Ridge: Day One

8. THE DAY OF CUTTEL

Once Hamel had explored the lower sections well enough that he felt he understood a portion of the layout, he finished the last of his food and wandered into an open-air market he had discovered the day before. He chose a table to approach, one selling rusted armor, discarded swords, and knives. As he examined what appeared to be a well-made, but poorly maintained, ancient dagger with a cracked handle, he reached up to scratch his head, and his hood fell back onto his shoulders.

He grabbed the hood and pulled it back up over his head, but in that short time, the merchant at the table recognized him. The man quickly whispered something to a little boy sitting on a stool against a wall, and the boy ran off into an alley.

He scanned the people present in the market area. Gossip spread quickly in the lower sections, just as it did in the upper sections of the city. He could see people glance his way. They tried to appear as though they were busy with other matters, but all attention had landed on him.

No one had ever fallen from the height of Honored Patir, former Head of the Council, and General of the Armies of the Ridge. Due to the honor of his former status, the depth of his shame would be that much greater. He was not sure what the people of the lower regions would think of him.

Eddel, on the other hand, was a different story. He knew he could be useful to Eddel, and Eddel could be useful to him. But he would need to be careful.

A commotion on the other side of the market pulled Hamel from his thoughts. People had begun to run and hide, and some merchants were packing up their wares in a panic. At first, he wondered what could have caused such a change, but then he remembered seeing the same reaction to himself as a General on his visits through the area.

Soldiers were approaching.

Around the corner came eight Soldiers of the Ridge and a servant with his head hung low. The young man trailing behind the soldiers was poor Markel. Hamel felt a twinge of guilt when he saw his friend, but he knew it was the best place for the boy to be.

The man at the front of the eight soldiers was the Captain himself. He stood on the edge of the market and turned his head around as if he were scanning the area. A man Hamel did not recognize stepped up beside Cuttel and pointed at Hamel. The Captain dropped a coin in the man's hands, and the man disappeared around the corner.

Hamel smiled and pulled back his hood. He hollered across the street, "So, Captain, I see you have been looking for me. Have you come to apologize?"

Cuttel ignored the taunt. "Hamel!" he shouted, declaring to all how far Hamel had fallen.

"Yup. That's me, Cuttel! How have you been, young man?"

Cuttel smiled. "I did not come to apologize," Cuttel announced. "I only came to see if you were settling in well, and if so," the young Captain smirked, "to see if I could change that."

The Captain's head turned, and he scanned the faces of the men and women present in the market. He stopped when he spotted a man standing in the shadows. Cuttel nodded to him, and the man waved at two others. The three approached the Captain.

The Captain paid the men what appeared to be a significant amount of money. Hamel did not think the men had been hired to leave bruises or teach him a lesson. The men intended to end Hamel's legacy.

Hamel's eyes turned to Markel. The young man stood ready. His feet were shoulder width apart, his knees bent just slightly, and his fists clenched. The boy was ready to fight on a word from Hamel. Hamel gave a slight shake of the head. Markel would follow Hamel's orders to stay with the Captain, even at the expense of Hamel's life.

"I wish you the best, Hamel, son of Rezin Mathel. I hope you enjoy your time with my friends." With that final word along with a laugh from his soldiers, the Captain turned and left the market.

Hamel turned his attention back to the three men. The two who followed the man Cuttel had paid were not a concern. Their walk was confident but revealed a lack of the military training that set soldiers apart. Each man had an angry, unkind look on his face, but angry men were often easier to overcome in a fight. The one who concerned Hamel was the leader.

Hamel had always been a tall man. He had also trained harder than any other soldier he had ever met, and that effort had only increased since his retirement ten years before. The training and years of experience had left him a solid threat to anyone who challenged him.

The thug Cuttel had hired, however, was also tall and had a disturbing amount of muscle. The man walked as if the muscle itself was getting in his way. Hamel wondered if his own bulk made him look so awkward.

The man's walk also suggested he had been trained as a soldier. The confident way he eyed Hamel caused the former Honored Patir to suspect the thug had also received the same elite training Hamel had received.

He examined the hired thug's face and searched his memory. The man had indeed served under him a year or two before. If he remembered correctly, the man had been discharged for violent and uncontrollable behavior. He thought his name had been Gatrel.

Gatrel was the threat.

Hamel positioned himself against the wall of a large building. He would not run, but he would not be surrounded either.

Hamel's military mind kicked into gear, and he put together his strategy. It was simple and would guarantee he had a decent chance. The two "extras," as he deemed them, would only be a threat if they were able to take part in his fight with Gatrel. Hamel would have to dispose of them before he would stand a chance. Gatrel was younger and perhaps faster than Hamel, but not as well trained or disciplined. If Hamel could face him alone, he might live to meet Eddel.

The two extras would not expect him to attack first, nor would they expect to be his first target. They would assume Hamel would focus on Gatrel, and they stepped off to each side.

Hamel kept his eyes on the large former soldier. Intimidation was always part of a battle.

His mind drifted to the rest of the people in the market Square, and he smiled. The men, women, and children in the market all acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary, yet they all watched Hamel. Some knelt on the ground as though they were tying their shoes but never managed to finish. Others picked items off tables and turned them in their hands, eyes fixed firmly on the four men about to fight. Some merchants even stood with their hands outstretched as though they were waiting to receive money from customers, but neither they nor their customers moved to finish the transactions.

Hamel reviewed his strategy in his mind. He would go for the throats of each of the two extras. If he moved quickly, he could incapacitate them and then find his way around behind Gatrel. A glint of steel near Gatrel's hands revealed not only was Gatrel right-handed, but Hamel would need to deal with the knife early on. Hamel saw similar weapons emerge with each of the other two extras.

The three men stepped within reach, and Hamel put his plan into action. He had always been adept at reading people and knowing how they would react given certain stimuli. He had trained himself well to lay out a plan and execute it perfectly without hesitation.

Hamel feinted to the left, and the extra on his right charged. Hamel disarmed him, killed him quickly, then tossed his body onto Gatrel. While Gatrel struggled under the weight of his fallen comrade, Hamel killed the man on the left, then drove his knife into Gatrel's right arm. A man in shock was never a threat.

Seconds later, it was all over.

Hamel scanned his eyes over the market area to confirm there were no other men ready to attack. He stood alone, and he could see in the eyes of the people milling around the market, pretending they had not noticed a fight, that he had earned a certain level of respect. He had lost his honor among the upper sections of the city, but honor would be found in the lower sections, albeit along a different path.

Cuttel's little stunt might have been just what Hamel needed to find his way into Eddel's trust.

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