Page 59 of Stalk the Sky

His cousins grinned and shot to their feet, hurrying down the stands and into the arena to join Fieran and Tiny.

Lucien slammed his fists together. “Who do we need to beat up, cousin?”

“A bunch of trolls who have been harassing my friend, here.” Fieran gestured to Tiny.

Sathrah cracked her knuckles, glee dancing in her eyes. “Ah, in that case, we’ll gladly bust a few heads.”

Rokyd slapped Tiny’s back. “Tiny, isn’t it? Who are we fighting?”

Tiny rattled off the names of the six trolls who had been harassing him for not being a true troll.

As the six trolls made their way from the stands, Rokyd, Lucien, and Sathrah picked out their weapons. Merrik selected the same shield and sword combo that Lt. Rothilion had used, a faint curl to his mouth showing how little he liked it.

“Um, I’m more a hand-to-hand combat person.” Tiny flexed his fingers into fists. His arms and chest were as brawny as any troll, even if he stood over a foot shorter than the warriors coming toward them.

“Grab a large shield and maybe a war hammer.” Fieran eyed the trolls, who shoved their way to the weapons racks to claim a collection of axes and huge swords. “Those trolls will hit harder than Merrik and I can take, so we’ll need you to block their blows. We’ll fight in threes. Rokyd, Lucien, and Sathrah will fight together, and Merrik, you, and I will fight as a team.”

“Got it.” Tiny selected a shield so large and heavy that Fieran would have struggled to hold it. But Tiny toted it like it was nothing.

The six of them lined up on one side of the arena. Tiny planted his shield while Fieran and Merrik stood behind him, ready to dart out in strikes. Beside them, Rokyd held a two-handed ax, standing in the fore. At his right, Lucien held a shield and a sword, prepared to use his shield to protect himself and Rokyd. To the left, Sathrah twirled a long halberd, the gleam to her eyes and the glint in her smile the scariest thing Fieran had seen all day.

The trolls who had been harassing Tiny leered at them. “Looks like the half-breed found a few friends.”

“That’s right.” Rokyd swung his ax as easily as a child might a toy. “The half-breeds against the…” He finished with a crude and insulting word that Fieran guessed he’d learned from his ma. His da—Uncle Julien—didn’t often resort to harsher language.

One of the trolls in the back of the group frowned as he gestured at Rokyd. “You’re not a half-breed.”

“We were raised by a troll mother and a human father, so close enough.” Rokyd grinned, a light in his eyes turning a touch feral as well.

Well, this should be interesting.

The troll warrior moderating the fights quickly went through the rules for a group battle. Once each contestant had yielded, they were to move to the side so they were out of the way, and they were not allowed to assist those still fighting. The team with the last warrior standing would be declared the overall winner.

As soon as the troll warrior dropped his hand, Fieran’s cousins rushed forward, slicing into the cluster of troll warriors opposing them.

Two of the trolls managed to break away to attack Fieran, Merrik, and Tiny. As one of them swung his heavy ax, Tiny stepped forward and blocked the blow.

Fieran didn’t even have to glance at Merrik. As if they’d rehearsed, Fieran went right while Merrik went left.

Time to take some names and kick some butt.

“Nothing worse than a bruise.” Aunt Melantha gripped Fieran’s chin, her fingers glowing faintly green as she tipped his face back and forth, inspecting his injury. “You were fortunate you did not lose any teeth or break your nose. It is generally considered unwise to take an ax, even a blunted one, to the face.”

“I miscalculated his reach.” Fieran winced. Talking hurt. One side of his jaw was so swollen he could see it when he looked down.

At least Tiny had done his job and stepped in while Fieran had been recovering his wits so he hadn’t been forced to yield.

Instead, it was the six trolls who had yielded. Fieran couldn’t even claim most of the credit for that, despite taking out one of them. His cousins were a terror when they fought together. But what else could one expect from someone raised by Uncle Julien and Aunt Vriska?

The healing magic seeping into him soothed the ache in his jaw, and Fieran finally felt like he could see straight. “Linshi, Aunt Melantha.”

She shook her head, then moved on to inspecting Rokyd for bruises. She’d already healed the six trolls who had lost the fight. Their injuries had been more dire.

Farther up the stands, Tiny made his way back to his seat, but he kept being waylaid by troll warriors wanting to slap him on the back for his win.

As they made their way out of Aunt Melantha’s box to return to their seats, Sathrah pounded Fieran’s back hard enough to make him stumble forward. “Good fight. Invite us again if you need anyone else beaten up.”

“Always.” Fieran straightened, trying to pretend he wasn’t trying to roll out his shoulders. At least Aunt Melantha’s magic still coursing through him should take care of that bruise as well.

---