rope take it but bring in hemp so they can make more or a few fish you caught out of the river so they can have lunch. That’s pretty much the way it is here in Elekargul,” said Odellius and nodded his head. “Most strangers don’t much ken to it but those of us that live here seem to like it just fine.”
“I can see how a stranger might well get himself in trouble. The mayor didn’t give me any advice on that but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Jon with a shake of his head. “What could the mayor have against me when I only just got into town?” but his words went unheard as Odellius was already back at work with his chisel at the big stone in the yard.
It took Jon only five minutes to find the temple of the Black Horse, the giant placard of the rearing black horse being a dead giveaway, and shortly after that spoke with Sir Kentstus, a thin man with decidedly hawkish features that spoke of goblin blood in his veins.
“So you need a place to stay for a bit then, Sir Jon,” said the man scratching his chin. “I’d probably better ask someone without any impressionable daughters or there’s likely to be trouble,” he said with a wink to the handsome boy.
“I can keep myself in hand,” said Jon with a smile.
“Don’t be so sure, young man,” said the middle-aged knight with a shake of his head. “We teach our girls to take what they want just like a man. The only thing they can’t be is a knight unless they got the purple face disease as a girl and can’t bear any children. Any girl named Speed is as likely to saddle up on a big handsome fellow like you as not. We better put you with boys. You seem the heroic type, might inspire a few of the lads.”
“I’ve already met Sorus Brewer,” said Jon with a helpful smile. “He and I hit it off pretty well. Does he have a place in town?”
“Right he does,” said Kentstus with a smile. “He’s a big lad too, with dreams of glory. You might well be a good influence on him. He lives on the south side of town in a little house painted red. You tell him I said it was fine to stay there while you’re in town. Any idea how long you’ll be here? No one will say anything, but you can wear out your welcome if you stay too long. Has anyone explained our rather unique economic system to you yet?”
“Sir Odellius gave me a good lecture on it,” said Jon, “and I’ll try to be careful not to offend anyone.”
“He’s a good man that one is,” said Kentstus. “A lot of those Buffaloriders are a bit too free spirited for my tastes. I’m an Openpalm myself but Odellius is a fine man and he’s fought in many a battle over the years.”
“How does one become a Buffalorider?”
“You just choose the name that seems most appropriate when you gain knighthood,” said Kentstus with a shrug. “I think Odellius chose pretty well but he’d have been a fine Brokenhand. Too many of the boys who want to be heroes but don’t have the right stuff take the name Brokenhand these days. It used to mean something when I was a lad but not anymore. A crying shame. Brutus Brokenhand will be spinning in the grave no doubt.”
“I’d like to talk with you further about Elekargul, its religion, its founding, but Odellius wanted to meet me in the yard for something about the sticks, and I’ve got to find my horse and get things unpacked or I’ll be late.”
“Going into the yard with Odellius then are you,” laughed Kentstus and took a step back to size him up. “You might just be big enough to get a win but… well, that’ll be something to see. I’m sure you’ll draw quite a crowd and I have to say I’m interested in seeing it myself. Until then, sir.”
Jon gave a little bow, “Until then.” The gray knight then walked back outside and gave a long whistle although it was several minutes before his horse found him. They made their way to the house with the red door, managed to unpack in fairly short order, and then wandered about to find the yard. It didn’t take too long as there was a crowd already gathered in a large open yard where a number of wooden swords and helmets lay in orderly rows.
The cry of, “There he is,” sounded at about the same time as he spotted his destination. It was clear he was expected. “I’ll have to go easy on the old tub,” thought Jon to himself as he approached the throng. The people of Elekargul might think Odellius a great warrior but compared to the finest Tanelorn had to offer Jon didn’t think he’d have much trouble with an overweight fifty-five year old man.
There were several hundred people gathered at the yard and that number included the rotund knight. As Jon approached a couple of young men pulled on heavy leather breastplates, slapped iron helmets on their heads, took long practice swords from the pile, and walked out into the middle of the yard. They nodded at one another and a shout from a thin man at the edge of the pitch, “Go!” sent them to it. They began to spar at first cautiously and then with heavy strokes. Eventually one of the boys managed to catch the other a strong blow to the side of the head and the second went down in a heap to the applause of the spectators.
The fallen boy shook his head a few times and took the hand of the first boy to stand. “Another go?” asked the victor with a smile on his face but the second boy’s face remained a little dazed from the blow and he shook his head. “Give me a minute or two,” he finally said as they made their way over to a set of benches where a number of other potential combatants awaited.
Odellius stood up, his massive bulk making him rock from side to side as he walked, moved quickly to Jon and clapped him on the shoulder. “Shall we have a tussle?”
Jon smiled broadly, walked over to the pile of wooden swords, and found a thick specimen that was almost the longest in the pile. Next he examined the hide breastplates and found one, that if adjusted wouldn’t be too tight, and then put on an old iron helmet that was lined with sweat stained leather and stank of too many uses without a good scrub. “Let’s go!”
By now the crowed swelled to more than three hundred spectators, as the entire village seemed to have flocked to the scene. Among those who watched was the young son of the mayor, Mikus Swift, although his father was nowhere around.
Jon watched as Odellius went through the equipment and found a massive leather breastplate that he loosened to the end of its strap, a bowl like iron helmet that still barely fit over the man’s giant head, and then, strangely, a very short and small wooden sword more suitable for a young boy than a man of his immense size and strength.
The two large men, one tall and the other extremely broad, made their way out to the center of the pitch and nodded heads. The same “Go!” came from the sideline and Odellius launched himself at the taller boy with a speed that belied his immense girth. Soon the two fought in close quarters and Jon found his lengthy wooden sword completely incapable of a powerful strike against the close in opponent. He tried to get away from the massive man, but Odellius stayed with him as his little sword ripped around the big man’s body with tremendous rapidity and slammed into Jon’s side with wind smashing blows. In a matter of only a few seconds Jon found himself backed towards a patch of dirt that was a slightly different shade than the rest of the pitch, and when his foot hit the area Odellius shifted suddenly and pushed Jon into the looser ground. Jon’s foot slid in loose dirt just as the big man’s belly hit him in the waist, a fast blow caught him high in the shoulder, his knees buckled, and he tumbled to the ground to a huge round of applause from the crowd.
Jon shook his head and looked up into the sun to see Odellius bending over him, his hand held out, “Another go?”
Jon nodded his head and let Odellius pull him to his feet.
The two stood face to face in the central yard again and Jon balanced on his toes and waited for the word from the starter. When it came he immediately dodged to the side but this time Odellius kept at a distance and slowly circled in a manner that forced Jon towards the loose ground. Aware of the danger, Jon lashed out with his superior reach to strike home blow after blow against the midsection of his foe but Odellius didn’t even seem to notice the swats that would have sent most men to the ground with a cry of agony.
“His skin must be thick as an elephant,” thought Jon to himself and tried to move in, only to have Odellius charge forward quickly and land several lightning fast shots that almost sent Jon over backwards. Jon used his huge stride to back away from the massive man whose forehead was covered with sweat and whose mouth hung open as he tried to suck in more oxygen. Jon realized this was the way to beat the behemoth, keep out of range, strike, and force a chase. Eventually the big man would go down and Jon smiled in triumph. As he carried out this strategy he became aware of the crowd’s shouts for the first time.
“Look at the tall one run,” shouted a boyish voice, followed immediately by another cutting comment, “Fight like a man, Julia,” it came and hurt him deeply. He took a moment to look at the spectators and spotted the sisters, Rhia and Shia and their look of acute disappointment hit him like one of Odellius’s strikes.
Jon looked at Odellius, who now breathed like a horse after a long run, and suddenly decided on a change of tactics. He charged forward, let his wooden sword drop to the ground, drove his shoulder into the midsection of the man, wrapped his long arms around him, and tried to throw him off balance. For the briefest of instants the fat
