As the stonemen leader hollered and slammed his clubs, he and his men were kept at bay only by the limited missiles we still had remaining to us. I leapt across several rooftops to find Galgrum, a final bident in his hand.
“The man in the lead, the large one, Elle tells me he’s yelling that we kidnapped his people.”
“What? Is she sure he’s not saying the opposite?”
“Yes. I think we’ve made a mistake. Did you ever try talking with them?”
He grimaced. “We did. They killed the men we sent to speak to them.”
“I’m going to try to talk with him. Maybe we don’t have to finish this with bloodshed.”
Galgrum nodded, and let his bident drop a little in his grip.
I leapt across a few roofs to the one closest to the remaining stonemen. I cupped my hands and yelled, trying to be loud enough to break through their warchants. “Stonemen, we want to talk!”
The chanting broke slightly and their chief stepped toward me and spoke in common. “We do not honor those weaker than us with the sharing of words!”
I looked around, noting that we now had a solid advantage in both numbers and positioning. “We don’t seem so weak from where I’m standing!”
The chief scoffed. “You attack from a hidden place. You use traps and tricks to fight us. Victory through those methods does not make you strong.”
I sighed. An attack-first warrior culture with that kind of attitude. I’d read my fair share of fantasy books. There was only one way to prevent further bloodshed. “What if I prove we’re worth speaking with, that we’re strong?”
“There is no way you could do such a thing.”
“Not even if I fought you one on one?”
The chanting among the stonemen had quieted during our talk, but now I heard whispers of “gra-thuk” breaking through.
The chief laughed. “You would offer challenge? Gra-thuk?”
“Yes, with terms.”
He smiled, yellow teeth peeking through his unkempt beard. “If I am victorious we shall enslave your men, take your women, and smash your settlement into dust. You will offer no resistance.”
“Agreed.” That drew gasps from those next to me. “And if I win, you cease this conflict and you answer any questions I have.”
“Deal. You will not win anyway, though I must say your terms are pathetic.”
I looked over to Zevrack and Elle who’d managed to find their way next to me while I was talking, along with Galgrum. I spoke to them more quietly. “If I die, just kill the rest of them.”
Zevrack looked surprised. “You would not honor the rules of the duel?”
“I’ll be dead, so I don’t really care about honor. Besides, you all still have the advantage."
Zevrack nodded. “I had thought you were simply a great warrior. It seems that you also possess the wisdom of kobolds as well.”
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I smiled at that. “I’m doing this because if they’re not taking people, and we’re not, that means there’s something else out there we need to worry about. We need all the information we can get.” I should’ve realized that it wasn’t the stonemen sooner. I’d only seen a shadow kidnap that woman, and I let the mushroom dwarves color my perceptions. The conflict likely would’ve escalated even if I hadn’t been involved, but if I’d taken more time to think things through this may have all been avoided. I’d been more reckless and impulsive in Tu’reyne than I’d ever been on Earth. If being cautious wasn’t coming naturally to me anymore, I’d have to start keeping it actively in my mind. I’d start right after I had a one on one fight with a massive dwarf who could likely kill me in a single hit.
I looked over at Rockelle, whose eyes were glowing as she looked at the enemy chief. “Anything useful?” I asked.
She looked at me and shook her head. “He’s much stronger than you. I really think we should consider just continuing the fight as we were before. I also think, in the future, maybe investing a bit more in luck wouldn’t hurt for you.”
“Noted.” I leapt down off the roof and walked halfway to the chief. “I’m Cormac. What’re the ground rules for a challenge?”
The Chief took a few steps toward me. “I am Tog. We fight as we are. No interference from the others. Until death or concession.”
I drew my glowing sword and took a stance with my other hand open. I liked the freedom of a free hand and had naturally come to prefer keeping it empty and ready for anything. I scanned the immediate arena around us, looking for anything I could use, and finding a few promising options. “Works for me.”
Tog took a few steps closer and his people began chanting “Gra-thuk” rhythmically.
We sized each other up, and I immediately found myself wanting in comparison. I could tell, even with my limited experience, that he was stronger, and tougher than I was. Luckily, I didn’t plan on fighting fair.
Before he could finish sizing me up I took a spice bomb from my belt and threw it at his face. He managed to bring his hands up in front and block it, but by then I’d already reached him. I swung a kick with all my strength below his belt. It landed true and he let out a roar of anger and swung his hammers at me. I flash stepped, appearing behind him and I made a deep slashing cut across his back. I went to make another, but he spun around with both clubs and I only narrowly dodged them, forced to back away from my attack.
I turned my back to him as if I was running, and when he went to pursue I whipped around and cast grease across him. He slid forward, and nearly lost his footing, but I’d spread the grease over him rather than at his feet. He closed in and I matched him, drawing some surprise as I approached him directly for the first time. He roared and I threw a stab at him that he batted aside, but I immediately used my longer reach to snap my fingers in his beard, casting spark and setting him ablaze.
I expected him to scream in pain, drop his weapons, or at least pat at his beard in an attempt to keep the first from spreading. He did none of those things. Instead, he stopped his yelling and went straight for me with his clubs held high. He began attacking me with a flurry of strikes that I was only narrowly able to avoid or deflect with my sword. He was dead silent, and his eyes were full of a kind of quiet rage that seemed to allow him to ignore the wounds I’d dealt as well as the fire that was spreading across him.
He made a swipe at my side, and I was only just able to block it with my blade. The force of the blow sent me rolling across the town square. I looked around, hoping to find one of the bidents that had been thrown, or even a rock near me I could throw, but there was nothing.
Tog caught up to me and made another sideways strike. This time when I tried blocking it hit my sword hand with a sickening crunch. The sword itself went flying, losing it’s glow as it got further away from me. I desperately kicked out my leg and managed to hit him in the face, stunning him for a moment.
I drew my dagger, grateful for the brass knuckle handle, without which I didn’t think I’d be able to hold it. I tried to start a counterattack, and managed several slashes along Tog’s arms, but nothing truly damaging. I’d used up all of my tricks as quickly as possible in the hopes that I could bring him down quickly, but now that I’d used them all and he hadn’t gone down I was stuck fighting fair.
We continued exchanging blows. The fire on Tog had faded, leaving his skin patchy with burns and the smell of burnt hair filled the air. I had reach and speed, but Tog was like a rock. If I took a single good hit I knew it could be the end of me.
I scooped up some of the spice that had scattered on the ground and threw it in his face, this time managing to get some in his eyes. They began watering, but he didn’t blink.
I adjusted my tactics. I looked around and ran in the opposite direction.
Tog followed me, but it was impossible for his dwarf legs to keep up. I scooped up a bident and tossed it at him. He tried to deflect it, but it wound up in his leg. I then ran for the nearest rock and threw it, then another bident, then I started grabbing picks off his own dead men and throwing them at him. I kept doing this, and in spite of Tog’s rage, he began to wear down. After several minutes he was riddled with cuts, bleeding bruises, and bidents. Between the damage and his running to catch up with me, he was completely spent. He lost his balance, the last bit of the grease on the bottom of his shoe finally giving me an assist, and fell face first into the ground. After a few moments he didn't get up.
I walked toward him, staying just out of range of a surprise attack, gestured to his collapsed form and looked at the remaining stonemen. Through my own ragged breathing I managed to sputter out. “I think I’d call that a concession, wouldn’t you?”