Slave Girl 2: Chapter 51 (Patreon)

In the hush we listen and again we hear another deep male voice out front, muffled too much through the wall to make out what he was saying yet clear enough to detect a distinct slur in the words.  Whoever was out there they’d been drinking.  Replies come from two other voices telling me that if that was the pair I had encountered previously they were not alone.  With the covered lamp only letting off the most feeble of illumination I can just make out the wide-eyed faces of my three new friends staring at me.  This might have been Aristocles’ shop and Aristocles’ plan and I might have been the youngest among us, but now that the moment had come all were looking to me to take the lead.  Aristocles had been right.  They had brave hearts but these three were not men of action.  I wasn’t either but I also didn’t want to miss our moment on these bastards.  I grit my teeth and bolster my courage.  There was no way these drunk assholes could be worse than the harpy.  I look to the others and seize control.

I press a finger to my lips to indicate for them to stay silent then wave for them to follow.  Instantly they nod and fall in line behind me.  We sneak to the door where I press my ear against it.

“…ya stupid cunt.”  One gripes, followed by a wet splat and drag against the other side of the door.

“Shhhhh!  Both of you!  Idiots.”

“He started it!”

Among the men outside two of them were definitely the two I knew about.  There were at least three of them but, unless I was mistaken, I think there are only three.  We still had the numbers.  I turn to the others.  Max was a big boy and I was pretty certain he could handle himself so I thrust the walking stick I’d brought with me into Aristocles’ hands.  He swallows hard and grips the club in two trembling hands.

Keeping my voice very low I look to the pair.  “We keep them busy.  Stay together.  No matter what, stay together.”  I then say to the spindly Cal.  “You find a patrol.  Quickly and loudly.  There ought to be one close by.”

Max and Cal look at each other then back to me and nod.  Aristocles just grips the stick ever tighter, a look of determination in his eyes.  Cal very gently sets down the lamp and as a group we ready for me to unlock and open the door.  With the thought of Rosa waiting for me at home firmly in my mind and the buzz of fear and furor thrumming through my limbs I grip the latch, take one last breath, and go.

I am but one step out into the wan light of Luna when I realize what a terrible mistake I had made.  Yes, there were three in front of the building with brushes and pots of paint in their hands…and another three standing further out into the street.  Gods watch over us!

There is a stunned moment by both sides at our sudden appearance before, taking everybody by surprise, us as much as them, Cal breaks through the group and goes sprinting off wailing at the top of his lungs just as he’d been instructed.  “GUARDS!  GUARDS!  HEEEELP!”

“Cal!”  I call after him, but it was too late.  He was already off into the night with two of the thugs that had been standing lookout hot on his trail.

I thank Bacchus for the dulling effect of wine as I still had a moment’s advantage even after that.  Wanting to even the odds I grab the one right in front of me by the shoulder and nearly send his head corkscrewing off of his body with a thunderous haymaker to his now broken jaw.  Still gripping the unfortunate unconscious soul by the shoulder I guide him carefully to the ground.

It was on!

“RAHHHH!”  Max charges the next one who I recognized as the bigger of the pair that tried to bully Colly and I.  The man drops his paint and snaps a jab into Max’s nose before getting wrapped in a bear hug and tackled to the ground.  There Max just lays on top of the struggling goon holding on for dear life.

His buddy, the man who now sported a gap in his smile because of me, lays a few kicks into Max’s back before Aristocles pushes him back with the stick in both hands.  “You stupid son of a whore.”  Hisses the man.  “You’ve made a big fucking mistake.”

Aristocles glances to the wall of his business where the letters ‘G O B’ had already been smeared and growls in rage.  “No more!”  He shouts.  “This is our town too!”  He lunges only to have the more experienced fighter grab the stick and the pair of them begin to wrestle for control of the weapon.  I would have helped had the other lookout from the street not been closing in on me.

The man wore but a simple wool tunic and on his scarred left cheek he wore the brand that identified him as a slave.  Slave or not, right away I could tell this man, a lean pale man with reddish graying hair and sharp Saxon features, was different from the others.  He advanced with a swift and sure economy of motion and a steely look in his eyes.  His were the eyes of a predator locked on its prey, his movements those of a trained warrior.  Unlike the others there was no drunken sway in his step.  He was taller than most and leanly muscled but I still had both mass and reach on my side.  Yet with just one look at him I knew I had bitten off more than I could handle.

“I have no quarrel with you slave.”  I say in a stall for time.  “It could be the lash for striking a Roman.”

“It’s the lash either way then.”  He says in a strange northern accent as he kicks off his sandals.  Cracking his knuckles and raising his fists a crooked smile spreads across his weathered face.  “Might as well have some fun first.”

“Quin!”  Yelps Aristocles as he his pinned back against the fresh paint on his wall, his opponent leaning the staff into him.

Just for an instant I glance his way, an instant is all the slave needed.

“GRFFF!”  I grunt as his hard thrusting kick snaps his heel into my stomach.

I grab for his leg but it was gone as quick as a blink.  In one continuous motion I lower my shoulder and charge forward…into the space he wasn’t.  I spin back around with my fist extended like a hammer only to watch him smoothly duck under it and rip a thudding punch into my exposed ribs.

“GNGH!”  I stagger back holding my side.

Dancing on the balls of his feet he advances to keep the distance between us the same.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Aristocles slowly losing his battle.  On the ground to my left the husky Max still held the other man securely pinned but was receiving gouges and short elbows for his efforts.  And gods only knew how Cal was faring with those two that ran off after him.  I should have tried to peek out first.  Stupid!  And where were those guards Amadeus said would be here?

Not allowing me to regroup the northerner feints right then brings another kick up in search of my liver.  I parry the kick and with a spin of my hand I nearly trap his leg, but he deftly wriggles from my grip.  I push the advantage with three quick jabs with my left and a grab for his arm with my right.  All of them miss their mark.  I am chasing a ghost.  The guy seemed to know my moves before I did.

Choosing speed over power he comes in with a flurry of snappy punches and kicks.  I block as many as I can but a few find their mark.  They hurt but they are more a nuisance than anything so on the final one I purposely take it square in the side just so that I could get a clean one off myself.  As his fist makes contact with my ribs mine just catches his chin with a glancing blow.  Not enough to stagger him but enough to rattle his teeth.

He springs back, touching his face in surprise.  “You’re quick for a big man.”

“And you’re too good to be a slave.”

“Mmm.”  He shrugs.  “Rather be a slave among the erlender than a vanquished in Odin’s sight.”

Odin?  Must be a northern King or something.  I ask him.  “Ex-soldier?”

“I wish I had been so brave.”  He answers.  “Ex-gladiator.”

“Ah.”

“QUIN!”  Cries Aristocles in distress.

“Better go help your friend.”  My opponent smiles cockily.  “Sounds like he needs your help.”

“You son of a…”

I lunge forward trying to grab onto him…and to my surprise he lets me!  YES!  In close my weight and power would surely win out over his speed and skill.  My joy is short-lived however as the moment I had a hold of him he pulls back then thrusts forward while he had me off balance to tuck in under my arm.  The next thing I knew he had his arms wrapped around my torso and the moment after that I was off of my feet with the world spinning around me as I hurtled down toward the hard cobbles.

“FUHHH!”  I wheeze as I hit the stones with him on top of me.

Right away he starts to scramble for my back but I am aware enough to furiously twist and writhe away from it.  Always one step ahead the moment he realizes he can’t go one way my slippery enemy slithers another.  Now his legs were wrapped around my chest and both of his hands were clutched tightly to one of my arms.  With the combined strength of legs, body, and arms he slowly and irresistibly begins to pull my isolated limb away from me.  It is only due to my farm raised brawn that I able to resist him at all, grabbing my hand with the other I can only slow the progress.

“You…rrrmm…don’t fight like anyone…I’ve faced.”  I growl through gritted teeth as I watch helpless as my arm very gradually is brought under his control.  Realizing at the last second that if I didn’t do anything he would have me at his mercy and probably break my arm I throw all of my efforts into instead trying to get my legs back under me.  “Is this…how your people…fight?”

“This is Greek.”  He answers as calm as anything even as he tries to counter my motions without giving up my arm.  “Pankration.”  Just then I force my knee beneath us and nullify his leverage.  Before I can rise up and lift him from the earth he swears in an unfamiliar language and rolls out of the grapple.

I spring to my feet and shake out my sore arm.

“By Thor you’re a strong one.  Flexible too.”  He points at me.  “You…are a challenge.  At last!”

“I am so glad you are enjoying yourself.”  I say sarcastically.

“Admit it.”  He grins and lowers himself into a battle stance for another barrage.  “You’re enjoying this too.”

“…quin!…”  Croaks Aristocles weakly, nearing his last breath.

The Northerner’s smile widens as his pale blue eyes dare me to go aid my friend.  The bastard was playing with me.  I knew that if I took my eyes of this man for a second he would put me out of action, but at our disparate skill levels I sensed that we could be at a stalemate for as long as he wanted it.  What to do?

The choice is taken from me when there comes the rattle of armored men running down the street.  “You there!  All of you!  Stay where you are!”

Chapter 52