by Damien Lake
Digging in behind the boulder to await his foe must never have occurred to him, Marik thought, since he instead stepped from behind his shelter to break for the next outcrop. West anticipated the move. He ran downhill, his ironwood sword raised for an overhead strike. East lifted his blade to defend.
The blow crashed against his sword with enough force to reel him backward, slipping and then falling down the hill. West also slipped several feet before grinding his heels into the scree to find purchase. He studied East, who looked to keep tumbling until he reached the next kingdom, then resumed his march to the eastern red boulder.
Marik had lost sight of the middle man for the western group. The high man for the east regained his blade and moved on unhindered. He left the western high man where he lay on his rock, his sluggish movements suggesting a blow to the head.
Middle West appeared moments later, emerging from a line of outcroppings that formed a small ridge near the eastern boulder. He surveyed the terrain and found no one to challenge. The man advanced cautiously rather than in an all-out run. It was a wise decision, as proved when the remaining eastern guard attacked. West blocked the first slash, dodged the quick follow up, then both men slid downhill.
Serendipity shone on them. A larger patch of the tough scrub grass grew below and they found surer footing. They traded blows, their skill with the blade appearing to be equal. West pressed hard as he could to drive East back several steps yet failed to land a blow. The last strike forced the defender onto the loose slope. East fell to his back and rolled downhill once before recovering.
They were fewer than twenty feet from the eastern boulder. The guard scrambled uphill to renew his defense when a startled shout caught both combatants’ attention.
East’s fall had sent a cascade of gravel down the hillside which in turn sparked a miniature scree avalanche, much to the surprise of the western low man whose stealthy creeping from below had gone unnoticed by the fighters. Suddenly engulfed in a debris shower, he threw himself flat on the steep slope and covered his head with his arms.
The eastern guard backed to a smaller outcrop that offered a bracing foothold. He shifted position, preparing to take a double western attack…except Janus’ voice, amplified by his horn, floated across the field.
“Hold, all of you stop! Judges have declared an eastern victory!”
“What?” shouted the middle man for the west. Unable to view his own boulder due to the fragmented landscape, he could not see the eastern high man leaning against the west’s base.
“All of you come back up! You there, can you walk?” When he received no reply from the western high man, who still moved confusedly on his rock, Janus sent the Homeguard to retrieve him and check on the one who had tumbled to the bottom.
* * * * *
Post-battle interviews with the teams consumed more time than the day before. Eventually the judges decided on the four men who had remained mobile and expelled the other two. Both losers were bound in several bandages. The band officers allowed the high man for the western team to stay on the sideline until his head cleared.
Later in the morning Janus picked Marik from the crowd. He noticed the opposite group contained two men as big and bulbous as Beld. The third member was Harlan. Wonderful.
“Your names again, please?”
“Marik Railson.”
“Dietrik Balledry.”
“Folsom Metlag.”
The officers reclaimed the relevant pages from the clerks. They read while Marik eyed the small sandglass sitting on the table. Through the narrow waist dribbled the remaining grains from the previous half-mark time limit. That battle had ended surprisingly quick.
“You’ve seen enough to know what’s expected. You have half a candlemark to complete your objective. Choose a weapon and take the eastern point. Leave your packs there with the Homeguard.”
Marik and Dietrik both claimed ironwood swords while Folsom chose a broad bladed axe. Half climbing, half sliding toward their start point, Dietrik spoke to his new companions. “Right, I’ve noticed that all the chaps who have left their boulder unguarded have also lost them to their opponents. We need to leave one of us here while the others make the attempt for capturing the enemy camp.”
Marik nodded. “I noticed the same. Who should stay?”
“Me,” grunted Folsom. “I want my back to the stone.”
“Maybe you should take cover behind one of these other rocks.”
Folsom glared at Marik. “You don’t tell me how to fight, swaddle-clothes! I could take you anytime, so don’t you forget it!”
Dietrik intervened when Marik’s temper rose. “Now, now, never mind that! See there? The old man’s about to call a start.”
Above, Janus lifted the horn to his mouth. “Time is starting! Two quarter-marks!”
“So there! We need to hurry. Folsom can take defense if he’s so keen on it. Do you want to go uphill or down?”
Marik exhaled deeply. He let it carry his irritation away with it. “Uphill always has the advantage and usually wins one-on-one. Let’s both go uphill and across. No one else has done that yet.”
Dietrik nodded. “A good idea, perhaps. But we need to hurry. Their lower men will reach our base unchallenged. Let’s be off.”
They scurried back up the slope, trying to be quick and find purchase at the same time. Rushing only broke the ground free underfoot. After much slipping to his palms and knees from the disintegrating ground, Marik reached a height he felt satisfied with. Since the other man was of slighter build and a bit smaller than himself, despite being a few years older, Marik decided to take the point, motioning for Dietrik to continue higher. He started across, scanning the rocky hillside for opponents. It looked clear, but all these outcrops made it difficult to see very far at ground level.
He quickly found moving horizontally across this terrain to be very hard on the ankles. Moving while fighting would be nearly impossible. If he encountered the other team he would need to stand his ground.
Halfway across he caught movement ahead, slightly down slope. A big bruiser slunk near an outcropping. Marik crouched behind a boulder while making a quick gesture to Dietrik. His companion saw Marik’s wave. When he located their opponent, he nodded back and also crouched low.
The other fighter advanced slowly. He must have traveled the same speed as them to reach the midpoint when they did. His sudden caution suggested he might have sensed their presence. After quick consideration, Marik made several motions to Dietrik he hoped the other man would interpret correctly. Then he moved.
Marik emerged from behind his boulder with his sword carried low, concentrating mostly on his footing and glancing around quickly. He carefully avoided looking directly at the man he wanted to trap, watching him only from the corner of his eyes.
At first the other did not see him. When he did, he froze, then sidled back behind a rock. He watched hard. Since Marik gave no sign he was aware of anyone else’s presence, the giant should decide he had not been spotted.
Marik continued his slow trek, guessing at what his foe would do. In his place, he would wait until the opponent was just about there. Then he would spring and hope to catch his foe by surprise. If that happened, his best option would be to jump downhill a few feet to that flat area over there.
The place Marik chose was an outcrop protruding from the steep hillside, its top worn nearly level in a natural platform, which should make for solid purchase. It looked like a wedge driven into the hillside. If he miscalculated though, he would fall over the far side, which jutted several feet above the lower slope, and probably tumble all the way to the bottom.
He had nearly reached the oversized bruiser. It would be best to initiate the next actions himself.
Suddenly stopping, he looked straight at the larger man, pretending to see him for the first time. He raised his sword to the ready and took two steps forward. This placed him directly above the flat outcrop he had chosen.
The western man was aware he
had been spotted. Ponderously he moved from behind his rock. He regarded Marik for a moment before deciding the smaller man was no serious threat. His smiled broadened while he drew closer.
Marik adjusted his footing. He changing the angle of his boot soles so he slid down the hillside atop the loose scree. When he reached his rock, he stepped onto the flat top and challenged the man.
“Come on then! I’ve heard that tree trunks like you sound pretty funny eating the dirt!”
“I was gonna go easy on ya’, but your mouth bought ya’ a full beating!” The western giant slid down the hill in a much less controlled manner than Marik’s glide. “Yer the little bastard Beld popped!”
Ah, hells. Why am I not surprised? “Friend of his, huh? I could have guessed from the reek!”
“Yer a funny little pest. Try smellin’ this then!”
He swung wide, meaning to cut Marik in half. Marik was ready for the move, but blocking the blow almost shattered his ironwood weapon and nearly forced him over the edge. I can’t take any more of those!
Marik slashed out. He hoped to keep his foe too busy blocking his attacks to respond with a power blow. After several strikes, it seemed to be working and he laid on as much speed as he could while hoping the time he bought would pay off.
It did. Able to look uphill past the behemoth, he saw what the western man could not. Dietrik. He raced downhill from directly above with a speed that only comes from being out of control. Speed was what he wanted though, and he raced at the giant.
Marik stepped to the left just as Dietrik’s shoulder collided with the man’s back. He swung hard from the right in a horizontal slash. The big man reeled forward, stepping into the attack, receiving the unhindered blow squarely across his stomach. As great as the blow’s force was, the forward momentum transferred from Dietrik was greater, causing the giant to plunge over the side to the slope below.
He did not roll to the bottom as Marik had envisioned, yet only because he grasped wildly at a clump of the course grass. Violent coughs echoed upward while he lay with his other hand clutching his midriff.
Marik found the man’s ironwood claymore on the outcrop’s flat surface. He lifted it when its former wielder raised his head to look uphill. After debating for a moment, Marik reared back, then hurled the blade as far downhill as he could. The giant turned his head to watch it land in the scree, sliding away hilt first. Both Marik and Dietrik glanced at each other before raising their fists, hitting their knuckles against each other’s as though they had known each other their whole lives.
“Well, aren’t we the bloody clever ones?” asked Dietrik. He rubbed his shoulder. “That’s one blighter down, probably for good too, but there’s still two others creeping around.”
Marik shook his head. “Only one out here. The other one’s guarding their boulder.”
“How can you be certain about that?”
“Harlan, the only one of them that looks normal, is a friend. No matter what the others decided to do, he’d never leave the home base undefended.”
“Is he good? With a weapon I mean?”
“You know, the only time I’ve actually seen him fight was yesterday. But he’s shieldmates with my sword instructor, and I haven’t ever defeated him yet.”
“Sounds bad. So that leaves one for our friend Folsom to handle and one for the two of us.”
They continued across the hillside. Marik said, “I don’t think that trick will work again. At least not against Harlan. He’s likely to see us coming before we see him.”
“Stick together then?”
“That sounds like the best plan.”
The pair kept their eyes pealed for the other giant in case they too had decided to both go high. They encountered no one when they drew within sight of their goal. Marik and Dietrik sheltered behind a wide outcropping and searched for Harlan.
“I don’t see anything. Maybe your friend didn’t stay behind after all, in which case we should hurry. Our guard could be outnumbered.”
“No, I can’t picture it. But we can’t waste time either. How much time has passed?”
“Not sure. One quarter is over, certainly. Perhaps half of the second? Not much time left.”
“Okay, I’ll go forward and down to that rock. Once I’m there, you go down behind it, then forward to the next one closest. Then I’ll jump to the one past yours. We can approach under some cover. Okay?”
“Sounds fine to me. If one of us finds your friend, we’ll try and get his back to the other. Maybe we can catch him off guard, too.”
“I guess it’s worth a shot. Be careful. Here I go.”
Marik slid downhill for several feet using his gliding trick. He found it very useful on this terrain. Once he came level with his targeted outcrop, he banked his feet and crept forward.
He spent a precious moment scanning below for any movement. When all remained stationary, he waved to Dietrik. The other man imitated Marik’s glide, passing downhill behind Marik and flashing a thumbs-up with his free hand. Dietrik was an interesting fellow. Marik found he liked him.
Dietrik gave Marik the high sign from his own perch. Marik slid downhill. The slope became steeper and he needed to steady himself with his free hand against the ground while he passed Dietrik. Only three outcrops separated them from the red boulder.
Marik crept forward, reaching the wide outcropping he had aimed for. He paused at the far edge to poke his head around and scan below.
“Hello, Marik.”
This from only a few feet away. He whipped his head to the side, finding Harlan leaning against the jutting stone. The dour man damn near smiled! Then the ironwood sword he held flashed up. Marik ducked back barely in time to avoid a new chin cleft.
He raised the sword with his right hand as he frantically waved Dietrik back with his left. Marik hoped his companion had already crouched low when Harlan came around the corner, somehow making his movements uphill on the gravel and dirt surface seem effortless.
“I had a feeling I’d be seeing you on this end of the field.”
“I’d be a pretty poor student if I hadn’t made it this far. Chatham would never let me hear the end of it.”
“Not that he ever stops talking anyway, but I’d as soon not have to hear his diatribe either.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing for both of us I made it.”
“Indeed. Now, I’ve given you a few tips from time to time. Let’s see how well you learned them.”
* * * * *
“Well now, my silent yet robust acquaintance, I just don’t know who to send my cheers o’ comradely support to! This is a truly funny prank worthy o’…well I suppose worth o’ me!”
“I would not cheer for either, for to do so is to give greater credit to one and denigrate the value of your friendship with other.”
“Oh, I see how it is through the wisdom o’ your eyes. Don’t burn your bridges, eh? Good thing for me I’m not an ethical man! Come on Marik, old son! Show him who taught you a thing or two!”
* * * * *
If this was on level ground, I’d…well, probably I’d still get the stuffing kicked out of me, so all things considered I guess I’m not doing half bad!
The outcrop rose in a tall wall, lacking a top to which Marik could leap. His and Harlan’s footsteps were restricted to the V shaped cleft formed where the rock protruded from the ground. Since it restricted direction solely to forward and back, perhaps that could be a boon. And maybe not, he amended while his ankles howled in protest at the awkward twists and odd weight distribution.
Harlan struck with a high feint and turned it into a thrust. Two strikes, one to his left arm and the other glancing off his ribs, quickly put Marik on the defensive. Though he watched every nuance of movement in his opponent’s arms and shoulders, he barely managed to block Harlan’s consecutive strikes. Counterattacking? Not unless Harlan twisted his own ankle in this sharp cleft.
But as quick as the strikes came, Marik knew, knew, Harlan held back. It was
as if Harlan was giving Marik the chance to defend rather than laying him low quickly. Or maybe he wanted to put on a show for Janus and the Grand High Council of Officers With Nothing Better To Do. If so, Marik did not appreciate the gesture for its condescending tone.
Well, if that’s what he’s up to then he deserves to lose for underestimating an opponent. He started an organized retreat designed to bring them both from in front of the rock and into the clear slopes. Dietrik could not charge at Harlan where they fought. One wrong step meant running head first into the stone.
The dour man followed Marik’s back-stepping, continuing to send strikes Marik hardly deflected. Once they cleared the stone, Marik readjusted his footing and tried his best to turn the blocks into counterattacks. Harlan flicked them away, unimpressed.
“I have to admit you are much better than when you first joined us on the road.”
Marik concentrated too hard to respond. The slightest slip…
“Isn’t your friend going to come down and join us?”
Damn.
He backed away a step, lowering his blade to the guard position. Harlan received his glare with mild amusement.
“What, did you think I couldn’t hear the two of you sending half the hillside falling down below? As far as you’ve come, you still have quite a way to go, youngling.”
“Dietrik! Get down here and help me!” He kept his eyes on Harlan.
Nothing happened for a long moment, then as a head emerged from around an edge of stone, “I thought we had a plan!”
“Scrapped! Plan two!”
“I didn’t know we had a bloody plan two,” Dietrik murmured as he left the shelter and held his own sword ready. He scraped to a stop several feet above Harlan.
“Okay Harlan, we’re both ready.”
“Fine. I’ll let you lead then.”
Marik struck high, knowing Harlan would raise the sword hilt to block with the part of the blade closest to the guard. As he saw Harlan do exactly that, Marik slid his own blade down until the two midpoints crossed. He pressed forward as much as he dared, placing greater weight on the blade, trying the trap it in position so it could not defend against Dietrik.
