Soloman's Keep • Plaza

They stood outside the trial house, with all the looming houses surrounding them and the people staring now from the dilapidated homes, as they walked down the steps of the courthouse (which was little more than a shack), towards a rowdy plaza, and walking further, behind a small little alleyway. The three stood there, Apollo, Dion and the Leper who looked at them with a crooked neck.

“I thought you wanted to help,” Apollo said.

“Certainly!” The Leper said.

“Then why won’t you fight?”

“Because you haven’t agreed to deal, of course.”

“What about the papers then? The sponsorship?”

“Forged of course!” He said, almost impressed. “Though they could be made real, so long as you agree. And I mean, agree to everything. That when the day is necessary that both, or one of you, will come join us on our little expedition. That the deal will be honored. Those are the terms.”

“And you’ll fight for us?”

“I’ll win for you, yes.” The Leper said.

Apollo and Dion looked at each other.

“Do you think it’s a good deal?” Dion asked.

“Well, it’s better than dying.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He only needs one of us. I’ll fulfill the honor when it comes.”

“No,” Dion stepped forward. “We both will.”

The Leper walked towards them and gestured for them to hold their hands out. The metal gloves placed on them stuck out. He grabbed him, broke a latch on the side and they released with a loud thump on the floor.

“Swear on it.” The Leper said. He flashed his hand, the white glove and the strange arcana embroidered on his palm. He removed the glove, finger by finger and showed that putrid flesh of his. Burned and discolored and swollen and brittle. As if his flesh would flake off at any moment.

Apollo swallowed his throat. He clutched his hand and shook and looked straight into those violet eyes.

“Ah, that’s good. Most people don’t shake.” The Leper said. “They don’t understand that I’m not contagious, aha.”

“There, now I hope you’ll fight. And well, too. He’s a big fucker.”

“We’d fight if we could,” Dion said, his thin arms held onto the wall.

“Being bigger is a liability, it’s not good strategy.” The Leper said. He slapped his glove back on.

“That looks familiar,” Apollo sized him. “That sign on your glove.”

“Why, it's the same magic that’s in your little suits.” The Leper said. “After all, I’m the man who designed it.”

They stayed quiet as the Leper walked past them in confident stride. The challenger waited at the center of the plaza, a large fellow, twice the size of any normal man. And upon his shoulders, dragging on the floor, was a solid cross. A concrete, bludgeoning tool whose usage and kills were marked as tallies along the center of the crucifix. He had no suit, more so had a cloak and rags. He had a mask, though it barely fit and the long threads of hair protruded outward, messy and greasy.

The judges stood around the circle.

"So, in the end, you still became their champion." One of the judges said. Everyone began to whisper, to worry. Only briefly as they compared sizes and amongst the sungazers and the spectators, a new bidding took place. Fifty to two, in favor of the giant, Ambley.

Some chose not to bet though, for the Leper had never been seen fighting and that kind of mystery was always a liability in gambling odds.

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"Yes, by circumstances and coincidence, I am their champion,"

"The Leper of Soloman's Keep, the wandering disease," They repeated.

"I’m glad even my reputation has gone this far," He bowed. “You should all be so fortunate as to enjoy my genius.”

He stepped towards the middle. The idiot, Ambley, did so as well, lugging his giant cross in a little arc. And the crowd seemed, out of sheer contempt for the two, to side with the giant.

Apollo and Dion were forced up, four vicars surrounded them with ready blades, two more were coming. They were shackle-less after all.

"This reminds you of back then, doesn't it?" Apollo said.

"Yeah, except it's easier for us."

"Is it though?" Apollo said. "I can’t help but get nervous when fate isn’t in my hands."

"You'd rather be in there, fighting?" Dion asked.

"Wouldn't you? I thought you were the gung-ho type."

"I was. I'm humbled now." Dion said.

"I can tell,"

"And you, you want to fight, don't you?"

"Yeah, it's scary. But a part of me does, yes."

"Out of obligation or..."

"Or pleasure."

"Are you sure you’re not the one who’s sick in the head?" Dion asked.

He smirked, perhaps out of a nervousness as they watched the two warriors ready and circle themselves like forced lions in the Colosseum.

They went four rounds around the arena.

Then the giant struck. He swung from up high. The floor cracked underneath the weight of the cross.

The Leper dodged to the side.

Apollo tried to calm his breath but couldn't. He seemed nervous for the Leper, nervous for the little man, nervous for the crowd of vicars acting like those very demons, those joyous cretins, who he had spent so much time killing.

The cross came down. It dug into the earth and shot rock from underneath, some of the spectators were struck with the debris. The giant kept swinging, kept making small craters out of the earth and the Leper did nothing but run. But dodge, but turn and keep his distance. He was certainly agile, extremely fast. The fastest thing Apollo had seen. He looked more of a blur of white in the haze of mist and dust. A specter.

But he still hadn’t landed a blow. Hadn’t even gone for a hit.

"It looks like he's losing," Dion said.

Apollo kept watching, his face growing sterner as the fight dragged on and as the crowd cheered and as the rocks kept flying and the debris scattered about.

"Doesn’t he have a weapon?" Dion asked.

"If he has one, he doesn’t need it." Apollo said. "He's a mage, they're shifty types."

Apollo turned. And it seemed over, the Leper cornered by the crowd who now pushed him towards the monstrosity, and the judges who didn’t care.

The cross came down. The earth broke into a giant mushroom cloud of asphalt and concrete, an eruption.

"He’s dead.”

And the Leper stood there. In place, uninjured, undisturbed. There was not a single crease on his clothes.

"You’re right, he is dead," Apollo said.

Everyone gasped. Some accused the Leper of foul play. Ambley didn’t care, he was too worried to. He raised his cross again and let the shadow of his weapon cast down on the Leper.

“Poor planning has led your life here.” The Leper said in a voice sobered and threatening. “You have come a warrior and you will leave a spokesman for the might of the Hospitallers.”

He took one hand out of his jacket. There was a brief glow coming from the arcana written on his gloves. He dragged his hand in an arc in front of him, like a symphony composer. The cross was still coming down as he did so, with too much momentum to stop.

And everyone paused in shock.

For the space in front of the Leper, had quite literally, been cut. A black hole, almost, in between the brute and the Leper. A void in which the crucifix fell through, deep into it. To the right side of the Leper, another similar hole had been made. Such that the cross went through one end and out the other, a complete displacement.

Ambley tried to release himself. He dropped his cross and tried walking back. The Leper grabbed hold of his hand, sticking out to his rear. He kept him there, with one single hand and pulled on his limbs to come further into the hole. No one knew what was more impressive, the magic or the strength of his grip.

And it came to an end. The Leper snapped his fingers. The black wormhole disappeared. And instantly, blood sprayed onto the crowd.

Everyone stayed silent, the giant looked down, in shock with the sweat condensing on his mask from his mouth and eye holes. He looked down to his limbs, now severed, and the bone and veins jetting blood out like a high-pressure water hose.

A quick, clean cut, that rendered all marrow and nerves exposed to cold air. That to Apollo, who now cringed, even seemed obscene. The tendons spasmed and the Ambley retracted his arms and hugged them close to his chest. The blood kept gushing out.

It was only after minutes that he could find the strength to scream. Scream and groan and fall to the floor.

“I’m sure they’ll grow back.” The Leper said. “You are a vicar, after all. A big one, too.”

The Leper walked towards the cross and with one claw grip, held it high, that giant thing that must have been twice his size, above his head.

“Or would you continue?” He asked.

Ambley nodded his head. The tears were streaming down the sides now.

“That settles it then!” The Leper said, joyously. “Now let's not sully the steps with the blood of Christ no longer. My clients are innocent.”

And it was settled. Most of the spectators now reeled away, most so surprised and impressed that they couldn’t even find it in them to boo.

Apollo looked to Dion, both of their eyes wide and their mouths struggling to close.

“Th-that’s magic.” He said. “Do you think I can learn it?”

“No, you’re too stupid,” Apollo said. “And it’s much too dangerous.”

He looked, eyes narrowed and red, at the Leper who looked back with violet eyes. He was standing above his work, that efficient brutality and Apollo had the suspicion that behind that mask, behind that broken and ill flesh, that there was a smile on the Leper’s face. The thought made him shudder.