Cheers and whistles exploded through the room, though I got the impression that Euric had worked them up so much they would have agreed to sign away their lives. I studied the man standing on the table. People with the ability to rally a crowd to their whims were dangerous.
The cheers abruptly stopped, and I had to scan the crowd to see what had quieted them.
A man wearing a blue cloak and cowl walked inside, his footfalls thumping over the wooden floorboards. His clothing looked expensive—a dark green vest with silver buckles, and tall leather boots that looked as if they belonged in an elven court. Although his face was partially hidden by the cowl, I could tell he had a strong jaw and thick, seductive lips. He wore his brunette hair in a ponytail slung over his shoulder, and he had a lean, muscle-corded frame. The cloak whipped behind him as he walked toward the table. Although he stood of average height, his presence demanded attention.
A doglike creature with silver fur trotted beside him. I wasn’t sure what to call the creature, except it looked like a mix of grimwelt and wolf, although there were no wolves on Faythander—and certainly no mixed Earth-and-Faythander breeds. The animal puzzled me. It stayed at its master’s heels as he crossed the room, growling if anyone got too close.
“Who is that?” someone whispered.
“I’m not sure.”
The man stopped at the table’s edge, and although Euric stood over him, he visibly shrank.
“Who… who are you?” Euric asked.
“My name is not important.” The stranger’s silken voice carried an elvish accent. “I’ve come to challenge you in a duel of the sword. Will you accept?”
“A duel?” The man stood straighter. “For what reason?”
“To defend the king.”
“I see. In that case, you should know that you will lose. I’ve never lost a fight.”
“Never lost a fight? That is difficult to believe. How many fights have you fought?”
That drew a snicker from the crowd.
“More than you, I assure you.”
“If that is so, then you should not hesitate to duel with me.”
Euric crossed his arms. “Who are you?”
The dog growled, and the stranger snapped his fingers, quieting it. “As I’ve said, my name is unimportant. Will you accept my challenge?”
“First, tell me, what is at stake?”
“If I win, you destroy that scroll and vow to pledge allegiance to your king. If you win, you continue forward with your plans.”
“I refuse. It is not a fair trade. I will still go forward with my plans whether or not you challenge me.”
“Yet you have claimed to have never lost a fight. Winning a friendly duel will only serve to aid your cause even more, won’t it?”
“I fail to see how.”
“You claimed to be a member of a fierce, noble people. Perhaps it is time you proved it.”
“Yes, show him, Euric! Beat him!”
Euric leapt off the table, landing mere inches from the cloaked man’s face. “Very well.” He held up the scroll. “If I shall sign my name in blood, then so be it!”
This only goaded the crowd more as they cheered the two men into the street. I followed the crowd outside onto the sun-drenched paving stones where the two men prepared to fight.
The gathering parted to form an empty, open area where the two men circled one another. The man in the cloak unsheathed an uncommonly sturdy-looking dueling blade with a delicate, wire pommel. It was an odd weapon, full of contrast, and I wasn’t sure I had ever seen one like it. As he removed his cloak, I was surprised to find that his ears were rounded, although I could have sworn the man was elven. He placed his cloak atop the porch where his dog waited patiently, guarding the garment with its life.
Euric had no weapon and found one among the crowd. I wasn’t a weapons expert, yet even I could see the nameless stranger held his sword as if he were accustomed to dueling, with a straight back and balanced stance.
As the two men prepared to fight, I scanned the crowd, looking for anyone who seemed roguish or seedy, someone who would fit the description of a thief. At this point, it could have been anyone, even someone who didn’t fit the stereotype, and, as I turned to watch the fight, I had a suspicion I knew who it might be.
“Is this a fight to the death?” someone in the crowd yelled.
“Nay!” Euric answered, holding his sword high. “This is a fight to freedom.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as the crowd cheered. Kull had struggled against his inadequacies as a leader; he certainly didn’t need someone like Euric destroying the unity he had worked so hard to build. But it seemed that was exactly what Euric had in mind. If Euric won this fight and the town signed the petition, it would mean the beginning of dissension among the Wults. Kull already had his hands full negotiating with the elves. Dealing with rebellious Wults would make his job nearly impossible.
“In our village,” Euric called so all could hear, “the rules of dueling are simple. First man to the ground loses. Do you agree to these terms?”
The stranger nodded, and the men clashed swords, the sound of their steel ringing through the air. Euric gained a better position than the stranger as he parried in a forward thrust, nearly knocking the newcomer off balance. Stumbling, the stranger regained his footing and blocked a blow that would have injured his shoulder.
I stood near the newcomer’s dog, who sat as still as a sphinx as it watched the fight with attentive eyes. A low growl rumbled in its throat as the next several blows resulted in its master losing his balance and nearly falling.
The dog’s eyes—one light and
