EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (272 page)

Eric could see he would have to adjust his route when he saw what appeared to be a parade of some kind coming right at him. It was hard to tell exactly what the commotion was, given how dense the crowd had become and how limited his forward sight was now. As he slowly shoved his way to the side of the street, the source of the commotion became much more apparent. A long, lizard-type puppet was dancing along as it slowly made its way down the street. The giant yellow head seemed completely animated, with a mouth that kept opening and closing as eyes with black eyelashes gazed around, blinking repeatedly. Various sections of the long green body danced up and down in no particular pattern as people pointed and cheered. It was hard to tell how many folk were controlling the dance under the giant puppet, but it seemed it had to be twenty or so.
 

After letting the spectacle pass by, Eric continued to push through the dense crowd, constantly bumping into people but getting nothing but a smile in return for his trouble. It was about this time that it really hit him how many strangers were here. He knew almost everyone in town, but there were so many faces he didn’t recognize. Even considering the local farmers that had come for the festival, it still seemed a large number of people he couldn’t place.
They must have traveled from Denark and maybe even as far as Athsmin. Very dangerous to travel that far just for Sanctas
, he thought.

The local farmers lived in relative safety because of the militia Lord Pike sent out just to patrol the local area regularly. They were instructed to change their route every day just in case it was being monitored by someone or something. But anyone traveling from another town was really on their own. Eric could not see risking life and limb for a local festival.
 

Before he knew it, he could see the platform up ahead that had been set up days ago for the local events. Getting closer, he could now observe the activity taking place high up on the canvas stage.
 

Two knights, each wearing full plate mail, were clanging away at each other. The choreography was brilliant, as they had practiced for weeks leading up to this one event. The first had silver plate mail with a green tree painted on the breastplate. He carried a golden shield with a red half-moon in one hand, and a long sword in the other.
 

The second knight was clearly playing the part of evil. His armor consisted of jet-black plate mail with a red skull painted on the breastplate. He carried no shield, but spun a black morning star in each hand. The spiked balls of death whirled around him in circles until he changed the pattern to figure eights then back to circles again, attacking at all the right moments to have the weapons bounce hard but harmlessly off the other knight’s shield. Then he would go on the defensive and work the morning stars into looping circles to deflect the long sword’s attacks. The weapons were real, so the dance had to be perfect, which it was.
 

The crowd here was mostly children cheering and clapping every time the golden knight pressed the attack, while booing loudly with their thumbs down each time the dark knight did. Eric only watched for a minute, admiring the dance for what it was, but he had to keep moving on to the next area. He had made a promise to a friend, which he intended to keep.
 

It was hard to approach the roped-off circle. The crowd here was densely packed in, waving their arms and cheering. When Lord Pike stepped into the homemade ring, which was nothing more than a series of posts dug into the ground with two ropes that attached them all, wild clapping and whistling followed. He waited a moment to let the crowd settle. When it appeared they were not going to calm down any time soon, he gestured with his hands, palms facing down to try to quiet what was increasingly becoming a mob. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a booming voice to try to overpower the many that were still hooting and whistling, “we now present our annual quarterstaff competition.”

The now re-energized crowd boomed with applause and shouting.

Lord Pike tried his best to talk over them. “We have a special challenge lined up this year, unlike any show we have ever done.”
 

That did the trick. After the collective shocked sound of air being taken in by everyone at once, it seemed as if you could hear a pin drop.
 

“In this corner I present the challengers, Amos, Brant and Cory Brendon—the Brendon brothers.”

Confused clapping began slowly as three enormous young boys stepped under the ropes. All three were blond and muscular, with very similar faces. It was clear they were brothers, possibly triplets. Each held a staff of his own. To make matters even more confusing, they were each shirtless and wearing the exact same loose brown pants, making them look identical.
 

Lord Pike continued, “In this corner I present the defending champion, who has agreed to fight all three challengers at once. I present the champion...Jacob Couture.”
 

What?
Eric thought.
Is he crazy?
The collective gasp from the crowd echoed his thoughts.

Just then, Jacob climbed under the other side of the rope with his staff in hand. Arrogantly, he leaned on the rope with one elbow as he began whispering in the ear of a young girl just outside of the makeshift ring. Then, after giving her a soft kiss on the cheek, which made the poor girl turn ten shades of red, he slowly stepped to the center of the ring with his staff held loosely over one shoulder. He then looked each opponent directly in the eye one at a time, holding each gaze for several seconds, bringing a collective gasp from the crowd. Finally, he slowly drifted back to his corner, twirling his staff above his head with skill and grace.
 

Lord Pike shuffled back to the center of the ring wearing a sheepish grin. “The rules are the same as every year. Three knockdowns or a knockout wins the match. Wait for the bell, boys, and let me get out of the way.”

A little chuckle rippled through the crowd as the lord hurried out of the roped-off area. The bell rang with a single hollow clang.

Jacob charged to the center of the ring before coming to a dead stop. He then dropped down to one knee, keeping his staff pointed right at the brothers. He resembled a coiled snake waiting to strike.

The three opponents looked a bit confused. They had been warned of Jacob’s skill, but his aggression made no sense. He had taken the center of the ring before any of them had even moved, even though he was outnumbered. However, he looked defensive now in that low stance, waiting for one of them to make a move.

The brother in the middle did, but regretted it almost immediately. Charging forward with his staff held high, he brought it down hard at Jacob’s head. Jacob simply caught the blow using the middle of his staff, then immediately struck the head of his large but slow pursuer with the right, then with the left side of his staff.

The big man staggered back a step, just in time to take blows to his left knee, his right knee, then an upward slash to his lower jaw, all in a fraction of a second. The challenger was unconscious before he ever hit the ground. The other two, realizing how desperate the situation had just become, jumped over their fallen brother and rushed Jacob from both sides. He recognized the flanking tactic and quickly put his back to the ropes to keep his assailants at least mostly in front of him. He found out quickly that the girls behind him were no less aggressive as they groped and pinched away, but he needed to hold this position.
 

The two brothers were not without skill, attacking at high then low intervals to try to break through his guard, but Jacob blocked every blow with ease, whirling his staff back and forth, high and low, solidly parrying every blow. Suddenly, he lunged forward, using his staff to pole vault, splitting the two as he soared through the air.
 

Jacob kicked the one on the right squarely in the nose as he his flight reached its zenith. The roar of the crowd was deafening now as Jacob turned on the other opponent, unleashing a furious barrage of twirling attacks both high and low, each landing so squarely that the man just dropped to the ground, curling up into a defensive ball and covering his head and the back of his neck with his hands. None of the blows were delivered with devastating power, but the speed and accuracy were so ferocious that the attacker felt completely overwhelmed.
 

The successful assault happened so fast that the last brother, who had now recovered from the kick to the nose, had no time to react. Jacob whirled around and pointed his staff at the last threat, who gripped his own weapon close to his body in a purely defensive fashion as he backed away slowly.
 

Jacob waved his free hand in an upward motion as he began to play the crowd. The mob cheered wildly as he arrogantly egged them on.
 

The final competitor just threw his staff on the ground and scrambled away under the ropes. As the mob cheered, Jacob did a slow victory lap around the ring, twirling his staff in the air. He loved the attention, and was not going to give this up easy.

Eric watched in amazement with a huge smile on his face.

Jacob was able to see his friend through the boisterous crowd, and flashed him a quick wink followed by and ear-to-ear grin. He had certainly made his point this day.

Later in the evening, the streets began to thin out a bit. Many of the folk who were just visitors tonight had eaten their fill and watched a competition they would all be talking about for years to come. Now it was time to go.
 

Mothers carrying sleeping children worn out from a full day of celebration loaded their precious bundles into their wagons. Husbands with their arms around their wives headed back to the harsh life they were able to forget about for one day. But for many, the night was not yet over. A final dance had been arranged more for the locals, but anyone who felt like dancing was invited.
 

There were a series of poles set up in the middle of the main street. They had been there the whole day, but now their true intent was revealed as colorful streamers were now being attached to the tops of each one. The reds, yellows and blues matched well with the streamers that were already hanging throughout the town, as well as the street lanterns whose shades had been tinted all different colors just for tonight. Musicians lined the streets and began playing a lively tune. The sounds of crumhorns, lutes and drums filled the air while the gentle breeze seemed to make the streamers dance on their own.

Eric and Jacob were the first two to each grab a streamer. That was initiative enough for all, because many immediately followed their lead. Once a hand had graced every ribbon, the whirling dance began. Blue over yellow, red over blue, girl over boy, boy over girl. The girls pranced in one direction while the boys skipped in the other. Over then under then over again, the streamers wove a beautiful striped pattern down the poles as the circle began to tighten. Closer and closer everyone got to each other, laughing as they all became embraced in a big hug, then reversed direction and did the same dance to unwind the poles once again. On and on it went as the celebration wound down.
 

The musicians were still playing softly late into the evening as couples danced slowly together in the streets, alone in their own private world and lost in each other’s eyes.

Eric and Jacob sat on a bench in silence, both feeling very peaceful and just taking in the atmosphere.
 

Then, suddenly, Jacob elbowed Eric in the ribs several times. “It looks like you have an admirer,” he said in a playful whisper.
 

Eric looked up and saw the girl he was referring to across the street. A long black robe with the hood pulled back revealed a very pretty face with long blonde hair and green eyes. Her full lips were a deep blood red, which was a stark contrast to her fair skin. She was staring a hole right through Eric as she smiled.
 

“Go,” Jacob said, trying to push him right off the bench.
 

“Oh, uh...yeah...OK,” he stammered as he awkwardly stood up. Eric tugged at his shirt nervously as he slowly crossed the street with his head down. As he got closer to her, he realized she had not taken her eyes off him once. “Uh...hi, uh,” he mumbled as he ground one foot repeatedly into the street, as if killing a bug, while his hands remained clasped behind his back.
 

“Hello, Eric Aethello,” she said with a huge grin as she tilted her head so far to the side it almost touched her shoulder.
 

“Uh...how did you—” Eric stuttered as his eyes bulged.
 

“All the girls know who the blacksmith of Bryer is,” she said as she rocked her whole body back and forth, pointing one shoulder forward, then the other, then back again in a playful nervous dance. Then she stood on the tips of her toes as she put her face close to his. “My name’s Aena. Will you dance with me?” she whispered in his ear.