James Galloway: The Tower of Sorcery

But Tarrin wasn't put off. He gave his father a heavy push, then quickly grounded one end of the staff and leaned into it. Eron kiltered backwards, staff going wide, and then he started falling. Tarrin leaned into his staff as Eron's hand on his belt tried to yank him forward, using the staff as a buttress against falling. Eron fell backwards, reached the end of his arm, and then was yanked to the side. He came to rest on his backside, his staff under his leg, holding on to his son's leather belt.

"Winner, Tarrin Kael!" the mayor called, as many of the spectators clapped and shouted and laughed. Tarrin helped his father up, who still had that wolfish grin.

"Sneak," his father accused.

"Cheater," Tarrin bit back, with a smile on his face.

"Thought you'd give that up if I threatened to double us out," Eron admitted with a wink.

"I figured you did," Tarrin grinned back.

Tarrin's next match wasn't so quick. It was against Jen Bluebird, who was deceptively powerful and very fast. Tarrin matched Jen's speed with speed, and the two of them danced around each other as their staves moved in blurred symmetry. Tarrin's moves were more precise, more crisp, than Jen's as he moved from one move to the next, flowing like water around and with his opponent. He blocked a flurry of high-low strikes from the staff, leaned back out of reach of a high swing, then just moved his leg out of the way of a strike at his ankle. Just his leg. Jen hadn't expected him to not move back, and was too close. Tarrin drove the end of his staff between Jen's feet like a spear and then twisted, putting one end behind his left foot and the side in front of his right. Then he lifted a hand off the staff and punched Jen in the stomach. Not hard, just hard enough to knock him backwards, allow the staff to tangle his feet, and topple him.

Tarrin defeated his next opponent almost immediately. It was Darl Millen, the wheelwright. Tarrin bulled into the heavier man, supposedly playing right into his hands, then hooked his arm around his hip. Tarrin stepped into his opponent, twisted so his back was to Darl, and dragged him over his body in the Ungardt hook-throw. Darl landed on his back with a thud in front of Tarrin.

Tarrin's final match was against Karn, and it was the final match. Tarrin stepped up and shook the powerful, bald smith, giving him a warm smile. Karn was one of his few friends in the village, a gruff man who was as much an outsider as he, who had the talent to be much more than a village smith. But this was the life that Karn loved, so this was what he did. "I get ta' thump yer head, boy," Karn said in his gravelly voice.

Tarrin laughed and looked down at the shorter man. "We'll see who thumps who," he returned.

"Contestants ready!" the mayor shouted. "Go!"

Tarrin instantly jumped back to the edge of the ring as Karn settled his feet in his classic "like the mountain stone" stance. Tarrin knew that fighting Karn on his own terms was suicide. He had to make the big man move, make him do the attacking. Because Karn would be perfectly content to stand in that one place and let Tarrin swing until his arms couldn't lift his staff over his head. That was Karn's way. Patient and methodical, the same way he hammered hot steel. Tarrin took up his staff in the end grip and weaved the point near Karn's face, flicking the tip lightly towards Karn's nose. Karn easily blocked the attempts, but Tarrin wouldn't stop. The answering parries became harder and harder, as Karn became annoyed that Tarrin wouldn't do what he was supposed to do and try to take the big man down from the start so that the match didn't go on and go into his favor. Karn's face turned black as Tarrin almost got him, the tip swishing a finger from Karn's nose, and he gave a shout and stepped up to engage the younger, taller opponent.

Tarrin ducked under a swing and blocked the reverse, reset into a center grip, and engaged Karn toe to toe. He kept attacking just enough to keep Karn on the offensive, goading him so that he wouldn't settle back into his classic defensive posture. While they exchanged blows, Tarrin analyzed Karn's attacking technique, looking for any exploits or holes. Not surprisingly, Karn didn't have any worth exploiting.

They battled back and forth for several minutes, Tarrin working to keep from getting bulled out of the ring while Karn defended his knees and ankles, two of Tarrin's favorite targets. Bets and suggestions were being shouted by the spectators around the ring, but Tarrin tuned it out as he saw the hole he needed. Karn set his lead foot down heavy when he tried to thrust. That was what he was looking for. Tarrin put a pace between them, then worked Karn into a position where he would try to poke the end of his staff into Tarrin's belly. Karn bit, stepping in and lunging the point of his staff at Tarrin's ribs. Tarrin spun aside even as the thrust was delivered, the wooden shaft missing his side by a finger. Tarrin dipped and bent going down on one haunch as his hand flew out wide to counter balance the spin. His other leg came straight out, and the momentum of his spin added to his strong kick carried his foot around at high speed. His foot flew around and cracked solidly into Karn's lead ankle. Tarrin felt his whole foot go numb, but he had so much behind it that it pushed Karn's planted foot out from under him. Karn windmilled his arms wildly, losing hold of his staff, then went down in a tumbled heap.

Tarrin rose, still spinning, and came to a stop facing the fallen Karn, staff in hand, tip grounded on the dirt.

"Och, boy, what in the name of the Gods was that?" Karn groaned, pushing up onto his backside.

"That would be a spinning foot sweep," a voice called as Tarrin put his hand out to help Karn up. Tarrin heard it clearly over the cheers and calls from the crowd, and the mayor's cry of the winner's name. Tarrin looked over, and saw the curly-haired knight step into the ring with several other spectators. "That's an Ungardt move," he noted aloud. "The Ungardt, she's your mother, isn't she?"

"Yes, sir," he said demurely, pulling Karn to his feet. "You alright, Karn?"

"Fine, lad, fine," he said with a rueful grin. "I thrust at ye, but ye just disappeared. Then I found my foot trying to fly south."

"I think I broke my toe," Tarrin groaned, settling his foot in his boot. "It was like kicking a rock. Is there any soft part on your body?"

"I don't think so," Karn chuckled. "Mae says my belly's getting a bit soft, but I don't see it."

"A good move, son," the knight continued. "Your mother, did she train you completely?"

"She taught me alot of what she knows," Tarrin replied, trying not to blurt out everything at once. It wouldn't impress him acting like a fool. "I still can't beat her with her own weapons, though."

Karn reached down and picked up his staff as the mayor and Eron clapped Tarrin on the back. "Good match, my boy, good match!" the mayor cried with a wide smile.

The knight was lost in the press, much to Tarrin's disappointment, but he found himself swept up into the good mood and festive atmosphere. He won the prize for staves, a new belt knife crafted by Karn just for the occasion. It was a beautiful piece of work, with a hilt shaped like a falcon, the wings acting as the quillions and the body the hilt. The tail flared out to be a miniature pommel, and there was a hawk's head embossed into the steel of the blade on both sides, where the shape had been carved out of the steel and filled in with silver. Karn outdid himself with that bit of artistic work. The blade was longer than Tarrin's hand, and it was razor sharp on both sides.

Tarrin was sitting at the table, watching Eron and Elke dancing on the Green while Jenna checked the arrows she'd used in the archery contest for damage, when the knight's voice called out. "What brought an Ungardt to such a secluded place?" he asked curiously, walking up to them. Tarrin saw that the Sorceress was with him, looking at the siblings with her penetrating gaze.