Tagaern - It was indeed such a magnificent event. All the fine noble blood around Bromm, Robyn and myself. A soldier and a gunslinger among the pretty faces. What a riotous inner joy indeed. No sooner had the leading car and Danin’s and Sig’s hummed by on the cobblestone streets that Bromm nudged me from my cheer and pointed sharply at a figure down at the front end of the stands. I peered, taking his sharp eyes quite seriously, and a moment later was shocked with realization that the men was one of the War Sons…rather, had been, but was kicked out of the tribe for reasons unclear to me at the time. Perhaps he had shown cowardice or untrustworthiness. But of greater concern was the fact that, rather than watching the racers pass, he seemed to be gauging back toward the stands in a suspicious manner, as though measuring his next move to make…perhaps up the stands and toward the princess.
“I recognize him,” I said just loud enough to be heard over the cheering crowd. “His name is Derro I think…he was thrown out of the War Sons.” No sooner had we exchanged meaningful looks than Bromm started making a friendly and fast walk closer to the princess. I followed, close to his side. Derro wanted to commit an act of great, perhaps foolish, courage to make a name for himself, to earn his place back with the War Sons, I postulated. Bromm drew the captain of the guard’s attention while looking as though he were commenting on the race. I saw Floki and Hakaar’s land machine drawing up with a shudder and a mess of feathers and debris over it just as Derro made his move.
I pushed myself forward into the nobleman in front of me, spilling his wine and drawing a surprised gasp from him as I readied myself. Derro bounded up the stands, easily shoving aside unexpecting merchants and nobles in the stands as he jumped up the stands. A click behind me and the crackling boom of Bromm’s thunder behind me delivered a hit to his chest through his furred coat. I readied myself, anticipating his next bound, and wrapped my arms around his large frame to his surprise. He tried to resist but I had him for the moment. I could see the concealed short blade there under his arm, and the distinctive bluish wetness on it. “Poison blade!” I shouted. There was no question the assassination attempt now being made. I squeezed Derro in place and he grimaced at me in frustrated rage. “Yield, Derro. It’s over,” I commanded. He just growled out in response.
He managed to wrest free of my grip with a roar and for a moment the thought of whether to waste the poison blade on me crossed his mind. But before he could make such a split second decision two more cracking shots rang out from behind me and to the right from Robyn’s pistols. To my amazement, they struck true upon his sword arm and it went flying back away from the stands. He was disarmed! In frustrated rage, he swung back and struck me with his off hand. It could have been much worse if he had stabbed me, to be sure.
Across the street, I saw Hakaar bounding at his incredible sprinting to try and help, and the guards at the front mistake his charge as another attacker in the heat of the moment. One tried to restrain him with little effect. The other grazed him as he ran with his polearm. Hakaar cried out something in frustrated anger but restrained himself from going further, making his way to climb regardless, but this would be over all too quickly. The guard captain landed beside me a moment later and used his thin blade to stab past Derro’s furred cloak, somewhat offbalancing him. Another shot sang over my head from Bromm’s weapon behind me and in almost the same moment I had reflexively grasped my hand around Fury’s handle to bring it slashing across Derro’s midsection in one smooth trained motion, finishing him. The light faded from his eyes and he fell backward into a shocked onlooker.
The princess was whisked away by her guard, Bromm offering cover, as I surveyed the crowd and gave an affirming nod to Hakaar that all was well. Scratched and annoyed, he scowled at the suddenly-cowering guard and ran back awkwardly to their land frame as they were starting to push it forward. I wiped the blood off my blade reflexively then realized it was accidentally on a gentleman’s coat. I cleared my throat in a moment of embarrassment and nodded to him, joining the captain in inspecting the fallen War Son. I explained he was an outcast of the tribe, likely determined to make a name for himself by an act of suicidal courage, and he acknowledged, clearly grateful that we had acted as fast as we had.
Admittedly pleased with myself, I sheathed my sword and returned to my seat, offering a distant toast of some Old Law to Bromm as he walked back. A day of excitement indeed. Now if only the damaged land frame driving off behind the others would collapse before making its second round around the city, my day would be complete.
