Chapter 06 - The Duel

“Debora, Slovi asked us to deliver something to you,” Jahnas said.  

 

Modi reached into the bag of holding to retrieve the box, but Vim grabbed his arm and whispered, though still loud enough for everyone including Debora to hear, “Are we sure this is really Debora?”

 

Modi nodded sagely.  “I saw through the disguise of the other woman, Vim.  This woman wears no disguise, I am sure of it.”

 

“I’m not sure if you noticed, Vim,” Debora said, the emphasis on the bard’s name giving him the same uneasy feeling he used to get when teachers would say it that way back when he was a kid, “but that woman upstairs had the scar over the wrong eye.  I realized the mistake when that psionic witch,” Debora spit on the floor after saying psionic witch, “created the disguise.”

 

Jahnas and Paloma looked at one another and knew immediately that they’d missed that detail, frustration showing on both their faces.  Vim seemed to be struggling to come up with a retort.

 

The proprietor came halfway down the stairs.  “You all may want to come up and see this.  They found another one outside.”

 

Around the backside of Beetwixt Us Brews, next to the window through which the woman escaped, lay another human woman who they had not seen previously.  A small crowd parted, some looking at the party in awe as they leaned in to take a look.  Paloma pulled back the woman’s robe.  There was a single wound.  “Looks like a rapier to the heart,” she said flatly.  The tabaxi looked up at Modi.  “What kind of weapon did she attack you with?”

 

“A rapier,” Modi replied, a serious look on his face.  

 

“That’s the witch,” Debora said, once again spitting on the ground.  “Good riddance.  We don’t want those psionics users around here.”  

 

Going back inside it was amazing how quickly the tavern had been cleaned up.  Sure, there was a literal pile of bodies just outside the door, but a man and a tabaxi were already loading them onto a rickety carriage attached to two very bored looking donkeys.  

 

The proprietor approached the group with a pouch, leather armor, and an odd looking chime in his hands.  “Here’s all the money from the bodies.  It’s rightfully yours.  Also, turns out the one behind the bar had some magic studded leather armor, the kind that you can make look like clothes.”  He tossed the armor on the table.  “As for this,” he said, handing the chime to Paloma, “I have no idea what it is.  It was on the table in the back.”

 

“The woman who has a face like sand pulled that from her robe.  I think she was going to use it to try to open the box,” Modi said.

 

“Better be magic,” Debora said, reaching into her hair and pulling out a long hairpin.  “Because this box is protected by powerful spells.”  

 

As Debora began to insert the hairpin into the lock it transformed into a key.  Before she could turn it, however, Vim put his hand on the lid.  Debora looked up with surprise.

 

“What’s in the box?”

 

“It’s an important holy relic,” Debora replied evenly.

 

“Let us take a look inside.”

 

“No.”

 

Vim was becoming visibly agitated, and the more Paloma thought about it, the more she felt the same.

 

“Look lady, a day-and-a-half ago we walked into the council chamber in Unity.  Since then we’ve been followed and a wizard and two different groups of goons have tried to kill us.  And let’s not even talk about the brain on legs thing,” Vim’s hands formed shapes rapidly and made a gesture like a creature leaping, “which was gross.  So forgive me if I’m not feeling like were all sitting in the tree of trust together.  For all we know, whatever is in the box is the cause of all this.”  Vim crossed his arms with a very satisfied look.

 

“Debora, is there a book inside the box?”  Modi asked.  Vim turned and repeatedly jabbed his index finger at Modi excitedly.  

 

“Yes, yes, that!  That’s what I’m talking about!”

 

Debora looked at them both in turn.  “I don’t know anything about a book, and I can promise you that is not what is in the box.”

 

“It’s not that we don’t trust you, Debora,” Vim said.  He struggled for a few seconds to continue while everyone looked at him expectantly.  “But we don’t trust you.”  

 

“Perhaps I may offer a solution,” Jahans interjected.  Everyone turned to the triton, who locked eyes with Debora.  “I am a monk, a holy man of sorts in my culture.  If you allow me to look at what is in the box, then assuming it is anything other than a book you have my word that I shall never speak to anyone about what the object is.”

 

Gnomey had been watching the entire conversation as he finished off his second ale.  “That’s true, lady, he is a monk,” as if that somehow settled the matter.

 

“It’s the only way you’re leaving here with that box, Debs,” Vim said.

 

“Call me Debs again, and you die boy,” the cleric replied icily.  Some of the bard’s bravado drained from his face.  “But I can understand your concern.  Brother Jahnas, step around the table and you can see what is inside when I open it.”

 

Jahnas stood behind Debora as she turned the key and opened the box’s lid.  A faint white glow emerged.  Debora looked over her shoulder at the triton, who nodded.  She closed the lid and put the key back in her hair.  She took an impressive diamond from a pocket inside her robe and put it on the table.  “Your payment,” she said, standing up to leave.  “And thank you.”

 

Beetwixt Us Brews was indeed packed that night.  Paloma never understood why people, humans in particular, seemed to be drawn to places where violent events happened, but she’d seen it enough times in her life to not be surprised.  She was crouched up in the rafters, a cup of wine in her paw, which kept her away from the crowd and allowed her to see the entire tavern.  It was also the best seat in the house for the Mikael’s Pence show, which, if she was being honest, she was enjoying.  Vim was a great showman, and she couldn’t wait to see Modi dance again.

 

The noise quieted a bit when the elf stepped to the front of the stage, put down his lute, and began to sway to the beat Vim played on his shield.  About half the tavern watched the dance, while the half nearest the door continued to mostly drink and talk.  After a minute, though, even some of those on the other side of the room began to take notice of the wizard and his unorthodox dance.  

 

So it came as a surprise when a copper coin flew through the air and barley missed hitting Modi in the head.

 

“Ha ha!  Look at the elf!  Dance, freak, dance!” a voice rang out through the crowd from the bar as another copper piece sailed in and also missed its mark.

 

Vim stood, his eyes scouring the room looking for the source.  Janhas stood as well, a flash of anger across his normally placid face.

 

The crowd parted slightly and Vim could now see back to the bar, where a group of humans stood.  They were all extremely well dressed in the finest clothes.  Four of them had the look of young men out on the town – they couldn’t have been much older than twenty.  Off to one side was an older, more experienced looking warrior, as well as an even older man who appeared to be some kind of servant.

 

“Wait, I think I know that elf!” the young leader of the group shouted.  “I do!”  He punched one of his companions in the arm.  “That’s Modi!”  He looked back at the elf.  “Oh, when your father hears about this, the look on his face will be priceless!”  His young companions laughed along with him while the two older men looked on with tense jaws. 

 

“Hello Lee,” Modi said from across the room.  If he had taken even the remotest of offense by the interruption of his performance, he didn’t show it.

 

“You know these idiots?”  Vim asked, stepping forward to stand alongside Modi.  

 

“Yes.  He is Lee VanCleef, the young heir to the VanCleef family.”

 

Vim looked confusedly at Modi, then to the men at the bar, then back to Modi.  “Wait, the VanCleef clan?  ThatVanCleef clan?”

 

“Yes Vim.  The clan for which my father has served as a dueling instructor for over a hundred years.”

 

This was getting complicated.

 

“His father is one of the greatest swordsmen in the world,” Lee said to his companions.  “And look at the son.  I’m sure you can imagine his disappointment.”  He took another swig of ale.  The tavern had gone quiet, the potential for a new round of violence hanging in the air.

 

“This Lee guy seems like a bit of a dick.”

 

Paloma normally didn’t like it when Vim spoke vulgarities, but she was willing to make an exception here.  The bard’s voice cut through the remaining whispered conversations and struck young Lee VanCleef like a slap to the face.

 

Anger flashed across Lee’s face as he and the man standing closest to him both reached for their swords.  His other two drinking companions stepped back, clearly not wanting to get involved in some kind of bar fight.  

 

The old man reached in and grabbed Lee’s wrist before he could draw his short sword.  Lee shot him an angry look.  “Master, I’m sure your father would be disappointed to learn you got into a tavern brawl like some kind of commoner.”  Some of the anger left Lee’s face.  He knew the old man was right.

 

Vim then made the noise of a chicken clucking.  Paloma grinned toothily in the rafters.  Even Jahnas cracked a slight smile.  

 

Lee brushed aside the old man’s hand and began to draw the sword, getting it half way out of the scabbard before his wrist was grabbed again, this time by the warrior.  “If you start something here, Master VanCleef, we will likely have to fight most of the beings in this tavern,” he said evenly.

 

Looking around the room Lee could see that the warrior was right.  They were besieged by angry looks from every direction.  Some had already drawn weapons and placed them on tables.  

 

“Perhaps a duel, then,” Modi said quietly.  “First blood.  Just like back home.”

 

Lee turned back to the elf, his eyes narrowing.  “Yes, to first blood.” 

 

The warrior, who was named Luke, shrugged in resignation.  “Bartender, is there someplace more private where we can resolve this matter?”

 

They went back down into the basement, where the hostages had been held earlier in the night.  Modi’s friends formed a semi-circle around him, while Lee’s did the same on the other side of the room.  The old man stepped between them.  “A challenge was made, and a challenge was accepted.  Short swords to first blood.  No killing blows.  Agreed?”  He looked at Modi, who nodded passively, then Lee who did so curtly.  With that he stepped back out of the circular space created by the observers.  “Begin.”

 

Vim and Modi had been in a few tight spots in the past, so he knew the elf was a competent swordsman.  Even an above average one.  But he was completely unprepared for what he was about to see.  They all were.

 

It was easy to read the arrogance in Lee’s stance and expression.  He’d seen the elf on the training floor many times in the past when they were younger, where Modi always seemed disinterested.  Lee expected this to be an easy duel.  He was going to toy with the elf.

 

Because of that he was completely caught off guard when Modi lunged forward immediately after the word “Begin” was uttered.  Modi’s blade went right at Lee’s chest, and it was all the human could do to shift his body and move his blade across his own torso to parry the blow.  A look of surprise registered on his face as Lee realized he was in for a serious challenge.

 

The pair blurred in the confined space, both trying to take the initiative.  Lee’s footwork was textbook perfect, as was his positioning, while Modi was like a whirling Dervish, his fluid movements unorthodox and his body bending at strange angles as he dodged thrusts.  

 

Modi landed the first blow, a hard slap on Lee’s left arm with the flat of his blade that failed to draw blood.  That was the turning point in the duel, filling VanCleef with anger that clouded his judgment.  His next move against Modi was reckless both in its technique but also in intent, a piercing lunge at the center of the elf’s chest that was clearly not intended to draw first blood but instead pierce deeply.  Modi deftly spun to the left allowing Lee to pass into open space.  At the same time with a subtle flick of his right wrist he opened a small cut on the human’s left cheek.  

 

Lee spun as he brought his momentum back under control and again moved to strike at the elf.  His sword was stopped before the blow could land, but it wasn’t Modi who deflected it, but instead Luke, who stepped between the pair with his own weapon drawn.  “First blood has been drawn, Master Lee.  The duel is over.”

 

Lee looked at his man-at-arms with confusion.  “What are you talking about Luke?  No blood has been drawn.  Step aside!”

 

Luke pointed to his own left cheek.  Lee reached up and touched his face, his hand coming away with a few drops of blood on his fingertips.  The look of confusion turned to one of rage, and Lee made to lunge forward at Modi once again.  This time it was the old man who stepped between the two.  

 

“Step aside, Albert,” Lee growled.  His friends shifted their feet uneasily.  One met Paloma’s gaze.  The tabaxi smiled, her fangs exposed, her extended claws gently tapping one of the throwing stars she wore on a bandolier across her torso.  The young man’s face went white with fear. 

 

Lee was so focused on Modi that he failed to see the slap from the old man that struck him in the face.  “You are a VanCleef, boy.  Act like one.”

 

Lee stepped backwards towards his friends.  He pointed at the elf with his sword.  “My father will hear of this disrespect, Modi.”

 

“Oh, he’ll hear of it alright,” Albert said, venom dripping from his voice.  Lee looked at him with surprise.  “I’ll make sure to tell him that you began this unfortunate affair with your boorish behavior.  About how you accepted a challenge to duel to first blood, but then made an attack that was meant to maim.  And how you refused to stop even after having been fairly defeated.”  

 

Luke stepped in front of the four young men.  “That’s enough for tonight.  Upstairs, all of you.”  As they made for the stairs he turned back to face Modi, bowing his head slightly.  “It was a pleasure to watch you duel, Modi.  Your father would be pleased.”  With that he turned and followed the men upstairs.  Cheering could be heard from above as they reached the tavern, the crowd reveling in the cut on Lee’s cheek.

 

Albert stepped forward.  “On behalf of the VanCleef clan, I offer you apologies for Lee’s behavior.”  He bowed formally.  He then looked to Modi.  “Your father was proud when he learned the Council had called for you, Modi.  He would never say it in so many words.  You know how he is.  But it was obvious to those who know him.  I will let him know what transpired here tonight.”

 

Modi bowed in return.  “Thank you Albert.  You were always kind to me, even when others were not.”

 

The party returned upstairs to resounding applause, the crowd insisting that Vim and Modi start their performance over from the beginning.