Chapter 27: The Fight
NIGHTFALL and Mondo roughly woke the three of them.
The Huns were lighting grass torches from the glowing scroll and forming a round ring with these. This breathtaking sight cleared the sleep from their eyes. The rain had also stopped.
“Why is the book still on fire?” Stephanie asked Matthew.
“The Booklords,” he replied with conviction. “They must be lurking in the dark around us and—and waiting for the flames to go out.”
“I won’t let them take it.”
“We have the fire to thank for that,” Nora said. Her ropes were biting into her wrists and she hated that. “What the hell’s happening over there?” she wondered.
“A local game, I guess,” Matthew replied. “Hey, where’s Peter?”
“Over there behind those men,” Nora showed him, extending her neck towards the said direction. “He’s still holding that sword we saw him with in the evening.”
“Is he?” Matthew asked. “What’s he up to? Will the game be a fight?”
“Will Peter be in this fight?” Stephanie inquired.
“I hope not,” Nora quickly rejected, jerking her head towards the younger girl with surprise. “He’s not cut out for that type of thing! Believe me; he’ll die before the fight even starts! He can’t be thinking of doing that to himself, can he?” And she turned back with satisfaction to see the coward receiving a wooden shield. “Can he?” she whispered to herself and blinked twice to be sure of what she was witnessing.
“Why would he do that?” Matthew blurted out.
Nora shook her head in disbelief. “He chickens out of ordinary school fights, believe me—I know this guy,” she stammered. “There’s no way he’s gonna go in there even if . . . even if his life depends on it! Unless, uh. . . .”
“Unless someone’s life depends on it?” Matthew proposed. “Is he fighting for us?”
The three Quentins were forced to stand up and walk towards the ring by Mondo and another terrible-looking barbarian. Peter saw them coming and tried to steady his shaking hands. Gojan had told him a winner emerged from the fight only when he had either killed or incapacitated his opponent and he’d decided to feign a serious wound halfway into the whole thing.
Nora didn’t know about this arrangement of his, though, and remained dumbfounded as they were pushed into the ring for all to see before the deadly display. To her he was about to do what she never thought anyone would be prepared to do for her in this crazy adventure. What Leonard could never do when the opportunity was given him. What none of her friends had ever done for her in her entire life! “The ultimate sacrifice,” she murmured to herself, watching the fat boy strap brass armor to his arms and legs outside the ring. Although the blazing torches around them were a welcome advantage to their wet clothes and cold skin, she still shivered inside with the anticipation of what could happen next.
“Why did he keep this from us?” a sad Stephanie cried.
“‘Cause he knows he might get killed, Steph,” a forlorn Matthew replied.
If only Peter had said something, thought Nora, perhaps she would’ve restrained her sharp tongue from scolding him or calling him a coward. Now it was too late.
The Chinese slaves were untied and Mondo took them round the ring as the onlookers cheered them on. Women and children had joined the men from the caves, but the remaining prisoners from the raid earlier that day were still crudely tied up on the wet ground outside the warm circle the fiery torches provided. A very short man emerged from the gathered crowd. He appeared to be very popular. “This is the prize for the fight,” he announced as Mondo continued pushing the three children round and round amidst the roaring, jeering and yelling emanating from the spectators. “Whoever wins gets them as his slaves.”
Matthew continued scouring the little faces that had appeared all over the place either holding smaller ones or in the arms of their mothers. He wasn’t surprised to see that the boys were also present. His feet started aching from the walk.
The huge Mondo stopped the three prisoners in the ring’s middle and Nora picked up a tired Stephanie while Matthew kept up his search for Yung Ji. Both ill-placed duelists finally entered the ring and their supporters went wild.
“Behold the brave ones,” the short fellow proclaimed in his deep bass. “Babro Du of Pure Blood and his challenger; Mo Shi, the Unknown!”
Peter’s muscular opponent acknowledged the wild response his people were putting up for him, but the fat boy dared not turn to the crowd at the mention of his chosen name. He was already doing enough by withholding himself from tearing out of the ring and running for his dear life!
The shield and sword in his hands felt very heavy. Too heavy for his lethargic arms and sweaty palms. Too heavy for the duel he was about to face. Too heavy for his weakened spirit and fear-induced, beating heart.
“I am Babro Du Zhang of Pure Blood,” his popular adversary agreed, thumping his chest with so much pride as he turned round and round for all to see. “I deserve to be called your leader and will prove it with one swing of my sword this very night.”
And Babro Du was cheered the more.
“Babro Du! Babro Du! Babro Du!” his clansmen and majority of the people continued shouting.
“Mo Shi! Mo Shi! Mo Shi!” Babro Du’s enemies sang behind Peter. They were very few. Not the number one needed to win such a duel, Peter thought, especially when there was a lack of battle experience on one’s fat, youthful face.
Matthew also noticed this. Peter looked so naïve and immature in the heavy armor he wore.
“Peter doesn’t look the part!” Stephanie said to her foster brother.
“Yeah, I know,” Matthew replied, his eyes still looking for Yung Ji amongst the people. “He’s not gonna make it!”
Peter watched the other three as they were moved to the side before two men took up positions on their flanks. Their faces indicated a sadness he knew to be related to his predicament and he suddenly hated himself for choosing to fight for them. It would’ve been better if Matthew had listened to Nora back in Liu Hang’s watchtower. All this wouldn’t be happening now if he had reasoned with her then.
But what was Matthew doing now? Looked like the younger boy was trying to get across a message with his eyes and mouth. Those eyes were like trying to draw Peter’s toward a certain direction over and over again. Where? Near the Hun chief? What was he . . . mouthing, no—shouting? Yung Ji?
Yung Ji?
There was a young boy of Matthew’s height standing behind Peter’s opponent with a beautiful lady.
Could he be Yung Ji?
Another reincarnation?
“Wait!” Peter called out to the short Hun officiating the fight. The fellow had been going on and on about the rules. “Wait,” Peter repeated, and everyone fell silent. He pointed at the boy he thought Matthew had been trying to draw his attention to. “I will fight for him, too!” he bravely announced before cowering down. “That is, if you will allow me to,” he quickly added for Babro Du Zhang.
Silence swallowed all around him.
“Not good, Peter, not good!” Nora muttered for the second time that day, shaking her head at him.
“What did he just say?” Matthew wondered.
“How dare you challenge me for my son?” an enraged Babro Du wondered. “How dare you do this before my people? I will hand him over myself if I fail to kill you this very night!”
Peter wanted to tell the man that the boy was not his son before realizing how foolish that would look, so he puffed up his chest and glared at his angry opponent with fright. “You—You don’t scare me!” he affirmed in a scared voice. “I can face you anytime!”
“So be it,” the short referee agreed, moving away from the open circle. “Let the fight begin!”
“So—So soon?” Peter demanded, sweat appearing on his forehead again. His opponent was already advancing to meet him on his side of the ring and his knees buckled. The sword in his right hand becam
e ten times heavier and his shield almost pulled him to the ground.
Babro Du lifted his weapon with both hands in order to strike once as he had promised his people, but Peter raised the shield before he could be severely wounded. The wooden shield shattered and the Jewish boy was brought down with the force.
“You’re just a boy!” Babro Du laughed.
“He’s just a boy!” Matthew muttered in protest and Nora sadly nodded in agreement. The fight was not on even terms and that was not fair.
Peter picked himself up again, holding his sword with both hands, and awaited his rival’s next move. His hands shook terribly and his heart kept jumping in his chest. His arms were so unruly, jerking about as he tried to maintain his balance. Even before the Hunnish outlaw had taken two steps towards him, he’d lost the loose grip he had on his weapon and the heavy tool clattered to the soft ground between them. “Please don’t kill me!” he begged with raised hands, ignoring the laughter this action of his had generated all around him.
“Pick it up and fight!” the nomad dared him and stepped back to give him space, breathing hard. This was one of the rules.
Peter stooped and picked up the heavy sword again. He tried to swerve an arch with it. He achieved only a poor line and quickly leveled it in his foe’s direction with determination.
It hit him like a bolt of thunder! Of course, that was the problem. The sword was too heavy for him! His fear only grew from this physical inability! “I need another sword!” he shouted at Gojan.
“What’s he saying?” Stephanie asked Nora.
“I think he’s given up!” Nora replied with alarm.
“I think he’s changing his weapon,” Matthew allayed.
The new sword was a short, dagger-like one Peter could freely swing around, and though it appeared less of a threat to the Hun he was facing, it gave him back his confidence in ways only he could appreciate.
“Why can’t he just give up?” Matthew wondered.
“‘Cause he’s saving your ass?” Stephanie defended.
“Giving up may not be in the rules,” Nora suggested, although she wanted to know the truth like her adopted brother. Peter must not throw away his life when the book could still create other escape routes for them should they survive to retrieve it.
That reminded her.
The scroll.
Its flames were dimming.
For a fleeting moment, she felt their invisible presence inside the ring and around the people gathered there, but then the magic fire rekindled itself and they vanished. Disappeared. Completely.
Both fighters in the ring were vigorously pursuing their hostile engagement when she shook herself out of this mad vision. She discovered she was unconsciously holding her breath and a wave of nostalgia swept through her.
The sound of metal on metal pervaded the air. Her classmate was turning out a far better swordsman than anyone had ever assumed he was and the fact that his aloof opponent had already swung his blade more than once in this second, smoother round of fighting attested to this.
“Dog of the Ch’in!” Babro Du Zhang cursed during a short pause. “You will not humiliate me before my people!”
“I hope not!” a livelier, but more pessimistic, Peter quickly agreed. He closely watched his every step. “What if we call a truce?”
Babro Du’s eyes turned to slits.
“Guess not!”
Peter dodged an incoming cut powered by massive muscles and blocked a second one meant to tear open his chest while on one knee. He couldn’t block the unfair kick, though, and crashed to the ground writhing in pain and holding his side.
Nora covered the scream she almost let out with both hands and Mondo sadly shook his head. Gojan watched in alarm as his leader strode over to the quickly retreating Mo Shi and kicked away the weapon the boy was trying to reach.
Mo Shi blocked a fatal jab with a piece of his broken shield, but Babro Du withdrew his blade and shattered the wood with his left fist, before pinning his opponent to the ground using his right foot. “Now I can finish this!” he snarled and raised his sword with both arms, intent on ending it all with just one last stroke.
But his eyes suddenly popped out of their sockets and his blade fell off his hands before he lost his balance and slumped to the right of his defeated challenger.
Mondo had driven in the dagger.