two bandits to attend Darius. A professional duellist? Good that bandits had hobbies outside of pillaging and common misdemeanours, Lucian felt.
Darrius was handed a plain rapier and started swiping the air. Lucian thought back to the times he had seen Darrius fight. So far, the bard had been knocked to the floor by a skeleton, knocked to the floor by a wolf, and then knocked to the floor by some sort of dark minion siphoning magic from his master.
Lucian felt that even a fifty / fifty chance would be better than a duel.
‘Quick question!’ Lucian shouted, again. ‘As you mentioned, he’s no duellist. No rapier after all, so how about see if he can, I don’t know... seduce a certain number of your bandits in a time limit?’
The leader seemed to be pondering this, but Darrius spoke up. ‘Don’t worry, sir. I’ve got everything under control.
‘Maybe... enthrall us with a song?’ Lucian pleaded.
‘No, no. I’m all set.’ Darrius shouted to the leader, ‘Three draws, is it?’
‘Three draws or death,’ Tunney answered.
Darrius and Tunney stripped to the waist, keeping only their leggings, boots, and gloves.
Free from a threatening sword-edge, Lucian could finally look around. The female bandits were obvious, as they had removed their facial coverings after suddenly finding themselves hot and flustered. He corrected himself - he could tell which bandits were attracted to men, as several of the male bandits had also practically started panting.
Sure, Darrius stayed in shape, but he wasn’t that impressive. Just a normal guy, really. Kind of attractive if you were into that sort of conventionally handsome look, but he didn’t see why Darrius was the one to get all the ladies. Half the ladies, at least. Lucian put the seed of jealousy out of his mind. Not entirely appropriate right now, especially when it seemed like Darrius would be duelling to the death - and his skills so far made him seem lacking.
Tunney and Darrius stepped into the ring, swords at their side, focused only on the other fighter. Lucian wasn’t much for duels, but he knew that three draws meant that the first to draw blood three times, won. One could of course just run the opponent through. Not normally legal, but they were in the middle of a crime syndicate, and Tunney certainly showed sociopathic tendencies, so Lucian accepted that was a definite possibility.
With complete lack of ceremony, the leader said, ‘Fight!’
The bandits either fanned themselves - suddenly feeling the heat of the day, Lucian was sure - or stood with arms crossed, unexcited. Gar removed his great fur, presumably having worked himself into a sweaty frenzy of fear for his friend.
The two men stalked straight towards each other and four steel retorts sounded out. They both stepped back, swords lowered. Darrius seemed calm considering the circumstances. Lucian was not. He was beginning to shake with nerves, and needed a way to release the tension.
‘Come on!’ was all that seemed appropriate. Lucian admitted he wasn’t at his most creative when under stress. Other bandits joined in, and gentle cheers of encouragement were being half heartedly spoken.
Darrius and Tunney circled each other, the first exchange just seeing if one of them could get lucky. Having decided the other was of adequate skill, they watched and waited.
Tunney flicked his sword up, and feinted, but Darrius moved to block. Tunney took advantage and went for Darrius' exposed flank.
His sword high, Darrius rotated his wrist down and pivoted his body, knowing his arm would be too slow. It looked awkward, but he managed to knock Tunney’s blade off target. With nowhere else to go, and both men inside the other’s effective range, Tunney lunged forward, his body clashing with Darrius, sending him sprawling. It was hardly sportsmanlike.
Tunney stabbed his sword at Darrius' torso. Darrius wriggled out of the way as best he could, but ended up with a deep gouge on his left arm.
‘Point!’ The leader shouted, his face covered in a tension Lucian hadn’t noticed before. He was finally taking this seriously. Perhaps he actually cared if Tunney lived or died.
Gentle cheers rose from the crowd. And a few hisses. Lucian couldn’t be positive, but they seemed to come from the women.
Darrius picked himself up, muttered under his breath, and shook himself off wiping his face clean. He looked to the leader for a nod, got it, and went straight for Tunney.
Darrius swept the bejewelled sword to the side, and threw a punch squarely at Tunney’s face. It turned out Tunney could take a punch, and didn’t go down. But it did make him stagger. Darrius slashed at his dazed opponent, causing an eruption of curses, regarding the habits of several of the more powerful Gods, to come from Tunney’s lips.
A few seconds later, Darrius walked back to his side of the ring, getting a bandit to tie his wounded arm above the gouge.
A red line belatedly drew itself across Tunney’s chest. Diagonally up from his left side, jagged along his collarbone, and trailing off at the top right of his chest.
‘Point!’ The leader said, his professionalism pushing through his cracking voice.
Lucian looked at the two men, and something struck him. Neither of them were covered in scars. Did that mean they were both exceptionally good? He had just assumed that Darrius had never really duelled before and that’s how he stayed so beautiful.
A bandit moved to patch up Tunney, saw the long line across his chest, shrugged, and left him alone.
The rest of the bandits were silent, presumably not daring to risk Tunney deciding to gut them.
Lucian looked at Jess and Gar. Jess was barely paying attention, and Lucian wondered if that was just an Elvish thing. Perhaps their face for focusing was the Human face for not paying attention. He made a note to ask her later.
Gar on the other hand, was a visible bundle of nerves. He was hunched over, wringing his hands, licking his lips, and muttering to himself. He looked like a Nilfeen merchant that hadn’t managed to pack his stall up and run before an angry high lord returned - following some rather good haggling in their last exchange.
The leader seemed tight lipped and nervous. Lucian could sympathise. No one wanted to lose their second in command.
Lucian spared a moment’s thought to wonder how close Moxar was to catching up to them. Had the ogres already performed for him? Maybe Tuggok had already chased the pair out of their arena-home, and Moxar would arrive at the bandit camp to find Lucian and his - recognisable - team about to be slaughtered. Possibly even before they had planted the vital Quest directions. And what was Khleb up to, anyway?! Moxar would doubtless rescue them all heroically, but Lucian really didn’t want to become tangled up with an enraged Hero. Especially if one of the Company spies was somewhere around, keeping an eye on his performance here. He had to come up with ideas for getting them out of the camp quickly.
And alive.
Meanwhile the two men, satisfied they had let the blood flow for long enough that it was artistically styled for the coming round, closed again. Or maybe they were catching their breath, but the former seemed more likely.
They both looked angry, but they also both knew that rash decisions would get them impaled.
A few testing strikes.
A lunge or two leading to nothing.
Then Tunney went for it.
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br /> But Darrius had seen it coming, making his own lunge, and an elegant spin forwards brought him to Tunney’s rear.
Try as he might, Tunney couldn’t turn to defend himself. A slash - and a thwacking noise, like that of a fist hitting a slab of meat - and Tunney flinched away from the strike, dropping to his knees.
An audible gasp came from the crowd, and for a moment it seemed that maybe Darrius had played the duel well, but had forgotten to play the crowd. The group was surrounded by a gang of bandits that wanted to kill them, after all. Tunney slowly brought himself up, but couldn’t stand straight, remaining hunched. He limped to his side of the ring.
‘Point!’ the leader conceded after tense moments.
Darrius let out a breath and retreated to his side.
Gar was practically bouncing up and down, having to stop himself from clapping. Jess seemed very interested in a nearby tent, finding the lives of mortals rather dull.
Darrius gave Tunney his time. With luck, Darrius remembered that killing him was a bad idea, but also knew that he was wounded severely on one side. The last point should be easy enough.
Eventually Tunney turned, ready to fight. Darrius needed a single point, and Tunney needed two. Lucian was feeling like this might actually be possible.
They closed, and Darrius added some showmanship to his fight. Several times, he let Tunney past his guard. Several times, he blocked a strike at the last second and swirled away. The previous brutality was seemingly forgotten by the crowd as they started to cheer at each exchange.
Tunney was clearly too weak to win this fight now, and Darrius was milking it. He wasn’t mocking his opponent, but he had no intention of scoring a hit any time soon, enjoying the pageantry of the duel. It was subtle. Lucian doubted Tunney, or any of the other bandits noticed. Darrius was making it seem like a close call every time their blades touched.
Lucian wished Darrius would just get it over with, as he would need some reserves of adrenaline for his own challenge. He was feeling drained just watching this spectacle.
Gar knew Darrius well enough, and could see he had won, so was finally sitting back. He mopped the sweat from his brow, and put his great fur back on.
