Fair or Foul

AYLETH

Ayleth had forgotten herself—she stood at the barrier, holding the wooden rail with a white-knuckled grip, screaming herself hoarse. Her only comfort was that her ladies were all as excited as she. No one noticed that she wasn't screaming for her cousin.

When the Umpire called it a draw, she snarled, "NO!", but so did her Ladies—all in defense of Dugg.

Then the men gave up their weapons and turned to face each other for the combat. The Umpire didn't wait on ceremony, he blew his whistle for them to begin, and Etan launched forward.

Ayleth's cousin Dugg was the largest Zenithran she knew. He was young, but very capable, and he had a mean streak that had left Ayleth with more than one "accidental" bruise over the years. But after the careful beginning of the swordplay, he was taken off-guard by Etan's immediately launch.

She watched the men battle, heart in her throat, comforted only by the fact that Dugg would live or die on his own merits for this fight. There were no weapons that could be sharpened, or foul moves employed. It was the only rule in combat—that neither opponent use weapons against the other.

Hand-to-hand combat in Zenithra amounted to little more than a test of brute strength. Whomever bore his opponent to the ground and pinned him there for a count of three would win.

Dugg was a strong grappler. His initial shock at Etan's attack put him on the back foot and Ayleth prayed that it would be a quick fight—a quick defeat. But Etan had dropped his shoulder too low in his initial leap. Before he could achieve the lock of his arms on Dugg's neck, the man recovered and twisted, pulling Etan up and over his back, using his greater height to get Etan off his feet.

But Etan, apparently anticipating the move, swung himself around Dugg's hips and landed on his feet—but lost his grip on Dugg's neck.

Ayleth hissed a curse as the two broke apart and began to circle each other again, both breathing quickly and baring their teeth. She had to focus.

She had her hands to her mouth, whispering prayers for Etan's safety as her love launched again—this time in a feint, that looked as if he would come at Dugg's neck a second time. But he somehow curled and in an extremely risky move, took himself down to the ground, rolling into Dugg's legs, grasping one foot and pulling it up as he rolled back to his feet.

To Ayleth's eyes, time slowed.

Etan was rising, pulling Dugg's foot with him. Dugg was tipping, losing his balance, his face wide with shock.

But as he whirled his arms, trying to catch himself, his hands got to the ground first and with a bellow, Dugg chucked a handful of dirt and dust into Etan's face.

Half the crowd booed as Etan flinched, but didn't release him. Dugg hit the ground with a thud that, magically amplified, seemed to echo through the entire arena.

They grappled then, the dirt and dust rising under Etan's boots and Dugg's back, so it was hard to see what happened between them. But Ayleth could see the tears cutting through the dirt on Etan's face, knew he was almost blind, that if Dugg got free, it would be a quick and merciless loss.

Etan clearly knew he same thing. He had Dugg's leg craned up and the moment he lost his hold, the man would be on his feet. Without hesitation he twisted Dugg's knee until the man bellowed again, then dropped his own knee straight into Dugg's groin.

The men in the crowd hissed. It was not an honorable win. But Etan, his shoulders heaving and eyes streaming, leaned into Dugg's chest, holding the man's leg craned back to keep him to the ground until the Umpire called the count of three and he could release.

Dugg rolled immediately, holding himself as Etan got to his feet, his shoulders sagging, and rubbed his eyes. Blinking and shaking his head.

Ayleth kept her hands to her mouth, pleading with the Goddess to ensure no permanent damage had been done to his sight.

Borsche approached Etan, his face a red fury, while Dugg's father rushed into the circle to his son who was trying to get up on all fours but struggling to stand. Ayleth, relieved that Etan had succeeded, but anticipating the curses of the Summitran's technique, held herself tightly as Borsche poured a skin of water over Etan's face to help him rinse his eyes, then began to lead him from the ring.

"One moment. The contenders will face the King for his declaration." The Master of Ceremonies intoned, magic sweeping his voice around the arena, and the crowd murmured, discussing the possible outcomes. Ayleth bit her lip. Her father couldn't take the win from Etan, surely?

Dugg's father pulled his arm over his shoulders to help him to his feet, and Etan, standing alone, but eyes still red and streaming, stood at the painted marks, and bowed to the King.

"This is a Festival of Peace—a time for ceasefire," Ayleth's father snarled, his voice magically enhanced until it seemed to boom from every side. "There has been no honorable win, here."

Some in the crowd booed, and Ayleth's heart sank.

"There will be a rematch in two hours. Combat only. We will determine the winner then. All rules of the Festival remain."

The crowd roared.

Etan shook his head, but bowed, then walked out without shaking hands with Dugg.

Ayleth hurried from the box, reassuring her ladies that she was only to use the bathing room and would return. As she stepped down the wooden stairs to the dirt beyond, she caught eyes with her Knight Defender who'd been posted at the gate of their box and he followed her without a word.

She had to finish this insanity before someone got killed.