“Well?” Terrok pushed. “I just spent an entire night in an ugly stone box, so I’m itchin’ to get my name cleared so I can head out.”
“Right by combat is a valid request, according to the Law of the King,” the Mayor said as he looked between his two companions.
“The Smith isn’t the topic at hand,” Mary insisted. She smacked her hand on the table and stood. She was shorter than the Mayor but somehow appeared taller by the way the man shrank beneath her glare.
“The Smith is a part of the events in which the stranger is being judged for,” Leloch sighed. “His insanity from meeting him is one of the main reasons we had the right to detain him despite the Knight’s interest.”
“Ya got the old buzzard’s interest?” Terrok asked as he turned to Raylas.
“Only from what I’ve been told,” Raylas shrugged. “Not sure what he sees in me, but his grandson tried to defend me before being sent out.”
“Was that what ya two were squawkin’ about while I cleaned up?”
Raylas nodded. Not like it was any help as they already made a decision. They had already deemed him guilty so they preplanned some sort of punishment, which was feeding him to the monster out in the ruins. Calling her a ‘dungeon’ was a flimsy excuse though it did hint that not everyone in the room knew. There were secrets even between them.
So how to manipulate this?
“You said trial by combat is a legitimate method to prove innocents?” Raylas asked.
The Mayor jumped at his words and he desperately looked between Mary and Reloch.
“We have already determined your–”
“Now, wait, Mary,” the scarred man interrupted. “Sending him into the dungeon is a suicide mission.”
“Dungeon?” Terrok muttered curiously.
“Letting him prove his innocence by trial would result in the same thing, wouldn’t it?” Leroch finished while eyeing the dwarf.
“Legally he has the right to request it,” the Mayor muttered.
“I forbid this,” Mary snapped. “He is a danger and must be dealt with the way we always do.”
“Do you really think killing him will solve it this time?” Leroch growled. He slowly stood and leaned over to look her in the eyes. “Your ‘friends’ failed at keeping it under wraps, so you should also go with them to prove you can be forgiven as well.”
“There is no need for–”
“How dare you!” Mary screeched. The Mayor slumped in his chair as his words were ignored. “It is because of your pathetic hunters that this entire situation occurred in the first place.”
“The trial…” the fancy man lamented.
The judges bickered against each other. Raylas sighed, his words wouldn’t be heard but he at least gained some time to think. A trial by combat would be difficult since he had no weapons. There was a rare instance of one being given, but usually these methods were only done by those who were already powerful, like a Knight. They already had weapons and armor to use for the trial. His were taken and, when he looked at Sim’s dark glances, he doubted he would get them back.
At least he had his armor.
“The banshee knows how ta aim between the legs, don’ she?” Terrok whispered.
Raylas turned to the two which had turned into an insult match. The Mayor had stood up and was trying to moderate the two of them but the woman was venomously trying to scratch the scarred man. He seemed to be enjoying himself by prodding the woman further into fury, but his hand was still clasped tightly to his belt where Raylas suspected he usually had a weapon.
“She’d give Rolft a run for his copper,” Raylas agreed. “If I live through this then I might win in a verbal sparring with him.”
“Speaking of sparring,” Terrok huffed as he strode forward and slammed his arm onto the table.
The wood splintered beneath the force of his punch and the halves of the table collapsed onto the floor in a shower of fragments. The three of them froze in place and snapped their attention to the short man, their eyes wide in shock. The Mayor appeared to be on the verge of fainting but the other two slowly took in breaths and straightened themselves to face him.
“As cute as yur little spat is, I don’ like my time bein’ wasted. Who am I fightin’?”
“Two candidates requested a fight for justice,” Leroch said, turning to Mary with a pondering look.
“Two candidates…” she muttered as she stared at the broken table then back at the dwarf.
“One has been a resident for some time, but was led astray by the words of an outsider.”
“To prove he was not driven insane he will fight to regain his standing,” Mary smiled and returned Leroch’s look.
“What do you two–?” the Mayor started, but Mary held up her hand to silence him.
“Two votes?” she asked, which Leroch nodded in return. “The two of you shall fight to prove who is the innocent one,” she announced, beaming menaically.”Our Blacksmith shall prove his mind is still under his own control by beating the one who supposed twisted him, while the stranger shall pay for the damages through either the Smith’s coin or, if he loses, going into the dungeon.”
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“Now hold up,” Terrok protested. “I never said anythin’ about givin’ my coin.”
“You should have thought of that before going on a rampage and destroying the forge,” Leroch countered.
“If I be leavin’ this town then the dwarven secrets of smithing shall be purged,” he huffed. “We hold our knowledge highly, and only me apprentices are to learn them… if I ever get some.”
“T-The judgement has been ruled,” the Mayor stammered as he slowly stood up, carefully avoiding the broken pieces of wood on the floor. “Any complaints shall be resolved only through the trial of combat.”
Terrok gave Raylas a look and sighed.
“Sorry, lad. I don’ got enough coin on me to afford ta lose this. Ya are a human so please try to live through my fists of love.”
Raylas shivered hearing the dwarf’s fists crack as he clenched. He looked at the table then back at the bearded man who was scrunching his face in determination. The smiling faces of the scarred man and the old woman was frustrating, and he almost wanted to try and run but a verdict was made. The law was the law and he chose this path.
Fight and win or lose and die. Those were familiar odds. Raylas couldn’t help but smile as he looked at the dwarf.
“If you lose I’ll be sure to buy you a drink to mourn your loss,” he chuckled.
Terrok’s face split into a smile.
“So where is our playground,” Terrok asked the judges. “I’m ready ta play with this twig of a man.”
* * *
A small crowd gathered around the small field. It was not everyday you got to see someone fight for their life, much less seeing a warrior and dwarf square off.
Raylas was surprised to see an open area like this inside the town. It was by the wall of the town and could easily fit five or more houses, but it was completely open except for a simple pole in the middle. It was wrapped in faded ribbons which was reminiscent of a similar one at Eilire. There were some differences, though. The braid of the ribbons and colors used made an unusual tapestry of color. He was curious if there were dances during the spring here too? The grown single girls danced while wrapping the ribbons around the pole while the single men would slowly tinkle in, choosing a maiden as a partner and spinning them in a playful dance to decorate for the coming new year.
Nostalgia filled him and he smiled softly remembering a familiar face.
“Are ya ready?” Terrok bellowed from the other side of the field.
Raylas snapped out of his memories and shook his head to remove the distracting thoughts. They were decades old and useless for the upcoming missions. He would have to use all his will and wits to beat this fight.
“Not gonna use a weapon?” the dwarf asked as he swung his hammer back and forth.
“I don’t have one to use,” Raylas replied.
Terrok frowned and looked at his hammer. He shrugged his shoulders and walked over to Sim who was watching from the edge of a line which had been drawn in the snow.
“Hold this,” he said as he handed the weapon to the guard.
Sim frowned as he took the hammer then let out a surprised shout as he was dragged to the ground once Terrok released the weapon. The dwarf sighed and shook his head in disappointment before turning back to Raylas with a smile.
“If yur gonna fight like a man, then so shall I.”
“Its unorthodox…” the Mayor sighed.
“Just get it on with,” Mary said with a content smile.
Someone had brought a chair out for her, so she was sitting comfortably to the side while Leroch and the Mayor stood nearby. Leroch had armed himself when they left the jail as well, tying a sword to his belt and holding a bow in his hand.
“Rules are as follows,” he announced, silencing the muttering crowd. “The two of you shall fight until either submission or death of your opponent. If either of you try to flee from the ring you shall be found guilty and sentenced to death.” He pulled an arrow and held it ready on the bowstring. “You may start when ready.”
“I’m lookin’ forward to this,” Torrok laughed.
Raylas gave a nervous smile as well and started to circle the dwarf. He observed, seeing that he placed each foot down deliberately. His body moved with practiced ease and he was relaxed. There appeared to be no tension in his body whatsoever.
His posture and movements had an air of confidence, showing he had at least a basic experience of combat behind him. Raylas matched his step and flexed his fingers, warming up for when they clashed.
The pole stood between them as they circled the ring. The crowd was growing and calls for the fighting to start began to flow out of them. Raylas slowly fazed them out, pushing all his focus on the short man. This was not a battlefield, so he was given a rare luxury to be able to give his complete focus to fight one person.
They watched each other, waiting. Then, from the corner of his eye, Raylas saw the dwarf’s confident step slip as he hit a small patch of mud.
He launched forward, bringing his arm back to make the first hit but the dwarf’s step instantly solidified and he smiled.
The man’s posture changed from carefully moving to lowering himself into a readied stance. His fist shot out in front of him to punch where Raylas was rushing but he wasn’t going to be hit that easily. Using a step he learned fighting against sturdy creatures like trolls Raylas used his momentum to quickly sidestep around the stationary man and deliver a solid punch.
The dwarf was no pushover. He turned, following Raylas with surprising speed, and blocked his punch with his forearm. Raylas winced when he felt the impact. The dwarf wasn’t wearing anything more than basic leather armor but there was no give in the material at all. It was like he hit a stone wall.
Then a sudden impact on his side launched him into the air. Raylas’ eyes widened as he saw the top of the crowd for a moment before he slammed into the snow. He tried to take a breath but his chest wouldn’t move. Panic started to grow as his body felt paralized, then all too suddenly he was able to take a full breath. Right after he snapped his mouth shut as a sharp spike of pain grew out from his side.
It was like he was cracking in half. Tentacles of pain slowly made its way up his abdominal toward his heart. He collapsed his side to try to stop the pain but there was no opening for the wound, only a slowly growing bruise.
“Did ya enjoy me fist of love?” The dwarf bellowed as he stomped toward Raylas. “Me love for me coin is potent, and while I like ya I just can’ part with me hard earned money.”
Raylas growled as he rolled to his feet. His breath was coming fine, so it meant his ribs were still intact. The pain in the side was just a solid hit… a very solid hit from a man who felt like he was as hard as a boulder.
“How about I join ya in yur adventure as ya go to pay off yur debt?”
“It would be a short journey,” Raylas hissed through the pain.
The initial sharpness had faded leaving a dull throb. The feeling of healing, the slow burn which most warriors learned to deal with. Raylas let go of his side and lifted his fists.
“Did you really think one lucky punch would be enough to take me out?” he asked.
The dwarf’s smile widened. Then, like an avalanche he leapt forward.