Fire and Ice

Chapter 7: Breaking the Cold Grip of Ice

            “If you want to challenge me, do it as a man. You shall have no sword or fire. Let’s fight man to man, fist to fist. If you win, I’ll let my family go, but if you lose I will smack you and your lady friend out of my castle.” Armandus challenged coolly.

            “I would hardly call that a fair fight since you are hardly a man.” Sherwood said back, countering with the fire of his words.

            “What would you say I am?” The man asked scowling darkly.

            “You are an animal, and to be more precise you are a wolf.” Sherwood responded.

            “Am I? So what shall it be, Sun Elf?” Armandus spat at Sherwood’s feet.

            “I agree to your terms.” Sherwood said slowly while looking into those dark eyes. Fury coursed through those eyes unchecked.

            “Not in the house.” The wife screeched. Her eyes were flashing wildly with fear. Her arms were encircling her five remaining children. “Go outside to brawl, while I take care of the lovely young lady.”

            “Very well,” Armandus said with narrowed eyes. “Come with me, Sun Elf.” He said with venom creeping into his voice.

            “Gladly, villain,” Sherwood spat back.

            The scenery outside the hut was devoid of its luster. This man seemed to sap all life out of these vibrant woods and strip it of its vivacity. It turned cold and menacing in the villain’s wake.  The men stood facing each other and seizing each other up in this small clearing. Ice was in Armandus’s features, while fire was in Sherwood’s.

            Rule one in strategy is to assess the opponent. Each and every adversary has strengths and weakness. A good soldier should learn to immediately pinpoint these by using his eyes and ears. Sherwood knew instantly that this man commanded great strength. A few minutes ago he backhanded Willow into the wall. In that way he seemed to be a fearsome opponent for Sherwood.

            His weaknesses, however, we’re too great for this man to have a chance against Sherwood. Armandus was drunk, so he was swaying where he was standing. Sherwood is also smaller and faster. He could easily slip away from attacks and he could make use of the drunken sway. If he could unbalance Armandus by using cunning and speed, he will win this contest.

            Sherwood smiled. Armandus glowered at him. “What are you smiling about, pretty boy elf? When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to smile.” He flashed Sherwood his yellow rotting teeth. The yellow hue was probably caused by the excessive mead and ale drinking over the years.

            “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, villain. You should worry about your own skin. You should know by now that you’re a waste of skin.” Sherwood said smiling.

            “Pretty boy has wit, but I doubt that you have my strength.” Armandus said boastfully.

            “Prove it then, while I prove that strength isn’t everything.” Sherwood said. He took up a stance. His feet were shoulder width apart and his feet were perfectly balanced. He could feel the even distribution of weight through his heels, the balls of his feet, and his pinky toes. His right foot was in front of the other and his knees were bent at a 65 degree angle. His arms made two adjacent sides of a square and his fists were cocked. His fists were knotted to the perfect pressure, not too loose, not too tight.

            The man stood shoulder width apart as well and his knees were bent at the 65 degree. He then swung his large fist in a semi circle. This blow was meant to have power thrust into it from the strength in his shoulders. It was aimed for the left side of Sherwood’s temple.