“Hob, I need a favor,” Rori said.
“You need a favor?” Hob had his back to Rori and Baxter. He replied to them over his shoulder while he was rooting around in a sack.
They were standing near one of the stages that were scattered throughout the conclave. This one was currently empty, though it was clear something had recently happened as the crowd was just beginning to disperse. Also, one of the boards that made up the back corner of the stage was broken in two. The two halves both jutted downward as if someone had smashed their foot through the board, resulting in a pair of splintered ends.
“Technically I guess I don’t need the favor, Baxter here does. But if it helps to get you motivated, we could say that love needs the favor.”
“You’re telling me that giganto here has women problems? I doubt it. Women love the big guys. Especially the short girls. You ever notice that? Why is it you always see huge guys with tiny girls?”
Forgetting whatever he was looking for in the sack, Hob turned around to face them. His hair was a curly brown on top, with graying sides that were cut short. He had a full beard that was darker brown than his hair and his eyes were slightly bugged out. Not so much that he looked odd, but enough that his expression always looked just a bit comedic. He also talked at a quicker than normal pace which just added to his laughable aspect.
“I’m not sure about that,” said Rori, “but it doesn’t matter. Baxter here only has eyes for one girl.”
“I bet she’s tiny? Is she tiny?” Hob said looking up at Baxter. Before either Baxter or Rori could respond Hob had already started talking again. “So, what’s the problem? Girl loves someone else? Girl hates men? Girl hates him? Girl is blind and has to talk using a magic rock?”
“Delores, that’s the girl’s name, wants a man who will serenade her. Baxter isn’t much of a singer.”
“He isn’t much of a talker either,” Hob said. “I don’t know, I’m kind of busy.”
“Listen Rori,” said Baxter in a low voice, “maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
“What? You think I don’t know how to serenade a lady? You think just because I’m a bit goofy looking I can’t bring them in by the dozens? Trust me, ladies don’t care about looks as much as they care about heart. If your girl says she wants a singer, then sing. Consider yourself lucky, most guys never figure out what the girls want.”
“That’s the problem,” Baxter said. “I can’t sing.”
“Can’t sing. Bah,” said Hob under his breath, turning back to his bag. “Look, I can’t say I’m not intrigued, but I also got put in charge of keeping this stage ready. We just had five acrobats out here, though you could fool me. Looked more like fools running into each other and chaos. Chaos that ended with a broken stage. So, sorry, but I’m swamped. That split board isn’t going to fix itself. Come back tonight and maybe I can give you some pointers.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Baxter turning to go, but Rori put his hand on his friend’s arm and stopped him.
“Hob, I remember you saying that there wasn’t any person in the world you couldn’t teach to sing. Well, this is where the world gets to see if you were just full of hot air. I’m not going to hide anything; Baxter is probably the worst singer you’ve ever heard. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he couldn’t sing.”
“Really?” Hob said, turning back and looking Baxter over again. If Baxter had been worried that Rori was making the task sound too difficult and would scare Hob away, he needn’t have worried. Hob looked more interested than before.
“Either of you got a crowbar or a hammer? I can’t find anything in this sack, and I do have to get that board fixed.”
Baxter looked at the problem and then without a word he climbed onto the stage and walked over to the split board. He shoved one of the boards down with his foot and grabbed ahold of the other. He pulled the half of the board, nails and all, cleanly from the stage. He then shifted around, grabbed the other half and repeated the process.
“Or you could do that,” said Hob. “Though I’m still going to need a hammer unless you can drive the new nails in with your fist?”
“No. I can’t do that. Though . . .” started Baxter, but he paused while looking out into the crowd nearby before finishing with, “Rori watch out, I think someone is coming.”
“Who?” asked Rori but then two fellows, both of whom were clearly drunk, stepped out of the crowd.
“Ima challenge you,” one of them slurred.
“Thanks for the warning, Baxter, but I think I can handle these two,” said Rori.
“What?” said Baxter looking down at the drunks. “No, not them. That guy.”
Rori turned to where Baxter was pointing. The milling crowd looked terrified and quickly moved out of the way. Striding out of the parting crowd was a man in baggy red pants and no shirt or shoes. His black hair was cut short and stood up on top of his head in various peaks. His skin was a deep bronze color, but his most distinguishing feature by far was that his two clenched fists were both surrounded by blazing fire.
“Ne’er mind. Ima go now,” said the drunk as he and his friend lurched away.
Rori hopped up onto the stage to keep whatever was going to happen away from the crowd. However, several of the people who had been passing by now stopped and began watching. No one being quite certain that this wasn’t meant to be the next show.
The man with the flaming fists took two running steps forward and planting his hands on the edge of the stage, flipped up onto it. After he landed, there were two smoking, singed handprints on the stage where his hands had been.
“Now you die,” the man said shifting into a fighting stance.
Baxter edged over to stand closer to Rori while still facing the man but wasn’t paying attention to where he was stepping. His left foot slipped into the hole he’d just created in the stage. Baxter fell with one leg going completely through the hole and below the stage. There was a snapping sound as he came crashing down.
“Son of a bitch,” Baxter said through clenched teeth. “Sorry Rori.”
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“You, okay?” Rori said as he shifted in front of Baxter to the largest open area on the stage.
“I think I broke my leg, and I think my foot is stuck,” Baxter replied. With a grimace he leaned forward and grabbed one of the boards he’d just pulled free. He grasped one end and swung it experimentally. The two nails made it whistle through the air. It wasn’t great, but it would do.
“Hob?” Rori said risking a glance to where the man had been, but he was nowhere to be seen.
The number of people standing around the stage watching had grown as they became more certain that this was a show. The attacker brought his fists nearly together in front of his chest and flexed his arms with a roar. The flames on his fists doubled in size. Each one was now a blazing ball of fire over a foot in diameter. Rori could feel the heat from where he was standing, but other than a sheen of sweat on his skin, the man seemed to not feel it at all.
“Any chance you just want to play odds and evens?” Rori asked.
The man charged forward. He ended his advance with a giant overhead haymaker. His fists moved at a speed that surprised Rori but was still slow enough that he could step out of the way with no problem. As the flaming fist slammed down onto the stage, fire burst out for five feet in all directions. Fortunately for Rori, he was now standing on the far edge of the stage. Unfortunately for the stage, another of the boards was splintered into pieces. This time the man’s hands did not leave a singed palm print, instead the stage was on fire. The gathered crowd cheered the performance.
“Lead him over here and I’ll bash his head in,” Baxter said trying to turn enough despite his trapped leg so that he was facing the attacker.
“The thought had already crossed my mind,” admitted Rori.
With a cry the man made two punches in the air in Rori’s direction. The distance between them was much greater than arm’s length, but as each punch ended a ball of fire shot out from each fist and flew towards Rori.
Rori could have easily dodged out of the way, but that would have meant risking the flaming projectiles landing in the crowd behind him. Instead Rori braced himself and attempted to deflect them. He swatted the first one into the ground beside him where it burst in another small explosion. The second he knocked into the air. It flew through the sky and impacted against a nearby wagon. A cheer went up from the crowd, but it quickly subsided as the wagon burst into flames.
“What kind of show is this?” a nearby watcher asked.
“It isn’t. Get out of here before you get hurt,” Rori said. He’d deflected the balls, but it hadn’t been without cost. The palms of both of his hands were blistered with burns and stung painfully. He breathed through clenched teeth and waited for the amulet of Meredith to begin healing him.
The crowd backed away from the stage leaving a ten-foot circle open around it, but they didn’t leave.
“Idiots,” Rori said.
The man with the flaming fists charged up to Rori and began a flurry of attacks. There were some kicks involved, but the majority of it was made up of punches combined with attempts to grab. Rori danced and dodged all of it. The man moved quickly, but he was still nowhere near fast enough for Rori to be too worried. Of course, he only had to slip up once and Rori would find out how the burning stage felt.
“Rori, why don’t you take him out? Do something,” yelled Baxter.
“I’m not sure what to do,” Rori said leaping over the man and tumbling away to give himself a quick breather. “I can’t disarm him, and I suspect even if I got him to hit himself, he wouldn’t care about the fire.”
The man rushed in and the dancing spin of flaming fists and Rori’s dodging began again. The combat roamed around the stage, but the man was careful to never drift too close to Baxter. In the last flurry of attacks, the man got close to succeeding in a grab. Rori was forced to swat the man’s hand out of the way. When his hand hit against the flaming fist, Rori’s palm was singed again, and a new set of blisters developed. Rori would have to do something or, simply through the sheer number of attacks the man was making, he would eventually get lucky.
The next time the man attacked, Rori dodged behind him. Just as the man stepped forward to strike, Rori shoved the man’s right foot behind his left leg. The foot got caught and the man fell forward onto the stage. Unfortunately, the man simply turned the fall into a roll and was immediately up again facing Rori.
“Pathetic. If that is the best you can do, then stand still and let me end you now,” the man said. This longer statement revealed a bit of an accent that Rori couldn’t place.
“I’m just getting started,” said Rori.
From somewhere in the crowd, a sound began. It started low but quickly amped up in volume so that it became clear someone was yelling. Rori didn’t dare take his eyes from his attacker. Instead, he shifted to the side of the stage closer to Baxter so that the attacker was on his right and the front of the stage was on his left.
The holler, which sounded like it was just one extended “Ha!” got louder and closer. Erupting out of the crowd, flew a blur of green that arced through the air and landed on the stage. It was the woman whom Rori had seen fight the assassin back in Lycea. She was wearing the same green and gold outfit that completely concealed her identity, and she was wielding the same white and black hammer with the extended length haft.
“Yossamir, you have been judged under the law and found guilty. You will be punished accordingly,” she said as she leapt forward and attacked.
The hammer spun in a blur of motion. Despite its length, neither she nor it rarely stopped moving. Sometimes she swung it by its end to give herself maximum reach. Other times she would hold it in the middle as she and it spun around the stage. Usually attacking with the hammer end but occasionally striking out with the rounded ball on the opposite side as needed.
Yossamir, though not nearly as good on defense as he had been on offense, managed to dance away from her attacks. Rori spent just enough time watching so that he felt like he had the basics of her style down and then he joined the fray. His goal at first was to simply stay out of the way of the hammer. In part to keep himself from getting hurt, but also to not get in the way of her attacks. Consequently, he was often on the opposite side of Yossamir, which had the added benefit of keeping Yossamir’s attention divided.
Despite now having to avoid the hammer attacks, Yossamir had not given up on his original goal. He still tried to get in an occasional attack on Rori. But the attacks lacked the persistence and ferocity of his earlier attempts.
As the fight continued and Rori was able to watch everyone’s interaction, Rori became convinced of a couple of things. The first and more pressing was that there seemed to be a gambit he might take that could end the fight. After another few moments of dancing around the stage, when their positions seemed right, Rori feinted and then jumped over Yossamir to land on his right. This left Rori’s back exposed and Yossamir immediately moved in to make the attack. But Rori was planning on this and, instead of continuing to move forward, Rori dropped backward and rolled behind Yossamir. As he passed, Rori once again shoved the man’s right foot behind his left leg.
As he had last time, Yossamir turned the stumble into a roll, and he sprang back up once again facing Rori. Unlike last time, this time he ended just a bit too close to Baxter and there was a resounding ‘thunk’ as Baxter’s board made contact with the man’s head. If that did not do the job of putting the man down, the head of the hammer burying itself in his stomach an instant later surely did.
Rori turned to face the woman in green. His hands still in front of him ready to move just in case. The woman pulled her hammer back and turned to face both Rori and Baxter. The hammer was held high over her right shoulder, the head of it held perfectly immobile with the pole running down along her back. Her left hand was extended in the same gesture she had used last time: two fingers up, thumb extended out at ninety degrees.
“I have no quarrel with you,” she said.
“Nor I with you,” Rori replied. “Though I would like to thank you for your help. It was unexpected charity.”
As he spoke the last word, the woman’s costume made it impossible to see her reaction. However, the head of her hammer dipped down a foot before she regained control and everything was again still. Without another word, the hammer disappeared from her hand and a pair of manacles appeared in the other. She moved over to Yossamir, knelt down, and with one knee on his back quickly bound his arms behind him.
Hoisting the unconscious man onto her shoulder she turned and gave Rori another long look and then leapt into the sky. The arc of her jump would take her well beyond the edges of the conclave. The crowd gave a cheer.
“Hob, as long as you are under the stage, could you go check on Baxter’s foot? We need to get him free,” Rori said as he moved over to Baxter. “And could you hurry? I think it’s going to rain.”
