They circled each other slowly, each one weaving their torches around in a sort of pyro-infused dance. Sy, Cal, Landar, and Geoffrey were all watching the scene unfold in rapt wonder. Kre spared a brief instant to look for Jem, but he couldn’t spot her in the immediate area. Even though she disliked the activity, Kre half-hoped that she would stick around for this special novelty match.
He was distracted just enough that Pete managed to singe a couple of his arm airs with a wide swing. Kre knew that Pete had intentionally pulled his attack just shy of making contact but it was still closer than their usual practice moves, especially considering that fire was now involved.
“Five silvers on Pete,” Cal whispered to Landar.
“Apprenticeships don’t pay anything,” Lander muttered back. “Usual bet instead?”
Cal nodded and they shook hands as Pete made two more attacks. This time though, Kre managed to bring his torch up like a staff to cross-block both of them. The back-and-forth continued, with each one testing each other out with a couple of strikes and counters. Since they had never practiced with staves before, they weren’t too certain how to manage it without hurting each other.
“I’ll burn every hair from your head before I bash it in,” Pete growled.
Kre responded in kind, “I shall thwart your every attempt to defeat me. You are weak and you will fall beneath my hard woo… my weapon.”
Their trash talk was almost as bad as their quarterstaff fighting ability, but it was still entertaining to all of them. Pete’s next attack was a gut-level thrust that caught Kre’s shirt and caused a small flare-up. Kre had to alternate putting it out with one hand while he backpedaled frantically to avoid another hit.
“Raise the bet?” queried Cal.
“No chance,” Landar sighed. “Kre’s not doing as well as I’d hoped.”
“Sy? Geoffrey?” Cal offered hopefully.
Neither one took him up on his offer. They weren’t too confident in Kre’s chances of success at this point. Kre wasn’t even too sure of his own success right now. If they had been keeping score, Pete would have twice as many points so far.
Kre figured that Pete’s clearer path to victory was likely because of his more aggressive tactics and Kre figured that he needed to start pushing back. After side-stepping another overhand swing, Kre launched into a series of wild spins and swings. He landed several good blows on Pete’s hands and arms, drawing blood on at least one occasion as his own torch splintered after one of his more direct hits.
He realized quickly that he wasn’t the first to draw blood though. His own knuckles and arms had numerous gashes from Pete’s splintered torch and he had small singe marks all over his exposed skin. The fight didn’t last too much longer. One of Kre’s wild attacks knocked the torch from Pete’s hands. Landar stomped out the small fire that resulted from the involuntarily discarded torch.
Pete dropped to his knees in front of Kre and looked up at the sky. “Do your worst,” he snarled.
Stepping forward slowly, Kre held his flame close to his opponent’s face. It was close enough to let his face be seen clearly in the night, but not close enough that Pete felt the heat of the flickering fire. “My friend,” Kre smiled. “You have proven your worth this day. You have proven that you have the strength of the bear and the speed of the puma. You are a worthy foe, but I prefer to have your friendship.”
Kre moved the torch aside and held out his other hand in a gesture of goodwill. Pete lowered his head and smiled up at Kre. He reached his own hand up and they gripped forearms as if they were old comrades in arms.
Landar cocked his head to one side, “Does that mean no one won?”
With a soft shake of his head, Cal chuckled, “Oh, there’s a winner.”
Just as Cal motioned towards the ring with his chin Pete pulled hard on Kre’s arm, throwing him to the ground. With his other arm, Pete had grabbed Kre’s torch and deftly disarmed his foe. An instant later, Kre felt the butt of the torch rest against the side of his neck. “Yield,” Pete hissed.
Kre moved his arms slowly along the ground until they were above his head. “I yield to the superior combatant.”
This time, when Kre reached up his arm in a peaceful gesture, Pete didn’t take advantage of the opening and instead pulled his friend to his feet and into an embrace.
“Pete wins,” Cal laughed. Before Landar could respond, Cal spun around and smacked the scholar in a most sensitive area with the back of his hand. Landar crumpled to the ground. “Bets all paid up,” he said with a grin.