The only shadows they cast by the high midday sun were directly beneath their feet. Not a trace of one could be found on the long, narrow skirmisher field. Raith stood with Thea near the wooden fence that encircled the fifty by twenty-five yard patch of dry dirt. Sweat was already beading on his forehead and practice hadn’t even started.
Stupid time of day to practice. I’m not going to miss this at all.
The bottom two skirmisher tiers shared a field, and tier four got stuck with the worst times for everything. Only tiers one and two got their own fancy stadium to play in, and all the money and glory that came with it.
While the team was still trickling in, he pulled Thea off to the side to discuss their plans.
“I know how anxious you are to get this book,” Thea said. “But I haven’t been able to find out a whole lot yet. What do I even ask? ‘Hey, dad, can you tell me everything you know about the library’s security?’ I’ll go in there after practice and see what I can see.”
“No need, I’ve got it handled.”
Thea’s eyes narrowed.
“That means you’ve done something foolish already. You couldn’t wait one single day, you complete ninny?”
Raith had the good grace to be embarrassed, but plunged ahead to recount the events of last night. When he got to the part about Kieran, he cursed to realize he’d left without asking after the man and those marvelous skills.
“So it will be impossible at night when they’ve got everything locked down and the ward runes activated. Which means a daytime job. I’ve got a few ideas we can talk about later, but they all require a distraction. I’ll definitely need your help with that. Why aren’t you saying anything?”
A flush had started low on her neck before spreading high to her freckled cheeks like rash. Staring daggers for a long few moments, when she finally spoke it was through a clenched jaw.
“I think for today’s practice, I’m going to play on the alt’s side.”
Typically, the starting team and alternates would face off against each other for practice. Raith winced, knowing that a painful shield bash awaited him in the very near future. She gave a curt nod and stormed off to where the rest of the team was gathering. He puffed up his cheeks and blew a long breath.
Hopefully, she won’t knock me unconscious this time.
By the time he made his way over, their captain was ready to get started. Widders was their sword, and favored a two-handed stick at the maximum size allowed. Average height and broad shouldered, Widders was a natural leader. Following in the footsteps of his officer father, he’d be off leading soldiers himself soon after this season ended.
“It has been a spectacular season so far, team. I’m proud of what each and every one of you has accomplished. We’ve got a lot of new players this year, and I can’t wait to see how much you’ll grow when us old-timers move on.”
Raith tried not to roll his eyes at that last. The oldest of them were nineteen, for god’s sake.
“From the beginning, I’ve promised you one thing. You will always get the truth from me, even when it sucks.” He met each of their eyes in turn. “Right now, it sucks. The Snobs have the best team in the league this year. They’re going to be hard to beat. But I’ve talked it over with our assistant captain, and we’ve come up with a plan.”
Widders gave Raith a nod. He was up.
“We may not be able to win, but by the Loom we can make them pay for every point.”
“Bugbear tactics.” Jaren said unhappily. Conflicting murmurs went up among the team. Most of them were excited to stick it to the snobs, but not everyone was on board.
Bugbear tactics were when you stopped focusing on scoring and turned all your attention to punishing the other team. It was no way to win a game, and some people found it distasteful. Raith raised his hands to quiet everyone down.
“Those guys play like assholes, and everyone here has been the victim of one of their dirty tricks this year. I say they’ve got it coming. When they walk off the field at the end of that game, they’ll know with certainty the price of those tricks.”
“I’ll not do it,” Jaren said. He was their starting staff, but a [Spearman] by class. His father was a sergeant in the city guard and had ingrained in him an overdeveloped sense of honor, so his objection didn't come as a complete surprise.
“We’ll miss you on the field, but I respect your wishes. Kaine, are you up for it?” The alternate staff nodded eagerly. “Alright everyone. Drink some water then get out on the field in five.”
Camillia had shown up to watch, along with a friend she dragged along for company. Raith jogged over to meet them at the fence, giving her a quick peck on the lips as he arrived. She had a bit of extra weight, but pretty even to those who preferred their women slim. More importantly to Raith, she was wicked clever and one of the few people their age who shared his love of books. She was also on track to be one of the leading scholars of their generation.
“You didn’t need to show up for this. It’s far too hot.”
“We’re only staying for a bit. Emmy here fancies Widders, but doesn’t know about skirmishers. Can you give her the basics and perhaps introduce them?”
Emmy blushed, but looked up at him hopefully. There was no graceful way to avoid getting in the middle of whatever matchmaking schemes they had underway
“Um, sure. There are fifteen players on a team. Five on the field: staff, sword, shield, net and quick and two alternates for each. Rules govern the composition of the armaments. So the sword, staff, and shield all have to be made of wood within specified size ranges. No sharpened points or edges. Everyone has standard padded leathers for protection. You score a point when the quick places a metal band over the wooden pole at the opponent’s end of the field. We call that ‘binding the post.’ No one but the quick can touch the band with any part of their bodies. [Skills] are allowed, but no magic or magical items.”
He looked at Emmy, whose eyes had begun to glaze over a bit.
“So that’s probably good for the basics, unless you have any questions.”
Emmy took a moment to realize he’d opened the discussion for her to say something. She opened her mouth, then reconsidered and closed it. Camillia stepped in to rescue the conversation.
“Why don’t you ask Widders any questions you have? Boys love being able to explain things to pretty girls.”
“So true, dear,” Raith said with a wink. “Are we still going for dinner tomorrow?” She nodded. “Wonderful. Emmy, why don’t you come with me?”
He lead her down the fence to where Widders was taking a long pull from his water flask.
“Hey, Widders. This is my friend Emmy.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The captain gave an appreciative eyebrow raise to Raith and bowed towards Emmy.
“A pleasure.”
“I need to go talk to Kaine, but she had a question about how the sword is used in the game.”
He looked at Emmy expectantly, who was sharp enough not to miss her cue this time.
“That’s right. Could you tell me how it’s done, exactly?”
Raith almost laughed out loud at the way she batted her eyes, but Widders seemed to eat it up. Raith excused himself, noticing Nyhm on the sidelines for the first time. He gave his brother a fist to chest salute before jogging off to talk to the team. Out of the whole family, Nyhm was the only one who never missed a game or a practice. One of these days, he’d find a way to tell him how much that meant.
***
Alone amidst the small crowd of friends and hangers-on, Nyhm returned the salute to his brother and watched him jog off to join his teammates on the skirmisher field. It had been weeks since the last rain, and little poofs of fine dust followed Raith on his journey across the hard packed dirt.
For some reason, playing this game was important to Raith. Nyhm suspected it was just to stave off boredom. He didn’t care about skirmishers, but he did care about supporting his little brother.
I may not be good for much, but I can teach him to fight and I can do this.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Camellia sidle up next to him and lean on the fence that surrounded the field. He did not offer a greeting, hoping she would just stand there quietly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Raith’s girlfriend. She was fine. Nice even. It was just that she wouldn’t leave him be.
“Do you think they’re going to win next week?”
So much for quiet.
“No.”
She seemed unsure how to respond to the curt reply and changed tactics to drag out the conversation.
“You should play! You’d make a wonderful quick, with all of your physical [Skills] and hand to hand stuff.”
Nyhm thought about reminding her he’d spent his entire childhood fighting in the slave pits for the bugbears in the north. That the idea of becoming a spectacle for a howling crowd of frenzied onlookers again filled him with a horror and rage she could never imagine in her sheltered, privileged existence.
He reflexively rubbed at the tattoo on his chest where the heart cage had been. The runephrase that had once imprisoned his will, artfully transformed by his adopted mother into one that would ensure no one could ever bind him again.
“Not interested.”
Camellia fell silent now, a troubled look on her face. He’d tried not to hurt her feelings, but it happened anyway. Which was why he didn’t like talking to people in the first place. He turned his attention to the practice on the field.
The alternates were pressing the post by having the sword force an opening while the shield covered the quick’s flank. It was normally an excellent tactic, but not against the long rope with a tightly knotted ball at the end that Raith used as a ‘net’.
He came spinning around behind their quick and shot the ball at their leg, looping it neatly and spilling them onto their face. If he’d been in the pits, the crowds would have absolutely loved his flashy, acrobatic style of fighting.
The first staff was able to sprint up and flick the hoop out of the downed quick’s hand and straight into the hand of theirs, who ran it down the field. Raith spun to recoil the rope as the others pursued the quick, when out of nowhere, Thea struck him in a powerful, low shield bash that sent him flying through the air onto his back. Camellia winced at the sound of the impact and let out a worried squeak. Seconds later, a point was scored, and Widders called a timeout for everyone to huddle up and talk about the play.
Wonder what he did to piss Thea off this time? Probably deserved it.
In the alley on the other side of the field, Nyhm noticed a head peek out and duck back in again. He thought he’d seen it earlier, but second guessed himself. A short while later, there was a third time, and that was enough. It was the middle of the day, so it probably wasn’t anything too nefarious, but there was definitely someone spying on them.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
He took the long way around to come up behind their snoop on the opposite end of the alley. When Nyhm got there, he stole a glance around the corner and swore under his breath. It wasn’t just one person, there were three of them.
And one had seen him.
“Oi, can we help you with something?”
Nyhm took a deep breath and activated the steelhide tattoo on his bicep. If this was going to get ugly, he wanted to be at least somewhat prepared. Stepping into the alley, he got a better look at the three. Fairly young, rough around the edges and wearing worn leather armor, all three carried short blades on their hips.
The tall skinny one looked nervous and hung back behind the other two. That was the one he’d seen peeking from across the field. Another stood out in front, about the same height but fit and muscular with close-cropped blond hair. The last guy was short, and about as wide around the waist as he was tall. For all his girth, he had a nimble step as they approached Nyhm.
The muscular thug spoke again.
“Well, what do we have here? A little halfling’s come to visit. I didn’t know they let feral dogs in the city. Did you know that, Skink?
The nervous one in back replied.
“No, I didn’t know they let halfling dogs in here, boss.”
He resisted the impulse to correct the thugs. Most people had never seen a member of the reclusive halfling race in real life. Fewer still an elfling.
On the rare occasions an elf ventured from their crystalline alpine cities, it was to answer a call in their blood to run wild and free with the halfling clans. The offspring of a union between the two races produced someone taller than a halfling and sturdier than an elf. Both races considered elflings to be a blessing. A herald of luck.
Nyhm spat on the ground at that last thought. The leader frowned, thinking Nyhm meant it for them.
“I asked you a question, dog. Can we help you with something? I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself, do I, Skink?’
“No boss. You hate repeating yourself.”
“That’s right, I do. And if you make me do it again, I’m afraid there’s no telling how I’ll react.”
The round one giggled at this. It was eerily child like, and Nyhm decided he was already about fed up with this crew.
“Why are you three spying on the skirmisher practice?”
“We’re big fans, aren’t we, Meatpie?”
Meatpie nodded vigorously, his jowls flapping independently of the rest of his face. Nyhm frowned, and the leader raised his palms in mocking defense.
“Now don’t look at me like that. It’s his mother what gave him that name.”
After watching these idiots for a minute, Nyhm lost his initial trepidation. They moved like sneaks, not warriors. Careful and light, but their footwork gave no consideration to attack or defense. The big one may have a class in fighting with those blades, but Nyhm was sure he could handle them easily.
“What is your interest in those players?”
The leader put on a dramatically sad face.
“And here I thought we was going to be the best of friends. I asked you a question, and you ain’t answered it yet. So seeing as how there’s three of us, and one of you, I suggest you get to answering.” He drew his blade, and the lackeys followed suit.
Nyhm stood very still, arms relaxed by his side as the trio approached. The leader and Meatpie strode forward with confidence, but Skink seemed to be having second thoughts. Perhaps it was the severe, dark blue runic tattoos that covered Nyhm’s arms and face. Or the lean corded muscle that lined his arms beneath them. Most likely, the man was just a coward, standing back to make sure his mates were shielding him from any attack.
It wouldn’t do him any good.
When the three got to Nyhm’s end of the alley, they spread out in a semicircle to flank him. Perfect. In a blur of motion, Nyhm delivered a devastating backhand to the leader, following up with an open palm for Skink and then Meatpie. [Sprawling Slap] sent them all hurtling to the ground before anyone knew what hit them. None of them were injured, but it was a shocking and humiliating attack. The pit crowds used to go absolutely wild for that skill, which was why his owner insisted he stitch it.
“I will break the leg of the first one of you who tries to stand up.”
He bared his teeth at them, showing the tattooed runephrases across his gums. Skink blanched and stopped trying to get up.
Surprisingly, Meatpie was the fastest to recover. He was on his feet immediately and lunged at Nyhm with a wicked looking short sword. Nyhm threw a fast jab into the thrusting arm, sending the sword clattering to the ground, then snapped his foot right into the inside of Meatpie’s knee. It made a wet popping noise as the joint separated, and the man fell back to the ground like a bag of rocks. Somewhat spongy rocks.
Meatpie made a weird, quiet keening noise as he grasped his leg and rolled around on the ground. Nyhm was impressed. Most men would have screamed.
The other two stopped trying to get up.
Nyhm looked the leader in the eye with a cool, steady gaze.
“Why are you spying on these players?”
The lead thug hesitated. He shot a questioning look at Skink, who shrugged in reply. That seemed to settle the issue.
“We was just told to keep an eye on a prospective guild member. That’s it, I swear.”
“Which guild?”
“The Thieves Guild. One of them player’s a prospect. We’re to watch ‘em and then report back. That’s it. We ain’t here to hurt anyone.”
A cold feeling gripped Nyhm’s gut. He’d known Thea for years, and it certainly wasn’t her. It could be one of the other team members who he didn’t know nearly as well. He wanted to believe that. Nyhm shut his eyes and hung his head, then looked back up at the thief.
“Is it the net?”
The thief’s eyes widened in surprise, and Nyhm knew the answer before the words came out.
“Yeah. The one what uses a weird spinny rope. Listen, no one told us they had a feral attack halfling. We’ll gladly be on our way if it’s all the same to you.”
“Elfling.”
“What?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
Dammit, Raith. What in the five realms have you gotten yourself into this time?
