~ Right Of Champions ~

by

Stephen Benson

The crowd cheered as Helm stepped out onto the arena floor. The sandy gravel crunched lightly under his massive weight. He was an intimidating sight, wearing a steel breastplate, thin steel thigh armor, and of course, his metal helmet. He carried a short, thick sword in his right hand and a small, round metal shield in his left. He raised both arms above his head and strutted about, taking in the cheers vaingloriously.

Suddenly the cheering stopped as a lithe figure stepped into the arena. He was dressed in a finely made armor suit consisting of thin steel and mail chain. On his head he wore a helmet that was well designed to protect his head. A broad slit in front of his eyes allowed him a clear field of vision. In his right hand he carried a fine, long sword. In his left hand he carried a long dagger. Although it was shorter than a sword, the dagger was quite effective for blocking and parrying blows. It was also a lethal weapon at close range.

Mahlee’s heart leapt when she saw Garrick, looking very dashing and capable in his suit of armor. Although he walked with a slight limp, she had no doubt that he would defeat that monster, Helm. She had seen him do it once before, after all, and without a weapon. She quickly untied the pink ribbon from her hair and ran to the rail at the edge of the arena. As Garrick stepped toward her, she tossed the ribbon, letting the breeze carry it toward him. She shouted, “A favor for you, my champion!”

He picked it up from the arena floor and tucked it inside his armor. With a small wave he turned to face his opponent.

She ran back up the stairs, and as she passed her parents, Steen took her by the arm and whispered, “Garrick limps. Will he be all right?”

Mahlee patted her father’s hand. “He was injured, shot by an arrow. I do not think the wound was too bad. That was several days ago, but no matter. I am sure he can defeat that beast.”

As Mahlee took her seat, the young oriental stood and announced, “Champions, there is only one rule. You fight to the death.” He paused for a long moment. “Champions, are you ready?”

Helm rang his sword against his shield to signify his readiness. Garrick clashed his blades together, and with that the young oriental shouted, “Begin!”

The brothers of Garrick ran up the aisle just as the signal to begin was given. They rushed to their seats, winded. Horst leaned toward Kido and whispered, “Well, your ineptitude has made us too late to give Garrick his swords. Oh, well, even without them he will make short work of that big buffoon.” Kido nodded his agreement.

Helm charged forward with a mighty yell. He swung fiercely at Garrick, who sidestepped it and got in a blow. Helm was able to get his shield up just in time and swung his sword again. Steel rang against steel as Garrick blocked the blow with both his blades. The severe impact staggered him back, and before he could recover Helm swung again, this time with savage ferocity. Garrick was forced back further and Helm attacked again and again, his fourth blow knocking Garrick down.

Richmond stood up quickly and said, “Something is wrong!” Helm swung downward with all his might, intending to end the fight then and there. Garrick got his sword up just in time to block the deathblow, but his blade went flying out of his hand. The momentum of Helms’ swing left his right side exposed, so Garrick reached up and ran his dagger into Helm’s side just behind his breastplate. Helm howled in pain and staggered back. He pulled the dagger from his side and tossed it away, seemingly unaffected by his wound.

Garrick scrambled for his sword, but Helm rushed forward and with both hands thrust at his back, penetrating the thin steel armor. There was a scream of agony as Garrick fell to his face on the arena floor.

Mahlee threw her hands to her face and cried out, “No! Stop this! Please, Council, I beg you!”