Gerard was satisfied with her answer, but the idea of using the ring was starting to consume him. He wanted to feel its power coursing through his body as much as he wanted the beautiful Dakaneese girl beside him. Without further thought, he used the ring, and told her in his mind to kiss him.
It was in that moment, when her warm soft lips met his, that Shaella knew she had him. She wasn’t sure where the urge to kiss him had come from, but it didn’t matter. The kiss had sealed his fate. The look of pleasure in his eyes told her that he was putty in her hands.
The burn of the magic in Gerard’s blood accompanied by her hot, wet, probing tongue was a feeling like none he had never known. It was ecstasy beyond reason, a sensation, that from that moment on, he wouldn’t be able to resist. He was addicted.
* * *
Over on the archery lanes, Hyden put three arrows deftly into the Wizard’s Eye, and the next two into the King’s Ring, from both fifty and one hundred paces. Two other men matched the feat. The sole elf that was participating in the preliminary culling didn’t bother to loose his arrows at fifty paces at all. Instead, he put four arrows into the Wizard’s Eye at one hundred paces. Then, with a contemptuous scowl at the awed group of human contenders, he backed fifty more paces away, and arced his last arrow into the edge of the King’s Ring as if it were nothing. It was amazing.
Hyden had only put four in the Wizard’s Eye twice in his life. It was hard to do, and the elf had made it look easy, but he tried not to get discouraged. Since he had done it before, he knew that he could do it again. If he wanted to win the competition, he would have to do it on the morrow. He’d have to do it in front of a great crowd of onlookers too. The few dozen spectators, who had watched the culling today, had made him fairly nervous. He would try his hardest though.
The elves’ smug confidence, and arrogant attitude towards the other competitors, gave Hyden a better understanding of his people’s desire to beat them. The yellow-eyed devil thought he was too good to even speak to the humans. After the hundred and fifty pace lob into the King’s Ring, Hyden had complimented the elf. The cocky bastard had smirked and walked away, as if annoyed by the respectful words.
The two other elves who had watched the culling take place seemed to share this contempt for the other archers. They watched, with narrowed brows on their skinny, pointed eared faces, and mocked and heckled each time a man’s arrow missed the center mark. It was no wonder that the Elders, and most of the giants, spoke of the elves return to the land as if they were a plague. At the moment, Hyden didn’t want to think of the morrow’s competition. He had made it through the culling, which had started with over thirty contenders. The field had been narrowed down to four. He decided to be pleased with that accomplishment and enjoy the night’s main event. He was ready for “The Brawl.”
All day people had been talking about it. The Western Lion Lord, whose name was already carved in the Spire for his victory of a few years ago, was to take on the Seaward Monster. The monster was a tattoo covered mountain of a man, who made his living toting and standing ships spars and mast poles. Hyden had never seen the sea, or a ship, much less a mast pole, but he had seen a riverboat, with a sail, and knew that that pole would have weighed as much as a shagmar beast, or a full grown bull moose. He had listened closely to the descriptions of the kind of ships that this Seawards man helped build, and knew that it was no typical occupation. The man was a freak of nature they said. Possibly, half giant, someone had suggested. Hyden knew that the last statement couldn’t possibly be true, because Berda had told him that giants and humans couldn’t interbreed. She had said that the offspring came out feral, but, nevertheless, he was intrigued about the event.