Kel only went back to the camp for a few minutes, hardly saying a word to his mother before he grabbed his dagger, traded his cloak for his jacket and left for the Trove. His mother didn't ask where he was going and he didn't volunteer an explanation.
It was as packed as usual, the sound of the fiddle and merriment doing nothing to staunch Kel's anger as it worked its way to the surface.
Isen was sitting with Harkren and Daelin in a corner, they drank and laughed and joked. Daelin waved Kel over but Kel just shook his head and began walking to Nina and Zallo, who were chatting by the bar.
Kel pushed his way through the crowd, he didn't care the slightest bit if he knocked anyone over or caused them to spill their drinks. People swore at the back of his head, probably spat on the ground. Good, that would make them so much more eager for what was to come.
Nina waved to him and he managed a tiny smile, the best he could do.
"Kel, how are you lad?" Zallo said, raising his arms, a mug of ale in one hand.
"I need a fight, Zallo," Kel said hurriedly, he needed to hit something, the sooner the better. The anger was rising higher and higher, smoldering embers turning into a wildfire.
"Not in my inn you don't."
"Are you okay, Kel?" Nina asked, leaning over the bar and placing her hand forward in a would-be comforting manner.
"Zallo." Kel frowned at the dwarf. "C'mon. A fight's gonna happen. I need one to happen and so it's gonna happen." Kel's tone began as pleading but ended almost as an order, his rage evident.
The dwarf took a few moments and looked the gypsy over, Kel would get his arse beat by Zallo if that's all he could get. Yep, a fight was definitely going to happen.
"Fine, fine. But you're paying off the guards if they catch wind of this.."
"Yes. Okay, just make it happen."
Zallo climbed up onto a chair. His voice stopped the entire inn dead. Kel didn't bother listening to what he said. Soon everyone was roaring with excitement and readjusting the furniture to make a circle between the fire pit and the bar. Everyone seemed to know the drill, illegal fighting must have been commonplace here at some point then.
"Our first competitor!" Zallo yelled, "What's your full name, lad?"
At this point he just didn't care. "Kellaecius Karric Wrathion." He didn't want to just be Kel Karric right now. Kel Karric was the kind gypsy that mirrored his mother, but Kellaecius Wrathion... Kellaecius Wrathion was his father's son, the heir of violence and anger.
Zallo leaned down, a grin fixed on his face. "You pulling my leg, lad?"
Kel just shook his head. Yes, his name was long and stupid. No, he didn't have the patience or attitude to laugh about it right now.
Zallo shrugged and stood back up. "Our first competitor!" he said again, "Kellaecius Karric Wrathion, or how about Kellaecius the Red!"
Everyone in the inn either roared with laughter or excitement.
The Red? Seriously Zallo? That's the best you could come up with?
Kel shrugged off his jacket and shirt, revealing his lithe but toned body. He was only sixteen, though he knew that he would look older half-naked. Scars were a good badge of experience. Most were but pale lines against an otherwise slightly tanned complexion but still, it was more than what this band of drunks had.
He vaulted over the makeshift palisade of tables. The crowd cheered, maybe most of them saw his fight with Isen and wanted to see another showing of skill.
YOU ARE READING
Without the Beauty of Us
FantasyA gypsy boy trying simply trying to survive in a harsh world. But his mother's unknown sickness grows worse with each day and so he must do what he has to in order to earn enough money to find her help This was my main WIP up until a few months ago...
