Daughter of Azeroth

08 | THE DUEL

A pounding came to the front door. Idira sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Outside, the sun was up, but only just. Shouts came from the entrance hall, escalating as the pounding at the door increased, a heavy boom made her ears ring. Fighting. Another boom. Silence fell. The double doors burst open. Benny rushed in wild-eyed and panting, carrying something Idira had never seen before, like a metal tube. One end of it smoked. He didn't look stupid now, he look big and dangerous. Myra sat up, her face all puffy from crying. She made a little sound, something between a cry and a sob, her hands moving over her dress, pulling the pieces together once more.

He looked her over, his expression anguished. 'Ye're coming wit' me. He'll not have ye. I'll die first.'

Hope bloomed in Myra's eyes. She ran to him. He caught her with one arm and held her against him, possessive, eyeing the big bruise on her face.

'Did he do this to ye?' he asked, his voice as hard as rocks.

Myra shook her head, clinging to him, tears sliding free, staining her face even more. She hiccupped. 'No. Papa did it.'

Benny's eyes narrowed. 'I'll kill the bastard.'

'Oh, I don't think so, Mr Blaanco.'

VanCleef strolled into the room, wearing only a pair of dark leather breeches, boots, and a white shirt. The ties of his shirt hung open. Idira glimpsed sleek, defined muscles. He didn't have any weapons, at least none Idira could see. Benny tightened his hold on Myra and held the metal thing up, pointing it at VanCleef's face.

VanCleef glanced at the thing, unimpressed. 'You aren't going to shoot me, we both know that.'

He walked around the room, his back to Benny, looking at the fine things on display as if he had just popped around for a visit. Idira watched him, wary. He looked like danger. He glanced over his shoulder.

'You see, Benny, Jac Northshire is really rather useful to me. A brute, to be sure, but useful all the same.' He turned and looked over the pair, locked in their desperate, defiant embrace. He nodded, a look of respect flickering over his features. 'I admire you Benny, you aren't going to give up your woman without a fight. I like that.' He plucked a piece of fruit from a bowl on the table and popped it into his mouth. He wandered around some more, chewing, taking his time. When he was done, he propped his booted foot up onto one of the fine chairs and rested his elbow on his knee.

'However, I am also not going to give up Ms Northshire without a fight. Here's what I propose: a duel. Whoever yields, loses Myra. You may choose the weapons.'

'Fists,' Benny said without hesitation. Idira glanced at VanCleef, hoping to see a reaction. Benny had often bragged he had never been beaten in a fist fight, not even when it was three against one. Looking at Benny's solid bulk and massive fists, she could believe it. There was no way VanCleef was going to beat Benny in a fist fight.

VanCleef smiled. He looked pleased. Idira had to admit he was very nice to look at when he smiled, although she couldn't see what there was to smile about, he had lost Myra for sure.

'Let's finish this then, shall we? Follow me.'

He strode past Idira, elegant, graceful, a hint of scent, warm and spicy, followed in his wake. He even smelled expensive.

Myra moved out of Benny's embrace. VanCleef slowed, noticing her battered face. His eyes darkened.

'Did Jac do this to you?' he asked, his voice low.

Myra nodded.

VanCleef didn't say anything, but Idira could tell by the way his posture stiffened just a little he was angry. He swept out of the house and down the steps, silent, like a cat.