Tom Liberman - The Staff of Sakatha

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 mason seemed to slide off his feet and Jon had him all but tipped over, but then Odellius shifted his weight forward and Jon felt his knees buckle. The gray knight went to one knee and, with a tremendous effort that turned his biceps into massive balls, drove forward, and lifted Odellius to his toes and then a few inches into the air. At the last moment the big man used his little wooden sword to smack Jon on the side of the leg and Jon felt all this strength suddenly leave him. He collapsed to the ground as the big man stumbled and dodged to the side to avoid smashing him.

Jon rolled on his back and looked up at Odellius whose face was red with exertion and whose hand was out in an offer to help him up. It was only when he took the hand that he heard the eruption of screams and cheers that came from every member of the crowd. Jon walked off the pitch his arm around Odellius as everyone continued to applaud. They walked to a wooden bench and collapsed on it together, the thing creaking ominously beneath their weight. A young boy, not more than seven or eight, rushed over with a huge mug of frothy beer that he handed to Odellius and another boy, whom Jon vaguely recognized as Sorus Brewer, handed him a smaller mug filled with water. Odellius tilted back and drank with one huge pass, then pulled off his helmet to reveal wet and sweaty hair.

“Well fought, Jon Gray,” he said with a nod of his head. “I never thought I’d know what it feels like to fly but I was like a bird there for a moment!”

The people nearby broke into laughter, whispering back to those further away the words of the immense mason; laughter began to break out all over the little pitch. Jon stripped off his own iron helmet revealing his shock of sandy blonde hair and began to pull off his jerkin as a dozen young hands immediately reached in to help him.

Mikus Swift ran quickly back to the manor house his feet covering the distance quickly. He burst in the front door of the home, slammed it, and dashed to the large office where his father awaited his report. The man sat behind his large desk and drummed his fingers on the surface. “Well?” he said, his eyebrows arched.

“Odellius beat him, dad,” said Mikus, and Thorius smiled broadly as he eased back in his chair.

“So the young warrior from Tanelorn was humiliated?” he asked and Mikus hesitated for a moment, his face turned down towards the wooden slats of the floor. “Well?” repeated Thorius as his eyebrows came together. “The boy was thrashed, yes?”

Mikus nodded his head. “Twice straight.”

“And this Jon Gray did he take defeat poorly, whine and complain?” said Thorius and sat up in his chair and eyed his son closely. “Tell me what happened, boy!”

“It was a fair fight and… and…,” the story tailed off into silence.

“And,” said Thorius who stood and came around the table to hover over his teen son. “What happened?”

“Jon Gray tried to wrestle Odellius down,” said Mikus suddenly in a burst as his eyes shone brightly. “He had him for a second too, had him lifted up, but then Odellius knocked his leg out and he fell!”

“In the air?” said Thorius as he turned and sat on the edge of the desk. “Odellius?”

Mikus nodded, “He almost had him!”

“I suppose the crowd thought that it a noble effort,” said the man as his shoulders slumped.