Chapter 32: 32_Crossing swords

It was sunset by the time they reached the physician’s workplace.

Gunnar stopped his horse at the end of the alley and got off as they rode in after him.

A face peeked over Thoran’s shoulder. “Are we there?”

Glancing back at her, he grunted.

Amethyst blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t understand your insistence on tagging along.”

She stubbornly pursed her lips, studying the grey, stone walls of the place they’d come to. How could he have expected her to go ahead to their hidden village without him? How daunting the experience would’ve been had she not refused to go alone.

Gunnar was already at the door nearly hidden in the wall. He glanced back at Thoran. “I hear him in there.”

Swiftly, Thoran jumped off his horse and landed heavily beside it. “Of course, he’s in. Bastard’s made me come all this way.” With a sigh, he turned to Amethyst.

Her arms were already stretched out, waiting for him.

He paused, his gaze rising to meet hers. What an odd girl she was, reaching for him like they hadn’t been yelling at each other just hours prior.

“Help me down,” she suggested softly.

He glared at her, hands rising to circle her waist. Her hands held his shoulders again and he rushed to put her down, turning away as soon as she was on her own two feet. Never had someone simultaneously angered and enticed him the way she did.

“How do you want to go in?” he asked, looking over at Gunnar. A second later, he turned back to his horse and it wasn’t there.

Dutifully, Amethyst was leading the horses to one corner of the alley.

“What are you doing?” he asked flatly.

She glanced back at him. “Tying the horses. What does it look like?” Satisfied with the bows she’d tied, she hurried back and stood beside him. Their stares made her frown. “Hello? Isn’t it urgent to get the medicine for the village? Don’t just stand around.”

Gunnar scoffed with a smile but Thoran closed his eyes in exasperation. He sighed. “Gunn.”

“Aye, Steel.”

Gunnar took one step back and, in the next moment, his shoulder crashed through the wooden door.

A startled scream pierced the air, a thin man jumping out of his chair at their catastrophic entrance. “By God!”

He halted, fumbling for the spectacles that swung around his neck and frantically wearing them so he could better see the hulking figure that was marching toward him.

As soon as his glasses cleared up Gunnar’s glaring face for him, the man dashed in the opposite direction.

“No, you don’t.” Gunnar was right on his heels.

Yelping, the physician was dragged back by the collar, falling onto his butt as he became overwhelmed by terror. “Please! Don’t kill me!”

“Oh, shut up,” Gunnar muttered, dragging him back and shoving him to his knees.

Steel had taken a seat on the physician’s table, having swept sheets of chemical formulas onto the floor to make space for himself.

The poor man whimpered even louder when he saw Thoran, his face paling until it resembled his white shirt. “S… Steel…”

“Dr Finch,” Thoran lazily said, studying some chemical equation the physician had been solving. “Care to explain exactly what’s happened? You take my money… and don’t deliver the meds?”

“I w-was going to! I know the village needs it, I was on my way to hand them over to the village messengers!”

Grey eyes rose to pierce him with a cold look. “And?”

The physician let out a sob, shaking his head miserably. “I was abducted! I was taken to some man w-who thought I knew where the village was. Wanted me to take him there and I told him I couldn’t! Why, I wouldn’t even know which direction on a compass to head in!”

“What man?” Thoran questioned, already annoyed.

“I don’t know who he was!” Dr Finch said frantically. “He l-looked like a complete terrorist! He wore an expensive suit and when he came close, I caught a whiff of his cologne. Rich, expensive! But he looked like a cutthroat who could pierce my belly for a single silver coin, he was horrifying.”

Silently, Thoran met Gunnar’s gaze. They were thinking the same thing.

“What colour was his hair?” Gunnar questioned.

The physician jolted at the sudden deep voice and glanced timidly at Gunn. “H-he didn’t have much. It was cut real short, but what he did have was black.”

Thoran released a tired breath, his eyes falling closed. Simmering and seething, anger started to boil in his blood. That bastard just wouldn’t give up.

“So, he abducted you and then what?” Gunnar went on.

“He found out I didn’t know where the village was and then h-had me beaten until I was barely breathing.”

A soft gasp was heard and, turning, Thoran glanced at Amethyst. All wide eyes of sympathy, she gazed down at the physician with hands clasped together.

“You poor man,” she whispered to herself.

He blinked flatly at her. What did she think she was doing, sympathizing with the bastard?

“When I came to,” continued Dr Finch. “He warned me to never supply you with medication again. I’m terribly sorry, Sir, I was terrified he would kill me.”

Looking at the trembling man, Steel frowned with no trace of sympathy in his eyes. “And you assumed I wouldn’t do the same?”

With a squeak, the physician stared pitifully up at him, pressing a trembling fist to his mouth. The sharp sound of metal cut through the silence and the long blade of a sword appeared at Finch’s neck.

“No!” He jolted, shutting his eyes tightly as he shivered from fear. “Please, d-don’t! I’ll give you the medicine! I’ll do anything!”

Gripped with anxiety, Amethyst watched on, torn between understanding the importance of getting the medicine and the need to help the poor man.

“You’re in luck, Finch,” Thoran said then. “I’ll give you the chance to redeem yourself.”

Dr Finch looked up with hope. “R-really?”

“Aye, mate. How’s about a quick fight? You win and I spare your life.”

The man’s shoulders slowly drooped, his entire body going slack until he sat glumly on the floor, eyes filled with despair. He was as good as dead. “A f… fight?” Tears filled his eyes. He’d never accepted a duel in his entire life, accepting defeat without any attempt at defence. And now they were telling him to fight Thoran Steel? The man who had grown up in the battlegrounds without a single loss to his name? The man who’d earned the title of king of Barbarians from his sheer dominance on the battleground?

Right, it was time to purchase a tombstone.

Thoran scoffed. “Oh, don’t look so discouraged. You can’t mean to say you believe I would fight you.”

“You couldn’t call that a fight,” Gunnar added dryly. “A savage and merciless crushing, more like.”

Revived with hope, Dr Finch bounced back up. “Really? Oh, thank you! Then… who? Surely not…” His dark-rimmed eyes slowly rolled up to Gunnar who glared down at him.

“You wouldn’t survive five seconds,” Thoran said. “Not Gunnar, no.”

The physician blinked. “Then who?”

Who indeed? Curiously, Amethyst glanced toward the door, expecting someone to arrive. When nobody came, she turned back to Thoran only to find his gaze glued to her face.

She blinked. “Ah. You want me to go out and find somebody?”

For the first time since morning there was a faint hint at amusement in his eyes. The cluelessness on her face was just too entertaining to ignore. “No need, poppet. You can do it yourself.”

Her eyes went wide. “Wha—” Rapidly, she looked at the physician and back at Thoran. “You can’t be serious! Me? Fight this poor, helpless—”

“Bring it on, then, girlie!!” growled Dr Finch, already on his feet with Gunnar’s sword in his hand and a gremlin smile on his face. “I’ll kill you in a second!”

Amethyst gaped at him. Who was this fiend? Where had the pitiful physician gone?

The shock on her face only heightened Thoran’s amusement, but his face still barely moved. “Go on, Amethyst. Think of it as training for when you finally fight me. Win and, perhaps, I’ll consider you something of an equal in battle.”

Gunnar snorted.

Glaring at both of them, she crossed her arms. “I don’t have a weapon.”

Reaching under the table, Thoran detached a hidden sword and brought it out, handing it to her.

Dr Finch blinked, wondering how he’d known that weapon was there for emergencies. Hopefully, he didn’t know about the pistol in the drawer.

Amie stared flatly at the weapon in her hands, cursing her luck.

“May the best fighter win,” Thoran said, leaning back on his hands to watch the battle.