by B. H. Savage
“Still having a hard time finding decent paying jobs, I take it?” he asked. “You know I could always use a pretty face like yours in the tavern.”
“I appreciate the offer, Byron,” she told him, but ignored the comment. “Here’s the money for last night.”
Anye reluctantly handed him the money for her stay the previous night. Now she didn’t even have enough for the next day unless she found something, and her hopes for that were dwindling. “Has anyone come to you posting any work I could take?”
“Nothing you’d like, I’m sure,” he told her. “Andrew Burns is looking for someone to help tend to the animals on his farm…the McAlister’s want to hire a nanny-”
The thought of caring for infant children made Anye shiver.
“That’s what I thought…” Byron said with an old laugh. “And…oh yes. I just remembered there is something you might like.”
Anye raised an eyebrow at the old man. “Well, what is it?”
“Lord Taggart’s annual tournament is coming up in a few days,” he told her. “He calls for all the strongest warriors in the land to battle it out for gold, glory, and in most cases women.”
“A tournament? Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Anye asked him as she tried to hold back her annoyance. “I’ve been looking for work as a mercenary and nobody will hire me for a job. If I won a tournament I’d have enough reputation to overshadow my being a woman, Byron!”
“True, but there’s a one hundred gold piece entry fee, and you said you’re tight on money,” he explained.
Anye’s irritation turned immediately to disappointment and understanding. “A hundred gold coins?” she repeated. She didn’t have enough left for another night at the inn, let alone enough for a spot in the tournament brackets with a cost that high, and if he had told her about it sooner she wouldn’t have been able to stay at the inn as long as she had.
“That’s also what I thought,” the old man told her.
Anye slumped into one of the chairs of the inn’s lobby where the old man worked and sighed. She felt hopeless again, but not as much as she had when she was stuck in the castle dungeon, but being homeless and poor was almost as bad. At least in the dungeon she would have been fed and sheltered until she was executed.
“I’ll make you a deal, Amy,” Byron said to her as he opened a drawer behind his desk. Before he continued to speak he pulled out a sack that jingled with the sound of coins and placed it on the counter where Anye could see it. “I’ll sponsor you in the tournament.”
Anye felt beyond confused. The old man had been kind to her, but never like that. “For what, exactly?” she asked. “And why? You never actually believed me when I said I could handle a blade.”
“A cut of the prize money and a promise that you’ll return to stay with me exclusively in Bridge Port until you purchase your own property,” he explained to her. “I’m too old to fight in these things now but you can, and word of the victor of the tournament staying at my inn would boost business.”
Anye got back to her feet and walked over towards the innkeeper carefully. “That’s all you want?” she asked with suspicion.
“Amy, I won’t deny that a night with you would be worth more than the share of the reward,” he joked. “But you could use the help.”
Anye stared at the old man before cracking a smile. Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the reflected sunlight from outside. She leaned over the counter and hugged him like she would her father when she was younger. “Thank you, Byron. I promise I’ll come back.”
“Ha, I know you will, Amy,” he chuckled as he patted her on the back. He slowly pushed her off of him and looked at her seriously though, sharply contrasting the moment the two were having. “But be careful. Those men are ruthless killers. They won’t hesitate because you’re a woman, no matter how pretty you are.”
“Trust me, Byron,” she told him as she patted her long-time sword. “I know how to handle myself around ruthless killers.”
______
The next few days had totally transformed Bridge Port. Banners hung for varying competitors from windows, traffic into and around the town increased dramatically, and people were out drinking and making bets about who they thought would win. Of course Anye didn’t hear a single person make a bet in her favor, but she figured that would play to her benefit.
The day of the tournament arrived with a bang, and Anye waited patiently in the preparation area beneath the stands in the arena where the tournament would take place. Byron waited with her as she had designated him her coach, which also got him the best seats to see the action. Otherwise he would have had to purchase a ticket like everyone else and sit in the recently constructed stands.
Lord Taggart apparently spared no expense on the tournament every year. The nobleman who served as the regional lord owned a large expanse of land for his estate just outside of town which he used as the grounds to build the arena. Seating was set up around the small uncovered grassy area in the middle with a special booth at the top facing directly down the middle reserved for Taggart himself and his invited guests. Underneath the seats in the middle section was where the contestants waited for their turn in the brackets. The fighters were restricted from watching other competitors under the claim that it gave those yet to fight an unfair advantage. Only the registered coaches were allowed to go out and watch the fights from the sidelines if they wished, but they weren’t allowed to reenter the prep area for the same reason.
Outside of the arena proper, shop owners from far and wide gathered to set up stands trying to peddle their wares to the other travelers who had come for the show, hoping they would want a souvenir to remember the event by. To any newcomer like Anye it looked like a giant, disorganized outdoor market that never stayed in the same place for more than a day.
Both Anye and Byron were alone in the prep room for the majority of the day. The other fighters hadn’t entered the room yet, but they both knew they would soon. Lord Taggart had already been sighted making his way from his home to the arena, evidenced by the cheers of the people from outside and the music being played.
“You seem unnaturally calm, Amy,” Byron said to her as he leaned on his cane. “Trying to hide any fear from your opponents?”
“It’s hard to hide fear when you don’t have any,” Anye replied. “Even still you underestimate me.”
“Overconfidence can be just as dangerous as inexperience, Amy,” the elderly man warned. He stared her down a moment before chuckling softly. “You bet everything you own on yourself winning, didn’t you?”
“Not that I had a lot left to begin with, but what of it?”
“Ha! Now I see how you’re staying so calm. You’re imagining the looks on everyone’s face when you walk away with all of their hard earned money. The anger, shock, disappointment, confusion…how clever,” he said.
Anye laughed in response. “I admit that thought has kept my spirits up, but that’s not why I don’t fear these men.”
“Then why, pray tell?”
“Byron, I would wager that I have more training and experience with a sword than almost every other person in this tournament, and just as much as the rest.” Her face tightened up, making her look dangerously serious, even if she was a beautiful woman. “I’ve cut down every enemy who stood before me, no matter how powerful or confident they were, except for one.”
Byron looked at her surprisingly. While Anye never made her past known she had also never been as serious looking as that and the statement visibly shocked the old man. Anye hoped her display of skill in the fights to come would prove what she had been saying.
Their moment was interrupted when the echoes of heavy footfalls barreled in to the prep room. The other fighters had arrived to get ready for their turn in the brackets. Anye and Byron both looked at them as they entered. As suspected, nearly every one of them was a mountain of muscle or extremely toned man that had either a claymore, axe of some kind, or swords like Anye with them. Only one person
who entered with the group stuck out from the rest.
The individual caught Anye’s attention. He was young, possibly no older than fifteen, dressed in simple robes carrying an exceptionally crafted ornamented blue staff with some sort of pristine clear jewel floating at the top. His skin was brown, like the hair of her horse, and he had little to no hair on his head. She had never seen someone like him in person, but rather illustrations in history books back in Delrich. He was a member of the tribes that inhabited the Frontier, people who were extremely attuned with magic but were very rarely seen outside of their homeland.
The weapon he carried was unlike any staff Anye had seen before. The top of the weapon, where the magically charged stone floated, was made up of three golden rings. The outer ring of which was stationary while the other two within orbited around the stone. The base where the stationary ring was attached was crafted out of the finest looking gold. Two majestic looking wings were attached to each side of the base. The rest of the staff, the main body and bottom ornamentation, looked to have been made out of some sort of blue metal or wood that looked amazing and shimmered in the light.
Anye suspected he felt her presence when he entered the room. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her, just as she stared at him. He didn’t show any kind of emotion, he simply watched her for a moment before continuing on to a bench where he sat and waited quietly. He didn’t speak a word to anyone, and everyone left him alone in return.
“Amy?” Byron asked. “Amy, who is that boy? Do you know him?”
“No,” she replied, but keeping her gaze on him. “He’s a frontier tribesman, though. I didn’t expect this.”
“Expect what?” he said. “The boy is barely armed, and has no armor.”
Anye shifted her gaze from the strange foreigner to her old companion. “You’ve never read about the people of the frontier? In all of your youthful years as an adventurer you never once thought it would be wise to do some research on a potential adversary?”
Byron closed his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? I was stupid when I was young. I didn’t understand the concept of ‘know thy enemy’ until I neared my retirement years. That and I never took a job that went beyond the Devil’s Spine.”
“I see,” Anye said. She looked back at the boy who now seemed to be performing some form of meditation. “The people of the frontier don’t commonly use armor and weapons like we do. They’re said to be extremely well adept at the arcane arts, both light and dark. I wouldn’t know personally as I’ve only been beyond the Devil’s Spine once, and it wasn’t to venture into the frontier.”
“Oh?” Byron replied with interest. “Do tell?”
Anye’s face tightened as she remembered the events of Amador’s betrayal in Mitus. “Not right now, Byron. One of these days I might.”
The old man grunted. “Well, don’t wait too long, Amy. I don’t exactly have all the time in the world.”
“Contestants, if I may have your attention please!” a loud plump man yelled from the center of the room. “The first match will begin momentarily. Please wait for your names to be called before exiting the preparation area. If you do not comply you will be disqualified. Lord Taggart wishes you all the best of luck and looks forward to watching today’s event. Coaches, you may take your seats by the side of the arena if you wish at this time.”
“That’s my cue!” Byron exclaimed. “Good luck, Amy! I’ll be cheering for you! Ha ha!” The happy old man practically danced through the opening to the seating area on the ground. Anye would have scoffed at him but he had never been able to sit that close to the fighting before, let alone sponsor someone. He was allowed to be excited.
And so was Anye. Unfortunately, the first two names that were called didn’t include her. She took a seat across the room from the brown skinned boy and turned back towards him. He was still meditating in his seat silently. There was something about him she couldn’t place, something powerful. It unnerved her because she could usually feel how strong someone’s magical talent was. The rumors about the strength of the people who lived in the frontier were told all over the world, and she assumed the people who had come to Bridge Port were going to witness some of that strength first hand whether they realized it or not.
The cheers from the crowd outside almost drowned out Anye’s thoughts in her head. From the sound of things the first two fighters were returning competitors and crowd favorites. The sound of their weapons making contact with each other barely met her ears.
“Well look at this little princess we got here!” a gruff voice from behind Anye said. “I didn’t realize Lord Taggart allowed frail little girls to fight! Ha!”
Anye turned around to see a large red-bearded man with a large axe in hand cracking jokes about her. Judging from his size and looks she guessed he was around forty years old, and his scars suggested he’d seen his share of fights, but he was also cocky.
“Is this how you win all of your fights, by trying to scare your opponent before actually meeting them face to face?” She said to him as she rose to her feet. She noticed the expression on his face change from humor to anger, which made her smile in return. “What’s the matter? Don’t like a woman who can stand up for herself against a big strong man?”
“Bah! Do you know who I am, woman?” the buffoon yelled at her. “I doubt it, or you’d be wetting yourself right now.”
“Anyone worth knowing doesn’t go about taunting his opponents with idiotic jokes,” she told him as she strode up to him. He was at least a foot taller than her, probably more because he was hunched over in his anger. “I suggest you control yourself before you become blinded by your stupidity.”
“Why you little-” he said as he lifted his axe.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a heavily accented voice said from behind the brute.
Anye’s would-be attacker turned quickly to see that the boy from the frontier had somehow appeared directly behind him without making a sound. The cold stare in his eyes made the large man freeze. Anye looked at the boy as well, surprised that he had intervened at all.
“Save your strength for your turn in combat,” the boy continued. His gaze shifted to meet Anye’s eyes. She felt something when he did, something powerful that the boy was keeping concealed. He stepped forward to go around the man, stopping just as he reached Anye’s side. “You’re going to need it.” The boy continued past Anye and sat back down on another bench, resuming his meditation.
After the boy’s stare-down with Anye and the idiot she wasn’t sure if he was advising her aggressor against what would have been a very bad mistake, or warning her that she was going to need all of her strength if she faced him. Maybe it was both.
The sound of the crowd outside cheering shook both of them out of the trance they’d found themselves in. The muscle-head with the axe scoffed at Anye, annoyed that he’d been told off by a boy and a girl, but he stomped off and waited for his turn in the arena.
“Our winner for this battle is Marcus Williams!” Anye heard through the shouts of the crowd. The first round had been won, and now everyone in the waiting area listened intently for their names as the victor returned inside. The loser of the fight was given a choice of sitting on the sidelines to view the rest of the show or leave, embarrassed by their defeat. Byron had told Anye earlier that day that normally they left to avoid having objects thrown at them by their disappointed fans.
Following the returning victor, a younger man in light armor with a massive axe-shaped war hammer, who Anye had deduced was Marcus Williams, was the plump man from earlier who briefed them on the tournament’s proceedings. “Amy Karst and Yarik Boulderson, you two are the next contestants. Be ready when your names are called!” he yelled at them, and then turned and headed back outside.
Anye checked her equipment and walked over towards the entrance to wait for her name. Her opponent, the man named Yarik, stood next to her. He was skinny, very skinny in fact. He also looked very young compared to
the other contestants. Appropriately for his size, he had two blades at his waist like Anye, instead of the larger varieties of weapons the other competitors wielded.
The boy looked nervous underneath his armor. Anye saw him visibly shaking. “Are you alright?” she asked him.
“I’m fine,” he said, but she could tell he was lying. “My father was a famous admiral in the kingdom’s navy. Lot of pressure and all, you know.”
“Best of luck to us both then,” she replied. Anye thought his name sounded familiar when she heard it. She had read reports of Admiral Boulderson’s exploits during her training. The boy had a lot to live up to, and his participation in the tournament was likely his father’s doing as well as their match up, but there was no way he was going to beat her. She told herself that if she ever met the good admiral after her life returned to normal, if it returned to normal, she’d have herself a word with the man for putting his son up to such a thing.
The oversized man called their names and the crowd started cheering. They both walked out next to each other into the bright sunlight.
The stands Anye had seen empty earlier were now filled to the brim with people. Children and young women waved homemade banners with the names of their favorite fighter and it was obvious that more than Bridge Port’s population was in attendance. Even the sideline area where Byron cheered her on was packed full of people.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer yelled through a wooden cone. “Introducing; a young man on a quest to prove his manhood, hailing from the capital city of Belrun and son of Lord Admiral Anton Boulderson, his son…Yarik Boulderson!”
The crowd cheered the boy on as he waved his hands at the crowd and made his way to the far corner of the arena. The announcer hushed the crowd with his own hand signals and continued with the introductions. “A sell-sword with no home to call her own, seeking fame, fortune, and glory, I give you the mercenary…Amy Karst!”
