Hal shrugged. “Just Hal, is fine.”
“Just Hal?”
He nodded.
“Alright,” said the tent overseer. “Get yourself ready, young lad. It’s about to happen. Remember, you can always yield.”
The tent overseer moved off to the side to speak with the announcer, and the guards finally let go of Hal’s arms. He stooped down to one knee, his stomach twisting with emotion. He almost felt like he was about to throw up.
Seeing Golden Helm had torn open the wound of losing his family. He suddenly missed Lilith as much as he ever had, his precocious, smiling little sister. Mauve, his best friend, who’d been like a brother to him. His father, who he still owed an apology for being so foolishly stubborn and bullheaded with.
It’s all I can do for them, now. To find and kill that man.
“I can only hope that first fight warmed your appetites!” shouted the announcer from the center of the arena. “This next one should be… fairly interesting. We’ve got a seasoned warrior going up against a hopeful eyed youth.”
The crowd clapped. The announcer seemed to be basking in their attention, holding his arms out wide and gesturing enthusiastically as he spoke.
“Our first combatant is a four-time veteran of the Harvest Festival,” shouted the announcer. “Born in Tarne, he apprenticed with the famous Kirksmith Company before setting out on his own as one of the most renowned mercenaries in the land. He fights today on behalf of High Lord Anders of Great House Orta. May I present… Hogblade!”
An enormous giant of a man pushed his way out the tent flap, which was almost too small to accommodate his bulk. He was easily seven feet tall, and Hal could see the ground shake beneath him as he walked.
Hogblade wore a complete set of steel armor, including an open helm. He carried a great sword as though it were a longsword in one hand, and a massive steel shield in the other. A long white cape fell across his shoulders, embroidered with an insignia of a black bear that Hal supposed was the crest of his Great House.
“And facing Hogblade, we have a new, untested warrior,” shouted the announcer. “A warrior who, unfortunately, did not arrive in time to give me a proper biography.”
The crowd burst into laughter. Hal felt his face heat up slightly, and he tried to shrug his embarrassment off.
“We’ll see if he lasts long enough in the tournament for it to matter,” shouted the announcer. “Representing himself and his own interests. May I present… Just Hal!”
Hal scowled and made his way out into the arena. Instantly, he felt the crowd’s attention on him and tensed up. There were hundreds of people watching, some of them cheering, some of them jeering. It had a far more pronounced effect on his focus than he’d expected it to.
Between that, the fact that he’d just seen Golden Helm, and a lack of sleep the night before, Hal found it hard to keep himself in a positive, confident state. Hogblade was already slashing his sword through practice cuts that looked capable of severing his body in two. Hal took a deep breath and tried to come up with a solid battle strategy.
He won’t be expecting my magic. If I can overwhelm him with it early, I can win.
“Combatants!” shouted the announcer. “At the ready!”
He looked back and forth between the two of them, and then pointed to the arena official who would raise the flag to signal when the unbarred fight would begin.
“May your blood seed the harvest!” boomed the announcer.
Hal unsheathed his sword, taking a slow breath and trying to calm his restless nerves. He tried not to notice that Hogblade’s weapon was at least twice as long as his was as the massive man started toward him.
Regardless of what his strategy was, he had to keep in mind how the difference in their sizes would affect the fight. If Hal was knocked or thrown from the sand circle, he would lose. Hogblade wouldn’t have to worry about that, unless he somehow tripped near the arena’s edge and managed to disqualify himself.
Both fighters slowly circled each other, making a show of sizing each other up. Hogblade was grinning underneath his helm. He moved forward with more speed than Hal expected from the man and took an exaggerated swing at his head.
Hal ducked under it, and countered with his own theatrical blow, which ricocheted harmlessly off Hogblade’s shield. The two stepped back from each other, and finally, the flag was thrown for the fight to start for real.
“You’re brave, boy,” shouted Hogblade. “Younger than I was when I first entered this tournament.”
“That’s kind of you to say,” said Hal. Already, he was feeling for the magic of his heartgem. He had plenty of ruby essence, but essentially no sapphire, which meant he’d be reliant on his fire spells alone for the battle to come.
“The fight is a foregone conclusion,” said Hogblade. “Let’s not waste each other’s time and tempt the fates into dealing you an experience of pain, or even death. Step out from the circle and forfeit.”
“That’s not going to happen,” said Hal. His heart was pounding in his chest as he spoke the words, and he still hadn’t shaken a nervous tremble from his hands. Part of him did want to forfeit, the same part of him that remembered the violence the dragon had dealt to him and his family, and the sensation of the monster’s claw closing around his chest.
Hogblade rushed forward with the same deadly, speed that he’d shown in the exposition round. Hal dodged Hogblade’s overhead strike and then rolled under the side slash that followed. He rose to one knee and reached down to his belt to draw his pistol.
And of course, he came up empty. It was an ingrained reflex, going for his gun as a counter. He swore under his breath as he realized that the failed attack had cost him his advantage. Hogblade twisted, swinging his shield and catching Hal in the shoulder. Part of the shield’s edge grazed the side of his face, stunning him and making his vision flicker.
Hal stumbled back, feeling like an idiot. Hogblade pushed forward on the attack. Hal fumbled with the spark ring he wore on his left index finger. It was a secondary means of creating a catalyst spark for his ruby magic, one that Cadrian had taught him in passing and heavily encouraged him to practice.
I should have listened to her. It was always easier for me to just use my pistol.
With the spark ring, he could, in theory, create a spark off the friction of a specially filed patch of metal on the cross guard of his sword. Unfortunately, Hal’s limited practice had never accounted for sweaty hands and the pressure of real combat.
Hogblade was there before he had time to figure out what he was doing, attacking with relentless strikes. Hal blocked one of them with his short sword and almost dropped his weapon, the vibration from the impact numbing his palm and wrist. The massive man was so strong, and his range along with his shield made it nearly impossible for Hal to counter attack.
It was all he could do to stay within the sand circle. The crowd reacted to every clash of swords, whistling, cheering, and eventually chanting Hogblade’s name. Hal winced at the knowledge that Laurel was in the crowd, watching him being dominated by his opponent. Watching their chance at saving the homestead evaporate in the sand.
Hogblade seemed to be getting impatient. He charged forward, keeping his sword up and trying to batter Hal back and out of the circle. Only through tossing himself into a dangerous, Kye Lornis inspired dive roll was he able to avoid being pushed out of the ring.
“This is a waste of time!” shouted Hogblade. “You cannot beat me!”
Hal couldn’t find a witty retort to that, mostly because of how incredibly true it sounded. He couldn’t beat Hogblade, not without his magic. But to cast anything fire related required an initial spark, which he couldn’t manage to make for himself.
You just need a spark. You don’t need to be the one to make it.
He seized the idea as it crystalized in his mind, assuming a defensive position and letting Hogblade advance on him. The burly man roared and brought his sword down in a diagonal slash. Hal countered with a mirror
ed attack, the blade of his short sword meeting Hogblade’s in motion and sliding along the length.
A small shower of sparks burst forth from the friction of the contact, and it was all Hal needed. He spun, twisting into a second attack as he cast Flame Strike. Fire engulfed his weapon for an instant. For long enough for him to slam his short sword into Hogblade’s armor, and more importantly, his garish cape.
Hogblade was unaware of the fire as it spread. He pushed forward, roaring as he continued to swing his massive sword at Hal. The crowd began to laugh, and only after several more seconds did Hogblade notice the orange flames licking at his cape.
In the rush to pat the fire out, he dropped his sword. Hal couldn’t have asked for a better chance. He charged Hogblade, slamming his short sword into strikes aimed at the tiny gaps of his armor. He managed to get strike flesh, eliciting a deep snarl of pain from the massive man.
Hogblade tossed his burning cape aside and suddenly threw himself onto Hal, catching him completely off guard. Hal hit the sand underneath hundreds of pounds of human bulk and metal armor. Had this been Hogblade’s backup plan all along? If sword and shield failed him, simply crush his opponent?
Hal’s sword was pinned to his side, useless to him. He could barely breathe, the weight of Hogblade forcing the air out of his lungs and bruising his chest and ribcage. His vision began to darken, similar to how daylight fades when a dense cloud suddenly blocks out the sun.
He saw the cape off to the side, still burning. Hal blinked and forced himself to focus. Channeling what was left of his ruby essence, he cast Flame Blast, a bulkier, less specific version of his pistol’s Flame Shot.
The blast erupted from the heat source, Hogblade’s discarded cape, and slammed into the back of the massive man’s head, knocking his helm off and lighting his hair on fire. This time, Hogblade knew he was on fire. He let out a screech and buried his hand in the sand. His words came out muffled, but audible enough for the arena officials to hear them.
“I yield!” cried Hogblade. “Please! I yield!”
CHAPTER 21
“Well,” said the announcer. “It’s seems the Harvest Tournament is already off to an interesting start. The winner of this match is Just Hal!”
The crowd let out a roar of approval. Hal was still on one knee in the center of the sand circle, his ribs and abdomen aching from Hogblade’s crushing attack.
He managed to leave the arena on his own, which seemed like as much of an achievement as winning the fight. Several of the other fighters slapped him on the back as he passed through the tent, which would have been uplifting if not for how sensitive his ribs were.
“The battle name was a jest,” said the tent overseer. “I can change it if you’d like, now that you’ve made it past the first round.”
“Don’t,” said Hal. “I think I like it.”
“Well then,” said the overseer. “Be on time tomorrow so you can tell us a little more about yourself, Just Hal. You’ll be one of the underdogs of the next round, and it’s certain that the crowd will want to know more about you.”
Laurel and Cadrian were waiting for him outside. Laurel immediately pulled him into a hug that made him wince as bones he hadn’t realized existed flared with pain. Cadrian stood with her arms crossed, smiling approvingly.
“You watched my fight?” Hal asked her.
“I missed the beginning, but saw the important parts,” she said. “You’ll need to learn to strategize better, Halrin.”
“He won,” said Laurel. “Doesn’t that mean his strategy worked well enough?”
Hal didn’t say anything.
Laurel’s no warrior. Anyone else would have picked up on the fact that I fumbled my way through that entire battle.
“You’re heartgem wasn’t full enough,” said Cadrian. “That was your first mistake, and you made it before ever setting foot on the sand circle.”
“Fair enough,” said Hal.
“And you’ve grown too used to using your pistol and Flame Shot for surprise attacks,” she continued. “A better strategy in a limited encounter, like an arena fight, is to immediately enter a Ruby Trance. Your spells will be more powerful and efficient.”
“I might have tried it, if I could have gotten the chance to stop and focus.” Hal sighed. “I need more training, Cadrian. Is there any way you can make time for me in your schedule?”
Cadrian furrowed her brow, considering it.
“Perhaps,” she said. “There isn’t much more I can help you with in the short amount of time you’ll have, however. Your next fight will be tomorrow, Halrin.”
“I need to find a way to access the other elements,” he said. “It isn’t enough for me to be able to channel ruby and sapphire essence. I need the others, too.”
It was something he’d known he needed for a while, but the fight against Hogblade only served to remind him how essential the other elements were in reaching his full potential. If he could channel diamond essence, he’d be able to use air elemental spells to move faster, and even lift himself into short bursts of flight.
Topaz would let him shift the earth to throw his opponent off balance, or lift it upward into solid walls of rock for defense. The only gem type he wasn’t completely sure he’d be able to use to improve his strength in a fight was emerald, which dealt with controlling nature and communing with trees and other plants.
“You must be patient, Halrin,” said Cadrian. “If I’d been present when you were first considering signing up for the Harvest Tournament, I would have advised you against it. You’re still months, maybe years, away from being a truly effective warrior.”
“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“I thought you did amazing, Hal!” said Laurel. “I was so worried! For you, but also for our chances in saving the homestead. Now, it seems like something we might actually be able to pull off.”
Hal smiled and nodded, though his own confidence wasn’t quite at the same level. His body ached all over, and he could taste copper from the blood leaking from the cut on his lip the edge of Hogblade’s shield had given him.
My next opponent will likely be even stronger. And then there’s Golden Helm…
What would happen if he got a chance to face Golden Helm in the arena? The rules stipulated that the fights continued until one person surrendered or was knocked out of the circle. Would he be willing to pull himself back fighting against Golden Helm if he surrendered? More importantly, would he even be able to get himself into a state of mind to put up an effective fight against the man who’d killed his family? He was clearly powerful, and Hal would be battling his emotions as much as the golden helmed warrior.
“I have to check in with one of the nobles I’m teaching,” said Cadrian. “If I can, I’ll return later tonight to help you with your heartgem.”
Hal nodded to her, and she split off from him and Laurel as soon as they were back within Meldence’s walls.
He was in a daze as they made their way through Meldence’s streets and back to the guest lodge. The combination of the pain of his injuries and the pain of having his old, emotional wounds reopened made it hard for him to relax.
Yua was still absent, which Laurel explained was normal as she was given the weekends off. Hal collapsed into a chair in the sitting room, his ribs letting out small, aching protests as he did.
“Take off your shirt,” said Laurel. “I want to make sure that you don’t have any unexpected puncture wounds.”
Hal did, and allowed her to examine his chest and the bruises covering much of it. Karnas came over to sit by his feet, the tiny dragon’s tail thumping against the floor as though it could sense something was off.
“You were incredible, Hal,” said Laurel. “I just… can’t believe the risk you took. And you did it for the homestead. For me… and for my brother. As soon as he’s found, he’ll be told about all of this, and will surely want to see you rewarded.”
Hal smiled and gave a slow nod. Laur
el’s brother seemed more of a concept to him than a real person. Could he really share her unshakable faith in Willum still being alive, after what they’d heard from Lord Teymus?
Of course, I can. It’s for her, not for me.
“What’s Willum like?” asked Hal.
Laurel furrowed her brow, clearly not expecting the question. She moved through the sitting room, carrying one of the plates of food that servants had brought over to Hal.
“He was… he is… kind of a troublemaker,” said Laurel.
“Really?” asked Hal. “That’s how you would describe him?”
Laurel grinned at him, her face mischievous, eyes full of memories.
“When we were children, well, I was ten when he was fourteen, we only had a few sets of nice clothes each,” said Laurel. “My father gambled, and drank, and wasted his money on brothels. So we weren’t typical noble children. We had our nice clothes for going to upper class events, but then regular, shoddy clothing for normal wear.”
“That doesn’t sound that unusual,” said Hal.
“It is for Meldence,” said Laurel. “It was as though we were part of both social classes. On the weekends, we’d be at some prim and proper noble dinner. During the week, Willum and I would be running around the back streets, getting into dirty mischief with orphans and common children.”
Her smile waned slightly, and she sat down in the chair next to Hal. Karnas crawled up onto her lap, and she slowly stroked the dragon’s neck and shoulders.
“I learned so much from that time,” she said. “How everyone is the same, underneath. Why it matters how we treat the underclass. How to use a hairpin to jostle open most tumble locks.”
“Useful,” said Hal. “Willum sounds a bit like an old friend of mine.”
“The two of you will get along swimmingly,” says Laurel. “Well, as long as he doesn’t get the wrong idea. Which I suppose will be hard to avoid.”
“What do you mean?”
Laurel shrugged, her face flushing slightly.
Harvest Tournament (Sexcraft Chronicles Book 2) Page 11
