Fred Sparkrock: Burning Desires

"While I can not speak for Tomar," Ponkert interjected, "I know the man.

He, too, is peaceful and with the release of his daughter, I am sure I can negotiate a treaty between your two cities… "

Rololf waved him into silence. "Do not put words in my mouth. A treaty would be good. It would open up trade between our sister realms and increase our strength from outside attack… "

He paused momentarily, then began again, "… but it is not that simple a matter. I cannot just release the Princess Elfgwynne into your custody."

"Why!" Ponkert demanded, perplexed by the ruler's words.

"Are you deaf, man!" Rololf half-shouted with irritation. "Haven't you listened to my words? You can't wipe out centuries of blood and hate just like that. I have grown to enjoy my seat upon the Lindakarian throne. If I turned Elfgwynne over to you, my head would hang from the highest tower in the palace by the morrow's morn."

"Then what are you proposing?" Ponkert urged him to proceed.

Rololf's dark eyes peered into his; there was a sad determination about them. "There are two courses to take. First, you, like my queen, are not of our world, as hard as that is to believe. I know it to be true. Since that is the situation you should leave Lindakar and Kellerian problems to the men of Keller." Ponkert suppressed the urge to plant his fist in the middle of Rololf's face. He didn't like the idea of being told to leave the woman he had helped place in a bad situation in that position.

And he damn sure didn't like being told he didn't belong on Keller. He had always found a spot for himself no matter what world he was on.

Keller was no exception!

"Out of the question" he granted, knowing his face flushed with his anger at the suggestion. "What's the other alternative you spoke of?"

"A duel… " the words rolled from Rololf's lips with hesitancy, "… a duel between a champion of Hort and a champion of Lindakar. The winner takes Elfgwynne. Freedom on one hand, slavery on the other. It is the only way my people will accept the release of the princess without revolting against me."

"Agreed," the Earthman nearly shouted.

"Good. Jan said there would be no denying you. Your decision increases the respect I have found for you," Rololf nodded. "I do not like having to place one of my queen's friends in such a position, but there is no other way. If you win, I expect that you will take my message of peace to Tomar."

Ponkert now nodded, "Yes, I have no wish to leave Jan in a kingdom that could be torn by war without notice. But as to the duel. What are the weapons?"

"None," the ruler replied. "Bare hands and to the death!"

Bare except for his home-made jock strap, Ponkert stood inside a dirt-floored arena. The battle area was within a large domed building.

He was alone except for Rololf and Jan, who sat above in the royal box.

With them were ten witnesses to his and the Lindakarian king's agreement. If he won, there would be no doubt as to the legitimacy of the victory. Likewise, there would be no shadow over his death. He shivered at the last thought and began to put himself through some warm-up exercises.

As he flexed his muscles and tried to drive some of the tenseness away, he attempted to imagine the champion Rololf had selected. As a whole, Rololf excepted, Kellerian men were slightly smaller than the men of Earth, but they were stocky and their strength equalled that of their not so distant cousins back home.

He had no more than a minute to let his imagination wander. A camouflaged gate in the opposite end of the arena swung in, and Lindakar's champion loomed out. Ponkert blanched.

This wasn't a man, it was a monster! Standing an easy seven feet, complete with shaven scalp, his opponent looked as if he were a henchman for the insidious Dr. Fu Manchu. The Earthman swallowed hard as he estimated the man to outweigh him by at least a hundred pounds. He watched as the giant's muscles rippled like thick steel cables under his sunbronzed skin. But he was far-very far-from being muscle-bound. As if to prove the point, he did a couple of handsprings as his version of warms. Ponkert immediately recognized the show of agility for what it was-a ploy to unnerve him.

In his next breath, the Earthman admitted to himself it worked! He was scared shitless!

As the man-mountain began to approach, two tree-trunk arms extended in a deadly embrace toward him, Ponkert tried to find the calmness that had been drilled into his head during all those hours of hand-to-hand combat training back on Earth. Visions of his two hundred pound instructor being tossed around like a sack of corn meal by a one hundred and five pound woman with a fifth degree black belt flashed in his mind's eye.

Size meant nothing. Ability was everything. This giant was undoubtedly stronger. But Ponkert had the element of surprise on his side. Surprise in the form of fists of death.

Cautiously, the Earthman crouched in a defensive stance and waited as his opponent charged. When in doubt, let your attacker make the first move. Let him make the first mistake. The first mistake would come quickly-he hoped- as he stood before the gargantua barreling down on him.

Then Ponkert struck! So fast and skillful were his movements, that few actually saw, with the exception of Jan who often sparred with him aboard the Werewolf, or understood what actually occurred.

Before the bronze giant's clutching bands could ensnarl him in their massive grip, Ponkert locked out and connected his heel with the opponent's kneecap. Catching an out-flung arm, he twisted violently. The mountainous man screamed as he somersaulted through the air, landing with a definitely fleshy thud on his back, clouds of dust rising under the impact.

It was here the Lindakarian's agility came into play. Before the Earthman could administer the coup de grace in the form of a slashing kick to the temple, the golden-skinned monster had rolled to his feet and stood facing Ponkert.

Although his teeth gnashed and he growled, Ponkert could detect the glimmering of doubt on the behemoth's face. Never before had anyone hurt him so easily. From the manner in which he slid his right leg, his kneecap might be broken.

Again the man charged with bull-like determination to quickly do away with his opponent. Ponkert grabbed, turned, and smoothly went into a perfectly executed tai-otoshi, the aptly named body drop. The Lindakarian once more sailed through the air to land heavily at Ponkert's feet.

This time, Ponkert couldn't allow the man to escape him. The bronze giant's thick neck was quickly locked in Ponkert's powerful arms.

Applied properly, a choke lock, such as Ponkert held his opponent in, takes only seconds to bring unconsciousness. The bull-necked Lindakarian was no exception-only five seconds passed before Rololf's champion was at the Earthman's feet, lying there without moving.

Ponkert released his hold the instant he was sure the man had been knocked out. He had no, desire to kill the Lindakarian. He carried no malice toward him. True, the man would cheerfully have killed him-and had tried very hard to do just that-but this meant nothing to the Earthman. He had won! That was all that mattered.

"Your champion is defeated," he called out, turning to Rololf. "Need I kill him to prove it?"

"Nay!" the ruler answered. "Never has anyone bested Ort. "There is no need to go on. You have fairly won the Princess Elfgwynne."

Somewhere, he could hear Jan's voice, but paid little attention to it as two servants led him from the arena. They walked quickly down a torch-lit corridor to a large stone pool where Ponkert was allowed to wash the sweat and dirt from the fight from his body.

As he climbed from the water and dried, one of the servants spoke, "Our queen has directed us to take you to the princess."