Elf Puncher

by Simon Archer

  I reached out and snagged the back of the collar of the gnome, lifting him off his feet so that his eyes were level with my own. He couldn’t have weighed more than Graham, so I easily held him with one hand. The gnome’s shoulders rose, and his whole body stiffened.

  I barely met his round green eyes before they blinked, and the gnome disappeared from my hand. There wasn’t even a puff of smoke to signal his departure. I whipped about, trying to find him, when the gnome performing the tricks announced, “Show’s over, folks!”

  Then the little creature scurried off down the alley. Emboldened, I bolted after the gnome, determined not to let him get away with his crimes. I didn’t plan on turning him over to the authorities, but I figured I could intimidate him into giving the money back.

  For such a small bastard, he was speedy. The gnome dipped and dodged about the alleyway. I barrelled ahead, figuring that my long legs would catch up to him soon. However, the gnome seemed to elude me.

  We ducked into another alley, and I nearly slipped on a random puddle when I turned the corner at an unreasonable speed. The gnome continued onward, never once looking back to see who or what was chasing him. So it would stand to reason that he should have seen whatever it was that he ran into because he crashed into something at breakneck speed and fell flat on his back.

  It was a spectacular fall, really. His legs flipped up in the air, and he landed with a thud on the cobblestones. It looked like he smacked into an invisible wall. It reminded me of the defensive spell refs used on fighters to keep them away from each other. Then I realized that’s exactly what it was. My suspicions were confirmed when Barth rounded the corner and stepped into the alleyway, joining the gnome and me.

  The gnome groaned and rubbed the back of his head as he slowly sat up. Barth stepped up to the creature, arms behind his back, and looked down at him. A long shadow fell over the gnome, and he shivered in response.

  “Hello, Gerry,” Barth said with a venomous smile. “Long time, no see.”

  Gerry the gnome sneered up at Barth. “Bartholomew.”

  “Wait,” I interrupted, “you two know each other?”

  “We do,” Barth said at the same time Gerry said, “We used to.”

  “Gerry and I used to work together,” Barth explained. “Training fighters.”

  “What do you want, Barth?” the gnome snapped. His voice was high pitched, typical of gnomes, but it had a nasal lilt that fluctuated between cute and obnoxious very easily.

  “I want you to come work with me again,” Barth proposed, his voice still even.

  “Welp,” Gerry said as he clambered to his feet. He put two hands on his lower back and thrust them out, cracking his spine. He took his sweet time, rolling his shoulders and moving his neck back and forth. Barth waited patiently, as if this was typical of the gnome, to stall and waste everyone’s time.

  “Last I heard, you were out of the fighting game,” Gerry accused with a noncommittal frown. “Rumor has it, you were kicked out.”

  I tried to hide my surprise, but the gnome caught it. “Ah, your new goon doesn’t know? Well, let me tell you exactly who you are working with.”

  “Gerry,” Barth said, his tone cutting through the air like a knife. “That’s enough.”

  “I don’t work for you anymore.” Gerry shook his head. “I don’t work for crooks.”

  “Says the street performer pickpocketing his audience,” I countered. I wasn’t sure why I was stepping in on Barth’s behalf, but I didn’t like how the gnome was talking about the elf.

  Gerry shrugged. “Gotta make a living somehow after your friend stabs you in the back and leaves you without a job.”

  “Is that true?” I asked Barth, looking over the gnome’s head.

  Barth didn’t say anything in response, which might as well have been a confirmation of Gerry’s accusation. The gnome nodded, sensing the same thing.

  “Can’t even bother denying it,” Gerry said quietly. “Well, I commend you on that, at least. Now if you gentlemen don’t mind, I’m going to be on my way.”

  “I can’t let you do that,” I said, widening my stance. “Not at least until you give that money back.”

  “Give what money back?” Gerry asked. He blinked innocently up at me, long eyelashes grazing the top of his cheekbones. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The money you stole from your audience members,” I said as I held out my hand expectantly.

  “Even if I did steal anything, and I’m not saying I did, they are long gone by now,” Gerry said with a shrug. “I’m not going to be able to find them in this city.”

  “Then donate it to charity or something,” I suggested. “It’s not your money to keep.”

  Gerry puffed out a breath, causing his blond hair to flop out of his face. He turned back to Barth and point a thumb in my direction. “Where did you find this lug? He’s a little too noble for your taste.”

  “He’s a good egg,” Barth said, though the words caught in his throat, like spicy food. “He’s a good fighter, too.”

  “A fighter?” Gerry looked back at me with a critical frown. “He’s a little small for a half-giant, isn’t he?”

  “I’m not--” I started, forgetting the lie when Barth coughed conspiratorially. I swallowed my words and stopped myself, but it wasn’t fast enough. Gerry gave me a leering gaze. His eyes shifted up and down my whole body. A little violated, I took a step back from the gnome who, despite being a third of my size, intimidated me slightly.

  “Well, give me wings and call me a faerie,” Gerry said, jovial for the first time since we started talking. His lips spread into a wicked grin, his nose crinkled in response. “You’re human, and you’re trying to get into the ring.”

  Gerry burst out laughing. We watched awkwardly as the gnome bent forward and clutched his stomach. I couldn’t tell if he was being dramatic or seriously thought the situation was belly-laugh hilarious.

  I opened my mouth, looking to Barth for some guidance, but the elf held up a hand. I closed it, and we waited for the gnome to finish.

  After he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, Gerry’s laugh died down. He whipped his head towards Barth and replicated that sneering smile.

  “You sneaky bastard,” Gerry said as he wagged a finger at the elf, like a parent scolding a child. “You’re actually going to do it, aren’t you?”

  “Do what?” I asked, not able to help myself.

  “He wants another Warpin,” Gerry explained, never taking his eyes off Barth. “Another history maker. You think that will put you back in their good graces.”

  “If it happens,” Barth finished with a shrug of one shoulder. “This guy’s good, Gerry. I’ve seen him in action.”

  “Let’s just say I believe you.” He looked me up and down. “What’s in for me, Barth?” Gerry clicked his tongue. “I need something from this, too.”

  “You get to work for me again,” Barth supplied, but Gerry snorted.

  “No, I don’t want to work for you,” the gnome said. “I want to work with you. We get fifty-fifty credit on this kid. You finally tell everyone that you didn’t train these greats alone. I want my due!” Gerry slapped his hand on his chest twice for emphasis.

  “Alright,” Barth said flatly. “Fifty-fifty on everything.”

  “I’m going to need that in writing,” Gerry said pointedly. “I’m not making that mistake again.”

  “We can draw something up at the farmhouse,” Barth said, his tone sharp and impatient as if he was at the end of his rope with this conversation.

  Gerry glanced over at me. “You’ve got a farm?”

  “Yeah,” I said, not sure what that had to do with anything.

  “With real domesticated animals, like chickens and cows?” the gnome looked incredulous as if those creatures were only things he’d read about in storybooks.

  “Sheep, horses, pigs, and a dog too,” I offered, unsure if I was helping or hindering the matter.

  “Nice,�
�� Gerry said with an approving frown. “That’s great and all, but tell me, why I should risk my neck for you?”

  “He’s the best--” Barth stepped in, but Gerry shushed him.

  “Shut up, Bartholomew,” Gerry snapped. “I’m talking to the kid, here.”

  “My name’s Rico,” I supplied. I was sick of being called kid even though I knew I was younger than both these males.

  “Rico,” Gerry said with a mocking tone. “You got what it takes?”

  “Yes,” I said definitively.

  “Everyone thinks that,” Gerry said. He walked toward me, swinging a gait he didn’t really have. “But why you?”

  I swallowed. I didn’t have a prepared answer for this. Over the gnome’s head, I looked to Barth for guidance, but the elf offered me nothing save for a flat expression.

  “I think there is more to fighting than creatures give it credit for,” I started. I let the words flow, thinking back to my father’s love of the sport I’d inherited. “Sure, it’s violent, and most people think it’s just some staged show. But there’s a real sport there, real athletes who love the chase, the intensity, and the fight. There’s so much technique, and it’s emotional. The whole thing is driven by emotion, and I can relate to that. It pushes creatures to their limits and allows you to witness remarkable moments of strength.”

  I paused then as I weighed my own words in my mind. “I want a chance to test my own strength and to prove that I am worth something. Because I am. My humanity doesn’t stop me from being worth just as much as the next creature. I just want to show them, and myself, that I can do it.”

  For a moment, I thought my answer was somehow incorrect for the gnome. He nodded to a slow rhythm, never speeding up or slowing down. I didn’t know if he really listened to me or heard a single word I said. I stared at him and awaited my fate.

  Gerry sniffed and rubbed his nose with a single finger. “That was a good speech, kid. You practice that?”

  “My name is Rico, and if you’re not going to respect me enough to use my name, I don’t think I want to work with you in the first place,” I admitted. I didn’t understand why I needed this gnome, but I knew I didn’t deserve this kind of treatment, especially after a rare vulnerable moment for me.

  I looked directly at the elf across the alley. “I’m headed home. You can come back with me if you want, but I’m not going to take this.”

  Defiantly, I walked down the alley. I didn’t turn back as I stomped along the cobblestones. All I wanted was to get back to my farmhouse, where it was quiet and peaceful. This dirty city made me want to scream. What I would have done to punch it to the ground with my own bare hands. Especially if everyone treated you with the same derision as Gerry.

  “Hey, Rico,” a voice called out.

  I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

  “Wanna make some magic?” the gnome asked.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, I had the biggest grin on my face.

  “As long as you promise to never call me a kid again, then absolutely,” I agreed as I spun back around to face them.

  “You gotta promise me one thing, though,” Gerry said as he stomped up to me. He had a straight finger, pointed out and in my direction.

  “What’s that?” I asked curiously.

  “I want to pet a sheep,” he said. “You think you can make that happen for me?”

  “Gerry,” I said, “I’ll let you pet a whole herd of sheep if you want.”

  “Great,” the gnome said with a wicked smile. “Let’s make some magic.”

  11

  Turns out that Gerry’s specialty was illusion magic.

  “How exactly is that going to help me?” I asked, skepticism in every syllable.

  “Did you explain nothing to this guy?” Gerry asked Barth directly. “Like how this works? How we operate? Nothing?”

  The three of us finished the morning chores and headed for the barn where Barth claimed to have a surprise for me. Gerry had not truly helped with any of the feedings. He mainly tried to get close to the animals but then would pull away when they tried to touch him back.

  The gnome was an odd male, with wispy blond, almost white hair. He wore form-fitting clothing that was perpetually bright and flashy. Also, he hardly ever stood still. Between his constant flitting and fidgeting, it was a wonder no one noticed him when he and Barth previously worked with one another.

  Now, he bounded ahead of us only to pull back when we hadn’t made it quite as far as him. Then, once we caught up, he would skip ahead again. I stayed in line with Barth, preferring his quiet demeanor.

  “I wanted it to be a surprise,” Barth said, though his tone indicated nothing of the normal delight when giving someone a surprise.

  “I’m starting to think you and I have different definitions of the word ‘surprise,’” I commented.

  If Barth heard me, he chose not to respond. When we reached the barn, Barth flew open the doors ceremoniously. “Welcome to your new training grounds.”

  Inside, in the center of the barn, there was a make-shift ring. Wooden posts had been staked into the dirt ground, making a perfect square. Loose and frayed ropes linked the four together. It marked the barrier between the ring and the audience. The floor stayed brown and dusty. However, it had been swept free of any excess hay or wood chips for a smooth finish. The equipment stored in here was pushed off to the sides and hung up on the walls. Nothing was sorted correctly, considering the hoes were with the aerators, but I could see the effort both creatures put in to make this a workable space.

  “Wow, guys,” I breathed with my hands on my hips. “It looks great.”

  “It’s about to look better,” Gerry promised. “Just wait.”

  Suddenly, Gerry clapped his hands. In response, the barn’s ceiling peeled away. I ducked down and backed away, convinced that the structure was on its way down. My back collided with Barth’s hands that held me steady.

  “Watch,” he commanded.

  I froze as the image of the practice ring pooled into a puddle of colors and swirled down an invisible drain. The worn wood dribbled away along with the harvest tools. An arena replaced the barn. It was pristine with elevated seats, each spectator getting their own chair. The ring rose high and proud at the center, with blue and red posts, marking the individual corners for the fighters and their team. The ropes hung straight and taut, the perfect blockade.

  “How in Walden…?” My question faded into the ether because my awe jumbled all of my thoughts.

  I had never been in any arena of this magnitude, but the sight before me felt real and solid. I clambered into the ring, swinging my body through the ropes. Once I touched them though, the crackle of the frayed ropes from the barn pricked through my skin.

  It instantly broke the illusion, and I turned back to Gerry and Barth for an explanation.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked, hardening my voice.

  “This is how we train,” Barth said as he gestured about the fake arena. “Gerry makes it so close to the real thing you can almost taste it.”

  “But don’t,” the gnome warned. “As you can tell, it only works on sight, not any of the other senses.”

  “This is powerful magic,” I complimented.

  “Thank you,” Gerry said with a lift in his voice, signaling his apparent pride. “It’s nice to be appreciated.”

  Barth rolled his eyes at the cheap jab. “We will create illusions of various opponents that you might be facing, and then we’ll battle them here.”

  “But if it only works on sight, then who am I going to be fighting?” I reasoned.

  “Me.”

  Barth proceeded to slip on two gloves while his image transformed. His wrinkled skin melted away to reveal a gray-skinned half-giant with recognizable red, glowing eyes. His face widened, and his bones grew until the image was complete. Before me stood an exact replica of Warpin the Relentless.

  I gasped and lost my voice. My fac
e grew warm, and I had the sudden urge to rush up and shake Warpin’s hand.

  “He’s not actually the fighter, you know,” Gerry reminded me while he crossed his arms.

  “I know that,” I snapped, embarrassed by my own starstruck self. “It’s just so damn real.”

  “Until I open my mouth,” Barth-disguised-as-Warpin explained.

  Once again, the illusion broke because Barth’s gravelly voice came from Warpin’s mouth. It ruined the entire thing, and while the image of the fighter remained, my brain was able to reimagine Barth as his elven self standing before me and not my fighting idol.

  Barth threw a pair of gloves to me. “Put these on.”

  I caught the gloves clumsily but did what I was told. My hands curled into fists inside the cloth fabric. The outer, stiffer material crunched when I did so, and the sound made the hairs on my arms stand up in anticipation. It was so satisfying to be standing in the ring, with gloves on my hands. My blood pumped so fast that I swore I could feel it racing through my limbs.

  I jumped up and down a couple of times to rid myself of the excess energy and nerves. I focused on the excitement, on the giddy expectation that surged through me.

  Barth clambered into the other corner and stood across from me. He rolled into the ring with the grace of a new foal.

  I snorted. “You need help over there?”

  “I’m fine, thank you very much,” Barth sneered. He rose to his feet and cracked his neck from side to side. “We’re going to only do three rounds to start, three minutes to each.”

  “Only three?” I puffed out a sharp bit of air. “I could take you all eight right now.”

  Barth raised an eyebrow, widening Warpin’s glare. “You say that now, but it takes more stamina than you have right now to make it all eight rounds.”

  “You’d be surprised, Barth,” I challenged. I held up my fists, covering my face. I danced from foot to foot and huffed. I gave a couple of minor jabs in the air, not aiming for anything specific. “I think this is going to be cake.”

  “Speaking of cake,” Barth said with a bemused smile, “every round you win, I’ll let you cheat on your diet and eat one of your lady friend’s pastries. How does that sound?”