The Newt and Demon

The scent of roasted meat floating through the air as Theo returned to Broken Tusk. Sarisa almost threw up again, but only heaved a few times. They hadn’t been gone long, but the town was coming alive. People ran through the streets with cloth streamers, some with cartoon representations of Zarali and Xol’sa. Several small fights had already broken out, but were contained to polite skirmishes.

“This is already shaping up to look fun,” Theo said, smiling as he watched more banners stream past. “How similar is this to a local wedding?”

“Very similar,” Sarisa said with a contented sigh. “The smell of that roasting hog reminds me of the old days. When there were still hogs in the swamp.”

Theo planned to forbid himself from doing work today. He was going to mingle and participate in the games people were running. This was the first wedding in Broken Tusk since he arrived, and he wanted to see what traditions Zarali and Xol’sa had adopted. He made his way north at first, walking along the road and passing by one hog-roasting station. A pig on a spit rotated over an open fire, filling the air with a pleasant smoky smell and the scent of roasting meat. The half-ogres who were in charge of cooking looked up with smiles on their faces, careful to baste the pig with every turn.

There was no tradition of gift-giving they had adopted for the wedding. Instead, everyone was expected to run an event or participate. The big stuff would happen in the afternoon, pushing into night. For now it was smaller games, starting from the northernmost part of town and crawling all the way to the mine. Theo and Sarisa arrive at the quarry, finding Ziz and his expanding gang of stoneworkers ushering people to a playing field.

“There he is!” Ziz shouted, waving for Theo to approach.

Theo looked over the court. Lanes had been created with piles of gravel, including a starting point. He watched as people stood at the line, tossing large stones as far as they could. If a person got the rock over a certain point, they were given a carved stone statue, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.

“Looks like you’re running a carnival game,” Theo said, patting Ziz on the back.

“Dunno what that is!” Ziz shouted with a laugh.

Somehow, Theo had a beer in one hand and a rock in the other.

“Give it a toss!”

Theo held his hand out, taking a swig of his beer. It was some of that rotgut stuff Ziz and his boys enjoyed so much. The alchemist didn’t toss the stone. It shot forward, skipping over a hill far in the distance and vanishing into the blue sky. “How’d I do?”

“You cheated.” Ziz frowned.

“Did I win?”

“No. Drink your beer.”

Theo stepped back, watching as people played the right way. Ziz didn’t make the game hard. It seemed like he created the game to give free statues away. They depicted various things, like wolves and half-ogres. The quality was fine, but he seemed quite proud of his work. Sarisa took her turn at tossing the rocks, having far too much fun. She was refused after winning her third trophy, resulting in a new rule. One statue per person.

The alchemist had done his best to avoid looking at the other events as he had walked to the quarry. His first stop after the quarry was Stabby Groves, where Zan’kir and Zan’sal were running a knife-throwing event along with some feats of strength. Theo watched as others tried the event, tossing knives into a log. They were given three knives and had to throw them into one of many rings on the log. The different sized rings would provide different points. The red was the smallest, barely the size of Theo’s palm.

“Care to give it a try?” Zan’kir asked, patting Theo on the back.

“I think it would be cheating.”

“Nonsense. You’re an alchemist,” Zan’kir said, clearing not on the list of people who knew about his heightened Dexterity. He handed over three knives.”

Theo took the knives, standing at the line. He cleared his throat, holding the first knife at the ready. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it dead-center on the smallest target. He gave Zan’kir a smile.

“Woah. Uh… next one, I guess?”

Two more knives flew out, slamming right beside the first.

“Guess you were cheating,” Zan’kir said with a nod. “We don’t have prizes like the other events. I’ll ask you to not come back. Thanks.”

“I want to try,” Sarisa said, rolling her shoulders. She stepped up to the line and released the first dagger. It hit a larger circle, and the next one was even closer. The last almost hit the smallest circle. “Pretty good!”

“Not bad at all. Great work,” Zan’kir said, patting her on the back.

Theo and Sarisa watched the others try for a while, somehow gaining streamers of their own. They went between events before returning to the town square. After waiting for a while, they finally caught sight of the bride and groom.

Xol’sa wore blue robes embroidered with intricate patterns made from silver thread. He had cut his hair short, wearing two ornate earrings in either ear. He only nodded and waved as he passed by Theo, parading like royalty around the town.

Zarali looked even better, wearing a dress that swept the ground everywhere she went. It was made of black and dark purple silk, hanging from her shoulders with chains of silver holding it in place. She let her hair loose, although it had been straightened and pinned with several purple butterfly pins. Where she walked was left a glittering trail of stars. Which was likely an enchantment placed by Xol’sa.

Theo waved like an idiot as they passed, following them south on their parade through town. Perhaps it was best to be seen taking part in the events. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression about his support. They did several laps around the town before settling in at the square around midday. Tables were arranged—organized by Alise—and the married couple sat to talk to those in attendance. There was no ceremony for them to be married. Not in the local tradition, anyway. All they needed to do was claim to be married, and it was done.

“This is much easier than Earth marriages,” Theo said, elbowing Rowan.

“Seems pretty hard to me. Look at all that stuff.” Rowan gestured to the plates being served on the many tables. While it wasn’t time to eat the hogs, Xam had created platters of dried meats and cheeses to keep everyone satisfied until the main course.

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After some snacking and general mingling, Miana called the throng to order. The town wasn’t just packed with locals, but people from Rivers, Gronro, and Qavell. Who didn’t like a carnival?

“As is tradition, we’re gonna have a fight!” Miana shouted. “Xol’sa versus Zarali!”

The crowd cheered. Half-ogres loved a good fight. That apparently extended to recently married couples.

“Xol’sa, who do you pick as your champion?” Miana asked.

Theo felt the color drain from his face. He watched the crowd react before they should have. They all turned to him, cheering with excitement. “Damn.”

“Theo Spencer,” Xol’sa said, gesturing to the alchemist. The crowd reacted just like his advanced Wisdom predicted.

“Zarali, who do you pick as your champion?” Mian asked once again.

Theo watched as a familiar face strode from the crowd. He groaned, shaking his head. Fenian was on some super secret mission. When had the bastard returned?

“Fenian Feintleaf!” Zarali shouted. The crowd reacted as expected.

Theo walked over, glowering at Xol’sa as he stood in a circle created by the crowd. “I thought you went to Tarantham.”

“Oh, I couldn’t miss this,” Fenian said, almost giggling with excitement. “A battle with another holder of a throne. All for fun, of course.”

“As is tradition, the marriage battle will restrict the combatants. You may not use abilities, skills, items, weapons, or any other nonsense. Sulvan is on hand to heal you if you should become injured.” Miana’s voice echoed through the cheers of the crowd, somehow cutting through them.

“I think we’ll need a bigger battlefield,” Fenian said, raising his finger and smiling. “I wouldn’t want to destroy this lovely town.”

“If the crowd would proceed to the fields outside of the harbor gate, we can begin,” Miana said, clapping her hands.

Theo walked with Fenian over the road, nudging him with his shoulder. “I might give you some trouble this time.”

“Do you think so? What level are you?”

“Thirty.”

“I’ll be fine,” Fenian said, waving him away. “Even without my swords, you don’t stand a chance.”

Theo was mortified when his name was first called. But his effective level had grown. For all the good things Fenian had done for the town, he was still eager to give him a good thrashing. Perhaps this was the perfect way to get that aggression out of his body.

“So what does the winner get?” Theo asked.

“No idea. I was told there would be a fight, so here I am.”

The crowd assembled on one side of the river as Theo and Fenian were led to the other. The rules were stated a few more times before the fight would begin. Theo allowed his future-prediction senses to reach as far as they wanted to go. He watched Fenian lunge at him, fist coiled, over thirty seconds before he actually moved. Like scrubbing through a video, he searched that fated timeline, his intent influencing what he saw. Ducking at the last moment and driving up with his fist would send the elf tumbling back, giving him time for a counter-attack.

“Begin!” Miana shouted.

Theo’s absurd Dexterity had him falling into a crouch faster than should have been possible. He jabbed upward, landing a hit to Fenian’s gut that sent him reeling back with wide eyes. Half of the crowd gasped, while the other cheered.

Fenian coughed into his hands, tilting his head to the side. “Oh, you sneaky little devil.”

“Come on, Mister Feintleaf,” Theo said, raising his fists to protect his face. Just like the good old days. Yuri would be proud. “Show me what you got.”

Fenian launched into a series of attacks. Swift jabs and hooks sought to defeat his defenses. Theo felt the strikes deep in his bones, relying on his high Vigor to see him through. Even if Fenian put all his points into any attribute, he couldn’t overcome the cheat the alchemist had pulled. Ducking to the side—watching as Fenian reacted in the future—he connected with the elf’s jaw.

“Rip his head off!” Tresk shouted from the crowd.

“Just how fast are you?” Fenian laughed, rolling his shoulders and assuming a more relaxed posture.

Theo watched Fenian turn to the left side in the future, bringing his guard up. The alchemist feinted, going to the right instead. The elf slid across the ground, tumbling far into the distance and leaving a trail of dust.

“Okay!” Fenian shouted, standing to his feet and dusting himself off. “I’m done going easy! Is that okay!?”

“You may fight as hard as you like,” Miana shouted back. “Just don’t kill each other.”

Fenian crouched on the spot. The earth beneath his feet cracked as a plume of dirt and stones shot into the air. Theo could barely register how fast he was going, his raw speed almost overcoming the predictive powers of 342 Wisdom. The alchemist blocked a shot that sent a shockwave of force radiating out. He answered with a kick to the knee, and got a knee to the chest in return. A rib cracked somewhere, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop the Tara’hek Union skill from bleeding into his body. Theo drew more attributes from Tresk.

An exchange of blows thundered over the landscape. Each time Fenian landed a strike, he would miss five, giving Theo time to counter. The intensity of the fight increased as the pair dashed across the landscape. The crowd was going completely insane by this point, some rushing over the bridge to witness the clash. Theo watched as another series of blows came straight for him, only to move out of the way. It became a battle of attrition, lasting for an hour at a complete stalemate.

“My sweet alchemist!” Fenian shouted about twenty paces distant. “You used to be so innocent. What’s that fighting style called?”

“Boxing? I guess,” Theo said, taking a deep breath. “This is what they taught us on Earth.”

“Perhaps you can give me some pointers,” Fenian said. Theo watched him cheat in the future. Well, he withdrew his weapons but didn’t act. “Why don’t we test exactly how strong you are?”

Twin rapiers appeared in Fenian’s hands. Theo pulled a Dragon’s Breath Potion from his inventory, ready to use it well before the elf acted.

“We have a draw!” Miana shouted from afar. The crowd went wilder. If that was even possible.

“Bah. Another time, perhaps.” Fenian placed his weapons back in storage. Theo did the same, watching as his opponent sauntered over with all the grace he could muster. He limped over the last few steps. “I think you broke something.”

Theo smiled, his teeth stained with red. “Yeah, most of my ribs are done.”

Fenian placed his arm around Theo’s shoulder, pulling him close. “You little potion-exploiter, you. You’ll have to show me how to do it.”

“It’s a one-time thing,” Theo said, walking with Fenian as though they hadn’t just beaten each other. He was right, though. It made him feel slightly better. “So, where have you been?”

“Well, I went to kill Kuzan, but he wasn’t home.” Fenian hummed to himself, limping along as he waved to the crowds. “Drove my carriage right into the royal palace and everything. What a waste.”

“That sucks, man.”

“Indeed, it does. He won’t act until the man he’s after appears. Still lost in the queue, that one.”

“Who is he looking for?”

Fenian waved to the crowd, bowing as the people cheered some more. He flashed that smile everyone seemed to swoon over. “A hero from another world. Someone who united others against him way-back-when. Those were the days.”

“How long ago was this?”

Fenian winked. “Your godly friends might reveal too much information, but I won’t. You’ll never get me to talk. Not even if you pour ten mugs of mead down my throat. Please don’t do it.”

“I’ll figure it out. Along with your real name,” Theo said with his own wink. He didn’t feel as sly as the elf when he did it.

“How high was that wisdom?” Fenian asked.

“342.”

“Ah. I should mind what I say.” Fenian winced as Sulvan healed his wounds. “My given name starts with an ‘i’. I’ll give you that much.”

“Ienian,” Theo said. “Or Ian. That’s all I got.”

Fenian slapped Theo on the back. Perhaps a little too hard. “That’s the spirit! Now let’s drink until we can’t see. Then we’ll drink some more!”