Anvil approached next, stepping into the same starting position Grey had used, and Steed shifted several paces back before he readied himself and nodded toward his new opponent. I remembered the tree and was suddenly afraid for him. Would Anvil use the same method on a person?
A thunderous crack answered my unspoken question. The lightning bolt was faster than my eyes at such a close distance, by the time I looked at Steed, there was nothing but a wall of water. He had constructed a barrier of sorts, caught the strike and redirected it around himself by melting the snow that spotted the mountain. Anvil was winded, though the strike wasn’t as severe as his previous show. Steed would unquestionably be the winner now and as he took aim to retaliate, his opponent raised his hands in surrender.
“Quick thinking, Mister Summit.” The large man grinned and I was in no doubt they were old friends.
Chevelle stepped forward then, eager. I had a feeling he’d been itching for this the way I’d been itching to burn Ruby. Steed smiled in acceptance, but not the same smile he'd given his last opponent. They stood across from each other and readied themselves. Both tensed but neither took the low, wide stance previously used.
As their eyes fixed on one another, I felt myself, and Ruby beside me, lean forward in anticipation of action. Simultaneously, both men stiffened, their muscles taut, jaws clenched tight, stares focused, determined. I saw nothing happen but knew there must be something, some unseen force causing them pain, draining them. I couldn’t look away but stammered to Ruby, “What’s happening?”
“They are trying to overpower one another.” I could hear the pleasure in her voice. “No silly games, just power,” and the way she said it made me wonder in the back of my mind whether her statement about not having her mother’s ambition was true. But I could not concentrate on anything other than the struggle in front of me. No visible action, I tried to judge by appearance who might be winning. Chevelle’s face was stern and fierce. Steed flinched occasionally, though I had no idea if that was pain or something else. I had no doubt, however, that neither intended to lose. Their stance, right down to their eyes, was absolutely unwavering.
There was a sound behind me and I realized it had been completely quiet as we all watched the unanimated brawl. Instantly, Steed and Chevelle broke their stare and turned to the noise, dogs I thought, looking past me. I started to turn as well and noticed Ruby was gone from beside me, though I’d not seen her move. And then I was whisked from my seat as I glimpsed Steed and Chevelle dart past me. But they hadn’t touched me.
Less than a second ago, I'd been watching a contest and now I was standing behind Ruby, facing the other direction, her red curls blocking my view as she shielded me, her arms outstretched in ready. Steed and Chevelle were at opposite angles in front of us, both tensed, even more so than they had been in their bout, and I leaned my head around Ruby’s hair to see what they were seeing.
In front of our triangle, directly ahead of Ruby, stood a councilman in the indicative long white robe and tassels. I sickened as I absorbed the idea that a council member… was he a tracker… was behind me… directly behind me… as we were all engrossed in a trivial match. He was frozen, unmistakable agony distorted his features. I didn’t know which of the group were restraining him, Anvil and Grey flanked him, Rhys and Rider were posted a good distance behind him with their dogs, watching. Maybe all of them held him.
He seemed to be attempting to speak but couldn’t get the words out. I noticed his blond hair and became vaguely aware I had grown accustomed to the dark features of my new companions. Chevelle mumbled something but my ears began to buzz, not the all-out siren that had crippled me before, more like interference, and I couldn't understand him. I could see his lips moving as he then spoke to Anvil but wasn't able to catch the words.
And then Anvil approached the captive, dwarfing him with his mass. He exhibited remarkable menace when he addressed the motionless councilman, whose mouth appeared to be working again as he replied. Through ringing ears I couldn’t hear their words clearly, but I did hear the breaking bones. A grotesque crunch sounded as the councilman's thigh bone snapped, dropping him halfway to the ground. Anvil was leaning over him, somehow even more intimidating than my first, moonlit sight of him, while he spoke directly to the man as if they were the only two here, as if he hadn’t just suffered a traumatic injury. And, evidently, Anvil didn’t like the answers he received, because the councilman's other leg snapped, dropping him to stand on the stumps of his broken, mangled thighs.