Death Or Fortune (16 page)

     The little
halfling was trying to be patient.  Every roar from the crowd reminded him
that he had drunk too much ale the night before.  Still he took it all and
tried to ignore the pain of a thousand red hot pokers jammed into his brain.
 His friend was counting on him, to be right here. Pare would not let him
down.  He would do as Darmot asked, stay with his wife Jasmin, until after
he fought in the arena.  He looked up to her face and could see the worry.
 Pare never believed that Darmot was in danger.  Darmot was a brave
and skilled warrior.  No, Pare never believed that there was any danger at
all.  Had you asked the little halfling, the only thing in danger right at
that moment was his self.  He was sure his head was going to split open
from the pain at any moment.
     "Oh look Pare, I think your lady friend is going
to win again." Pare pulled his hands away from his face and looked down at
the arena floor.  He let a faint smile form on his face while seeing
Cynthia standing there in the center of the platform, her sword held high over
her head. The large red headed man she had been fighting was making his way
down the stairs the best he could with a dagger sticking out of his leg. There
were two men in white robes waiting for him, helping him. One of them Pare knew
well, Hans of North Hembers. The other he did not know at all but he was a
friend of Hans so that made him ok in Pare's book.  As the crowd continued
to roar for the female victor, poor Pare could only hold his hands over his
ears.
     Trying to keep the sounds at bay, Pare looked down at
the floor again, it wouldn't be long now.  While Hans friends walked out
of the arena while he stayed behind.  Darmot was next, Pare asked the gods
for it to end quick so he could go back to his room at the inn for some much
needed sleep.  Just as Pare thought that the crowd was going to be
sympathetic to his pain, they began to cheer again.  Jasmin jumped up with
the rest of the crowd to cheer for her husband who had just walked into the
arena.  Pare looked down to see Hans, clapping his hands waiting for
Darmot.  Behind him walked Hetaron the wizard, dressed in a silken black
robe with the hood over his head trying to keep the sun out of his eyes.
 Something about the image bothered Pare, seeing the mage follow Darmot
like that. It gave him an uneasy feeling deep in his stomach.  It was a
feeling that had nothing to do with the hangover.
     The people here loved Darmot.  He was from
Eystlund, born and raised. Yet he left home, came back a couple years later an
Arcadian Lord, a real war hero.  He showed the common man that the dream
was possible.  That with hard work and just a little bit of luck, you
could do anything.  Pare laughed at their talk there in the stands.
 There were no stories about how Pare saved his life.  How Pare
killed an evil wizard all by himself.  How Pare was turned into a dragon
and fought an entire army at all at once.  How Pare was able kill a red
dragon, once again saving every one's life.  Everything was about Darmot
but in the end, Pare didn't mind.  Darmot was his friend and he was fine
with that.  Not too many people trusted Pare but Darmot did.
     "He is fighting an Orc?" Jasmin said as she
slapped her hand down on Pare's little leg. He looked up at her face and
watched the color drain away. He then looked down at the platform and saw the
Orc named Mangosh.
     "Well, I don't know if I have ever seen one that
big before."
     "A big what Pare?" Jasmin said giving the
little halfling a shake.
     "The Orc, he has to be the biggest one I have
ever seen." Pare was also amazed at how green his skin was.  Mangosh
was favored to win, might even win the whole tournament.  Not that anyone
believed he would beat Rogar the Terrible.  He was the champion from the
year before and from what people told Pare no one even challenged him.  A
lot of the local folks were hoping for a new champion this year.  Someone
they could relate to, not some blasted Orc like Mangosh or even a bastard like
Rogar.  Pare looked back to the Orc ready to face off against his friend.
When he saw the Orc had a string of human ears around his neck Pare felt the
bile rise in the back of his mouth.
     "Pare, drink some of your water you look
horrible." He could only shake his head.  In the fight to keep what
was left of his breakfast down he had forgotten he even had his water skin.
Mangosh was holding a claymore in one of his hands.  Darmot had his armor
and shield polished to a mirror like finish.  As Pare took a long swig
from his water skin the crowd erupted again as the two met in the center of the
platform.  With a roar that could be heard in the streets, Mangosh
launched himself forward to attack Darmot. The crash of the two blades echoed
around the inside of Pare's skull.  He closed his eyes and hung his head
low pressing his hands against his temples.
     "Why did he have to buy me all that ale last
night?  Never turn down a free drink is what my Pa always told me."
Pare lifted his eyes up to look at Jasmin again to see she was not paying
attention to him at all.  Her eyes were locked on Darmot and his battle
below.  It was not going well for him.  Each time he attacked,
Mangosh was able to counter or shake off the blows as if it was nothing at all.
 Darmot however was not that lucky; he was taking a pounding from the
large Orc.  Any other man would have folded under the pressure of those
hits.  At first Pare thought Darmot was holding back as he did with the
first fight. Soon it became apparent that Mangosh wasn't just another fighter.
 The creature was a seasoned warrior, a match for anyone on the field of
battle.
     Pare got to his feet with Jasmin and the rest of the
crowd as Mangosh landed a solid kick into the chest of Darmot sending him
flying backwards, landing on his back.  He did not remember reaching up to
take Jasmin's hand, it was just there.  He looked over at how her hand was
wrapped all the way around his, it was an odd feeling. This isn't how it was
supposed to happen. Darmot was losing to the Orc.  Laying there on the
platform floor, trying to catch his breath Mangosh moved in for the kill.
 Reversing his hold on his blade he raised it in his arms as he moved
towards Darmot, still on the floor.
     "NO!" Jasmin screamed "Darmot no!"
Pare felt her grip tighten over his little hand.  He wanted to look away.
Yet as the point of the sword started to fall towards his friend on the floor
he held his gaze. He kept telling himself not to watch but his head would not
move.  Darmot saw his impending doom and tried to roll away but he was not
fast enough.  The blade entered his body just below his breast plate,
above his waist.  Pare felt Jasmin begin to sway, he turned towards her
and gripped her leg.  He was doing his best to pull her down into her
seat.  A hush fell over the crowd as the Orc turned from his victim
lifting his arms in celebration of his victory.  Pare could only now hear
three people.  Jasmin was crying out in anguish to her husband who was
near death on the arena floor.  The other person he could hear was Darmot.
 His cry of pain silenced the people of Eystlund.  Mangosh ignored it
all, roaring to all the humans who would not love him.
     Pare looked down at Darmot for the final time.
"It's not too late. I can do something, he is still alive." Pare
looked at his best friend’s wife and pulled her down into her seat at last.
 Placing his hands on her cheeks he told her, "I am going to get him.
He is going to be all right." He has to be all right he thought to himself
as he started to run past all the people in the stands to the center aisle.
 As he raced down the steps he paused.  Darmot had dropped his sword
and shield and was trying to push the massive weapon out of his side.  Pare
had a strange flash of memory at that moment back to the fight with Captain
Nikle.  Running down the stairs two and three at a time Pare was
determined to get there in time.  He could stop the fight, he would stop
the fight and save his friend.

     Just as
Pare was ready to jump to the arena floor he saw Darmot getting to his feet.
His shield arm pressed to his side he used his sword like a cane to get to his
feet again.  As his blood had started to pool in the floor, it was now
running down his leg. Mangosh turned to the human and laughed.  He moved
towards Darmot again, screaming that he did not need his weapon now.  Pare
could not wait any longer, he jumped to the arena floor and started to run as
fast as his little legs would carry him.  Hans was on his knees, head
bowed in prayer. Hetaron stood and watched as the Orc advanced on Darmot who
was still holding himself up with his sword.
     "Do something, stop the fight you guys."
Pare yelled at them.  He was not slowing down, he had his eyes locked on
those steps. He would save Darmot, he had to save his friend.  Pare never
expected Hetaron to stop him.  He was sure the wizard would help him save
Darmot.  As he was ten feet away from the stairs reached out and stopped
the little halfling from going any farther.
     "What are you doing Hetaron, I have to stop the
fight." The mage said nothing as tears began to roll down the Halflings
face. Pare could not believe he stopped him. Tried as he might he could not
break free from his grip. "Let me go he," screamed pounding on the
wizard with his two small fist. Held in the wizards iron like grip he watched
as the Orc was now running towards Darmot with his hands double clutched and
held high over his head.

    
"Hans, do something please, help me." Pare took one quick look at the
cleric and saw that while his body was there, his mind was with his god.
 Just as the Orc was ready to pound his raised fists into Darmot’s head
the man stepped to the side lifting his blade.  Pare began to scream to
his friend to run as Darmot lashed out at the Orcs exposed mid-section.
 Darmot’s blade opened a deep and wide gash across the Orcs gut as he
passed by.  Mangosh took three more steps and stopped pressing his hands
against his body, trying to stop the spray of blood coming from his body.
 His blood was soon running over his fingers.  As large as his hands
were, they were not big enough to hold it all in.

     Mangosh
never saw the attack that killed him but Pare did.  Still holding his side
Darmot took one last swing at the Orc hitting him in the back of the neck.
 Mangosh the Orc stood there a moment longer, dead on his feet Darmot
having cut clean through his neck. As the Orc fell to the platform floor no one
cheered louder at that moment than Pare. He was now free of the wizard and
started to run for the stairs once more.  He watched as Darmot stumbled
towards him, still using his sword to stand. "Jasmin" he thought to
himself and turned to look for her in the stands. When Pare could not see her
he felt his little heart skip a beat.

    
"Where did she go" he asked himself out loud.  Pare then turned
again towards Darmot just in time to see him fall from the top of the steps
down to the arena floor.  Landing in a crash of armor, he laid there motionless.
 Pare jumped off the steps and ran towards his friend only to get cut off
by Hans and his longer legs. "Oh, now you do something!" fresh tears
began to roll down his eyes.
     Pare stood and watched as Hetaron and Hans moved
Darmot away from the platform.  Pare looked up and saw his charge running
towards them, screaming Darmot's name at the top of her lungs.  Hans and
Hetaron laid him down again just as Jasmin rushed to their side. "Do
something Hans" Pare screamed in his mind.  He watched as the cleric
kneeled down on the ground next to his friend, placing one hand on his chest
the other near the wound in his side.  Pare took small steps, to be
closer. Darmot's eyes were open, he was looking at his wife.
     "Hello my love." Jasmin did not say
anything, she just kneeled there and cried. "I won again my dear, see
there was nothing to worry about." Jasmin just nodded her head, pressing
her husband’s hand against her tear streaked face. "I think I am going to
take a little nap now." Pare's heart stopped as he watched Darmot's eyes
close. Jasmin's body began to shake from her sobbing, it was more than the
little halfling could take. Launching himself towards his friend’s body he
began to scream.
     "Wake up Darmot, come on. What are we gonna do
now huh, wake up that’s what." Pushing past Jasmin he put his hands on
Darmot's face. "Come on Darmot, wake up. Don't you leave us here, I don't
know where to go." Jasmin put her arms around his little body and pulled
him near, they cried together as they watched for some signs of life from his
eyes. When the light started to shine, neither of them knew what it was.
 Pare looked over at Hans, lost in prayer over the body of their friend.
 Pare saw it hanging from his neck, hanging down over his body.  A
medallion of the blazing sun, the symbol of the god Solarth had started to
glow. Soon the glow began to grow and both man and cleric were a washed in
light.  Pare did not understand it but he knew now that Darmot's fate was
in the hands of the god now. "I better go get his sword." he said to
no one at all.  Pare knew then that Darmot's work was not done. "If I
know, so does Solarth" he assured himself as he ran up the steps two by
two.  Picking up Darmot's sword and shield he ran back to his friend’s
side, where he belonged.

      To
this day I do not remember much about the fight with Mangosh.  Other than
to say I was over powered yet still prevailed.  Perhaps it was an after
effect of the healing Hans did to me there at the side of the ring.  I
remember the blade cutting into my flesh, I remember falling off the stairs
where I passed out.  Everything else was lost in a haze. The only thing I
remember from that day is waking up and looking into the eyes of my wife. Who I
thought was going to kill me for almost dying.  I stood up, looked around
at my friends and gave my thanks to them.  I walked out of that arena with
my head held high.  This was not the first time I stared death in the eye.
 It was not the last.
     When I returned to the inn later that day I promptly
passed out. While Hans was able to heal my wounds, I still felt like I was
crushed under a boulder.  I woke up once that night due to a dream I had
been having.  I don't remember what it was about but I think it had
something to do with the halfling I found sleeping at the foot of my bed.
 I looked down at Pare, curled up into a ball using my left foot as a
pillow.  I softly said his name while shaking my foot under his head.
"Oh,
hello Darmot. How are you feeling? Hans said you might need someone to watch
you tonight.  I figured Jasmin had enough to worry about with you fighting
Cynthia tomorrow.  She came to see you by the way.  Hey, have you
ever smelled Hetaron's robes? I think he keeps zombie flesh in there or
something."
     Had I not cut him off there he may have talked to me
for the rest of the night.  I asked him why he was sleeping on my bed and
he started up again. I tried to tell him that I was fine and just needed my
rest.
"But Hans said..."
I had to cut him off again and told
him to go back to his room. Slightly dejected he slid off the bed and did just
what I had asked.  Just before he closed the door I told him thank you.
"What
for?"
he asked me.  I told him just for being there.  He
gave me a half smile and closed the door behind him.  I laid my head back
down on my pillow and closed my eyes.  I thought about the things Pare had
blurted out and something came back to me. He said I was fighting Cynthia and
that she had come to see me. While thinking about staring down those ice blue eyes
I told myself one final thing before drifting off to sleep.  I was moving
to a different inn, far too many people knew where to find me.
     When I woke up in the morning I felt like a new man.
 I dressed early and went in search of some food as I had not eaten in
well over a day. The fight from the day before was nothing but a distant memory
at that time. I was glad to be alive but it was time to move on.  Ready
myself for the next fight.  Every man who had fought Cynthia in the
tournament took her too lightly.  I would not make the same mistake. I
 was well aware of what she was able to do.  As I sat there chewing
up a mouth full of overcooked potato's a plan formed in my mind.  It was
risky but I had to do something to make her weakness work to my advantage.
 She was quick but not as strong as me. She took advantage of people in
the ring by using that speed.  She was also smarter than everyone she had
faced so far.  I went into the fight that day thinking she would assume
the same of me.
     After a fight with Jasmin and Pare I got ready to
leave for the arena.  She kept asking me, pleading with me not to fight,
Pare was just there to agree with everything she had to say. His heart was in
the right place.  Looking back I feel bad about the things I said that
day.  I was bull headed and cocky.  I am lucky to still have her in
my life today.  When Hetaron came to our room I knew it was time to go.
 I gave my wife a kiss on the cheek and told her one last time not to
worry about me.  I did not understand then why she was so upset.
 Seven years later, I understand it a little better.  From the time I
closed to door behind me till the time I was standing across the platform from
Cynthia the day was a blur.  Hetaron was grim and silent the entire day,
Hans just asked me not to repeat what had happened the day before.  I
remember laughing at him as I was walking up the stairs.
     I looked around the floor, I could still see my blood
from the day before.  For a single moment it gave me a chill but I quickly
put it out of my mind and turned to look at Cynthia.  She shook out her
hair before placing a helm on her head.
"I told you not to get in my
way."
She said to me with a grin on her face.
"I have a job to
do here so don't take it personal.  I promise not to make your little wife
cry again."
I shook my head at her and looked down at my sword.
 I gave it a good shake, feeling its weight in my hand.  Waiting for
the signal to start the fight I studied it from the hilt to blade tip as if I
had never seen it before.  When the signal did come, I slowly slid it into
its sheath hanging from my hip.
    
"What are you doing? Are you going to run
away?"
she said to me.
     "I am not going to fight you. I will not have
your blood on my blade."
    
"Is this some kind of trick?"
I
lifted up my shield and balled up my fist setting my feet.
     "I am not going to fight you but I am not going
to run."
    
"What is this, some kind of noble crap, come
on you coward."
I could see and feel her anger. So far my plan was
working.
     "If you want to kill me, you can try but I will
not fight you." When she started walking towards me I knew I had scored
first blood.  Now I just had to get her into my trap.  She launched
forward to attack me and I just kept backing away, blocking her blade with my
shield when it got close.
    
"Fight me!"
she was no longer amused
and the smile on my face was doing nothing to help.
     "I could use someone like you, someone with your
skills but I will not fight you." Not only was I drawing out her anger I was
getting it from the crowd as well.  Even when the booing started to rain
down I still refused to draw my weapon.  I continued to back away from her
blade while taking a moment to look behind me.  I only had ten more feet
between myself and the edge of the platform.
    
"You couldn't afford me no matter how pretty
you are, now fight me!"
I thought about reminding her of just how rich
I was at that moment but did not want to let my guard down.  I was running
out of room and her blade was getting faster.  I took one last look behind
me and saw I was close enough for the final part of my plan.  Then all I
had to do was wait.
     "I am going to ask you to leave the ring now, I
don't want to hurt you." She was boiling over at this.  She backed up
for a moment and then came forward once more to attack me. She never even
paused when I dropped my shield.  As her blade was rushing towards me I
reached out and took hold of her sword arm.  She let out a small gasp as I
held tightly to her wrist.  I quickly reached out with my other hand and
grabbed hold of her armor just below her chin.  As she tried to pull away
from me I only hoped she was not hurt.  I tucked my legs up rolling back
on to my back, pulling her down with me planting my feet on her chest as she
came down.  For a moment I thought she was going to say something, I could
see the words forming on her lips just as I started to push her up with my
legs.
     Even with her armor on, she wasn't that heavy. Pushing
with all my strength I launched her backwards and sent her flying through the
air, past the edge of the platform, down to the ground below.  As she
landed on her back, her screams filled the air.  Not of pain but of rage.
I had cost her a chance to face Rogar. I stood there at the edge of the platform
looking down on her. If she could have killed me with a look, it would have
been then.  I could only smile.  There was now only one person
between me and the tournament championship.