MU2 Chapter 10:71 – Never A Good Choice

  Choose or die.

  The option suggested that I could get out of this alive if I made a choice. At the very least, it suggested that my friend, the woman I was interested in, and my ward had a much higher chance of survival. I could not take Warcaller Morcus in a fair fight. Not that this was a fair fight, as he had a foot in height and probably two hundred pounds on me.

  I looked at the gnoll, his knees in the dirt. I thought I saw something in his face, a pleading look, asking for my help. Maybe no one had to die. I looked to the level 53 Gnoll Pack Matron. She had hard eyes, and I knew she would kill me in a heartbeat.

  “I choose to fight,” I said with way more confidence than I felt.

  A cheer rose from the trees, and I received an approving nod from the Pack Matron.

  “Dismount and disarm. Remove your upper garments and pack,” she instructed.

  I got down off my horse and shrugged out of my backpack before proceeding to pull off my poncho.

  Arilyn got down and took both my poncho and pack in hand, as well as my shirt. “Be careful,” she said softly. “And don’t die on me. I don’t know if I can resurrect an Earthborn.”

  Harper looked down at me sadly. “It was nice knowing you, Finn.”

  I laughed bitterly at that. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. When they let all of you go, take Vessa and wait for the next Mage. Train them and help them prepare for how this place can change you. And how addictive this magic is.”

  Vessa whined and jumped onto my shoulder, wrapping herself around me. “No, Finn. Don’t talk like you’re going to die! You have to take care of me, protect me!”

  Patting her side, I took a deep breath. “It’s okay, little one. You’ll go with Harper and Arilyn and be safe. It’s going to be okay.” I pulled the crying baby dragon into my arms and smiled at her. “Don’t worry. Everything will work out fine.”

  She nodded at me and didn’t protest when I handed her to Arilyn and turned to the Pack Matron. “Okay, what’s next?”

  The Pack Matron pulled a silvery metal collar out and handed it to me. “Because you are a magic user—and a Mage—you must wear this to act with honor.”

  The circle of metal was thick and cold in my hands. It opened easily when I pulled it apart, as if hinged. “Won’t it fall off while we fight?”

  She nodded approvingly. “It speaks well of your honor that you would ask such a thing, and poorly of your knowledge. Once it is shut, it will not come off until I remove it or you die.”

  That was ominous as fuck, but in for a penny, as the saying goes. Without thinking about it further, I snapped the collar around my neck. It closed with a shnick and I felt cold. Like when I had stepped into the cage before the Allied Council. Only this was a little cold in comparison.

  Shrugging off the feeling, I rolled my shoulders and looked to the tall gnoll woman. “So, do we fight until one of us is dead and the other victorious?”

  “You and Morcus will fight with your hands and feet, tooth and claw,” she replied in a solemn tone that suggested how grave the situation was. “No magic, no weapons, no allies. You will fight until only one of you is victorious. Thus, will honor be settled, and the Ritual of Pardon be fulfilled.”

  The Pack Matron ushered me forward, while the Bone Shaman and Fang Captain did the same for Warcaller Morcus. Though the Pack Matron had only referred to him by his name. There were undertones here that I could sense but couldn’t identify, and I decided to do my best to follow the rules to the best of my ability. If I wanted to make sure that Arilyn, Vessa, and Harper went free, I had no choice.

  With Morcus and me getting closer, I noticed that he, too, was wearing a silvery collar. This was serious. Not that it would prevent him from crushing me, but at least he couldn’t use magic, whatever he had, either.

  Though I had been in fights as a kid, I didn’t have any special skills in that area. No boxing or martial arts to allow me to Chuck Norris this guy. Nothing. I was screwed, and I knew it. I could still feel Vessa’s fear of losing me in the bundle in my mind that was her, and immediately closed the envisioned gate in my mind. Her trepidation and sadness over this were too overwhelming, and I wouldn’t be able to do this with that in my head.

  The gnolls that ushered me and Morcus backed away, and we stood there sizing each other up. Well, I was looking up at him. I had a feeling that I shouldn’t do anything until we were told to. Morcus wasn’t moving, which was a good indicator that I was right.

  “Puny human, worthless without your magic. You don’t stand like a fighter,” the Warcaller spat at me.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Insults are okay, it seems. “At least I don’t look like an off-brand werewolf with issues with mange and matted fur!” I shot back.

  There were intakes of breath from the gnolls in the trees, near enough to hear. Though it looked like I had scored a point with the Warcaller, as he nodded in appreciation. “That is a new one to me. I will keep it in mind when I use your skin and bones to repair my armor.”

  “Really? In the off chance that I win, I wouldn’t even make a rug out of your hide!”

  Moments later, the Pack Matron raised her voice. “May the Ritual of Pardon begin!”

  My most memorable fight as a kid was against this kid named Darrell Mckendric. He was held back a grade or two, so he was big. You know that one kid, always loud and obnoxious, wanting to be the class clown but was always mean about it? Yeah, that one. He had been picking on this other kid who was kind of a nerd, but he was always nice so the only one that really picked was Darrell. I had had enough of Darrell that day and confronted him.

  He beat the ever-living shit out of me.

  Just like Morcus was doing. He started out with a swipe at my head, knocking me off my feet. I spat out a tooth and a mouth full of blood before getting unsteadily to my feet. The gnoll had knocked me a few yards away and was already sprinting toward me as I took in the situation. I avoided his next swing by stumbling backward a couple of steps. My balance was a little off and my left ear was ringing. But I stepped in and took a swing at his side.

  To my surprise, and likely the gnoll’s as well, my fist actually connected. Buoyed by that small success, I swung again, hitting him in the stomach. The strike had less effect than the first, but I kept going until he knocked me to the ground. He was on me faster than a dog to its dinner and began hitting me repeatedly in the face. I felt my nose break, and I think I passed out for a moment.

  I came to the gnoll looking down at me with something like worry in his eyes. Only one of my eyes was working, and it was quite blurry. When he saw I was conscious, he waited a moment to see what I would do. I just lay there, coughing because of the blood running down the back of my throat. He nodded once before getting off me, and I turned my head to watch the gnoll stand waiting. The Pack Matron approached, looked at me, and then grabbed the Warcaller’s right arm, lifting it.

  “The Ritual of Pardon is complete!” She announced to the cheers of the mass of gnolls. “Our champion has chosen complete victory, beating the Mage to submission without killing him, bringing more honor to himself and to the Tribe.”

  Then Arilyn filled my view, concern and tears in her eyes. “By the Twins, Finn, why did you let him do this to you?”

  I felt her carefully touching the sides of my head. I struggled to speak. “Hawth vat?” I mumbled through the pain, coughing more.

  “Your jaw is broken, I don’t know how much yet. The bones around your eye were shattered, and of course your nose… it’s terrible, Finn. I’ll have to move some things back into place before I heal you. Too many bone splinters out of place for a health potion to fix, and you won’t heal right.”

  “Oeth,” I managed.

  “This is going to hurt, Finn. And then the healing will hurt, too,” she continued. “Are you ready?”

  I tried to nod and put my left hand on her knee. I was ready.

  She glowed with a blinding light, and then there was nothing but pain in my face. I must have screamed, but I’m not sure.

  “I’m so sorry!” Arilyn sobbed. She was using her power to rearrange my face, and I could feel all of it. Every nerve ending in my face was on fire.

  And then, a momentary reprieve. It was short but wonderful, as the pain lessened to a dull ache. More of a caress in comparison. Everything went blessedly dark soon after she started the actual healing.

  When I awoke, the sun was going down, but I could see with both eyes again. I was exhausted, and felt like I could eat a horse or two. I looked up into Arilyn’s face and felt her fingers running through my hair, my head cradled in her lap.

  “Welcome back, love,” she said with a smile, though her eyes looked puffy and red.

  “Hi,” I replied. “Are we free of the gnolls?”

  “Not quite. The Pack Matron is still here. And the Warcaller. Said they wanted to talk with you. Harper has been talking with them since the gnoll tribe left.”

  There still was a feeling of chill, and my hand rose immediately to my neck and the collar around it. Still around it. “Guess it’s good she’s still here.”

  “Vessa finally took a nap after freaking out. You really should teach her to talk so she can express her thoughts to more than just you,” she chided softly.

  “I don’t know how,” I groaned, opening the gate in my mind. “That was one of the many questions I was going to ask Eric.”

  “I can’t help but feel a small bit responsible for that,” Arilyn said. “How about I help you and Vessa with the whole talking thing? Considering I am an adherent of Knowledge, after all, and it’s the least I can do.”

  I sighed, exhausted and wonderfully comfortable. “I’d be good with that.”

  We stayed like that for several moments until Harper and the two gnolls approached.

  “Finn, time to get up! I saw you moving and talking,” Harper said cheerfully.

  Groaning, I forced myself to get up. I really did not want to remove my head from Arilyn’s lap.

  Standing, I faced the two gnolls and said nothing. I had played their game expecting to die. That I was still alive was a mystery to me, and I felt like I should mouth off with a quip or something clever yet cutting. Nothing came to mind. “Pack Matron. Warcaller.”

  The tall gnoll woman smiled, a fearsome sight of teeth. Yet there was no malice in it. “I’d like to thank you, Mage, for respecting our ways and trusting us. Few would,” she said. “Allow me to remove the collar—”

  I held up my hand, forestalling her. “Before you do that, please let me speak. I want this on so you know I am being honest,” I said.

  She lowered her arm to her side.

  “I don’t give a shit about your customs. And I want to be very clear here: your people attacked me and my friends, people that I care about more than anything else in this world, with the obvious intention of killing us. We were not a threat. Nor did we hold any animosity towards you. Hell, I didn’t even know what a gnoll was. So for you to then ambush us and force me into a position where I was sacrificing my life for my loved ones, giving up any fucking chance of getting home, and then thank me for being culturally sensitive?”

  Arilyn put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off and stepped up to the towering gnoll woman who could easily rip me apart. I glared up into her eyes. “Fuck you! Fuck your customs, fuck your Pardon rituals, and fuck your gratitude. Get your goddamned nerfing collar off my neck so we can leave!”

  The Pack Matron stepped back, surprised at my vitriol. “I cannot.”

  “I’m sorry, you cannot what?”

  The gnoll woman shook her head. “I cannot remove your collar, Mage,” she replied sadly. “Not when you are like this. You are too dangerous to be allowed loose in a fury.”

  knowing he was going to get the pain brought. And still stepped up. Good for him!

  Did Finn deserve it based on his actions in the scuffle with the gnoll Warband? Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know.