Old Friends
The heavy door swung open on well greased hinges, just enough to allow the man to enter and shut it behind him. The action went virtually unnoticed in the packed room, all except for the few who were caught with the icy blast that exploded in. But it passed quickly, and so did their care or judgment. It was one of those nights, the type which is not fit for man nor beast to be in. A heavy rain was falling, cold and wet as rain usually is.
Clothed in simple attire, he blended in with every other man in the room, except for a few traveling groups that sported odd and colorful costumes. Tall leather boots laced with heavy string, woolen britches, flannel shirt, it was the workman’s way, and nearly everyone in the room wore the same. The man’s mind was, for once, able to be at rest. There would be no suspicious eyes here, and he gratefully undid his cloak and tied it around his waist. Slicking back his wet hair, he began to make his way up to the counter, no small feat in itself. Jostling men conversed excitedly with their groups, most having consumed vast amounts of mead and beer, most to much. He was in no rush. In, fact, he told himself, he should not be rushing anything at all. A stranger with a pushy or shifty manner brought on questions, and questions demanded answers.
Answers, oh how he hated them. Prying eyes and hands, so ignorant and needy.
Best to avoid it in the whole.
After some time and no less than a few expert maneuvers, he finally succeeded in making it to the long, curved counter and finding a recently emptied seat.
“’Ello there, what can I get fer ye?” The bartender, who also happened to be the owner of the establishment, was a rather large man, standing a full head above most other men. Tight muscles rippled beneath his shirt and smock, not all from natural strength. A jutting chin gave him a brute type appearance, but his warm eyes and broad smile suggested otherwise.
“I’ll have something hot, whatever you have cooking.”
“Aye, and what will ye have ta drink?”
“Milk.”
Milk? He realized the ignorance and stupidity of his own statement, but it was, obviously, far to late to take it back. He had spoken quite loudly, though in this din he doubted that anyone else heard or cared. The bartender looked at him quizzically.
“Milk? Well, if that’s what ye want, that’s what ye’ll have.” He turned, shaking his head, to prepare the food.
He couldn’t be blamed, though. That is, for being confused as to why he had asked for milk. Milk was a, child’s drink, and never really asked for. It wasn’t strong enough for men’s taste. The man cursed his own system of morals, and wished that he had been paying a little more attention. He wouldn’t have had to drink it, anyways. He sighed, and waited for his food.
The room was rather large, larger than most small town taverns, and expertly crafted. The large tables were placed in just the right formations as to allow the most comfort, but no wasted space. On any, normal, night, one could fit thirty or so guests and still have space to walk without difficulty. This night, though, was not one of those types. There must have been closer to fifty patrons in the well heated space, crammed into every nook and cranny.
Where there was not space to sit, one would stand.
Where there was not space to stand, one made the room.
It was the, human way. There was only one non-human creature in the room, which surprised him. He had been out for quite some time, and only seen two or three other creatures, intelligent ones, at least. This one, as far as he could tell, was similar to a human in the way that it stood, leaning against the wall in the far corner. With a thick cloak covering most of it, he could see only shadowed patches of what seemed to be, fur. An inhuman face was shrouded by the hood, though he could see, from the outline, that it had a short snout and two tall, pointed ears an the side of its head. Beyond that, he could tell nothing else about unless he were to get closer.
Huddled next to it and hidden from view was a smaller form, probably its child or something of the sort. He wished to go speak with it, but, under the circumstances, it could only draw attention to himself. Besides, it probably did not want to be spoken to in the first place.
His eyes moved around the room, simply scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Like he’d notice before, there was nothing to notice.
Why should there be?
Then his eyes caught sight of a rather large man sitting in a group. His back was turned to him, but the light brown hair, the tight ears, corded neck muscles it, was all so…some friend of the man’s stepped behind him and tipped his glass back. There was loud yelling, a small scuffle, and a spot was cleared for the newcomer. The man of interest was no longer in his view. He had no reason to care, or pry, honestly. The chances of it happening, here?
No, never.
The bartender returned with his food, and as requested, a glass of milk. The man thanked him for the food, and immediately downed the white liquid with a deft movement, then handed the glass back.
“I always have a glass before my meals,” He said, proffering it back to the tender. “My mother said it made my bones stronger, guess it just stuck.” The bartender eyed him skeptically for a moment, and the man gave his extended arm a slight shake, as if to say, “what are you waiting for?” Seemingly convinced, the glass was taken, and within moments returned.
“Aye, it tis a good move ye made. Folks ‘round here don’t take to kindly to men who don’t, ah, drink, if ye know what im saying?”
The man nodded in agreement, and just to reassure anyone who might be watching took a hardy swig, smacked his lips, and eyed the glass tastefully. No one noticed, though, the clenching of his free fist, and the tightening of his back muscles.
Control.
He must stay in control.
It was all he could do to keep from spitting, from crying out, something. The forbidden fire quickly spread from his mouth and nose down to his belly, where it began to work its way through every crevice of his body.
How could he?
“It has a slight, nuttiness to it?” He said, in questioning.
“Oh, aye, that’s me special blend. Best you’ll find in a few hundred leagues, might I add.” The tender, now completely comfortable with the man’s presence and demeanor, leaned a bit tiredly on the counter. “Folks just don’t know how ta make a good draught anymore. Seems to me that ta young’ins don’t much like ta stick ta the old ways. No, no, they plan on goin’ the technical route. Take, for instance, what I saw in Brighton yester-eve.” He paused, held his finger up, and went off to get his own beer. Returning quickly, he pulled up a stool, and set in for a long tale.
The man, who would much rather be getting some well needed rest a the moment, leaned forward, and listened intently with his eyes, letting his mind wander off to some distant place. There was something about a “chubby girl with thunder thighs that refused to eat her vegetables” but the rest, though heard, was never registered. He didn’t mind, much. The moments where he could relax were few and far between, and it was a welcome thing. He would not complain.
- - - - - - - - - -
She watched the man with curiosity. He looked like the others, acted like the others, yet….
Premonition.
That was the only way to explain it. He spoke of trouble, his entire presence radiated it, though, it seemed to her, not because he was trouble. A dark cloud hung over his head, in the way his eyes twitched, how he wore his stretched smile. Yes, this one would bring trouble. Hopefully somewhere else.
The child shivered beside her, though the environment was warm and jovial. Nightmares had plagued his sleep, and he seemed to be in a state of shock, a stasis of sorts of which he could not break free. The sooner they could leave, the better, but…to stay safe was more important.
They would wait.
Besides, she was intrigued, and wished to watch and see what would happen, if anything. Perhaps she was wrong, she had been before, but her senses rarely lied to her.
Few had taken notice of her presence, why would they? Most of them were, or would be, drunk in the coming hours, and far to busy with their extravagent tales to pay attention to the world around her.
Men.
She shook her head. Their entire race was clouded with the pernicious nectar they so loved. It was their way of life, she supposed, and they had a right to it. But it sickened her how they could let themselves go so easily. Then again…there was him? He puzzled her more than the rest. Yes, he had taken it, but reluctantly. And only she had noticed how he adeptly poured the rest of the golden liquid into the next man’s glass. He, of course, had been confused, but who would object to more than they thought they had? Strange, this one was. Very strange.
The child stirred again and pushed tight against her leg, huddling in the warmth, trying to get away from some unseen, but quite real assailant. She didn’t blame him for his fears, the man, the thing, had been utterly grotesque. Had she still been a child, she would have been just as afraid. More, perhaps. This young one had a fight inside, a fight that she had never experienced. To run from the Empire was one thing. But to run from this? No, it wasn’t possible on most spheres. There was something very different, very powerful inside this child.
When she had first been called to this task, it had confused her as to why it was important at all.
Now, she knew.
There was a small flurry of motion that drew her attention back to the scene before her. Who knew what had happened? Perhaps one man had spilled the others drink, or made an obscene comment about his mother, whatever the cause, the crowd quickly stepped back to allow the two men room. One had his fists up all ready and was prepared to fight, yelling at his opponent. The other, quite intoxicated, was still confused as to what had happened and was just getting to his feet after being pushed down. There was a lot of noise, and it was hard to hear what was being said above the din, though her ears could pick out the basics of it. It seemed that the more drunken man had pulled a trick, a slight of hand, and conned the other out of a few coins. Nothing big, of course, but the tricked had taken offense at it, and was now prepared to duel it out. He was the smaller of the two, not thin, but wiry and strong.
The larger man smiled sarcastically, then laughed, and reached out his hand, the coins being offered back. But they were slapped to the ground in anger. This upset the guilty party, he had only done it as a joke, and hadn’t planned on keeping the money. Besides, he argued, it was only a few Drakons, nothing much. His true words and goofy smile angered the other further, and with an animal like cry he gripped the large man by his lapels and sent him shooting across the room.
It was at that moment that a small group of travelers opened the door to enter the premises. Oh, how they wished they had not. The large man sprawled into them, sending the four men back into the muddy street from whence they had come. The rain was coming down at steady drizzle, and the unpaved streets were thick with the slimy substance. Beyond that, there had been so many caravans through lately that the usually brown earth had taken on a slightly green tinge and emitted a putrid smell. It was into this stink pot that the men were thrown.
The crowd quickly shuffled outside to watch the show.
She took it as their time to leave.
- - - - - - - - -
Somewhat stunned, the bartender watched as all of his guests began to leave. So engrossed in his tale had he been that he, and any of those listening, had been unaware of the mess that was brewing. Now they were shocked to see it happening. It passed quickly though and the tender shrugged it often, returning to his story.
“…where was I?”
“Thirty or so Stavians on the hill and-” One man answered.
“Oh, aye. There were thirty or forty of those dirty rascals up on ta hill, all thirstin’ for blood, when out of nowhere’s comes a blinding flash and….”
He turned towards the commotion outside. Something drew him towards it, and he left his seat and followed the last few drunkards outside. He couldn’t see much through the crowd, but a loud cheer went up as one man went sprawling in the mud. There were five or six of them now involved in the struggle.
Working his way towards the center of the mob to get a better look, he was glad that he was not involved.
Within moments a few more were involved, probably just for the heck of it, and there was quite a bit of whooping and hollering going on. Calls and shouts rang and as men went to grab their buddies to watch, and it became apparent that one group of men was favored over the other, or others. He couldn’t tell who was involved yet, he couldn’t see anything yet. Finally he made it to the middle of the group and broke into the clear. It was that moment that he rethought his choice, but there was no time to act on that thought. A well dealt punch sent one man stumbling backwards and he crashed into the crowd, sending them all sprawling into the mud, toppling like dominoes, and right into his arms. He collapsed under the sufficient weight, the man being far more heavy than he. There was a quick struggle to get up and off the wet ground. As he stood up he came to stand face to face, or rather, forehead to chin, with the man who had fallen.
For a moment…he was unsure. Then recognition flooded into his eyes.
“Taalon? What….”
The big man looked down at him and was just as surprised to see someone he knew. “Aven, what in the…how did you…ha, it’s good to see you old buddy!” Taalon bear hugged him and then set him back in the mud. “I never thought that I’d see you here.”
“Duck!” Aven yelled, dropping just in time to see his large friend take an iron fist to the jaw. His assailant was much smaller than him, but far less drunk and was in a killing mood. He jumped on top of Taalon and began to pummel him. The large man held his arms up to block the blows, but there was still a smile on his face. He felt none of the pain.
Aven wrapped his arms around the mans waist and ripped him off Taalon, then flung him back into the circle of fighters. He helped Taalon up and the two of them were shoved back into the center. Oh how the crowds loved a fight. And all the while Taalon seemed to be enjoying himself.
The fool!
There were three separate groups, he surmised after some sparring with them all. One consisted of five or six, he could not tell, weary men who had simply been in the way, no fault of their own. They were enraged at being knocked into the mud. He would be to. The second group was made up of another five or six men who were as drunk as drunk could be. They knew little of fighting, and obviously cared little, but had just gotten wrapped up in the moment and decided they were some sort of expert on the topic, and would try their hands at it, literally. Harmless and stupid, they were used more as stumbling blocks and barricades than anything else.
The third group was only one man, not much of a group, but his fists were hard and powerful and propelled by very strong shoulders. The look on his face spoke of murder, which was what he had on his mind, though he and everyone else were far to gone to meet that mark. In any event, it was an uneven match, for all were out for the same person.
One against fifteen?
There wasn’t much time to contemplate the matter, though. Taalon was in no condition to fight of a small army, and though he seemed to be in a state of euphoria, the mob and the crowd would spit him out like every other drunk. But not this one.
Stepping into the group, Aven tripped one man, then split another’s lip. A drunk came at him with a chair, how he procured one was a mystery, and Aven stepped to the side as the man swung it down towards his head. The force of his strike sent him sprawling forward, and he was given a sharp shove in the back into the crowd. Another stepped up to him, swinging wildly with ill-aimed strikes. It was only a matter of timing and he to found himself on his face in the muck.
He was getting the hang of it again.
In fact, he was quite enjoying himself.
The two friends found themselves next to each other for a moment, then were separated again by the hard fisted man. Aven attempted to get in a few punches, but the man was pursuing Taalon vigorously and would not be abated, and there was to much going on. Aven turned his attention to the others. For once one of them made contact with his body, not much of a punch, but it was enough to drive the air from his lungs and he dropped to one knee. Coming in at his throat an arm was caught and twisted violently. There was a wrenching and cracking sound and the man collapsed in pain. It had been instinct, but Aven had not meant to hurt him so much. It would require some medical assistance for sure. But there wasn’t time to care about or for the man. Two of his comrades, seeing their friend injured like that, charged him, picking him up by his arms and lifting him from the ground. They barged through the crowd, up to the tavern wall, and slammed him against it. This time pain exploded across his back. One man held him, and the other drew back his fist, then propelled it into his face.
Once.
Twice.
Three times the charm, but Aven was fast, and dodged it. The man’s knuckle grazed his ear and crashed into the wood behind, shattering a few fingers. Aven lashed out with a well aimed foot and dropped the other man with a groin shot, then sank to his knees, gasping for air. It was getting serious, and he wasn’t even fighting the tough one. He would be sure to thank his friend for this later.
Taalon, on the other hand, was taken shot after shot in his stride, the harsh beating he was receiving hardly phased him. He was still smiling. Aven swore at him.
The nerve.
The nerve.
There were only four left, not including Taalon’s man. Somehow the four had gotten wrapped up with each other and were grappling in the mud. Aven took two of them by the shirts and knocked their heads together, then rushed the other pair and tackled them. The crowd took a step back, then another and another as Aven dragged the two of them through the mud, finally dropping them in a puddle of murky water.
Now, for the last one. He wiped the caked earth from his hands, slicked back his hair, and stepped back into the circle with determination on his face. Taalon was once again on the ground, the other man on top and beating him to a pulp. Aven tackled him off the larger man, and was surprised at the ferocity that was returned. The man fought from his strong grasp and leapt on Taalon’s back. The large man stumbled around for a moment, then crashed back into the mud, much to the satisfaction of the crowd. There were only two things left to do.
Allow Taalon to get beat to death, which he wouldn’t allow.
Or knock some sense into the other man. How? Whatever the way, it had to be done soon. Though Taalon was young and in good health, he had taken a sever beating, and couldn’t last much longer. All ready he was showing signs of wear, and blood was streaming from multiple lacerations on his face and arms. One eye was swollen shut, and a steady stream of the precious, red liquid drained from his crooked nose.
He would have to do something quickly.
Stepping up to the man, he locked his arms under his belt, pulled his legs under himself, and thrusted up with all his might. The man was sent flying as a result, crashing into a trough. He was not quick to get up this time, and staggered around for a bit when he did. Locking his sights back on Taalon, he rushed forward to continue the attack, but tripped over Aven’s extended foot. Outraged at this humiliation, and stupid with rage, he sprang to his feet, and rushed Taalon again. This time Aven stood in between him and his quarry, and when he attempted to skirt around him Aven feinted to the left then dropped a hard punch just above his belt. The man gasped, and sank to his hands and knees. A sharp jab with the knee to his side, and he collapsed on the ground, unconscious. The crowd fell silent. A few watched Aven, but most eyes were trained on another man that had just entered the circle. Unfortunately, man was not the right description for him.
There were men.
And there were brutes.
And there were bears.
This was some insane combination of them all, a massive beast of a human. He had seen some big men in his days, and ugly, but none such as this, and a pang of fear ran through Aven’s body. The man could easily be mistaken for some wild animal, and he looked the part.
“There, that’s the one!” Said the man who had led him into the circle, pointing at Aven. The beast looked from him, to the unconscious form that was being drug out of the circle.
“You did this?”
“I, well…” Aven straightened his back and looked the man straight in the eyes. “Yes, to protect my friend, and myself.”
“From what? I see nothing here to be concerned about? And your friend, where is he?”
Aven looked around, concerned as to Taalon’s situation. A lane through the crowd was cleared to reveal Taalon’s form contentedly sleeping in an animal pen, cuddled up next to some furred animal coated in mud, not that Aven was much cleaner. A chuckle coursed through the mob. “Ah,” The large man said, “I see that you protected him well. But tell me, what was he in danger of? Losing his beauty sleep?”
Laughs again.
Aven felt the blood rise to his face, mostly from anger. His knuckles went white as the blood was forced from them. The man-beast stepped up to Aven, not in a menacing way, but definitely to establish his superiority, and perhaps to test the others courage and resilience. Aven stood strong, and looked him in the face.
“Whatever my brother did, I am sure that it did not require this.” The man said, waving his arms about. The crowd nodded as one.
But they were all drunk.
The man continued. “I’m sure that this could have been resolved with a sim-”
“It was not I that started the fight, nor my friend. There was some small misunderstanding, and your…brother…acted out. He was drunk, they both were.”
“What? Drunk, you say? No, we Fallensoars do not get drunk, you are mistaken.”
“It is you who are mistaken!” Aven shot back, quite angry now. “Your brother got what was coming to him. I tried to stop him, but he was intent on killing my comrade. Had your brother not been so insolent, I would not have been forced to take it so far!” The man was a bit taken aback, and Aven advanced further. “And anyone who denies it shall answer to me!”
A murmur went through the crowd, and they took a step back, then another. As did the beast.
It was at this moment that Aven began to think clearly. What was he doing? Look at this man! Two heads taller than himself, at least twice as heavy. His body was one corded mass of muscle and sinew, a vicious weapon, and, from the way he spoke, with a hardened and crisp mind to control it. He had most likely been in many fights before, and Aven doubted that he lost very often, if ever. But Aven knew his kind, strong and proud, they would not back down from a fight. Nothing he could say now would change his mind.
The man began to unbutton his shirt.
Aven began to study him, and the way he moved.
Sparring was out of the question. His long arms and heavy fists would make mincemeat of his face and body in a matter of moments. The man’s muscles moved with a calm, but deliberate ease, like a cat prepared to strike. His actions would be deft and quick, but not fast to recover. Wrestling was no good, either. He knew he could take the man down, but once on the ground, he wouldn’t be strong enough to put him in submission. Aven sighed inside. What had he gotten himself into? What had Taalon gotten him into? He vowed that he would give his friend what for when this was over.
That is, if he made it through.
A few of the villagers who had come to watch entered the circle with a rope and outlined a smaller one in their midst. It was as if they had done this before. But it made sense, boxing was a popular sport amongst the westerners, this was most likely what they had in mind, and the beast was undoubtedly the professional. Atleast he knew what sort of fighting style he would employ.
The man stepped up to Aven, his chest muscles flexing tight with the movement. “If you step out of the ring, you receive a penalty hit, that means I get to crush you with one blow. If you go down and refuse to get up, or are unable, you lose. If you win,” He chuckled there. “Then I will pardon you of your mistake and you may leave town. But when you lose,” He turned towards the crowd. “When he loses! He will clean every stable and barn in the town for a week! How about that!”
A raucous cheer went up, and immediately every man in the mob wished Aven to lose. The stakes were definitely stacked against him.
The beast stepped right up to Aven, forced to bend over to whisper in his ear. “You cheap shot me, or pull any dirty stunts, you will pay, remember that.” He then stepped back to the edge of the ring, and began warming up. Aven was at a loss for words or thoughts as a young boy rushed into the ring, all to happy to be a part of it, and held his hand up.
“Ready?” He asked the beast in his young, sing song voice. The man nodded. He then turned to Aven. “Ready?” Aven was still in a state of shock, but returned to reality and quickly stripped off his belt and over-shirt, draping them over a nearby fence, then returned to the circle.
He nodded to the boy. The child threw his arm down and yelled with all his gusto. “Fight!” The crowd cheered, and the man advanced on him.
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137,435 Literary Works • 672,020 Reviews
Hi there AEChronicle! You've been racking up reviews for the Cobalt Critiquers, so it's high time you're rewarded for the trouble!
Overall, this is an exciting chapter. There's a lot of action, and it leaves a lot of room for wondering where this story is going.
First, some small things.
This seems rather odd to me. I seem to think that a sweater/jacket tied around the waist feels like something girls do more than men, so maybe that's why. Granted, I'm not sure what else he would do with the cloak...hang it somewhere? Leave it on this shoulder? Not take it off at all?
The "There was..." makes this feel too passive. I think "A small flurry of motion drew her attention..." would sound better.
Again with the "there was". You seem a bit too fond of this phrasing. I feel like it takes the reader out of the scene. I suggest "a few more got involved, probably just for the heck of it, all whooping and hollering."
Slightly bigger issue: By the third part, I'm so confused as to who's who that I start to lose the story. At first I thought Aven was the bartender, but that doesn't seem right (presumably Taalon would not be surprised to see him tending his own bar). Then I thought he was the milk-drinker, but now I believe the man he's about to fight is the milk-drinker. And where did the child come from? I thought the woman (beast-creature?) and the child left.
Actually, I feel like I've re-read the third parts several times and I have no clue what's going on. Who went where, how Taalon ended up in an animal pen sleeping, etc. It's hard for me to get into the story if I have to re-read everything twenty times.
Suggestions:
1) Streamline the POV. It's mostly Aven's, but there's snippets of other people's thoughts. I'd keep it to Aven's.
2) Trim the passive voice. "There was X", "X was done by Y", things like that. Sometimes it's necessary, but in an action-heavy scene, it slows things down. Question every use of a form of "to be".
3) Make the relationships clearer. Where is the milk-drinker in the third part? Did the woman and child succeed in leaving?
Overall, I think you have an interesting chapter, but it gets hard to follow at the end. Keep writing!
Hi again!
Another great chapter. The descriptions were wonderful and the pacing was nice. It's quite an intriguing story.
There were, however, a good deal of technical errors.
"Too," not "to."
Again, it's should be too.
Get rid of the comma after "milk was a."
No need for the comma after "on any."
Take out the comma after "the."
Remove the comma after "to be" and before "fur."
I believe you meant "at" instead of "a."
I think you meant "off" rather than "often."
"Involved" is repetitive here.
"Yet" is repetitive here.
"Too." Not "to."
There's more, but I won't point them all out. You get the gist, I imagine.
Other than the technical faults, though, this is a pretty extraordinary chapter. You have a very interesting story here.
Nice work!
Lol, looks like I need to pay attention to me commas and me to's instead of my p's and my q's.