The rest of Wilton’s words were lost, as Alia clapped her hands together twice and instantly everyone was moving. The mess of crockery and dropped cutlery was swept to one side. The long dining tables were lifted and stacked against the wall. The bench seats tucked away beneath them out of the way. The space in the centre of the large hall cleared away in an appreciatively quick and speedy manner. The occupants now standing in a ring, their backs to walls or stacked furniture, silence falling once more, all waiting patiently. Talac got the distinct impression they’d done this several times in the past.
“Now we have our challenge space. Combatants, choose a weapon.” Alia gestured to the swords and blades that hung on the wall at the rear of the hall on either side of the large unlit fireplace. The crowd shuffling out of the way to allow Wilton to stomp past them to make his selection. Kayleigh moving at a more leisurely but no less confident manner followed.
Talac mentally queried Wilton’s claim to have been an army sergeant when he pulled down a broadsword with a four inch wide blade. That type of weapon looked impressive but it was more suitable for cavalry, when you needed to cleave a man’s head from his shoulders, or make a killing thrust to the heart of the horse he was riding.
He deemed Kayleigh’s choice a more sensible one, a rapier. Good for thrusting and light, making it easier to take advantage if her opponent dropped their defensive guard. Her casual grip on the handle proving that she had experience with the weapon.
Wilton all but strutted to the centre of the cleared space. The one armed man acting like he’d already won. Grinning broadly. Winking at a pretty woman wearing a pale pink gown standing in the surrounding crowd. She responded, issuing a loud disgusted tsking sound whilst rolling her eyes. Wilton’s grin dropped abruptly, his face flushing red. Whirling around, the sneer once more settling on his blunt features as he eyed Kayleigh coming to a halt several feet away, her weapon held up and ready as she took up the challenge position. Wilton’s hand tensing, as if he might make a quick strike at her, subsiding temporarily as Alia spoke.
“Challenge rules. At any time, a participant may cry surrender. Three draws of blood is customary in order to be deemed the victor. No biting. No cursing… there are children present. On my mark, the challenge will commence.” Alia paused for five heartbeats. “Begin!”
Talac had to bite back laughter. In the time it took for Wilton to lift his broadsword back in order to take an arching swing, Kayleigh dashed forward, tapping the tip of her rapier against Wilton’s exposed left upper arm. The tear in the material gaping slightly. First blood had been drawn.
No one in the crowd made a sound. Kayleigh giving no indication that she had scored the first point, her expression bland yet focused as she ducked under Wilton’s wild follow through swing, which sent him stumbling forward a few steps as he overcompensated. His mind slow to realise Kayleigh had already zipped past him, long gone.
Glancing down at his torn sleeve, noting the sting of the flesh wound inflicted, Wilton released a harsh guttural growl, his face once more flushed, his eyes glittering with promised retribution.
Almost like a dancer, on light, balanced feet, Kayleigh faced her opponent once more, patiently waiting on Wilton. Talac wondered if she’d live to regret allowing the man a chance to regain his ready fighting stance. There was murder in Wilton’s eyes, and the way he swung that broadsword, if the edge had caught Kayleigh, she’d have lost a limb or her head. That look, it reminded Talac of a rabid dog. Wilton may not have wanted to fight a woman, but suddenly the idea that he might actually lose to one had struck home, and he was frantic to save face.
This time Wilton was smarter, he thrust with the broadsword, but Kayleigh slid to the side, twirled, lashing out with her rapier as she spun past the man. The edge of her sword slicing through Wilton’s tunic this time, leaving a long but very shallow cut along the man’s flank. Howling, enraged, Wilton attempted to kick out, but Kayleigh was too fast and had already retreated several steps away, turning to face him, her weight balanced on the balls of her feet, her expression nothing but intent. No signs of smugness creeping in at how quickly and easily she had scored two marks over her opponent.
Talac was impressed, the young woman in charge of clearing away the dirty breakfast plates was showing more poise, more talent, than men he knew who had trained for decades with master blade instructors.
Breathing like a bull, issuing harsh chuffing puffs of air, Wilton glared at his younger, much smaller… female opponent. His face bright red with anger more than exertion. Talac noted that Kayleigh refrained from meeting the man’s gaze, not because she was scared but like all extremely well trained swords… women, she knew her opponent’s shoulders would signal his next move.
But clearly Wilton had decided to ignore skill and try and overwhelm her with brute strength, as he charged, releasing a roar. A sheer bullish frenzied approach, with no finesse. Sword, and amputated stump at the wrist pinwheeling. Kayleigh waited for two breaths, not moving, as if she intended to meet Wilton’s wild attack. Then abruptly dropping to the floor, rolling forward in a somersault, slashing out with her sword as Wilton stomped by.
“Challenge winner, Kayleigh!” Alia’s declaration echoed off the walls and ceiling.
“No!” Wilton stormed, confusion warring with anger in his eyes. “We ain’t finished yet.”
A cool expression on her face, Alia pointed at Wilton’s right thigh just above the edge of his worn black knee high boots. Through a tear in his breeches a small cut bled freely. “Third strike.”
Several people moved at once. Surrounding and crowding Wilton. Unwillingly he was forced to hand over his sword, frowning darkly as a hand belonging to a man who carried burn scars from the forge came to rest on his shoulder, holding Wilton securely in place.
Kayleigh stood silently by, watching the proceedings, her expression still intent and focused. Her eyes sparkled though, pleased with her victory. Despite Alia’s announcement, there were no congratulations or cheers from the crowd. It seems that the business of dealing with Wilton wasn’t quite over yet.
“What justice would you seek, Kayleigh?” Alia enquired.
“Banishment.”
“Agreed.” Alia looked at Wilton. “At midnight tonight the portcullis will be lifted Master Wilton, and you will leave the Lair, and Gloomenthrall.” She ignored his wordless defiant growl. “You will take only what you arrived carrying, plus a small measure of water and a day’s worth of food. I suggest you don’t dawdle on the long walk through the woods, especially at night.”
“You bitch! I’ll severe your head from that bovine frame of yours.”
The edges of her lips lifting slightly, Alia moved to stand beside Kayleigh, the difference in their heights and frames a startling contrast. “You’re welcome to try. But I fear I would not be as gentle with you as your previous opponent. I tend to hack and have trouble stopping… hacking that is. Well?”
All the blood left Wilton’s face as he stared up at Alia. The man might be angry but he wasn’t foolish. Making inaudible grumbling sounds of protest as he allowed himself to be led away by the blacksmith and several others.
The crowd broke into smiles, relaxing as soon as Wilton exited the hall. A few congratulatory compliments were directed at Kayleigh but Talac could tell that Alia’s pat on her shoulder was the most welcome. The smaller woman all but glowing now, desperately trying to emulate the Beast’s smile not smile.
As Alia walked away a flock of children, mostly female, gathered around Kayleigh, all talking at once. Talac watching on as Kayleigh absently corrected the stance of a girl about eight years of age wearing bright purple breeches as she re-enacted one of Kayleigh’s moves, waving a dull edged small sword about.
“Just what is Kayleigh’s role here at the Lair?” Talac enquired curiously as Alia joined him.
“This morning she was taking a shift in the kitchen as one of the clean-up crew was called away on an emergency.”
“And her regular duties?”
