It would be a short fight if we did. I always believed in a fair fight, and I had the brawling experience from my days in Aranor to hold my own. I’d give them a fighting chance first.
Some of the other men at the surrounding tables got up as well. Most of them fled the tavern, obviously uninterested in the impending brawl. The tables and chairs were emptied, leaving only nine sappers, including Mohawk, Patch, and Red Nose. The additional six came to stand behind the first three. They were wearing the same clothes as the main trio—dirty, sweat-stained leathers which bared their arms almost to the shoulders, and heavy workmen’s boots. From their similar gear and their willingness to join the fight, I guessed that they must also be sappers who worked in the mines with Mohawk and his cronies.
“You stole our money, thief,” Mohawk spat at Jacques.
“You’re a cheating motherfucker,” Red Nose said through gritted teeth.
“Motherfucker,” Patch echoed as he glared with his one uncovered eye.
“If you want to fight Jacques,” I said as I stood between the men and my friend, “you’re going to have to deal with the rest of us too.”
“Ugh,” Amelia said, “I think I can smell their breath.”
The brutish trio turned their attention to me and the women standing beside me.
“You?” Red Nose spat. “A filthy vagabond? You think those devils’ markings protect you?”
Mohawk ogled Amelia and Veronica next to me. “Well, hello, sweethearts. Don’t you worry, once we’ve dealt with your handler, we’ll give you a good time.”
He made a circle with two of his fingers and stuck the finger of his other hand through the gap, making violent thrusting motions with his pelvis at the same time. The others all burst out in jeers and laughter, sticking their tongues out and making obscene gestures.
“Filthy pig,” Veronica muttered.
Amelia turned to me. “Can we please use our magic to deal with these cretins?”
“Well, if you insist,” I said. “After all, it’s nine against four. I suppose it's fair to even up the odds! But remember the tavern rules: strictly non-lethal.”
“We’re right with you,” Amelia said, and Veronica nodded.
I glanced over my shoulder to Jacques. “Same goes for you.”
“I’ve been doing this long before you got here, young William,” he said. “I’ve perfected the art of avoiding murder.”
It looked like magic was back on the table. So much for my scruples. I couldn’t say I was all that disappointed.
I faced the thugs, who were still caught up in making each other guffaw with their obscene capers and thrusting motions.
“You don’t threaten my friends and get to walk away,” I said to them in a calm voice.
Jacques grabbed a mug and brandished it like a weapon. “I’m looking forward to this.”
A glance over one shoulder showed me that the Mistress was casually leaning on the wall behind the bar, her arms folded over her ample chest. The barmaids had placed themselves on top of the counter, elbows on their knees as they watched us with keen interest.
The sappers’ laughter died down, and their moods turned serious. The prospect of causing violence seemed to sober them up rather quickly.
“Hold back,” I said to my friends with a wink. “If we’re using magic after all, I’m going to prepare the battlefield.”
I snatched a beer mug from a nearby table and tossed it on the ground.
The sappers jumped back, as though they were afraid of getting a little wet.
Mohawk glared at the spilled liquid. “What the fuck? Spilling beer? That’s damned sacrilege.”
Patch smacked his fist against his palm, the flickering light from the hearth casting crazy shadows over his sneering face. “What are we waiting for?” he asked his comrades. “Let’s get ’em.”
As the nine men roared and leaped forward, I knelt beside the beer I’d spilled, placed my hand on the sticky liquid, and activated my snowflake rune. Immediately, the beer crystallized into ice, and the sappers slipped and skidded along the frozen surface.
Always the eager one, Jacques rushed past me and cracked a sapper over the head with a mug. The sapper cried out and clutched the wound but only managed to lose his balance and fall on his ass.
“That was brutal,” I said.
“Non-lethal,” Jacques said. “I promise. By the way, when did you become a Mage?”
“Now’s not the best time to explain.”
The other sappers had regained their balance, but I wasn’t done with my initial trick just yet. I sent Mana into my fireball rune and cast three flaming spheres at the ice on the ground. It melted near instantly, causing a great cloud of steam to rise up in the middle of the sappers, scorching them and obscuring their vision.
Using the steaming shroud as cover, I leaped into the confused group of assholes. My fist found a pudgy stomach, my leg struck a tender groin, and my knee smashed into a jaw that sprayed teeth and blood.
Veronica came beside me and grabbed a sapper’s arm. She tugged on it, spun him around, and twisted the limb until there was an audible crack of snapping bone. The man screamed, and she tossed him to the ground with what looked like little effort.
“Remarkable strength,” Jacques commented.
“I’m not without my uses,” Veronica remarked as she stepped over the screaming man.
I heard an almost feminine cry behind me and whirled around, expecting to see Amelia being harmed.
Instead, I saw Amelia dealing out harm. She’d summoned an icy blade and had stabbed a sapper in the meat of his ass. He was screaming like a little girl as he tried to reach round to remove it. The blade suddenly melted, but Amelia wasn’t done yet. She
