Gugan silenced the man with a glare. “Fine. I’ll even fight unarmed.” There were sniggers from his men. The term meant little to a melding. “You can have your choice of weapon.”
“Three hours,” Luka said. “In the square outside the burlesque house. I’ll see you there.”
~
A crowd had gathered; news traveled fast in Seranthia, and the melding had few friends outside the streetclans.
Luka stood in the dusty street, his heaving chest betraying his anxiety, legs spread apart as he waited. In his right hand he held the end of a great bar of black iron, nearly as long as he was and as thick as his thigh, the other end resting on the ground.
“Get yourself a sword,” an old man from the crowd called out. “You can hardly lift that thing, let alone swing it.”
Luka saw Unga, his neighbor, arrive, and recognized Erelin Osta and some of Senna’s friends from work.
Then Gugan arrived with his men. The melding strode toward Luka and the crowd immediately drew back. Gugan made some mock punches in the air, his fists driven forward by the powerful lore in his metal arms. The air fairly sizzled with his movements.
There was no preamble; the fight began as soon as the two men were within spitting distance of each other.
As Gugan came forward Luka tried to lift the iron bar. He didn’t know how to fight, but he was big, and he was strong. Even so, it was like lifting a mountain. He managed to get the end of the bar a little way off the ground, his muscles groaning as he grunted with the effort.
Perhaps the bar was too heavy.
“Defend yourself!” someone yelled. Luka saw Unga hide her eyes behind her hands.
Gugan was suddenly in front of him. He came forward with a jab that sent lights bursting in Luka's head and split the skin on his cheek to the bone,. Then the melding’s right hook hit Luka's chest.
Luka was lifted physically off the ground, losing hold of the bar and flying through the air to come crashing down to the earth, the wind knocked out of him. He lay flat on his back, feeling so much pain in his chest that he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
Luka tried to lift himself up, the muscles in his abdomen tensing with the effort. Scanning, he saw Gugan coming forward; he would be on Luka in moments.
Luka lifted his head off the ground as he started to rise.
Gugan grunted with effort as he kicked into the side of Luka's head, sending the young smith down to the ground again.
“Get up!” someone from the crowd pleaded.
Gugan raised his arms into the air and walked around Luka in a circle.
Fighting the pain, Luka rose unsteadily to his feet, though he was weaving. "I'm not finished," Luka said.
At the sound, Gugan turned. He looked surprised and then smiled. “Here,” he gestured to Luka’s heavy bar of iron. “Be my guest.”
His eyes never leaving the melding, Luka walked over to the iron bar, ignoring the chuckles of Gugan’s lieutenants and the perplexed whispers of the crowd. He breathed in, feeling strength slowly return. Luka crouched and grabbed one end of the bar in each hand. He lifted slowly, feeling the blood rush to his head and the skin of his face grow hot and red. Finally Luka stood, holding the bar above his head with a supreme strength of will, like a weightlifter at the Imperial Games.
Gugan came at him with both fists raised, and with a huge effort Luka threw the bar at the melding with every ounce of strength he possessed, praying his opponent would react the way he thought he would.
The melding raised his metal arms to block the great iron bar, and metal struck metal as they came together with a mighty clang.
The next moment was the one Luka had been waiting for. Gugan’s eyes opened wide with shock as the magnetized bar of iron stuck to his arms, refusing to let go. Luka knew no man could hold that heavy bar for long, and the look that crossed the melding’s face was one of pure astonishment as the bar came crashing to the ground, pulling Gugan down with it.
Luka stood watching him, his muscles aching and breath coming fast. Gugan tried to free himself, but the great magnet was too strong to resist. Luka’s opponent was now helpless, on his knees, his arms pinned to the bar and his legs unable to pull him from the heavy weight.
Luka regarded the melding.
Gugan stared back at him, venom in his eyes. “What witchery is this?”
“It’s called a magnet,” Luka said.
“Let me go!”
Luka glanced at Gugan’s men. They started to move forward, but the crowd stirred and they drew back.
“No,” Luka said.
He came forward and punched Gugan once, twice, and then a third time. The first punch smashed into the melding’s eye, the second split his cheek, and the third broke his nose. Blood spurted onto the dusty street. “That’s for what you did to my wife,” Luka said. Then, seeing how exposed the melding was, Luka kicked him in the chest.
“I'll leave your fate in the hands of the people who know you,” Luka said.