by MJ Schutte
‘Walking stick,’ Brighton replied.
The young man looked confused.
‘That is not….’ he started arguing, but a slender female hand on his shoulder made him slam his mouth shut.
‘A walking stick is unusual but accepted as a weapon for the Warrior Trials,’ Lady Jaclyn declared.
‘Yes, Lady Jaclyn,’ the young man squeaked out.
Brighton nodded his thanks to her and turned to leave.
She quickly reached out and caught his arm.
‘A moment of your time, please,’ she said with a smile.
‘Certainly,’ Brighton replied.
Lady Jaclyn took his hand and led him to a private room at the far side of the hall. She closed the door and turned to Brighton.
‘I know that you are magically gifted. I will not only allow you to use this gift in the trials, but would encourage you to do so. You can win this and become part of my honour guard. In a few years, you may even be the head of the honour guard,’ she said in a soft, seductive voice.
‘Thanks, but I have no interest in serving you,’ Brighton replied flatly.
Jaclyn was taken aback for a moment but quickly regained her composure.
‘The head of my honour guard shares my bed. I have been looking for someone like you to take as my life partner,’ she tried again.
‘No thanks. I have a wife and two children,’ Brighton responded.
He was not comfortable with this conversation.
‘You don’t understand. It would be a great honour to you if I take you as my husband,’ Jaclyn argued.
She stepped closer to him, put her slender hands on his chest and pushed her hips towards him. She looked up into his eyes, her lips slightly parted.
‘No, you don’t understand. I love my wife and children with all my heart and I think your suggestion is inappropriate,’ Brighton said as he took her by the shoulders and firmly pushed her away.
For a moment, he thought he saw a flash of anger in her eyes but then she smiled and said, ‘As you wish, Brighton. I only ask that you keep this conversation private.’
Brighton nodded and left. He caught up with Brac and Peter just outside the town hall.
‘What did Lady Jaclyn want?’ Peter asked.
‘She just wanted to wish me luck, that’s all,’ Brighton replied.
The three men walked home in silence. The women were sitting on the porch.
‘Where are the children?’ Brighton asked after he kissed Lilian.
‘Playing inside, probably destroying Nicky’s house,’ Lilian smiled.
‘I love having the twins here. I don’t think they can destroy anything,’ Nicky laughed.
‘So, did you enter the Warrior Trials?’ Lilian asked Brighton.
‘Yes,’ was all he said.
‘We also met Lady Jaclyn,’ Brac added.
Nicky clapped her hands and said, ‘She is a wonderful person, isn’t she?’
Peter agreed quickly but Brac and Brighton remained silent.
‘Peter, can we go to the back and start training for the trials, please?’ Brighton asked.
‘Sure, I’ll just go get my sword, not that I can teach you anything,’ Peter smiled.
Brac also got up but Brighton said, ‘Why don’t you stay here. It’s a lot more comfortable than sitting on a log at the back of the house.’
Brac nodded and sat down again. Brighton went around to the back. Shortly afterwards, Peter came out of the house.
‘Do you want to work on attack or defence today?’ Peter asked.
‘Attack, but first I want to ask something else. I have used my sense very little since we have been here, but every time I did, there was something about your energy that struck me as odd. It feels slightly different than other people’s energy,’ Brighton replied.
Peter shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘I don’t really understand what you’re talking about.’
‘I think you do. When I used my sense today at the town hall, I felt energy vaguely similar to yours. It was that of Asdargh and Eolith. You’re a hudeti, aren’t you?’
Peter looked at Brighton, wondering what to say.
‘I won’t tell anyone, I give you my word,’ Brighton assured him.
‘Only Nicky knows. I am not really a hudeti, actually, I’m the son of one. I’m quarter elf,’ Peter admitted.
‘You don’t really look like them,’ Brighton commented.
‘No, I don’t, and that is probably why nobody has ever noticed,’ Peter replied.
‘It could also explain why you are eighty-two and can still move and fight like a young man,’ Brighton smiled.
‘Yes, I suppose so, but I must admit, lately my age has been catching up on me. I won’t live nearly as long as an elf but most likely will live a bit longer than the average human,’ Peter replied.
‘Your secret is safe with me,’ Brighton assured the old man.
‘You should tell the others, I don’t want you to hide anything from them. If there is one group of people that can keep a secret, it is you lot,’ Peter shrugged.
They started working on some attacking techniques. When Peter was exhausted, he called a halt.
‘Perhaps I can show you how my talent works now,’ Brighton offered.
‘I would like to see that,’ Peter panted.
Brighton established a link to Peter and let some energy flow into the old man.
Peter immediately started feeling better.
‘Are you doing this?’ he asked.
Yes Peter, popped into his head.
His eyes went wide but before he could speak, Brighton explained: ‘When I am linked to you, I can hear your thoughts as well as push thoughts into your head.’
‘That’s incredible,’ Peter gasped.
Brighton severed the link.
‘Are you ready for some more training?’ he asked.
Peter responded by launching a vicious attack on Brighton. The younger man dodged and deflected every blow.
‘You should counter attack, like I taught you,’ Peter said.
Brighton did and soon Peter found himself flat on his back.
Brighton put out his hand and said, ‘Come, my friend, let’s go get something to drink.’
Chapter 4
THE NEXT THREE days were spent doing more training.
Brighton tried using the sword but just could not get used to it.
‘It’s not balanced,’ he complained.
‘This sword is very finely balanced, you’re just not used to it,’ Peter said indignantly.
‘Well, I prefer my walking stick. I do not have to hold it just at one end. If I want, I can hold it in the middle. It gives me more options,’ Brighton argued.
‘True, but it does not have a sharp edge. How will you draw first blood?’ Peter asked.
‘A good blow to the nose should do the trick,’ Brighton replied.
Peter was not happy with that answer but didn’t argue. He had a plan already.
On the morning of the first rounds of the Warrior Trial, he called Brighton aside.
He handed the young man a walking stick and said, ‘Have a look at this.’
Brighton inspected the beautiful walking stick. It was made of oak and highly polished, almost as thick as his arms and had a large knob at the top. The bottom end was tapered so that it was only as thick as a man’s finger.
‘It is beautiful,’ Brighton said as he handed it back to Peter.
‘Keep it, it’s yours,’ Peter said.
‘Peter, I can’t take this!’ Brighton exclaimed.
‘I insist. You will need it,’ Peter replied.
‘Why do you say that? I have my own walking stick,’ Brighton frowned.
‘Not one like this,’ Peter smiled.
‘Yes, I will admit that this one is far better than mine but it’s still only a walking stick,’ Brighton replied.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. This is a special walking stick, or cane as we call it. Look closely just below th
e knob,’ Peter instructed.
Brighton put the walking stick almost to his nose and inspected the wood. He noticed a small piece of wood sticking out just below the knob. When he put his thumb on it, it moved slightly. Brighton looked closer. There was a very narrow slit running upwards. He pushed the piece of wood upward along the slit and a tiny blade appeared from within the knob of the cane.
‘Brilliant,’ Brighton gasped.
‘If you push the trigger up far enough, the blade locks into place. Push the trigger into the wood and pull down to unlock and retract the blade,’ Peter explained.
The blade was scarcely half a finger long, but it was razor sharp.
‘In a fight, you use the blade to draw first blood,’ Peter explained.
‘This will work well. Thank you Peter,’ Brighton beamed.
‘It’s my pleasure. The only thing I’m worried about is that the stick won’t be able to withstand a direct blow from a sharp sword or battle axe,’ Peter replied.
‘I can do something about that,’ Brighton said as he gathered some energy from his surroundings.
He let the energy flow into the cane and then weaved a protective energy barrier around the wood.
‘Take a swing at me with your sword,’ he said to Peter.
Peter lifted his sword and swung. Brighton blocked the sharp blade with the wood. The blow did not leave even the tiniest mark in the wood.
‘How did you do that?’ Peter gasped.
‘I wove an energy barrier around the cane. No sword will be able to break this wood now. It’s only temporary but I can just keep doing it in a battle,’ Brighton explained.
‘Incredible,’ was all Peter could say.
Everybody except Nicky went to the town square to watch Brighton’s first round in the Warrior Trials. She decided to stay at home, look after the twins, and prepare a good meal for the “warrior”. No matter how much Lilian and Adri protested, Nicky would not hear of having it any other way.
‘Besides, I hate watching the Warrior Trials. It gets too brutal for me,’ she had said, putting an end to the argument.
The group was standing at the edge of the town square.
‘Remember not to use your talent. We don’t know how Jaclyn will react,’ Brighton reminded Lilian.
‘You should go and tell the registrar that you’re here,’ Peter advised Brighton.
Brighton walked towards the middle of the town square and stood in line at the registrars table. Normally the town square was packed with merchants’ wagons and hawkers trying to sell their goods but for the next few days, no wagons were allowed. The entire square was cleared of wagons and in each corner a fighting ring had been set up. It was little more than a rope laid out on the ground in the shape of a circle to demarcate the fighting area. From one side of the ring to the other it was roughly twenty steps. The hawkers’ tables were staked around these fighting rings, some as high as four on top of each other, to give the spectators something to stand on and get a good view of the fights.
Brighton reached the front of the line. The same young man who took his entry a few days before at the town hall was sitting behind the table.
‘Name,’ he said without looking up.
‘Brighton Clareton.’
The young man looked through the list of entrants and found Brighton’s name.
He marked it off and said, ‘Hand your weapons to the inspector.’
Brighton handed the walking stick over to an older man who was standing next to the table.
‘This is a cane, not a weapon,’ the older man said.
‘It’s my weapon,’ Brighton shrugged.
‘I’m sorry, this “weapon” can not be allowed. You are disqualified,’ the older man declared.
Before Brighton could speak, the young man behind the table said, ‘Lady Jaclyn approved it.’
For a moment the older man looked a bit flustered but then said, ‘Fine, you may fight with this “weapon” but do not come crying to me if you are seriously injured.’
Brighton smiled and took his cane from the man.
‘You will fight at ring number three. It’s that way,’ the young man said pointing towards one of the corners of the town square.
As he turned around, Brighton looked straight into Asdargh’s face.
The elf poked Brighton in the chest and, with the usual flurry of hand gestures said, ‘Fight, settle honour.’
‘Dear angels, I hope so,’ Brighton snarled at him.
He pushed past the elf and went back to the group.
‘I am fighting at ring three. We should go there,’ he said to them.
The group made their way to ring three and found a good vantage point. After some time a man walked to the centre of the ring.
‘The first round of Warrior Trials starts now. Fighters Bulac and Nelath please step forward.’
‘This is going to be a short fight,’ Peter commented.
‘Why do you say that?’ Brac asked.
‘Nelath is an elf. He is the current Fenton Warrior Trials champion,’ Peter said.
The two fighters stepped into the ring. Bulac was a stocky man, carrying a battle-axe and a shield. Nelath looked a lot like Asdargh. He was a tall slender elf with long hair, neatly tied up. He carried only a sword.
The two fighters met in the middle of the ring.
‘To first blood or a fighter yields. To yield, shout clearly “I yield”,’ the referee explained the rules.
Both men nodded their understanding.
The referee made his way to the edge of the ring and shouted, ‘Fight.’
Bulac immediately launched an attack on Nelath but the elf moved like lighting. Every time Bulac swung the heavy battle-axe, it was too late, Nelath had already moved clear. He had a sinister smile on his face.
‘Nelath is toying with Bulac,’ Peter said in disgust.
For a few more moments, it went on like this until Nelath suddenly stepped inside Bulac’s attack and landed a heavy blow on the man’s nose with the hilt of his sword. Bulac staggered backwards, bringing his shield up to ward off another attack. Nelath didn’t move or press the attack, he simply stood smiling at the other fighter.
Bulac approached more carefully this time. The battle-axe swung and missed. Nelath danced around Bulac, taunting him. Bulac swung the axe a few more times, missing with every attempt.
Suddenly it looked like Nelath had had enough of this little game. He stepped past another one of Bulac’s attacks and the sword in his hand flashed. Bulac went down with a howl of pain, clutching at his calf. Nelath pinned Bulac to the ground and started pounding his face with the hilt of his sword.
‘I yield, I yield!’ Bulac shouted repeatedly but the referee stayed motionless.
Nelath kept pounding Bulac’s face until the man did not move anymore. There was blood everywhere.
‘Nelath wins!’ the referee declared finally.
Brighton looked at Peter, shock clearly evident on his face.
‘I thought you said the rules were strictly enforced?’ he gasped.
‘It depends on the referee. Not all of them are fair. This one obviously favours Nelath to win the trials again this year,’ Peter answered.
‘But why did he let Nelath carry on beating that poor man to a pulp,’ Brighton asked.
‘Intimidation. Other opponents will see this and might decide to withdraw if they come up against Nelath in forthcoming rounds,’ Peter explained.
‘Do you think I will come up against him?’ Brighton asked.
‘Yes. At each of the four rings, the fights will continue until only one man remains. The four will then face off against each other, two at a time, in a large ring. The two winners will fight the final battle,’ Peter explained.
‘Do you want to withdraw, my love,’ Lilian asked, concern evident in her voice.
‘No, that’s not why I asked. I was hoping I would get to face Nelath. Someone should teach him a good lesson,’ Brighton replied.
‘It will get very d
angerous,’ Lilian tried again but saw that Brighton was determined to go through with this.
An unconscious Bulac was removed from the ring and the referee called the next two fighters. Brighton and the rest of the group sat watching the next three fights in silence. None of it was as brutal as the first one, all three ending swiftly when first blood was drawn.
The referee stepped into the ring once more.
‘Brighton and Yadi,’ he called.
Brighton made his way to the centre of the ring, casually carrying the walking stick in his left hand.
‘Are you going for an afternoon stroll?’ someone shouted.
The crowd cheered, roared with laughter and shouted some insults. Brighton ignored the comments and instead concentrated on his talent. He let some energy flow into the cane and weaved a protective barrier around the wood.
Yadi entered the ring. He was a young looking elf carrying a sword in one hand and a short blade in the other.
‘This is not good. This referee favours elves,’ Peter whispered to Brac.
‘Brighton will be fine,’ Brac whispered back.
The referee repeated the rules and when both men indicated their understanding, he walked to the edge of the ring.
An expectant silence fell over the crowd.
‘Fight!’ came the command from the sideline.
Yadi immediately jumped into action. His sword flashed through the air, aimed straight for Brighton’s throat. As Brighton deflected the blow with his cane, Yadi brought the blade in his other hand up. He was certain the blade was going to plunge deep into Brighton’s stomach but there was no contact. Brighton had already swayed out of the way and the blade found only air.
He stepped back, deflecting blow after blow, constantly moving in a circle so that he would not get close to the edge of the ring.
Yadi was getting frustrated.
‘Fight!’ he shouted at Brighton.
He launched another heavy attack on Brighton but still he could not break through the defences. Brighton had studied Yadi’s attack, just as Peter taught him and soon found a flaw. He waited for the next attack.
Yadi jumped forward again but this time Brighton did not step back. He knocked both the blades sideways and brought the cane up.
