Nobody Likes Fairytale Pirates (38 page)

It was strictly fists and blood.

As was the case in many of the
fights he’d been involved in though, there was an element of mystery to this
one.  He hadn’t fought someone from the Wasteland since he was a teenager and
that man had been drunk at the time.  Although they were neighbors and
technically countrymen, the people of the plateau didn’t generally mix with the
people from the swamp.  Even their dialects were mutually unintelligible now,
despite arising from the same root language.

He honestly wasn’t sure what this
man could do or how he’d fight.  But simply by looking at him, he could tell
the man had just as much experience at fighting as Uriah did.  He wasn’t an
amateur and he obviously thought he was the toughest man among this group of
Wastelanders, which was saying quite a bit. 

This wasn’t going to be some bar
fight with a man from Cormoran or even a group of pirates.  This was a fight to
the death with a warrior from the Grizzwood plateau.  Who unlike Uriah, hadn’t
spent the last week on a death march through the desert.

There was a very good chance Uriah
was going to lose.

The man moved quicker than Uriah
had been expecting and punched him in the face, spinning Uriah around and
knocking him off balance.  He supported himself with one hand on the ground
before he went all the way down, staggering away from the man.

The guy hit like a fucking hammer.

His opponent laughed in amusement
and said something to Ransom in his own language.  Uriah didn’t understand all
of the words, but he still had a pretty good idea of what they meant.

“Uriah?”  Ransom asked softly,
obviously worried that the man was too much for him to handle.

She was afraid.  She wasn’t sure he
was going to win this anymore and given his track record in situations which
called for him to protect her, he couldn’t exactly blame her for that.

His opponent laughed again, a deep
mocking chuckle of superiority.

Uriah’s eyes narrowed as his uncontrollable
anger boiled to the surface.

No one
scared his partner. 
Not while he was still breathing.

If that asshole thought one blow
would end this, he was
sadly
mistaken.
 
If Uriah’s life had
taught him anything, it was how to take a punch. 

Uriah straightened, touching a
finger to his split lip.  He nodded at the man in appreciation.  “Nice shot.” 
He complemented, taking on a fighting stance again. 

The man was good, but he was
sloppy.  Relying only on raw power, but in Uriah’s experience, the ability to actually
hit your target was far more important than the ability to hit it hard.

Luckily, Uriah could do both.

The man moved towards him,
preparing to deliver another haymaker, but Uriah stopped him by kicking him in
the gut hard enough that his opponent doubled-over for a moment.  Uriah used
the opportunity to knee him in the face while the man was bent over, hearing
the satisfying crack of cartilage as he broke his opponent’s nose.  The man
swore in pain and tried to backpedal, but Uriah hit him in the face with his
other knee, dazing the man before he could entirely straighten and break free. 
The man turned away from him, putting more space between them, but Uriah
leveled him with a right roundhouse, knocking him on his ass.

The man recovered quickly, but he
was no longer laughing.  He wiped a hand across his bleeding face.

One of the other Wastelanders said
something to the man, which caused him to growl a reply, as if insulted.

His opponent charged forward,
driving his shoulder into Uriah’s stomach and trying to knock him off his feet,
but Uriah simply hung onto him and let him carry him for several yards.  Uriah
smashed his fists and elbow into the back of the man’s head and shoulders,
until he could wrap his arm around the man’s neck and flip him to the ground. 
His opponent hit the sand on his back, and Uriah kicked him in the ribs before
he could roll free.

The man got back onto his feet and
launched himself at Uriah, all traces of artistry gone and it became a brawl. 
The man took another right hook and Uriah ducked under it, delivering a solid
punch to the man’s side.  He grabbed his opponent’s arm to hold him in place
and hammered his kidneys repeatedly with his fist, breaking several of the
man’s ribs.

The man broke free again and they
traded blows in a frantic scramble, no longer concerned with technique or
strategy.

The man hit Uriah in the face again,
causing a stream of blood to fly from his mouth onto the sand several feet
away.  But Uriah was simply too angry to care, the taste of blood merely
ramping up his adrenaline and fury.

Uriah slammed his fist into the
center of the man’s chest, driving him backwards and causing his opponent to
gasp for breath.

“Quit screwing around!”  Ransom
called, sounding more confident but still unhappy.  “Kill the son of a bitch!”

The man took a swing at Uriah which
he blocked with his shoulder and the back of his arm.  The man followed up with
a powerful left hook and Uriah saw his opening.  His opponent had put too much
into the attack and missing would throw him off balance.  Uriah ducked under the
punch, then grabbed the man around the waist as the momentum of the attack
caused his opponent to turn slightly.  Uriah locked his grip and lifted him up
into a suplex, pulling the man off his feet and heaving him over Uriah’s head.  Uriah
used his own weight and strength to propel the man down onto the ground as hard
as he could.  His opponent landed headfirst, his skull smashing into the sand
with a crushing force, dazing him.  Uriah climbed on top of him and started
hammering away at his opponent’s face with punch after punch.

“You pull a fucking weapon on
me!?!”  Uriah’s right fist pulverized the remains of the man’s broken nose. 
“On
MY WOMAN!?!” 
His left fist dislocated his jaw.  “
THREATEN HER!?!
” 
His right fist dislodged several of the man’s teeth.  “SCARE HER!?!”  His left
fist broke the man’s jaw entirely.  “
TRY TO
TAKE WHAT’S HERS!?!”
 
The man ceased resisting, his arms falling limply to the sand.  “
YOU WON’T
FUCKING TOUCH HER!”
  Another right, which produced only a wet hollow sound
now.  “
I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU FIRST!
”  His left first produced a cracking
sound when it connected.  The rest of his words were indecipherable, even to
himself.  Just bellowed curses and howls of rage as he battered the man’s face
into the salt.

He had no idea how much time had
passed, but when the red cleared from his vision, Ransom was speaking.

“…ah?  Uriah?”  She said softly. 
“He’s dead, ‘Rai.  You can stop now, baby.”

Uriah’s fist stopped halfway to its
target and hung there for a moment, as he tried to regain control and apologize
to her.  Instead, all that came out was a maniac laugh.  He brushed at the
tears streaming down his face.  He wasn’t sure when he had started crying or
why, and he no longer cared.

He got back to his feet, turning to
look at the other Wastelanders.  “
What’s my fucking name!?!
”  He
screamed at them, kicking their dead companion’s corpse again, scattering
bloody gore towards the other Wastelanders’ feet.  “HUH!?!”  He spread his arms
wide and turned in a circle, laughing again, feeling completely unhinged and
not really caring.  “You know my fucking name
now!?!
”

“This lesson in humility brought to
you by The Ocean’s Shame.”  Ransom announced.

“There’s a
reason
why
everyone hates him, folks.”  Ryle told no one in particular.

Uriah ignored them.  His hands were
shaking with rage as he met the eyes of the Wastelanders again.  “Now…  I’ve
proven that I’m the Meanest.  Let.  Us. 
Pass
.”

Xiphos, their leader, paused to
consider that.  Several others in the company obviously objected to the idea of
letting Uriah go.

“I want the woman.”  Xiphos
announced calmly, apparently considering that a reasonable compromise.  He
waved back the shouts of his companions and yelled something at them in reply,
most likely telling them to shut up.

“That’s not up for negotiation.” 
Uriah shook his head, stepping closer to Ransom.  “She’s mine.”

“Not that one.”  Xiphos’ eyes cut
to Dory.

“Shit, son.”  Ester snorted.  “Take
her now.”

“My client is under my
protection.”  Uriah told him flatly, immediately recognizing how this would end
but unable to do anything else.  “And you won’t take her anywhere she doesn’t
want to go.”

Xiphos considered that answer as
the other Wastelanders continued to yell at him.  He’d finally heard all he
wanted from them and bellowed something Uriah loosely interpreted as: “Fine!  Shut
Up!  Do what you want!”

Uriah swore under his breath,
recognizing that this wasn’t over.  Evidently, Xiphos’ position was not
“leader” but simply the one in charge of talking.

“You need my help yet?”  Ryle
called as the men prowled forward.  “’Cause I don’t think they’re coming over
here to congratulate you on your big win.”

“
Stay out of this!
”  Uriah
snapped, still furious from the fight.  “This is pirate business.”

Ransom calmly walked forward to
stand next to him as the three men came closer.

“
I’ve got this!
”  He glared
at her, sick of being doubted.  “I’m… I’m not useless, Rance.”

“Neither am I.”  She reminded him,
her voice firm.

He considered that, then nodded.  “Alright.” 
He was quiet for a beat.  “We lose this and we’re dead.”  He told her bluntly.

“So let’s not lose.”  She squared
her shoulders.  “Call it.”

He took stock of their situation,
being her eyes.  “Left man.  Wiry.  Agile.  Shorter than me.  Right-handed. 
Looks like he fights dirty.  Small blade on right hip.”  His eyes cut to the
next man in line.  “Middle.  Huge guy.  Built like a fucking bear.  Two-handed
sword.”  He paused, realizing that the man could easily break him in half
without difficulty.  “He’s… he’s going to be trouble.”  He turned to the last
man.  “Right.  Heavy-set.  Brawler.  Right-handed, but leads with left. 
Cudgel, approximately three feet long.  Breathing heavy.”  Uriah took on a
fighting stance.  “Take him apart.”

“Got it.”  She nodded.  “Normal
play.  You set them up, I’ll knock’em down.  Are there any rules to this?  Like
some kind of Wasteland code of conduct I should know?”

“First rule of piracy, Dove…”

“…
anything goes
.”  She
finished for him.  “My favorite kind of fight.”

Uriah raised his voice to greet the
men as they took up their positions.  “Alright, if that’s how you want to play
this, gentlemen.  My crew versus your gang, whichever is the Meanest has its
way.  All or nothing.”

He could tell that the Swab wasn’t
entirely happy with the way this fight was shaping up, but Uriah didn’t care. 
Given the choice, he trusted Ransom a whole lot more than he’d ever trust the
boy.  Blind or not, she knew what she was doing.  His partner’s primary
fighting style was one of ambush, but she could hold her own when the need
arose.  They had fought together for years and he was very good at anticipating
what she’d do.  Generally, he still preferred to do all the fighting in their
partnership, but in this case, their best shot of survival was for her to fight
by his side.

Adding the boy to the mix was an
unknown.  Besides, this was all about sending a message.  Three against three
wouldn’t prove anything, and Uriah needed to show his opponents that his crew
was simply tougher.

And when you came right down to it,
Ransom was tougher than the Swab could ever dream of being.

The men rushed forward.

He swung at the wiry man, but his
opponent sprang out of the way in an aerobatic display.  Uriah hadn’t been
expecting that and the man’s larger companion leveled Uriah with a heavy right
hand, sending him sprawling.  The first man rushed forward to finish him off,
but Uriah kicked him in the stomach and then the face.  The man staggered away
and Uriah got back to his feet.

The huge man pulled his heavy
sword, intending to cleave Uriah in two, but a lifetime of swordsmanship gave Uriah
plenty of time to dodge out of the way.  The man swung the blade in an attempt
to decapitate him, but Uriah ducked under it.  The man was growing irritated
and swung the blade in a downward strike.  Uriah waited until the last second
to dodge, then slammed his foot into the side of the blade when it embedded in
the salt, breaking it in half and removing it from the fight.

Ransom’s opponent shook off one of
her punches and decked her, spinning her around, toppling her to the ground and
sending her sliding several feet on the loose salt.

Uriah prowled forward to end that
son of a bitch, but before he reached the other man, the huge Wastelander Uriah
had been fighting grabbed him by his arm and literally threw him like a doll. 
Uriah rolled twice, wincing as the fall tore open several of the stitches
Ransom had applied the week before to close up the gash the Adithian Gardener
had given him.  He pressed a hand to the wound as he got back to his feet, but
found it wasn’t bleeding.  Yet. 

The heavyset man swung at Ransom
again, but to Uriah’s surprise, she caught the man’s wrist, twisted his arm
roughly, then punched the back of it, snapping his elbow in half and fracturing
the bone so that it jutted through the skin.

Okay… that was new.

He’d never seen her do that before.

The heavyset man screamed in pain,
knocking Ransom back again.  He began to heft his heavy weapon from the sand with
his unbroken arm in an attempt to crush her.  Uriah rushed forward and kicked
the man’s wrist before he could raise the weapon, causing the club to fly from
the man’s grip and tumble across the sand away from him.