Read Online Witch Doctor - Wiz in Rhyme-3 by Christopher Stasheff - Free Book Online

years younger than me, certainly still a teenager, and the top of his head was bald. "You've got a tonsure!" I said.
    "All monks do," he agreed.
    "But you're a knight!"
    "Only a squire." His lip curled at my ignorance. "I am not yet worthy of my final vows. Will you fight, or talk?
    Well. Monks were obviously different here than they were at home. I dropped into karate stance, circling my hands and coming up ready to catch or chop. "Ready."
    He stared at my actions, then frowned and lunged.
    He telegraphed the move-I saw the half step forward on the leftbut I resisted the urge to dodge, staying in to test the waters, so to speak.
    He hit, and he hit hard. it was like slamming into an opening door.
    He grabbed me in a bear hug and hoisted-it had to be the crudest move I'd run into since grade school.
    But effective-he was very strong. I found myself rising high, then slamming down at the ground, while all around me, those monkscum-knights were cheering.
    I twisted, landing on my side, and rolling back up to my feet to see
    the kid grinning as he came back in for more. But this time, I sidestepped at the last second. "That was your freebie," I told him.
    "Now I get my turn."
    He didn't like that; he turned with a bellow and charged. I grabbed his arm and turned, put a hip against his, and flipped him. He swung up and down like a Ferris wheel. I figured he wouldn't know how to fall, so I held on to his arm and pulled up, to make sure he landed on his side, without too much force. The knights rumbled at that-they didn't like the look of it. I let go, and the kid scrambled to his feet again, face red, boiling mad.
    Good. Angry, he'd make mistakes.
    But he didn't charge again; he was smart enough not to make the same error twice. He shuffled in, hands circling, hunched over, watching for an opening.
    I decided to give him one. I dropped my guard and put my hands on my hips, looking exasperated.
    Sure enough, he bit. He went for my knees. I shoved against his shoulders, pushing myself back, That made him madder; he charged forward, trying to catch my knee like a donkey going after the carrot that's hanging from the pole. But he only took a couple of steps before he went for my crotch and arm, trying to hoist me. That meant he was coming up; I stepped back just long enough for his momentum to take him up far enough so that I could grab his tunic, lifting him a little bit as I hooked a leg behind his, and pushed as I kicked back. He fell-harder this time, since I wasn't trying to break his fall for him. He scrambled up, eyes blazing, and sent a fist shooting toward my face.
    Oh, so he wanted to box. I blocked, and the blow went wide as I counterpunched. He hit my shoulder, and pain jolted the joint, but nothing big. On my other hand, his head rocked back, and I brought the left down, fingers stiffened, and jabbed him in the solar plexus. That took the fight out of him, along with the breath and the legs.
    He folded around a center of agony, fighting for breath. I relaxed with a sigh of distaste-I really didn't like doing this to anybody, but especially not to a guy who really hadn't had a chance to fight back. Then I stepped around behind him, massaging his back and sides right opposite where I'd hit. The ring of men let out a shout of outrage, but the biggest guy held up a hand. "Nay. He but seeks to give aid to a fallen foe." He turned to me. "Yet give over, good man-let us tend to him."
    "No," I said, "I don't think you know the technique. I broke it, I'll fix it." I heard a hiss of breath below me and looked down at Gilbert.
    "You okay now?"
    "I will mend," he gasped. "You are a doughty fighter."
    "Just had a little training," I assured him. "You're very strong, did you know that?"
    "Strength is not enough," he groaned.
    "True." I grasped his arm and pulled. He followed and came to his feet. From the heft of that biceps, I knew I'd done right to try to stay away from him. It was a good thing he had used that bear hug to throw me;