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This is a sequel to Mont Rose, which is a sequel to Rajjan Tor. The stories are set in 
tegerio's Realm of Faerie universe, as shown in his Zandar's Saga here on FA, and The Ballad of Adler Young.
Also check out
EOCostello's Realm of Faerie stories:
The Thin Line
From Whom All Blessings Flow
Personal Diplomacy
The Font of Honour
It's Only Funny Until Someone Loses Their Dignity
. . . Is In Another Castle
The Coin of the Realm
Dance, Ballerina, Dance
___________
Blunt Objects
© 2014 by Walter Reimer
Art by tegerio
Part 22.
“That was an unseelie thing to do, Cheshire!”
“Are you all right, Ayyub?”
The fennec shook his head to clear it as Aelfric and his father helped him up. Cheshire stood a short distance away with his father standing in front of him and shouting at him for hitting Ayyub unawares. The tod just looked past his father, saying nothing, and massaged his right paw with his left.
The look in his eyes told the fox that their dispute wasn’t over.
Ayyub returned the look, agreeing with him wholeheartedly.
Isabeau entered his line of sight, her expression worried and her eyes pleading with him. A small crowd was gathering. “Come home with me, Ayyub.”
“Hmm?” He stopped looking at Cheshire and looked at her.
“Come with me,” she said slowly. “Don’t cause a scene.”
Cheshire evidently heard her. “Yeah, go on home and cry like a little kit, lowlander,” he sneered.
Ayyub took a breath and felt some of his tension flow out of him. “Isabeau?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Yes, love?”
“Take care of this for me, please,” and he gave her the betrothal contract.
She took it, looked at his face and glanced around for support as she realized what he was about to do.
The first person she saw was her aunt. Verity smirked and nodded her head.
“A-all right,” and she stepped away.
Cedric and Salome stepped away as they saw Ayyub walking toward their son. Cheshire grinned and started to clench his fists.
Ayyub broke into a run at the bigger tod, then pivoted in a standard pakta move – the roll spike. His foot struck Cheshire right across the muzzle, and as he recovered he took advantage and punched Blunt in the face.
Pain rocketed through the stumps of his right ring and little fingers, but his blood was up. That made the pain easy to ignore, although he’d feel every bit of it after the fight was over.
The only thing he regretted was that he didn’t have his Army-issue boots on.
A heavy fist hit him in the ribs, nearly taking all the wind out of him. He backpedaled as he struggled to breathe and Cheshire followed, wisely staying out of kicking range until he could see an opening.
Both families were following, as was a large and growing number of Elves from the town. Those not in the know about the roots of the quarrel were being rapidly brought up to date, while several, much to Isabeau’s irritation, were taking bets.
“Aunt Verity! How could you?”
“What?” the older vixen said as she passed one fellow two silver pieces. “They’re offering two to one!”
Isabeau thought for a moment, and pulled a half-silver from her purse. “I’ll take a piece of that.” The bet concluded, she turned and screamed at her betrothed, “Take his head off, Ayyub!”
Cheshire got a bit too close and yelped, blood spraying as Ayyub’s foot clipped the tip of his nose. Then it was the shorter fennec’s turn to yelp as a heavy fist struck him in the left side of his face. He retreated further, hearing the crowd as an undercurrent to the roaring of blood in his ears.
To his credit, Cheshire recovered himself well. With a roar, the big fennec brought his right fist around in a roundhouse punch that Ayyub deliberately took on his left shoulder before countering with another kick, this time driving his left knee into Cheshire’s exposed side. Blunt went down on one knee before reaching up and grabbing Ayyub’s ankle as the lowlander tried to finish the fight.
“Now what are you going to, Shorty?” Cheshire said, his nose sounding a bit congested.
Ayyub smiled. “This,” and he jumped at the bigger tod, who fell back as Ayyub’s free foot connected with his shoulder. The two fennecs rolled away from each other and stood up.
“Hold still, Fuma damn you!”
“Sure,” Ayyub said. “Come at me.” He sneered. “Stupid.”
Cheshire snarled and charged.
At the last minute, Ayyub sidestepped, tripping up the bigger tod, who crashed into the dusty road. The crowd laughed, with a few cheering while others exhorted the hometown boy to do better. More money was changing paws.
The two made their way farther up the road, Ayyub retreating but stepping in to strike when he saw an opening, Cheshire intent on coming to grips with the smaller tod.
Ayyub was holding back, and he knew it. He’d fought as part of the Yeomanry and side by side with the Army, and he’d seen a lot of the tricks the squaddies were taught for paw-to-paw combat.
Something he’d heard from an instructor surfaced in his memory, even as he slipped another punch that would have certainly broken his nose:
”We hardly need the strength of threes
When we can win by breaking knees.”
He knew he could cripple or likely kill his adversary, but knew that it wouldn’t be right. It’d be unseelie for a start, and would likely land him in jail for a finish. However, he was starting to get winded.
Time to finish this.
Cheshire, blood drying around his nose and matting the fur at the corner of his mouth, cracked his knuckles and swung again. Ayyub ducked under the swing and closed with the larger fennec. His right fist came up and struck the man in the jaw, then followed it up swiftly with a knee to Cheshire’s crotch.
Blunt’s head snapped up and to the left and he howled at the pain that made his knees buckle. He grabbed at his crotch and crashed to the ground, gasping and retching while Ayyub stepped back. The smaller fennec pounced, landing hard on Cheshire’s stomach and knocking the breath further out of him as he started punching the tod in the face. After a moment he panted, “Had enough?”
Cheshire glared at up at him, snarled and spat, “No.”
In exasperation, Ayyub looked up and around, then paused. “Fine. You need to cool off.” He slugged Cheshire a few more times, dazing him before standing, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him.
The fight had carried them up the hill to one of the mills run by the Weatherwrights. The mill was powered by a water wheel positioned over the river. “Where are you going, Ayyub?” someone shouted. With all his attention on Cheshire and on his plan, the fennec had no idea who was calling to him.
Laboriously, he stood the bigger tod on his feet. Dazed, Cheshire stood swaying while Ayyub jammed the wheel with his foot. Water started to splash and foam around the obstruction as Ayyub stuck one of Cheshire’s arms through the spokes on one side of the wheel, and his other arm through the opposite spokes. He moved his foot, and the flow of the river moved the wheel.
Cheshire rose up in the air, following the wheel’s arc; he started to stir as Ayyub stopped the wheel again. “You give up?”
“No.”
“All right then.” Ayyub jammed Cheshire’s feet into the spokes and let the wheel go.
The crowd watched as Cheshire was hoisted farther up, then down and into the river. He emerged sputtering and gasping. Ayyub stopped the wheel and slapped Cheshire across the face.
“Give up?”
Cheshire gave him a murderous glare.
“Fine.”
A few of Ayyub’s partisans in the crowd cheered as Blunt went around again, emerging dripping from the foam. Again he stopped the wheel.
“I’m not going to keep asking, Cheshire. You going to give up?”
The big tod struggled against the wheel, still a bit dazed. That was fairly obvious, since he wasn’t tied to the wheel and could have simply extricated himself. He shook water from his ears and muzzle and blinked at Ayyub.
Finally the question sank in and he growled, “You little lowland runt, I’ll – “
“Wrong answer,” and Ayyub started to pull his foot away.
”NO!
The shout made him flinch, and the sudden shove at his back sent him flying into the river. He surfaced, snorting water from his nose and blinking up in shock.
His sister Alys stood up to her shins in the water, shaking a finger at him. “Don’t you dare, Ayyub macFarukh! You’ll kill him if he goes around again!”
“Um . . . like now?”
She turned and screamed at the sight of Cheshire starting to go around a third time.
tegerio's Realm of Faerie universe, as shown in his Zandar's Saga here on FA, and The Ballad of Adler Young.Also check out
EOCostello's Realm of Faerie stories:The Thin Line
From Whom All Blessings Flow
Personal Diplomacy
The Font of Honour
It's Only Funny Until Someone Loses Their Dignity
. . . Is In Another Castle
The Coin of the Realm
Dance, Ballerina, Dance
___________
Blunt Objects
© 2014 by Walter Reimer
Art by
tegerioPart 22.
“That was an unseelie thing to do, Cheshire!”
“Are you all right, Ayyub?”
The fennec shook his head to clear it as Aelfric and his father helped him up. Cheshire stood a short distance away with his father standing in front of him and shouting at him for hitting Ayyub unawares. The tod just looked past his father, saying nothing, and massaged his right paw with his left.
The look in his eyes told the fox that their dispute wasn’t over.
Ayyub returned the look, agreeing with him wholeheartedly.
Isabeau entered his line of sight, her expression worried and her eyes pleading with him. A small crowd was gathering. “Come home with me, Ayyub.”
“Hmm?” He stopped looking at Cheshire and looked at her.
“Come with me,” she said slowly. “Don’t cause a scene.”
Cheshire evidently heard her. “Yeah, go on home and cry like a little kit, lowlander,” he sneered.
Ayyub took a breath and felt some of his tension flow out of him. “Isabeau?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Yes, love?”
“Take care of this for me, please,” and he gave her the betrothal contract.
She took it, looked at his face and glanced around for support as she realized what he was about to do.
The first person she saw was her aunt. Verity smirked and nodded her head.
“A-all right,” and she stepped away.
Cedric and Salome stepped away as they saw Ayyub walking toward their son. Cheshire grinned and started to clench his fists.
Ayyub broke into a run at the bigger tod, then pivoted in a standard pakta move – the roll spike. His foot struck Cheshire right across the muzzle, and as he recovered he took advantage and punched Blunt in the face.
Pain rocketed through the stumps of his right ring and little fingers, but his blood was up. That made the pain easy to ignore, although he’d feel every bit of it after the fight was over.
The only thing he regretted was that he didn’t have his Army-issue boots on.
A heavy fist hit him in the ribs, nearly taking all the wind out of him. He backpedaled as he struggled to breathe and Cheshire followed, wisely staying out of kicking range until he could see an opening.
Both families were following, as was a large and growing number of Elves from the town. Those not in the know about the roots of the quarrel were being rapidly brought up to date, while several, much to Isabeau’s irritation, were taking bets.
“Aunt Verity! How could you?”
“What?” the older vixen said as she passed one fellow two silver pieces. “They’re offering two to one!”
Isabeau thought for a moment, and pulled a half-silver from her purse. “I’ll take a piece of that.” The bet concluded, she turned and screamed at her betrothed, “Take his head off, Ayyub!”
Cheshire got a bit too close and yelped, blood spraying as Ayyub’s foot clipped the tip of his nose. Then it was the shorter fennec’s turn to yelp as a heavy fist struck him in the left side of his face. He retreated further, hearing the crowd as an undercurrent to the roaring of blood in his ears.
To his credit, Cheshire recovered himself well. With a roar, the big fennec brought his right fist around in a roundhouse punch that Ayyub deliberately took on his left shoulder before countering with another kick, this time driving his left knee into Cheshire’s exposed side. Blunt went down on one knee before reaching up and grabbing Ayyub’s ankle as the lowlander tried to finish the fight.
“Now what are you going to, Shorty?” Cheshire said, his nose sounding a bit congested.
Ayyub smiled. “This,” and he jumped at the bigger tod, who fell back as Ayyub’s free foot connected with his shoulder. The two fennecs rolled away from each other and stood up.
“Hold still, Fuma damn you!”
“Sure,” Ayyub said. “Come at me.” He sneered. “Stupid.”
Cheshire snarled and charged.
At the last minute, Ayyub sidestepped, tripping up the bigger tod, who crashed into the dusty road. The crowd laughed, with a few cheering while others exhorted the hometown boy to do better. More money was changing paws.
The two made their way farther up the road, Ayyub retreating but stepping in to strike when he saw an opening, Cheshire intent on coming to grips with the smaller tod.
Ayyub was holding back, and he knew it. He’d fought as part of the Yeomanry and side by side with the Army, and he’d seen a lot of the tricks the squaddies were taught for paw-to-paw combat.
Something he’d heard from an instructor surfaced in his memory, even as he slipped another punch that would have certainly broken his nose:
”We hardly need the strength of threes
When we can win by breaking knees.”
He knew he could cripple or likely kill his adversary, but knew that it wouldn’t be right. It’d be unseelie for a start, and would likely land him in jail for a finish. However, he was starting to get winded.
Time to finish this.
Cheshire, blood drying around his nose and matting the fur at the corner of his mouth, cracked his knuckles and swung again. Ayyub ducked under the swing and closed with the larger fennec. His right fist came up and struck the man in the jaw, then followed it up swiftly with a knee to Cheshire’s crotch.
Blunt’s head snapped up and to the left and he howled at the pain that made his knees buckle. He grabbed at his crotch and crashed to the ground, gasping and retching while Ayyub stepped back. The smaller fennec pounced, landing hard on Cheshire’s stomach and knocking the breath further out of him as he started punching the tod in the face. After a moment he panted, “Had enough?”
Cheshire glared at up at him, snarled and spat, “No.”
In exasperation, Ayyub looked up and around, then paused. “Fine. You need to cool off.” He slugged Cheshire a few more times, dazing him before standing, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him.
The fight had carried them up the hill to one of the mills run by the Weatherwrights. The mill was powered by a water wheel positioned over the river. “Where are you going, Ayyub?” someone shouted. With all his attention on Cheshire and on his plan, the fennec had no idea who was calling to him.
Laboriously, he stood the bigger tod on his feet. Dazed, Cheshire stood swaying while Ayyub jammed the wheel with his foot. Water started to splash and foam around the obstruction as Ayyub stuck one of Cheshire’s arms through the spokes on one side of the wheel, and his other arm through the opposite spokes. He moved his foot, and the flow of the river moved the wheel.
Cheshire rose up in the air, following the wheel’s arc; he started to stir as Ayyub stopped the wheel again. “You give up?”
“No.”
“All right then.” Ayyub jammed Cheshire’s feet into the spokes and let the wheel go.
The crowd watched as Cheshire was hoisted farther up, then down and into the river. He emerged sputtering and gasping. Ayyub stopped the wheel and slapped Cheshire across the face.
“Give up?”
Cheshire gave him a murderous glare.
“Fine.”
A few of Ayyub’s partisans in the crowd cheered as Blunt went around again, emerging dripping from the foam. Again he stopped the wheel.
“I’m not going to keep asking, Cheshire. You going to give up?”
The big tod struggled against the wheel, still a bit dazed. That was fairly obvious, since he wasn’t tied to the wheel and could have simply extricated himself. He shook water from his ears and muzzle and blinked at Ayyub.
Finally the question sank in and he growled, “You little lowland runt, I’ll – “
“Wrong answer,” and Ayyub started to pull his foot away.
”NO!
The shout made him flinch, and the sudden shove at his back sent him flying into the river. He surfaced, snorting water from his nose and blinking up in shock.
His sister Alys stood up to her shins in the water, shaking a finger at him. “Don’t you dare, Ayyub macFarukh! You’ll kill him if he goes around again!”
“Um . . . like now?”
She turned and screamed at the sight of Cheshire starting to go around a third time.
Category Prose / Fantasy
Species Vulpine (Other)
Size 185 x 158px
File Size 8.8 kB
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