R. Salvatore - The Last Threshold

As she spoke, a burly man in the current brawl hoisted his opponent up over his head and threw him across the room, to smash down among the chairs and tables.

“More coins for a healer,” Ambergris whispered. She started away, but stopped abruptly, considering the victor, who stood with his large arms upraised, roaring and prancing about.

“Might that that one’ll want a try at ye,” the dwarf said to the monk.

“He is a lumbering fool,” Afafrenfere replied.

“Aye, but a proud one.”

The monk shrugged.

Soon after Ambergris had cast a healing spell upon the latest loser, Afafrenfere squared up against the large man, who seemed to have a bit of ogre blood, so tall and wide was he.

Of course, that only made him a bigger target.

He came on brazenly, swiping his thick arms across one after the other, while Afafrenfere ducked back, then under, then off to the side.

The cheers began to quiet, shouts of complaint arising as many twists and turns resulted in not a blow being landed.

Afafrenfere kept glancing at Ambergris, who held a bag of coins, for which she could find no takers.

The big man came at him, hands open, and Afafrenfere did not dodge then, but stepped forward and punched the man in the face.

The move cost him dearly, though, as the big man grabbed him around the neck with both hands and lifted him off the ground. Afafrenfere kicked out at him, but so long were the man’s arms that the monk couldn’t get any solid hits.

He glanced over again at Ambergris, who was arguing with several patrons who were demanding that she honor her offer and place her bets.

The dwarf convincingly argued-too convincingly and for far too long, Afafrenfere thought, as the big man choked him and jerked him side to side like a doll. Finally, Ambergris relented and handed over the coins.

She noted the monk’s glance her way and tossed him a wink.

Afafrenfere grabbed the big man’s thumbs and held on tight then kicked out at him with both feet but pulled them back in close before they connected. He used the momentum to go right over, lifting his legs above him and thus breaking free of the hold.

He landed back a stride or so, but the big man kept up in pursuit, as Afafrenfere had hoped, and grabbed again at the monk’s throat. Before the behemoth could come close and hoist Afafrenfere from the floor again, however, the monk grabbed at his hands, hooked his thumbs under the big man’s thumbs and folded his legs under him, dropping straight to the floor.

The big man lurched forward, but before he realized what was happening, the monk landed in a kneeling position and used the momentum of that drop to drive his hands down and over with sudden and brutal force, bending the big man’s thumbs back over the large hands.

The dull thud of the monk’s knees hitting the floor fast became the sharp crack of finger bones breaking.

The big man made a strange sound, half growl, half howl, and pulled his hands away. Up came the furious monk, leaping forward to strike a quick left and right into the man’s face. And up came the broken hands and Afafrenfere came on even harder, letting fly a tremendous right into the man’s gut. He staggered back to crash into the back and lurched over, arms crossed over his belly.

Afafrenfere’s left hook cracked him across the face, whipping his head to the side. He brought his hands to block, and the monk’s tremendous right-handed uppercut hit him in the gut with enough force to lift him off the ground.

Down went the big man’s hands and across came Afafrenfere’s left hook, again snapping his opponent’s head to the side. Up went the man’s hands defensively and another uppercut lifted him from his feet.

The devastating cycle repeated a third time, which left the big man out on his feet, his arms just hanging there helplessly. Still angry about the choke hold, Afafrenfere leaned right against the big man and his right hand pumped repeatedly, each blow hoisting the brute from the floor and dropping him back in place.

“Enough!” came a cry from the crowd.

“Aye, ye’re to kill him! Enough!” shouted another.

Brother Afafrenfere turned around and put up his hands unthreateningly. He stared into a score of amazed expressions, many shaking their heads in disbelief.

The monk looked at Ambergris and gave a helpless shrug and a crooked grin, and the dwarf, recognizing the intent behind that look, shook her head and grimaced.

Just as Afafrenfere spun a sudden circuit up on his the balls of his feet, coming around with great speed and force, a spinning left hook that chopped the side of the big man’s jaw and sent him flipping and flopping over and down, to land heavily flat on his back on the wooden floor.

The whole room seemed to stand in place and time, cheers and jeers and shouts becoming a sudden frozen silence, all eyes locked on this shocking, wiry man with his thunderous hands.

The big man groaned and shifted, showing that he wasn’t dead at least, breaking the spell, and several patrons near to Ambergris began shoving the dwarf and yelling. Afafrenfere moved quickly to her side.

“What magic, dwarf?” one man asked.

“None,” answered a woman from behind, unexpectedly, and the crowd parted and turned to see a red-haired woman well known in Neverwinter.

Arunika moved up to the dwarf and monk and scrutinized Afafrenfere carefully. She took him by the wrist, and when he didn’t object, she turned his arm over, revealing a tattoo of a yellow rose inside his forearm.

She gave a knowing laugh.

“No magic,” she said to those others around. “A fair win, though I’d not be betting on this one’s opponents.”

“Ah, ye gamed us, ye wretched little dwarf!” a particularly dirty patron grumbled.

“Ah, so’s yer sister,” Ambergris yelled right back at him. “Ye weren’t for givin’ me a bet, and then yer boy looked to be a winner and ye called me on me coin!”

“Ye set it up that way!” the patron declared.

“I set it up to get the life choked out o’ me friend?”

“He’s looking alive to me!”

“Aye, but if we’re to be agreeing with what ye’re sayin’, then yer champion there ain’t much o’ nothin’! Think about it, ye dolt!” As she built momentum, Ambergris moved very near the man and poked her thick finger right in his face, driving him back before her. “Yerself’s arguing that I let me boy get himself choked half to death knowin’ that he could then break out and pound yer boy to the floor. Says nothing good about yer boy, and I’ll be sure to tell him o’ yer confidence and praise”-she looked over at the man lying flat out on the floor “-soon as he’s waking up.”

That had the aggressive man back on his heels.

“Pay her,” Arunika told the patrons. “Coin won fairly. And if you’re to bet, then you’re to pay your losses.”

Much grumbling ensued, but Ambergris and Afafrenfere walked out of the tavern with several small bags of gold.

“We won’t be winning anymore that way,” Afafrenfere remarked. “We should have stopped after two.”

“Bah! They’ll bet again. Can’t help themselves, the dolts.”

“They will bet on me, so where is your win?”

“Ye might be right,” Ambergris said, and she grinned wickedly and winked at him. “Unless ye’re thinkin’ ye can take a pair o’ them.”

Afafrenfere started to respond, but just sighed instead. More likely, he knew, Ambergris would put him in a match against three opponents.

“There is your seer,” Dahlia remarked to Drizzt.

The drow reflexively put a hand to his belt pouch, but he moved it back immediately. He didn’t need Arunika, for Guen was back beside him.

But then another idea came to him, and he smiled at Dahlia and waved to Arunika to join him.