* * *
Edward walked from the tent to where the High Guards gathered. Parry, Sinew, Fracas, Bulwark, and Von where among them. Ardor stood off by himself; his face was red with anger and shame. Quip climbed a grouping of rocks to get a better view as Gar, Tusk, and the Dreadgons waited at the edge of the camp. Edward approached them with Melee.
“Do you have a champion?” Gar asked.
“Yes,” Edward answered. The whole ordeal troubled him since so much depended on Pluck. Could she save his wife? Could he manage to give her the Kiss once she won? She was a horrible sight to behold and he didn't know if... He couldn't worry about that now, first Pluck had to win. What would they do if she didn't? Avarice said he would make plans for their escape if Pluck failed, but Edward saw no such plans as he glanced around the camp. For Virago's sake, he hoped the plans were well hidden.
“I, Gar, have selected a spot for our duel,” he stated, then motioned for the prince to follow, and Edward did as the Dreadgon walked to a grassy area not far from the camp. “This is where the match will take place.”
Virago and Flaxen watched from a distance. They and their escort walked to Han’s tent as the group moved off to the grass. The princess had to watch the fight that would determine her future.
“Has it begun?” Virago asked as dread filled her heart.
“I do not believe so,” Flaxen answered. “I do not see the High Guard champion.”
Pluck walked out, glanced at them, bowed, and spoke a greeting, “Princess Virago... Lady Flaxen...” She continued pass them and stopped, watching those gathered in the circle. She grabbed her freed tail, stroking it apprehensive of what would happen next. Pluck felt the stares of the princess and her escort, knew the stress would only get worse, and dreaded making her appearance more than she feared facing the Dreadgon. She took a deep breath and headed for Gar.
Her quick appearance out of the tent startled Virago and Flaxen. The princess’ guards drew their swords, surrounding the princess.
“Fires of Morgog!” one of the Sentinels shouted.
“Did you see that?” Virago uttered as she grabbed Flaxen's arm. “A beast! And it spoke my name. What is it after?”
Flaxen watched the creature with the mane of fiery-crimson as it walked through those gathered to face the Dreadgons. “Oh my...” she exclaimed.
“What?” Virago demanded.
“I believe that creature... that hairy beast is our champion. See it wears the High Guard uniform,” Flaxen told her as she noticed it had breasts. “And I do believe it is a female.” Flaxen paused and then said, “If this is true, it is the one who requested the Kiss.”
“How dare it?!” Virago declared as she made a disgusted face. “I believe I prefer Edward kissed a man; I believe I prefer he kissed a hundred men.”
In the grassy area...
Gar glanced around those gathered, demanding, “Where is your warrior?”
“I’m here,” Pluck proclaimed.
Morgogs and High Guards parted as they realized what was among them. The soldiers and sailors murmured, surprised and confused.
“Phraggs! What is it?” a Fletching sailor asked.
“Crell! It’s a Necrom,” a Morgog Footsoldier proclaimed. “We must destroy it!”
“That thing has Pluck’s sword,” Parry said as he pointed out the weapon. “But where is he? Has it devoured him?”
“I am here, Parry,” she answered. “I have always been here.” Pluck continued to the Dreadgons and then questioned Gar, “What are the rules of this match?”
“Simple, the first one to yield loses.”
“What? It is not to the death?” Avarice commented to his men, and the soldiers murmured their agreement. Avarice looked to Lord Caliber then back to Pluck and the Dreadgon. The Morgog Commander grinned, whispering, “It seems you were right about the Dreadgons. They have revealed the magic one.”
Lord Caliber replied, “I knew I smelled sorcery; it is the enchantment of the Mystic Rose. Perhaps Pluck is the one the Rose bonded with and if so, we are one step closer to achieving our goals.” He looked worried as he glanced at the Dreadgons and then Lord Caliber said, “That is if she wins this match. We cannot allow the Dreadgons to take the princess. Are your men in position if the Beast Woman should fail?”
“Yes, everything is ready.”
Edward stepped toward the Dreadgons and asked them, “How do we know you shall keep your word and leave peacefully if we win?”
“I, Gar, have given my word,” he replied as he turned to his comrades. “If I should go against it, they will harshly deal with me.” Gar faced Pluck and told her, “I have never faced a female of your kind in battle. This should make an interesting match.” He smacked his spiked club on his palm and asked, “Are you ready?”
Of her kind? Pluck looked over his monstrous gray form. His three sallow eyes peered at her, expressing his determination as drool frothed around his square lips and yellow tusks. He was a presence to fear.
“Yes,” Pluck answered, unstrapping her scabbard. She unsheathed the Lux and thunder rumbled from the blade, warning those who would oppose it. She drew strength from its power, threw the scabbard aside, and then said, “Begin.”
Tusk and the other Dreadgons backed away as Gar twirled his club, loosening up. His hog nose twitched with his zest to fight as his wide bare chest bulged with muscles. He struck suddenly and with great force, slamming his spiked weapon upon her. Pluck lifted her sword and blocked his attack as his weight and strength bore down on her. Her arms shook under his pressure. Gar lifted his weapon, swinging to bat her away, but Pluck ducked, rolling to the Dreadgon’s feet. She struck at his unprotected ankles. He quickly lifted his leg, evading her attack and then Gar smacked her with his free hand, sending her across the grass. She landed hard and slid. Pluck coughed on sand and dust, sat up, wiped her bloody lip, and stood.
Gar laughed as he spoke, “Thought we were slow because of our size. You should never underestimate your opponent.”
He charged, slamming into her like a Desert Bull, and the force hurled her into the crowd of men, knocking several of them to the ground. Pluck rose to one knee, dazed, and looked around at those gathered. Many of them glared at her like they wished they were the ones trying to kill her. She dragged herself to her feet.
“Do you yield?” Gar asked. “Surely you know you’re out matched. Give up now before you’re hurt any further.” He pointed his club at the men and told her, “I see how they stare at you. Why do you fight for their kind?”
“Do not give up!” Edward pleaded.
Pluck glanced at Princess Virago who had moved to the circle. The princess and Flaxen cringed from her. What was she fighting for? Pluck had to remember or she would give up right there. She fought to end her curse and keep a promise to Han. She glanced around the circle and knew they would kill her if she lost, and Edward wouldn't be able to stop them. If she focused on that motive, then Pluck would be driven by fear. She focused on Han and the love she had for him and with new resolve, Pluck stuck her sword in the ground, removed her gloves, and kicked off her boots. She no longer needed them, and she may need her claws.
Pluck drew the Lux from the sand and declared to the Dreadgon, “I will not yield!”
She rushed upon him, leapt into the air, and came down on him with her sword. Gar lifted his club to block as the Lux flashed like lightning and then sliced through the wood. The spike covered end of the weapon fell to the sand, and the Dreadgon stared at his club astonished. Pluck landed, slapping a palm down to absorb the force and then she stood, tail twitching her eagerness to attack again. Gar threw what remained of his club at her. She quickly dodged it, rolled to her feet, and rushed upon him as he barreled his hand down on her. She evaded, slicing her sword across his ankle. Gar howled, then brought his other hand down, and smashed her; the force nearly knocked her out. She laid there motionless as Gar stumbled bac
k from his injury. Tusk stepped up and supported his comrade.
Gar snorted and then questioned, “Do you yield?” he asked through gritted teeth as green blood trickled down his ankle.
She didn’t reply.
“Do you yield?” he asked again as he hobbled on one foot.
Pluck moved her left hand from underneath her belly, swiped it across the sand, and felt how warm the granules were under the sun. She sucked in needed air which made her side hurt and with intense pain, Pluck pushed off the ground, used her sword as a crutch, and rose to one knee. Red blood ran from her eyes and mouth. Her vision blurred as she scanned the crowd. Most of their faces hadn’t changed except for Virago and Lady Flaxen. They realized if she lost the duel then the princess would be taken.
“Do not give up,” Flaxen pleaded for her princess.
Pluck turned to Edward and saw his eyes were filled with concern, but it wasn’t for her. It hurt Pluck to see his regard was only for his wife; it hurt her worse than the pain stabbing at her body. She was ready to give up and yield when she heard a voice.
“Pluck...”
She turned and saw two High Guards carry Han out on his cot. Her self-pity melted away as she saw the man she considered her father come out to her. The two High Guards gently set him down as Han urged her, “Pluck... Fight... You cannot give up.”
Her self-pity turned to love intermixed with bitter sorrow. Tears streamed down her face as she cried for her pain and the pain that Han endured to come out to her. She knew he loved her and that love gave her strength to stand. Pluck rose unsteadily to her feet as she yelled, “I will not yield! Never!”
“Can you go on?” Tusk asked Gar as he looked at his injured foot.
“Yes, just remind me what I’m fighting for.”
“Look,” Tusk told him as he motioned to the princess. “You're fighting for that fair one. She’ll be our cook and clean for us. No more eating raw or boiled eggs for surely she knows many recipes.”
Gar licked his lips as he said, “Let me see if I can stand on my own. I can.” Tusk handed him a new club, but he refused it as Gar reminded him, “No, only what we bring to the match.” He hobbled toward the Beast Woman as he mopped sweat from his massive hairy forearms and hunched back with his hand. He flexed his muscles and made fists as he warned her, “These are like hammers. I may not have a club, but I can still kill you.”
Pluck didn’t reply as she wiped the blood from her mouth. She stared at the Dreadgon with her emerald feline eyes and bolted for him. Gar didn’t expect such speed. He swung his fist and the other and missed her as Pluck climbed up his leg and around on his back. She grabbed his ear and placed her sword under his chin. The blade cut into his thick gray skin and green blood trickled down.
“Do you yield?” she asked, affirming her hold on him.
“Crell!” Gar shouted and then he answered, “Yes. You have won. We’ll leave.”
She released him and slid to the ground and nearly collapsed to her feet. She took a few moments to rest, and Pluck felt a little stronger and wasn't as wobbly on her legs.
Gar hobbled off with Tusk’s assistance and the other Dreadgons followed.
Tusk told Gar, “This means we’ll have no cook.”
“Yes, I know,” Gar answered.
“This means we’ll only have boiled eggs.”
“Actually,” Gar corrected him. “We’ll have nothing. You’ve forgotten these creatures ate our eggs.”
Virago rushed to Edward and questioned him, “Is it over?”
He embraced her as he told her, “Yes, my love. You are safe.”
Once the Dreadgons vanished into the jungle, Avarice looked to Lord Caliber and stormed into the circle as if on cue and began his performance. He inquired, “What is the meaning of this? Has a Beast walked among us this whole time?”
“It is a Necrom,” Lord Caliber declared, pointing his wolf-head staff accusingly. “We all know the story of the Second Age of Magic and how the Necroms nearly destroyed Man. Our forefathers told us if the Necroms ever found our new home they must be destroyed or they would destroy us.”
Many from both sides murmured, agreeing with Avarice and Lord Caliber.
Pluck said nothing in her defense as she looked to Edward and saw his face hardened with contemplation. She feared he would leave her to the wolves of mistrust and hatred, and Pluck feared he would betray her. A voice rose above the others when it seemed no one would come to her aid.
“Would you murder our hero?” Han asked. “Would you slay the one who saved our princess from untold horrors?”
The men grew silent as they all considered the Fletching Commander's words.
“Pluck is not a Necrom. She is like us only cursed,” Han informed them and then he coughed up more blood in his hand. He wouldn't let that stop him and he ordered, “All of you back to your work. There is still much to do.”
The Fletching people moved off as Avarice nodded and the Morgogs departed. Edward and Virago left the circle, making their way to his tent. Flaxen followed them and Melee paused from following his prince as Pluck walked to the Fletching Commander.
Han praised her as he said, “Well done. Come, let someone tend to your wounds.”
No one volunteered so Melee stepped forward and said, “I will tend to Pluck if someone will man my station.”
Han nodded and ordered a High Guard to take Melee's place.
Lord Caliber and Avarice moved toward their tent and he drew close and whispered to Avarice, “I saw her fingers. Pluck bares the marks of the Mystic Rose.”
Avarice stated, “Then that part of our mission is completed.” He stopped, studied the crowd, and added, “Soon we begin the next phase and after Han is dead, I see no one who shall hinder us.” He headed into his tent along with Lord Caliber.
Back near the grassy area, Quip climbed down from the rocks as he muttered to himself, “Me not like people’s stares and since Pluck not wear cloak, people hate.” He scampered over into an empty hole he’d made his nest and grabbed his sack. “Me think time me left. Bad mood here.” He scurried into the jungle as he muttered, “No good come.”
Beauty of the Beast #1 The Mystic Rose- Part A- The Flower, The Sword, And The Kiss Page 27
