![]() Oron pushed until the head could be moved no farther on the contorted neck. Finally he wrapped his bleeding hands in Bodor’s hair, twisted the long hair until he had a secure grip, and stretched the head back and up until more bones broke. Oron lifted Bodor’s head, then pushed it back down quickly, hard against the earth. Then he took Bodor’s head between his hands. Oron twisted the bigger man’s wrists until the snapping bones gave way in both. ![]() Oron squeezed his legs together Bodor groaned as pain oozed from his broken ribs. ![]() Out of breath, Bodor stared up at the Nevgan. Oron jumped and straddled him, seating himself on the bigger man’s chest.īodor lifted his arms in an attempt at defense. Bodor lost his balance and fell backward, crashing hard. Pushed them forward so that the heels of his feet struck Bodor full on the chest.īodor, off balance and gasping, tripped away. ![]() then crouched forward as he ran, ducking his head. Leaned right as though intending to punch the broken ribs. “Or did you do it just so you could stick it inside your own mother?” Do all of you pigs kill your own fathers?” I’ve killed so many like you, I’ve lost count.”īodor sneered, and he continued to move to his right, trying to back Oron against a nearby tree. He was bruised on the left ear and sore on his chest and jaw where Bodor had gotten inside with punches, but he had kept his ribs intact.Īnd he was smiling, whereas Bodor, not at all pleased that he had failed so far to take down this cub, was grimace and frown.Īnd taunt. Oron himself had not accepted as many hurts. Bodor had marks on him to demonstrate this: welts on his shoulders and upper arms, bleeding scratches on his chest and back, even a bite mark on his right forearm earned from an attempt to cuff Oron across the mouth. He was a head taller than the outlander and thicker in the chest as well as the waist, but the young Nevgan was quicker by far with his lunges and hits and feints. More howls came as Bodor began circling to his right, keeping watch on Oron. Performing an act that even renegades such as these in this camp, murderers and cutthroats every one of them, regarded as evil, direct evil. Spending countless nights alone under the cold stars, tracking whatever he could find alive to eat raw and squirming. Witnessing remarkable transformations of reality within the lodge huts of mystics, shamans, and other lost souls. Measuring himself against the love of proud women and winning their strong hearts. Leading men into battle and fighting sorcerers and important chiefs both. With the experience of many years, he watched these naked brutes, Bodor and Oron, each without armor, without weapons, covered only in animal skins wrapped tightly below their belts - Bodor, able to push out the eyes and tear away the throat of anyone in bare-handed combat, and this young dog who had come into camp only weeks before, alone, an outlander, clearly a fighter, but from a distant land and of a heritage legendary to Maton and his easterners, and with a history that the war chief reckoned to be lies and exaggerations.įor no one could have achieved in a lifetime what Oron the Nevgan claimed to have done in only a few years. “Can I change my bet? Bodor’s going to break this pup in half!”īeyond the hot campfires, seated in a tall wooden chair that had accompanied him on half a lifetime of murderous campaigns, crouched Maton, their war captain and chief. “Get your money ready, pig! And your sister! I’m taking both!” They called to one another from fire to fire, warning each other to be prepared to be shamed. For this company, two angry men throwing down in blood sport was a diversion subordinate only to open combat on the red field itself.Ī diversion, and a chance for winnings. He stepped away with his mouth open.Īround them, at the fires that circled the open yard in the middle of the war camp, laughter and cheers came from two hundred men - fighters and killers, all of them. He punched Bodor’s bare skin powerfully at the ribs. Still, Oron managed to twist away as Bodor reached for the young man’s long hair. Smith.īodor moved quickly, faster than Oron had anticipated, and Oron paid for his slowness: Bodor’s bleeding knuckles hit the younger man hard on the left side of the face and scraped painfully along his ear. Smith and New Epoch Press, and may not be reproduced in whole or in part. It appears with the permission of David C. This is a complete work of fiction presented by Black Gate magazine.
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