The Echo

by M C Sheridan

  “Fight?” said a voice from one of the tables. “Someone say fight?”

  “Fight?” came another voice with a keen inflection.

  An elven male with dark braided hair pounded his fist hard on the table causing his plate to jostle, “Fight!” he said with even more enthusiasm than the last.

  Lake slapped his hand over his eyes, “Oh, gods.”

  The elf pounded his fist on the table, again and again, encouraging others to join. The sound of knuckles and mugs rapping against wood quickly grew. Soon feet had been brought into the equation when boots stomped in unison against the loosened floorboards. “Fight, fight, fight!” They chanted over and over keeping in time with the rhythmic pounding of fervent fists and heels causing the room to hum and vibrate beneath Quesys’ feet.

  Lake turned to the zealous crowd, “No, no. No fight here.” he said waving his hands about. “Go back to your lunches.”

  The stomping ceased. An “Awwee…” came from the disappointed crowd.

  “Whaddya mean no fight?” said the elf who had instigated the chant. He stood from his seat and haughtily swung his braid off of his shoulder. “You know the rules.”

  “Yeah,” replied Lake pointing to the she-elf, “but she doesn’t.”

  Quesys looked around puzzled, “What rules?”

  The elf sighed dramatically, “The ‘f’ word. You only say it when you’re looking for one.”

  “A fight?” asked Quesys obliviously.

  Lake dragged his fingers down his face with a groan.

  A hulking half-zorn stood from his table. His lips curled up into a smile, exposing his sharp pointed teeth. “Yes, fight! You hear that? The tiny one wants to Brawl!” His yellow, cat-like eyes seemed to glow with zeal.

  “No, Brikk,” shouted back Lake, “I said no. She’s here to learn, not scrap for money.”

  Quesys arched her brow, “Money?”

  Lake turned to her, “Uh yeah. Heh. See, sometimes we work long hauls and the guys tend to… get a little bit antsy for entertainment. So every once in a while we put on a boxing match—”

  “—a fight!” interjected the displeased elf.

  Lake rolled his eyes at the elf, “Yes, thank you Crestien.” He turned back to Quesys, “A fight and we… bet on it. Like I said, stupid I know. It’s just how things work around here.” he turned back to his crewmates, “Show’s over guys. It’s not happening.”

  Crestien clacked his tongue, “Figures. She probably doesn’t wanna ruin that pretty uniform of hers.” he said sitting back down with a thud. He sighed as he pushed around the meat on his plate with his fork. “She’s too squishy to fight anyways.” he stabbed at his meal with the utensil. “All meat and no muscle.” The elf glared at Quesys as he bit off a mouthful of beef. His eyes daring her.

  Quesys lifted her brow. After a brief pause, she looked back to Lake, “Alright. Draw up the circle.”

  “What?” asked Lake. “You want to fight?”

  Brikk slammed his fist on the table with joyful enthusiasm, “The tiny one will fight!”

  A cheer erupted from the men at the tables and the stomping commenced. This time it followed a less rhythmic and more chaotic beat.

  Lake scratched at his neck nervously, “Quesys I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  Quesys shrugged, “Sure I do. Win fight. Get money. Doesn’t sound complicated to me.”

  Lake gave an anxious smile, “Quesys, this isn’t self-defense class. You could get hurt.”

  She patted him once on the chest, “It’s sweet that you care but I’ll be fine.” She turned to the rest of the crew, “Alright. How do we do this?”

  Brikk grinned cheekily, his lower fangs jutting up over his top lip. “A challenger! Who will fight the puny female?”

  Quesys swept her gaze across the room, eyeing the silent crew members. She put her hands on her hips. “Really?” she asked. “All that fuss and no one?” She smirked at the elf with the braided hair, “Crestien, is it? How about you?”

  “Me?” Crestien placed his hand to his chest with a chortle, “I don’t think you know what you’re asking here, princess.”

  Quesys gave a shrug, “I think I do. I think this sack of meat is asking you to put your coin where your mouth is. Or are you afraid I’ll mess up that pretty mane of yours?”

  A quiet ‘oooooh’ came from the rounded lips of the crew as they looked to Crestien for his response.

  Crestien smirked, “Alright. Fine.” He released his fork letting it drop to his plate, “You know, I don’t normally fight females but…” he brushed the crumbs from his hands with a clap, “What the lady wants, the lady gets. Draw up the circle boys. I plan to get back to my meal before it gets cold.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Quesys followed the cheering crew up on deck. She remained quiet as she focused on the clamor around her. The shouts of excitement and mirth that came from the people placing bets was something she came to associate with pleasure. She smiled as her ears picked up on the clinking of coins rattling around in their pouches as they reached for them. The boastful laughter that came from those betting against her made her giddy inside. All of it, a feast for her alone. A beautiful melody, she thought, that even Darcassian himself couldn’t match, and it fueled her.

  Brikk stomped over toward her, his long dark hair seemed to float on the wind as a gentle breeze lifted it. With his dark greyish-green skin and rippling muscles, Quesys would have considered him quite handsome if he wasn’t so intimidating. “Here.” said Brikk. The 6’6 half-zorn opened his large, fist revealing a roll of gauze.

  Quesys smiled, “Why, thank you Brikk. And here I thought I would have to fight bare-knuckled.” She took the gauze from him and began wrapping her hands in the white cloth.

  Brikk leaned down over her, his large frame blocking the sun from her vision, “I got four copper on you, she-elf and the captain bet his best jacket.”

  Quesys leaned to the side. Behind Brikk she saw Captain Rusty waving to her with a childlike grin.

  Brikk narrowed his bright yellow eyes on her, “Do not disappoint.”

  Quesys’ lips turned into a thin line, “I’ll uh, do my best.”

  The half-zorn gave a curt nod and turned toward the rest of the crowd.

  Lake walked up beside her, “Are you sure about this, Quesys? You don’t have to do this you know. I can say something.” He looked down to her bare legs, “I could tell them your not… properly dressed.”

  “Are you kidding?” She said grabbing a handful of her wool skirt. “Could you imagine if this was any longer?”

  Lake blushed, “Well, I was about to say…”

  Quesys chuckled, “You try to do a high kick in a long skirt and not get all tangled up in it. This is the next best thing to linen breeches.”

  “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” said Lake. “Not that you can’t stand up for yourself, I mean. I’m just… okay cards on the table, I don’t know whether to act supportive or chivalrous here. This is kind of new territory for me.”

  Quesys smiled kindly at him. “You be whatever you wanna be. I’m gonna earn some coin.” She reached into a small cloth sack that dangled from her skirt belt. “Here.” She said handing it to Lake, “There’s a whole silver in there. Could you place a bet for me?”

  Lake held the coin flat in his hand, “You want me to bet on you?”

  Quesys nodded, “Yup. By the looks of this crowd, I’m sure almost everyone is going to bet against me. If I win I’ll make a tidy profit.”

  Lake looked over his shoulder noticing several of his fellow crewmates laughing and pointing over at the tiny she-elf. With a sigh, he turned back to face her, “If that’s what you want then... supportive it is.”

  “Thank you, Lake.” Quesys stood up on her tip toes and softly kissed his cheek, “Wish me luck.”

  Lake stood still as she walked away from him toward the circle. He put his hand to where her lips had touched him. “Good luck.” he sa
id with a worried smile.

  Quesys confidently strolled up to the center of the deck. The crowd parted as she made her way to the makeshift ring. Crestien was already waiting for her in the circle.

  She caught the tail end of a conversation Crestien was having with one of the crewmen, “—easy coin.” He said turning to her with a smug look.

  “Alright, settle down.” shouted a human with blond, greased-back hair, “Let’s go over the rules.”

  As the blond man began spouting off terms, Crestien leaned toward Quesys and whispered, “Are you sure you don’t want to back out now, she-elf? There’s no shame in it. Well, there’s some shame but I’m sure you’ll get over it. Now, if you’re only looking to impress the lad, well…” his eyes wandered to the front of her blouse and back to her unflinching gaze. He smirked, “I’m sure a few unfastened buttons would accomplish that.”

  The left corner of Quesys’ lips quirked up into a smile.

  The slick-haired human continued shouting out rules as he counted them off on his fingers, “…nothing below the belt, no scratching, no kicking, no-”

  With her eyes still fixed on Crestien, Quesys shouted, “—How about Swizz’s rules.” she said biting off the announcer’s words.

  A derisive laugh came from the crew of sailors. “Hah, you got yourself a live one Crestien!” said a mocking voice from the crowd.

  The greasy haired human stopped and looked down at the she-elf with a furrowed brow, “Swizzlestix’s rules? Are you sure?”

  Quesys’ smirk grew, “If that’s alright with you, Crestien?”

  The elf moved his eyes around the crowd. The murmur of his crewmates grew with each passing second of his delayed response. Clearing his throat he responded, “Uh yeah. Swizz’s rules. Fine, fine.”

  “Alright,” said the human blinking, “fine, Swizz’s rules; No magic allowed…” he paused for a moment and looked down at Quesys. In a whisper, he asked, “Are we doing everyday rules or Thursday rules?”

  Quesys gave a curt nod, “Everyday rules.”

  The human nodded back and continued addressing the crowd, “No magic and no weapons of any kind. Everything else is on the table. First one to pass out or to step out of the circle, loses.”

  Crestien stretched his back and loosened his shoulders with a shrug.

  Quesys clenched her fists and began lightly hopping on the spot.

  The slick-haired human raised his hand, “Ready… fight!”

  Quesys put her hands up to her face, readying herself for his first attack. It came quickly. A punch toward her face was instinctively swatted away by the she-elf. A second punch followed and she deflected it with the back of her right hand. For that split second, Crestien left his body unguarded and Quesys took advantage. She made a quick jab at his torso, slamming her fist into his chest. The elf gasped as air was forced from his lungs.

  Quesys turned her body to kick at him when his arm swung down, catching her foot before it could make contact.

  Crestien huffed. With her foot hooked in his arm, he ducked and aimed for her exposed belly. He connected with a precise strike.

  Quesys wheezed as she jerked her foot free from his grasp. She stumbled backward clutching her stomach.

  “Had enough?” he said, still gasping for air from Quesys’ first blow.

  Quesys sneered.

  Crestien made a motion with his hand for her to come at him. Quesys steadied herself and held her hands back up to her face.

  She swayed from side to side waiting for his attack that came on suddenly. She blocked his right hand coming at her from the side. Then again from his left. She went to retaliate and made herself vulnerable to a quick palm strike to the cheek.

  The crowd gasped as the she-elf’s face whipped to the side from force. Silence came as she straightened herself again and put her hands back up in defense.

  A few audible sighs of relief came from the crowd followed by the sounds of many others scoffing. As the fight continued the din quickly returned and the crew continued placing their bets.

  Again, Crestien came at her. Twice he would let her deflect and the third time he’d make his strike. One, two, three. One, two, three. Block, block, punch. That was his rhythm and Quesys was beginning to understand the dance.

  He’s too quick and he doesn’t seem to tire, she thought to herself. One, two, three. Block, block, punch. Quesys was growing tired. Block, block—duck. She dipped out of the way and turned fast enough to deliver a blow to his kidney. Crestien grunted as he arched his back in pain. This was her chance. The she-elf rushed forward with a palm aimed at his chest. As the she-elf came at him, Crestien swiftly turned to the side, avoiding the blow. The she-elf lurched forward, catching nothing with her attack but air. In retaliation, Crestien aimed for her face. Without thinking, Quesys turned her cheek, letting the side of her nose catch his fist. The crowd was divided between hisses and cheers as she stumbled back once more. Crestien taking advantage of her unsteady gait, swept his boot behind her knee, catching her leg and stealing her balance. She tumbled to the ground, landing on her tailbone. She rolled backward making space between them and stopping inches from the circle’s boundary.

  Quesys groaned and grabbed at her now throbbing lower back. Crestien huffed as he limped forward. “Had. Enough?” he said, through clenched teeth. He looked down at the she-elf, his eye twitching from pain.

  Quesys breathed heavily. The sweet, metallic taste of blood trickled from her nose down the back of her throat. She spat.

  The elf swallowed his breath, “No eh?” he chortled. He stepped toward her.

  Quesys, feeling the sting of her tailbone pressing against the hard wood of the ship, struggled to push herself up to no avail. With her sights to the ground, she cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at Crestien’s approaching feet. Quesys’ vision quickly darted back up to him and she grinned wickedly. Crestien lifted his elbow high, ready to come down on her with a knockout blow. With one swift motion, Quesys lifted up her right leg and forcefully came down upon his foot with the heel of her shoe like a hammer to a nail.

  “Gyyaaaahhh!” howled the elf as the color drained from his face. Tears welled up in his eyes at an impressive rate as he hopped from the circle without a second thought.

  The crowd took a step back and watched in confusion as the elf, shuffled away with a limp.

  Favoring his left foot, Crestien made his way to the hatch below deck. As he descended, the elf cursed loudly in several different languages. Quesys decided that if she had the chance, she would later compliment him on his goblin dialect.

  With a smile, she looked up at the human with the greasy hair, “Well?” said Quesys with a mouthful of blood clinging to her teeth. “Did I win?”

  Dumbstruck, the slick-haired judge blinked. He took Quesys by the hand and helped her up to her feet, “Fellows…” he said raising up Quesys’ arm, “The winner!”

  The cheers that came from Brikk and Captain Rusty were immediately drowned out by the groans of those who had just lost a considerable amount of coin.

  “Quesys?” said Lake as he ran over to the she-elf. “Quesys, are you alright?”

  Quesys grinned, “I sure am.” she said rubbing her tailbone. “I won.”

  Lake laughed surprising himself, “I saw that.” he put his hand on her face. “You took a good walloping too. Let me see.”

  “Ah. Careful.” hissed Quesys as she swatted away his hand.

  “Sorry,” said Lake, “I just needed to check. Looks like your nose isn’t broken so that’s good.”

  Quesys chuckled, “Thank the gods for small favors.”

  “Still, you got some nasty cuts.” He unwrapped the gauze from her hand, “and your knuckles look pretty beat up too. I should probably take you to see Perthus.”

  “Perthus? What’s a Perthus?” asked Quesys, pinching her nose to stop it from bleeding.

  “A very talented healer.” replied Lake, “He uses a mixture of magic and herbs to heal anyone on board
who needs it. C’mon. He should be in the crew’s quarters by now.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “So, you see,” said a tiny gnome in a squeaky voice, “That’s why the combination of magic and herbs is so important.” Perthus rubbed a white sticky ointment on a cut above Quesys’ eyebrow and continued, “Magic can heal quickly but there are sometimes complications afterwards and that’s why the herbs help so much in the long term and vice versa. It’s not uncommon for us healing mages to know a little herbology. Combining nature and magic can have some extraordinary and amazing effects, you know. Why do you think the druids are so sought after for their healing powers?”

  Quesys winced from the sting of the ointment. “Do you know many druids?” she asked clenching her nails into the wood of her chair.

  “Me? Personally?” asked the gnome. He thoughtfully stroked his long white and grey beard that hung well past his chubby three-foot frame, “Nooo. But I had a friend once. Glavic was his name. He was studying to be a druid at the time. He was good at it too, as I recall. His kin didn’t care that much for the idea though. He’s a dwarf you see, and as you know, dwarves aren’t exactly the greatest Echo manipulators. They mostly just dig and fight and dig and fight. There’s not a single dwarven druid I can think of but he was determined. Been years since we crossed paths. Last I seen him, he was still practicing his craft. Heh. Wonder whatever happened to him.” Perthus shook his head, snapping back from his thoughts, “So yes, the Echo is quite helpful for healing those in need. Almost essential really.” He put both his hands over the broken skin on her knuckles and his brown eyes began to glow a brilliant bright white. Quesys didn’t blink as she stared, enamored by his white glowing eyes. She could feel the magic as it flowed from him, like a ribbon of warmth winding itself around her followed by a delightful tingling that enrobed her wounded hand. Perthus’ lips curved downward and his eyelids began to droop as her hand fell from his grip.