“You are prepared?”
The low voice of Kah the Wise carried clearly across the silent amphitheater, drifting over the heads of the assembled crowd.
“Dodok is ready,” the massive Lagon chieftain replied, nodding slowly.
“As am I,” Guin asserted.
One thousand or more Lagon sat around the giants’ gathering-place—warriors, women, children, elders—all with eyes fixed on the two combatants. It was well past midnight, yet even mothers clutching small infants to their breasts were present. The Lagon loved battle—so much that they used one-on-one combat to determine who led them—and even at this improbable hour, the eagerness of the spectators was palpable. No one wanted to miss the event.
In Middle Country terms Guin was a man of legendary proportions. Yet to the mighty Lagon, who averaged two taal in height and one hundred skones in weight, the leopard-headed warrior appeared rather puny, standing eye to eye with young boys and the shorter womenfolk.
And if Guin was a runt among the Lagon, Dodok the Brave was a giant among giants. He stood like an animate mountain in the midst of the clearing, arms crossed upon his chest, waiting for Kah the Wise to give the signal to begin. Naked save for a loincloth of ragged hide, he stood a full taal taller and weighed half again as much as his challenger.
Though most of the Lagon were slender for their height, Dodok was proportioned much the same as Guin. The hair swirled down his back in a great mane, and bristled in clumps of yellow and brown on his stomach, chest, and arms, barely concealing the powerful sheets of muscle beneath.
Yet his sheer mass did not mean he lacked agility. Though tall, the Lagon were neither heavy-boned nor clumsy. Even those who towered over two taal moved swiftly, their reflexes honed over years of hunting wolves and lizards through the rocky hills they called home.
The gaze of the packed crowd flamed with hostility as it looked upon the intruder, the blasphemer, the upstart challenger Guin. Most did not watch to see whether Dodok or Guin would emerge victorious; rather, they waited breathlessly to see how Dodok the Brave, their indomitable chieftain, would take this brazen, foolish creature and toy with him, break him, and then rend him limb from limb. This was the source of the excitement that stirred the air with rank sweat and seething blood. Guin understood this well, perhaps better than any other. Yet his glinting yellow eyes and the leopard mask through which they shone revealed no trace of fear.
“To me, childling!” Dodok taunted, and his eyes said: it is beneath me to make the first move. Grinning with calm confidence, he lifted a terrifyingly large fist and pounded his rippling chest.
Guin kept his distance, his cool gaze marking their positions, his toes finding purchase in the light, rocky sand. It was apparently a custom of the Lagon to fight unarmed. Normally, this might ensure fair combat, yet in the current situation, it seemed a bad jest. Dodok’s long arms, giant frame, and fearful strength were a far more lethal assortment of weapons than any set of blades would have been.
Despite Guin’s own considerable strength, he knew that if the giant’s hands should grab him, it would be no simple feat to break free. He could writhe and twist all he wanted, yet those powerful arms would drag him into a killing embrace, bending his neck back until it touched his spine.
There would be little chance of victory in close-quarters wrestling, Guin decided, his feet dancing across the sand as he dexterously began circling around his opponent’s right side. He would wait for the Lagon’s charge, duck aside, and attempt to leap on Dodok’s back.
Dodok made a sound like a growling laugh from deep within his throat, and almost carelessly took a step forward. He moved with all the confidence of one who has read his enemy’s thoughts and knows the outcome of the match before even the first blow has landed.
As Guin continued his move to the side, Dodok’s long arm thrust out swiftly, blocking his path. Then the giant turned, hands apart, fingers hooked inward like claws, and slashed at the leopard-man’s head.
Swiftly Guin pivoted and lunged back to the left.
Again, Dodok was there before he could slip past, and Guin was forced to retreat.
“What’s wrong?” Dodok chided. “I thought you were stronger than Dodok! All you do is run. How will you prove your strength?”
A chorus of cheers rose up from the Lagon. Guin bared his fangs at them in reply. All the while, his feet kept up their dance, slowly shifting his position.
Finally, Dodok lost his patience. Done with caution, he lunged with both arms extended toward his diminutive prey. For all his bulk, the Lagon chief moved impossibly fast.
Guin jumped lightly backward. Dodok closed the distance. Guin darted to one side, but Dodok regained his balance too quickly, and Guin was unable to flank him and they were facing again. Dodok sneered and lunged again, but this time Guin thrust out his leg to trip him. It nearly worked, but after three unsteady steps, Dodok was balanced again, and Guin was forced to jump back, maintaining his calculated range.
“You intend to run until dawn, demon?” Dodok roared, his irritation unconcealed. He spread his long arms, inviting Guin to grapple with him. The leopard-headed warrior kept his distance.
By now the crowd had gone from making occasional cat-calls to openly berating Guin, angry at the interloper’s refusal to fight. Some whispered that this wasn’t combat at all, but some sort of demon dance. Others wondered if Guin was trying to wear Dodok out—and shook their heads at the runt’s foolishness.
When the leopard-man moved, he moved as fast as lightning. For a moment, it looked as if he were charging headlong into Dodok’s embrace, yet at the last possible second he ducked beneath the Lagon’s outstretched arms, going for his legs. The tactic worked. Guin hooked his left foot behind Dodok’s right shin and swept out the giant’s leg, sending his towering opponent heavily onto his back. By the time the cursing Lagon had regained his feet, Guin was already out of reach, across the clearing.
The Lagon chief stood, his face a red mask of rage. “Enough, demon!” he howled. Stretching out his arms to their full length once again, he charged with fearsome speed. Guin did not dodge this time. As Dodok’s long arms came down to grab his shoulders, he hunched down low, using his body as a fulcrum to throw his opponent completely over him.
“Yarr!”
As one, the crowd gasped in surprise.
“He threw Dodok!”
“The little demon lifted him!”
Dodok did not fall gracefully. He slammed into hard, rocky ground headfirst, then toppled over onto his back. Staggering quickly back to his feet, he turned to fix Guin with a glare so filled with menace it would have frozen a lesser man cold in his tracks. Gone was the taunting, jeering Dodok of moments before. Now he stared with bloodshot eyes, insane in his rage. The war-chief of the Lagon was chosen by tournament; the moment his strength came into question was the moment he began to lose his mandate. The smaller Guin had now thrown him twice, making him crawl on the ground in front of the entire village. Even if he went on to rip Guin to pieces, this poor beginning meant that, over the next few days, he would surely have to face several more upstarts from the tribe to secure his standing.
Dodok roared with frustration. Yet the last toss had taught him caution. He gave up lunging with both hands, pausing instead to study Guin’s every motion. The leopard-man let his arms hang at his sides in apparent carelessness, inviting an attack.
To each warrior, the other’s position was clear: Guin, overpowered, needed to use his enemy’s strength against him. Dodok needed to watch Guin closely to avoid losing his advantages to a well-timed feint.