Emerita Boxing Day, page 38
That’ll be remembered… Doc thought as he waited for Strongarm.
“Fighting out of the red corner, a man who has had fifty duels settled with his fists, let us welcome Michael ‘Steelfist’ Strongarm!”
This time, the boos almost drowned out the few scattered cheers. Strongarm sneered at the crowd as he followed a man toward the ring.
Doc had seen the man before; Strongarm’s helper was the same man who’d been speaking to Donadin months before. Cutter, Doc thought. That’s what the bartender called him. Strongarm’s right-hand man.
Dodd left the ring, going to take the open seat next to Packner in the front row.
Jack motioned to Strongarm and Doc. Both men shucked the robes they’d used to stay warm. The crowd got louder, as the difference between the two was stark. They stood about the same height, with Strongarm being an inch taller, but he was also far broader and more heavily muscled than Doc. Doc’s eyebrows went up, as he’d had no idea that Strongarm was so thickly muscled. Most of the times Doc had seen him, the man had been wearing heavy coats.
“Gentlemen, I want a clean fight!” Jack had to shout to be heard. “When I say break, you step back. Failure to do so will cause you to lose the duel. Seconds, you are to stay out of the ring except between rounds. If you think your fighter is done, you should convince them to forfeit.”
“Strongarm doesn’t quit,” Cutter sneered at Doc. “This twig might snap, though.”
Hammerson snorted. “We understand, sir.”
Strongarm glared at Doc, but also searched his face. Doc didn’t seem intimidated like most of the men who stepped into the ring with him. Besides the raised eyebrows, Doc seemed at ease, which rankled Strongarm. This man had cost him tens, even hundreds of thousands of dollars. He was going to take that cost out of Doc’s hide. He wouldn’t go to finish the fight quickly. No— he would break the man.
Doc met Strongarm’s angry, cold eyes. Lady, bless me in this duel, Doc prayed. This man might not be touched by Darkness, but he embodies its ideals. I’ll use the gifts you’ve given me to give those who need the light a moment to see hope.
“Touch gloves, then back up,” Jack said.
Strongarm and Doc slammed their hands together. It was aggressive, not the light tap that most used. Doc was rocked back slightly from the sheer strength Strongarm put into it.
Doc retreated to the green corner as Hammerson ducked out of the ring. He stared at his opponent. A small part of him wondered how it’d come to this moment, but he set the stray thought aside. It was time to shine a light onto Furden, and give hope that a good man could stand up to a bully.
Chapter Fifty-three
When the bell rang, Doc came forward quickly, wanting to make sure he had room to work with. Strongarm walked with steady steps, staying balanced with his hands up to protect his face.
Doc set the pace, darting in to throw a crisp jab, then dancing back. There was the slap of glove on glove as Strongarm blocked the first shot. Doc angled and came in with a fast jab, then danced back again. It was the tactic he’d shown for the first two fights, but today, his shots were quicker.
Strongarm weathered the jabs as he tried to walk Doc down. He’d angle to reduce the ring, but then Doc would escape and the jabs kept coming. Only a few of the hits landed past Strongarm’s raised hands, and none of them did more than slow the bigger man for a second. The crowd was cheering wildly, loving the fact that Doc looked to be in complete control.
Fool. He’ll tire himself out in a few rounds, and then I’ll make him pay for everything, Strongarm thought grimly, continuing to try to cut the ring and stop Doc from getting away. These punches aren’t even worth attention. No one will remember them when I drop him on his ass.
Doc wasn’t grinning, nor was he playing. He was making sure that Strongarm was getting used to his rhythm. The call that the round was coming to an end got Doc to shift. He went in with the jab, but didn’t step back— he flurried. Strongarm wasn’t expecting the cautious fighter to step up when he did, so the jabs broke his defense and slapped home, snapping his head back.
Arms tucked tighter, Strongarm quickly moved backward, growling to himself the whole time. He’d let Doc lead the entire round, then make a mockery of him right at the end. The bell sounded, and Strongarm dropped his gloves to glare at Doc.
Doc was already heading for his corner, though, not even bothering to look at the man. He didn’t take the seat on the stool just outside the ring. He’d talked with Hammerson to leave it out between rounds. Standing tall, arms resting on the top rope, Doc rinsed his mouth, then took a sip of water from Hammerson.
“He wants blood now, Doc,” Hammerson said. “He won’t be as calm about trying to corner you.”
“He’ll bull at least once,” Doc agreed, his words a little off because of the percha sap across his teeth.
“We trained for it. Just stick with what we worked on. He might get a shot or two, but break and get back to working the distance with the jab.”
Doc nodded as he looked at the crowd, smiling at them. He was surprised to see a couple of people in attendance. Svetlana Molteneyes was sitting beside an older man, who looked enough like her to be a relative. She dipped her head when their eyes met. On the other side of her was Ernst Bronzehammer, another clan emissary he’d met previously. The thickly-muscled dwarf raised an arm and whistled loudly when he saw Doc look his way.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw his wives all beaming at him. Posy had her hands clasped tightly in her lap, but she gave him a smile, too. He gave them a wink before turning back to the front, becoming serious as he waited for the bell to ring again.
The second round went the way Doc had thought it would— Strongarm cut the ring, but when he got close enough, he tried to bull into Doc to clinch with him. The first time, Doc slipped it, landing a left cross as he went past the bigger man. The second and third times, Strongarm did manage to bull him into the ropes.
Doc covered up as he tried to dip out, all while Strongarm pounded Doc’s torso. Doc learned that Strongarm really did live up to his name; the shots that landed felt like a shovel slamming into his ribs. Doc let a trickle of healing flow after each clinch, making sure he didn’t have bruised ribs, but leaving the skin red.
The second round came to an end, and the crowd was more subdued. People began to doubt that Doc could beat the powerfully-built fighter. He went back to his corner, staying standing with his head up as he caught his breath.
“He knows he can bully you, or thinks he can,” Hammerson said, giving Doc water to rinse and drink with. “Time to double up. Put those feet to work like you showed me. Make him look slow, clumsy, and unprepared.”
Doc grunted as he rolled his neck, staring at Strongarm who looked pleased. Cutter was rubbing Strongarm’s right arm, a nasty smile on his lips when he glanced at Doc.
He prefers hooks to the torso, his right over his left. His left doesn’t land quite as hard. Still stings, but it’s weaker. I might be able to break out that way if I let him land one, Doc thought as he waited for the bell.
The third round had the crowd go quiet. Doc went right back to the jab, but he didn’t hit and dip. He doubled up, his right jab darting out twice. The first few times, he snapped Strongarm’s head back, as he hadn’t been expecting the double tap.
Upset that this man who’d never seriously been in a ring was controlling things, Strongarm once again tried to bull Doc into the ropes. This time, Doc danced to the side, tagging Strongarm with a hard cross as he went past. Strongarm tried to bully Doc twice more only to get hit as he slipped away.
Stepping back, Strongarm spat into the dead grass. “Stand still and fight!”
Doc just grinned, shaking his head as he bounced on his toes.
Strongarm tapped his gloves together and advanced again. He knew he’d outlast Doc— no one was ready for the exhaustion of a long fight if they’d never trained for it. But before that happened, he was being made a fool of in front of the beasts and his few supporters. When Doc’s stamina waned, Strongarm would hold him against the ropes and break his ribs with glee, paying him back for all the troubles that he’d caused.
Doc let him advance before he darted right. Strongarm brought his hands up to stop the jab, which let Doc hook into Strongarm’s gut as he went past, bouncing away to not get caught.
The call for the last ten seconds came as Strongarm spun to go after him. When Doc was already coming back in, Strongarm let a heavy right swing. Doc ducked under the haymaker, pulling Strongarm off balance, allowing him to flurry a dozen shots into Strongarm’s ribs before the bell rang.
Strongarm spun around, his hand up, but pulled it because Jack was suddenly between the two fighters. Spitting at Jack’s feet, Strongarm stomped back to his corner. Doc raised his gloves, waving to the crowd as he went back to his.
“He’s pissed,” Hammerson chuckled. “That headhunting shot would’ve laid you out if it landed.”
“Yeah, likely,” Doc agreed as he rinsed his mouth. “Fucker’s solid, too. I don’t think he’s acknowledged anything I’ve hit him with.”
“You’ve moved his head, but there’s no swelling. Just keep with what you plan. He’s thinking you’ll be tired in the next round or two. You’ve only fought three-round bouts where people can see. He has no idea you can keep going.”
Doc nodded as he got ready for the fourth round. The crowd was cheering wildly again, as they’d been reenergized when Doc clearly took the lead in the last round.
The fourth and fifth rounds had Doc shifting, ducking shots, and countering when he could. Strongarm failed to corral him for both rounds, taking hits for attempting it. At the end of the fifth round, Strongarm was shocked that Doc didn’t seem to be tiring at all. He was quickly having to change his plans, since he couldn’t rely on Doc tiring out.
Doc was worried that he didn’t seem to be doing a lot to Strongarm, either. There was no swelling on the man’s face to show where Doc had tagged him time and again. He was starting to wonder if Strongarm had a trick of his own, as he should be showing some damage. Doc was only keeping small red marks on his skin, while healing anything major, but it showed he was being hit.
“This might last hours at this rate,” Hammerson said.
“Let’s see how he takes a fall,” Doc grumbled.
Hammerson frowned. He wondered what Doc meant, not knowing about his gift to knock people down. He gave Doc water, then slipped out of the ring before the bell rang.
As the two fighters approached each other, Doc triggered knockdown. He wanted a statement moment, and he figured that now was a good time. Strongarm had stopped trying to bull Doc, instead learning to sidestep to corral him a little better. That was why when Doc went to dip out, Strongarm responded the way Doc knew he would. The quick pop of the jab was like the dozens of others that’d hit Strongarm in the face, but this time, he staggered back, then fell on his ass.
Doc backed up, allowing Jack to rush in and start counting. The crowd was going wild to see Strongarm dropped. A fight started in the crowd, and the deputies rushed in to stop it.
Strongarm’s face flushed as he got back to his feet. He didn’t know how that simple punch had caused him to stagger and fall, but he was livid. He glared at Jack, who stopped counting at five.
“You ready?” Jack asked Strongarm.
“Yes!”
Jack backed away. “Fight!”
Strongarm was beyond angry— he was sure Doc had cheated somehow. He had to be cheating, as it was the only way the heretic could still be as fresh for the fight as he was. None of the punches Strongarm had landed had swollen Doc’s face, and he knew they should have. But there was no sign of anything for him to point at as cheating.
Doc focused on ducking, dodging, and weaving for most of the round as Strongarm threw wild shots. As the warning of the round coming to an end sounded, Strongarm managed to tag Doc with a glancing hit. He’d been between steps, so the heavy-handed graze was enough to stagger Doc off balance. That let Strongarm pin him into a corner and land crushing body blows before snapping an uppercut into Doc’s chin.
The bell sounded, and Doc sagged to one knee as Jack pulled the two men apart. Healing flooded Doc’s brain as he pushed himself upright. Blinking away the spots that’d flashed on the heavy hit, Doc went to his corner slowly.
The crowd was quiet, all except for Strongarm’s supporters, who were cheering loudly. Everyone had seen Doc’s stunned expression when he’d pushed himself back to his feet. If the round hadn’t ended, the fight might have soon after that hit.
“You okay?” Hammerson asked as he fed Doc some water.
Doc spat bloody water into the bucket, having gashed his tongue when the uppercut landed. “I need to end this. He’s not tiring, either.”
“How are you going to do that?” Hammerson asked.
“Luck,” Doc said simply. He mentally opened up his faith screen to take a gift that would likely only really be useful for this fight.
Hammerson shook his head as he gave Doc more water. “Most duels don’t last this long. One or the other falls before the fifth round ends.”
Doc just nodded as he accepted the new gift. He’d known Strongarm was a fighter, but he hadn’t expected him to be trained to the degree he was. His opponent clearly kept in top shape all the time, whereas Doc had only had a couple of months to prepare. If not for the gifts from Luck and the trickery with healing, Doc knew he’d have lost the duel long before now.
Do I just flatten him or let it build up? Doc wondered. I could use the other knockdowns to make a point that I’m in charge before I lay him out… No. The risk that he tags me is too high. He’ll be ready to capitalize on me. I’ll meet him, get inside, then tap him.
Hammerson slapped Doc’s back as he got out of the ring. “Well, good luck.”
When the bell for the seventh round rang, Doc advanced slower than before, his hands well up to protect his face. Strongarm saw the weakness and came in for the kill. Doc had counted on it and, just before they got into range to punch each other, Doc ducked low, his right arm cocked back.
Strongarm’s punch scraped over Doc’s back, the bigger man not expecting Doc to almost go to his knees. The bigger surprise came when Doc came up like an uncoiling spring. Twisting up and left, Doc brought his right hand up. Knockout had already been ready, so when his gloved fist connected with Strongarm’s chin, the gift triggered.
When Doc finished the punch, he staggered off balance, as he’d overcommitted. He was fine, though, as his opponent wasn’t there to capitalize. When Doc’s fist connected, Strongarm’s head snapped back and he toppled bonelessly to the ground.
Jack was between them, and Doc moved well back. Jack started to count, but Strongarm didn’t even twitch. The crowd was going wild when Jack waved his arms over the downed man after the ten-second count was over.
Even more fights broke out in the crowd, and the deputies and Ironbeard clan dwarves rushed in to quell them. Doc stood in his corner, his hands raised and his head up as Jack came over to congratulate him.
Cutter darted into the ring to check on Strongarm. By the time he knelt down, Strongarm’s eyes opened. He blinked slowly for a few seconds, trying to understand what’d happened. He’d felt the impact, but then nothing, and now, he was looking up at the sky and Cutter. Slapping Cutter’s hands away, Strongarm got to his feet. Seeing Doc being celebrated, he spat before storming out of the ring.
Doc’s wives flooded to his corner, mobbing him. He accepted their kisses before he scooped up Posy, giving her a hug. He knew he’d have to explain, but that would be later. For now, he silently thanked Luck for giving him the gifts to make this moment possible.
Chapter Fifty-four
After a few minutes, Doc had his hands unwrapped and his robe belted around his waist, but was still in the ring. The newspapers had taken pictures of him holding Posy after the fight; Doc wasn’t sure that was a great idea, but he didn’t want to try making a scene out of it, either.
His wives had gone back to finish handing out gifts, leaving Doc to answer questions. Only two of the newsmen were in the ring with Doc, James, Hammerson, and Harrid. Doc hoped that Welter and Douglas wouldn’t keep him for long, as he was starting to feel cold.
“Holyday, can you tell us your thoughts on the fight?” Welter asked.
“Tough fight. He’s a fighter. I’m sure he was surprised by me. I think many would be by my unorthodox style, ability to take hits, and my ability to dish them out.”
“You seemed to do very little most of the fight. Strongarm seemed to shake off the jabs, but you barely shifted from that strategy. Why?” Douglas cut in.
“I thought he’d wear down,” Doc said. “I’m sure he thought the same of me. Before I came into money, I was a worker, long days and nights. He had no idea, so he didn’t know my stamina might even put some dwarves to shame.”
