excerpt

It was at this moment that Thorn’s friends arrived from the eastern corral where they had left the hawks and the riders. The five of them were walking along the main thoroughfare when they couldn’t help but overhear Ettaya yelling. They paused about ten feet away from the cantina.

“Is that Thorn she’s screaming at?” Torin asked.

“Has to be,” Tad said.

“It is,” Arn affirmed. “I can see him towards the back wall. There looks to be three Hare warriors moving in on him.”

He, Torin, and Tad started for the cantina when Quan halted them.

“I think we should wait,” the Mantis man said.

“Why?” Bliss asked as the others stopped to stare at Quan.

“From what some people have been saying, Thorn has been able to use his martial skills even in an inebriated state. I’d like to see for myself if this is so.”

“You said he was doing so while sparring at the monastery,” Torin argued. “What more proof do you need that he’s capable of that?”

“That was different at the monastery. Thorn was able to mask his drunkenness to a degree. Now he is making no attempt. For me, this will serve as a true application of his drunken fighting skills.”

“But you said he’s hurting people, and that he needs to be stopped,” Torin said.

“He is, and he does, but those Hare warriors were warned, were they not?” Quan countered with a hint of a smile.

***

Thorn was guzzling the da-zel he had managed to ladle into his gourd. He stood with his right side toward the sidewall of shelves, and his left profile to Klem. Turg came at him from the front, and Cado had moved to get behind him. They each stood a little less than a foot away from Thorn.

“Hey, you! Come with me!” Klem ordered.

Thorn swung his upper body around to face the jack-rider, swaying a little as his feet and hips followed suit. Now Klem was in front of him, with Turg to his right and Cado to his left. He took the gourd from his lips, and da-zel trickled down his chin. “Huh?” he asked in confusion.

“I want you to come with me. You’re being a bother. These people want you to leave, so come with us,” Klem explained.

Thorn looked to his left and right at Turg and Cado, and then back to Klem. He began shaking his head. “No, pleash, jus’ let me ‘lone,” he slurred.

“We’re not asking you,” Turg growled. “We’re telling you. Now come on.” He stepped quickly forward and made to snatch the gourd from Thorn’s right hand.

Thorn twisted left into a cross-legged stance on the ball of his right foot and the heel of his left foot so that he now faced the sidewall. He brought his right hand, holding the gourd, to his right shoulder to protect it as he flung his left hand straight out to the side. The heel of his hand struck Turg squarely in the face, rocking his head back, and sending him reeling into a set of table and chairs. Thorn untwisted back around to face Klem as Cado swung a punch with his right fist. Thorn’s left hand came up vertically and across to deflect the blow as he spun right, on the ball of his left foot, to again face the sidewall. Then his right foot hooked back and up at the knee so that its heel slipped between Cado’s thighs to pop him in the groin. Cado choked on a grunt of surprise as he doubled forward and stumbled into some chairs. Thorn spun back to face Klem just as the warrior threw a front kick with his left foot. Thorn swung his right hand up, still holding the gourd, and with the top of his wrist caught the bottom of Klem’s kicking foot. Klem gaped as he stood balanced on one foot while Thorn bent his mouth to the gourd and tilted it to take another gulp. Then Thorn spun to his left as he dropped Klem’s foot so that the two of them were back to back. As Thorn completed his spin, he drove his left elbow into the warrior’s back in a reverse elbow smash. Klem yelped as he arched his back and surged forward into Cado, who was beginning to stand upright from the kick to his testicles. Thorn snorted derisively, and was about to take another drink when Turg hit him from behind with a right roundhouse kick to right side of his head. The impact was great enough that it sent Thorn into a cartwheel so that he crashed upside down into the shelves stocked with jars of beverages. The shelves snapped, and much of the vast array of clay jars of alternate sizes shattered beneath the weight of his impact. Splinters of wood and shards of clay fell on him as he sank to the ground, soaked by the contents of the vessels.

“No! No! No!” Ettaya and Ballo were both shrieking. The village patrons had gotten up from their table to get out of the way of the brawl.

Thorn seemed unfazed by the fall. He had dropped his gourd, but was now holding the broken bottom of a jar and lifting it to his lips where he lay flat on his back so as to guzzle its dregs. He seemed not to notice the three jack-riders converging on him.