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 ater that day, Arana and Keith strolled through the streets of Westfarthing; they had lost Peacefrog somewhere in the crowd. And what a crowd, indeed! The revelers danced gaily in the streets, a complete opposite of the previous day. Colorful young maids giggled as the young men of the town flaunted their skills to impress them. Matrons proudly revealed their best cakes, pies, and tarts, many of which were rewarded with bright ribbons by stout, portly judges who seemed to take their duty quite seriously. Merchants displayed their crafts for sale, and many contests of strength and tolerance were waged. Gamblers bet loudly on the results.
The two warriors stopped at a roped-off area, where a giant was wrestling with any that would challenge him. His orange hair blazed beneath the sun, wild and free. Stripped to the waist, he was the tallest man Arana had ever seen, rawboned and beardless. A boisterous caller was bellowing out to the crowd in encouragement.
"Five gold pieces to enter the ring!" he shouted. "Come and test your strength against the giant Orange of Skara Brae! Any who defeat him will walk away with one hundred gold pieces!"
But the men in the audience laughed. "Aye, he sure taught Maxell a lesson," they shouted with glee. Maxell was picking himself off the mat and rubbing his head sorely. Two men helped him from the ring.
"Who is next?" asked the ringleader as Orange gulped down a flagon of ale in one draught. "Who is man enough to challenge the giant?"
The men around the ring shouted loudly and encouraged their friends to enter with much bravado, but none seemed eager to take the challenge. To Arana's surprise, Keith spoke up. "I will challenge him!" he shouted, and the crowd cheered him on, pushing him to the front of the ring and patting him on the back.
"Here's a likely fellow!" they cried as the referee helped Keith between the ropes. Arana laughed and made a bet with the bookmaker while the mage removed his black shirt, green sash and deer mask, leaving only his kilt and boots on. .
Orange regarded his challenger with a touch of humor in his eyes. He stood a full ten inches above Keith. Although the two men were of similar build, it seemed Orange held the advantage. Keith’s chest, while not broad, was still muscular and his movements were swift. They stood opposite each other in the center of the ring, and the referee blurted out instructions.
"No hitting below the belt, eh?" he was saying. "And no funny stuff, magick ye know. Winner pins his opponent to the mat for five seconds. " He backed off to the corner and rang a cowbell, which signaled the start.
The two men grappled with each other, each with a determined look in his eyes. Arana watched, smiling as the crowd shouted. Cries of "Get
'em, Orange!" and "Don't let me down, Challenger!" filled the air. A lady chuckled near him, and Arana turned to see Shahrressa at his side, wearing a friendly smile.
"Having a bit of fun, are we, milord?" she asked him as he stared at her in astonishment. She paused, smiling as Arana looked for words. "What, do you not remember me from last night?"
Gone were the dark trappings of her mourning clothes. They were replaced by supple leather armor, enhancing her lithe warrior's figure. Strong silver pads covered her shoulders, but she exposed more flesh than was covered by her breastplate. White hair cascaded to the small of her back, and a black skirt was tied at her hip, slit to her waist. Soft deerskin thighboots completed her ensemble. Arana's eyebrows shot up.
"Shahrressa? Aye, you look different from last evening, indeed!"
Shahrressa smiled. "Everyone helps out at a mourning feast, milord Arana," she told him. "But today is a new beginning for
Westfarthing, and I wear my usual attire." She glanced up at the wrestlers who were locked in a struggle of strength. Shahrressa inclined her head towards Keith. "He any good?"
Arana laughed. "Aye, he is no giant, lass, but he is strong. Look!"
She looked as Orange lifted Keith into the air, turned him upside down and dropped him on the mat. The crowed roared in approval as the mage picked himself up again quickly and chased Orange around the ring. Sweat poured from the bodies of the two men as they regarded each other, calculating their next move.
Orange reached out swiftly and pulled Keith past him, flinging him into the ropes of the ring. Keith bounced off with a shouted curse and flew back into Orange's outstretched arm, hitting it solidly with his neck, which caused him to fall flat onto the mat. Orange leapt into the air to land on Keith with his full weight, but the swift mage rolled over and Orange groaned painfully as he landed on nothing but the mat. Keith whirled around, standing quickly and put his arm around the giant’s neck, locking his arm with his hands and twisting downward. Orange had no choice but to comply with Keith's stranglehold and found himself nearly flat.
The crowd cheered at the upset. The referee stood close at hand, watching intently as Keith pinned Orange's shoulders down with his knees. He began slapping the floor of the ring as he chanted the count. .
"One... two... three... fou -"
With a mighty roar, Orange forced himself up, flinging Keith backwards. Orange turned around and charged him like a wild bull. Arana could have sworn he saw Orange's nostrils flare as he plowed into his opponent with full impact. The mage was caught off-guard and went flying. The crowd cheered even louder!
Keith spun around and ducked underneath Orange's arms as the giant descended upon him. Then, he leaped from the mat and onto Orange's back! The giant's hands grasped Keith's arms as they locked around his shoulders, but Keith managed to wrestle Orange to the floor, face down. He knelt on the giants' back and the referee began another chant.
"One...two.. three... four... five! We have a winner!"
The bell rang, and the referee raised Keith's arm into the air, as the crowd cheered him on. Keith let out a mighty whoop of victory that echoed across the entire fairground. Orange beat the mat with his fists in frustration and stood up. He approached Keith with his eyes glittering to match his hair. The crowd went silent as Orange reached out...
...and shook Keith’s' hand. "Good match, man," he said, smiling. "We'll have to do a rematch sometime."
Keith pumped his hand up and down. "A good battle, haha! The bigger they are, the harder they fall, they say.
Heh!"
The bookmaker sighed and passed out the winnings to those who had bet on Keith. A few losers tore apart their betting slips in disgust and looked for a less likely candidate to coax into the ring. Arana took his gold with a smile and was surprised again to note Shahrressa did the same.
"What?" she said, jingling her winnings and smiling mischievously as Keith hopped down from the ring to join them. "Can a Lady not also profit from a friendly wager now and again?" She chuckled and disappeared into the crowd while Keith and Arana stared after her.
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