HDA - Ring of Destiny by Dawn Foster-Moore Chapter 4

"Remember, boys," began Helen, "no hitting above shoulder height, or below the knee. If your arm’s hit, you must drop whatever you’re holding, and if you’re hit in the body, it’s all over – so my advice is…don’t get hit in the body!" She stepped away from them and laughed at the site of both brothers donned in identical kit.

Joe and Frank separated, playfully growling at one another. Both were now in possession of shields and swords. As backup weapons, the brothers also had hanging from their belts a mace and dagger. Joe was glad he’d decided to consent to being dressed in the suit of armor and was amazed how tough it made him feel – almost indestructible.

The others began shouting words of encouragement as the brothers circled one another. Joe was the first to make a move. He lunged forward and brought his sword around the side to try and take advantage of Frank’s undefended right shoulder. Frank twisted at the waist and batted the sword away easily with his shield, going in for a shot himself which Joe managed to stop in time with his shield. This went on for a couple of minutes, neither managing to gain the upper hand.

Alex leant towards Mark where they were sitting on the garden table, "they’re very closely matched, this fight could go on for a long time."

"We could get dinner started and leave them to it?" Mark joked, swinging his legs.

"Nah, they’ll tire themselves out eventually," Helen remarked, climbing onto her husband’s vacant lap. "They’ll have to drop their shields soon, they won’t have the strength to hold them up for much longer."

"I bet Joe drops his first," remarked Alex, encircling his arms around his wife’s waist.

"No, it’ll be Frank, I think Joe’s got the edge on him, strength wise," said Mark. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Frank did indeed drop his shield, which released his hand to grab at the dagger. "Told you!" cried Mark triumphantly.

Assuming incorrectly that he now had the match virtually in the bag, Joe lunged ineptly at his brother with the sword, only to find, in his amazement that Frank blocked it with the small dagger and came in fast with the other weapon. It was all Joe could do to jump backwards out of range. "That was close," he thought and then almost lost his footing completely and went down on one knee as Frank landed a well aimed side kick into the center of the shield, pushing his weight though his hip.

Joe waited for Frank to come forward to finish him off before shoulder charging him with his shield, batting him out of range.

"Nearly had him then Frank," yelled Alex.

"OUCH!" exclaimed Helen, covering her ear. "Careful of the lug-holes big mouth!"

"Sorry sweetheart," he laughed, nuzzling her neck.

"Anyway…you’re biased," she said. Alex ignored the comment.

Shattered from his exertions, and his arm aching, Joe finally threw his shield aside and brandished the heavy mace. Both boys slashed, stabbed and swung at each other, showing themselves to be naturals with the weapons. Joe had brute strength in comparison to Frank’s cunning and agility.

Their new friends could see that the Hardys where slowing down, obviously coming close the point of exhaustion. They were not putting in as many shots as at the beginning of the bout, and the moves they were making were now slow and clumsy.

"They can’t keep going at this rate," said Mark, "one of them is going to have to concede eventually."

"They’re terribly competitive, aren’t they?" remarked Helen, "neither of them is willing to give in."

Joe swung a sword at Frank at the same time as Frank swung his sword at Joe. They both blocked simultaneously, getting inside each other’s defenses. Frank dropped the sword and, with a final burst of energy, leapt at his younger brother, Joe second-guessed his intention and also dropped his weapon. He brought his arm over the top of his brother and pummeled the mace between Frank’s shoulder blades at the same instant Frank stabbed Joe in the chest.

Joe toppled backwards with his brother on top of him and they lay in a heap on the grass, gasping air into their burning lungs, sweat running freely down their faces.

"I DECLARE THE COMPETITION A DRAW!" yelled Helen, cheering loudly and clapping her hands.

"I demand a re-match!" shouted Mark.

Alex cringed, doubting whether the human body could physically do the things that Frank and Joe told Mark to do at that instant.

***

Mike Gregg sat relaxing alone in his scruffy apartment, his feet crossed at the ankles, propped up on the coffee table, the TV blaring out a popular sports program. Shoving another chip into his mouth he turned annoyed, as there came a loud knocking on the front door. He pressed the mute key on his remote control, "okay…okay – keep your damn shirt on!" he shouted irritably as the rapping became more and more persistent.

He got up, dusting the crumbs from his pants onto the floor and moved slowly towards the door. He speeded up when the knocks became so forceful he could physically see the doorframe shaking. He reached out his hand towards the door handle and paused, feeling suddenly fearful. "Who the hell can that be?" he wondered to himself. Thinking quickly, he decided to take the precaution of putting the security chain on. He slipped it into place, felt safer, and permitted himself to open up and peep through the gap. On the other side he saw two huge, mean looking muscle men. "What do you want?" he asked in his toughest voice.

"Mike Gregg?" asked one, gruffly.

"Yeah, who are yo…HEY!"

The instant he confirmed who he was, the door was shouldered in, the chain easily giving way under pressure. The cheaply made screw fitting pulled free from the doorframe, splintering the rotted wood surround. The door crashed inwards violently, knocking Mike cleanly off his feet. He slithered backwards and got to his feet with his back to the wall, watching with wide eyes as the two massive forms stormed into his apartment, slamming the door behind them. One pointed to the abandoned remote control on the table and his friend strode forward and turned the sound up to an ear-splitting volume. The first man turned to Mike and pulling him up by the scruff of the neck onto his tiptoes and thrust his face into his.

"We wanna little word with you Mikey Boy," said the big man.

"W…w…what about?" he stammered in reply, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead. He was genuinely ignorant as to the reason for the visit, but knew he was in serious trouble.

"You’ve been a naughty boy," he said, and turned to address his associate, who now stood at his shoulder, "hasn’t he Brendan?"

"Oh, yeah Phil – a very naughty boy!"

Mike’s eyes flitted from one to the other in confusion and dread. "Hey, look boys," he said, placatingly, "whatever it is, I’m sure I can persuade you it’s not really as bad as it seems." He pulled a shaking hand from his pocket, and thrust a roll of paper money in their direction.

Brendan tutted three times, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "Mikey…Mikey…Mikey, do you really think we’re that easily bought?"

"I…I…" stammered Mike, trying to concoct a response that would suffice enough to get him out of his present predicament. "What is it you want?" he finally asked.

"We want the collection back,"

"What?" he said, shaking his head.

"The collection you and your little gang stole yesterday."

It dawned of him suddenly what Phil was talking about, but decided, unwisely, to try and blagg his way out of the situation. "I don’t know what you’re talking about…" he started to say in a quiet voice. He was cut short when Phil drew his fist back and thrust it into his guts, doubling him up onto his knees.

"None of that Mikey, we know it was you turned our governor’s place over. What none of you thick-wads bothered to find out was - who’s place it was you were turning over. Now Billy Forester want’s his stuff back, ALL OF IT!"

There was a pause as Mike heaved in enough breath to be able to speak again, when he did speak, his voice had taken on a pathetic, begging tone and he spoke very quickly, hanging onto the knees of Phil’s trousers, almost in a prayer stance. "Look, I swear, I never realized that the place was Billy’s, do you think I would have turned it over I’d known it was Billy Forester’s house? But, you see, I ain’t got the stuff no more, I sold it on already. I can reimburse him though, I got a good price – take what you need." He said, holding the money up again.

Brendan and Phil looked at one another and slowly smiled, "I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situation you’re in Mikey. Billy don’t just want cash, he wants his collection back, and enough money to repair the damage you idiots did to his home!"

Mike was nodding his head emphatically all the way through the speech, his pupils wide with terror.

"You know what, Brendan? I think were finally getting through his thick scull of a head, but just to make sure, we’d better give him a taster of what to expect if we come back and the stuff ain’t here!" Phil put his hand against the wall for support and started to violently kick Mike. Brendan roared with laugher and joined in, careful that his boots didn’t connect with a part of the body where subsequent bruising would show. Mike curled up into a ball to protect himself, his cries drowned out by the match being playing on the TV.

When they were satisfied Mike had got the ‘message’; they turned down the noise of the TV so as not to cause a nuisance to his neighbors and left him lying unconscious on the floor, carefully shutting the door quietly behind them.

***

Frank had just exited dripping wet, out of the shower and Joe had just climbed in when he heard a tap on the door. "Who is it?" he called, thinking that if it was Helen he didn’t want to answer the door in his current state of undress.

"It’s Alex," answered his new friend.

"Oh, okay, come on in."

The door opened wide and Alex stood, looking in. Seeing Frank standing in nothing but a towel he made an apologetic face and shut the door quickly behind him. "We’re going to order in pizza’s for dinner and…"

"WOO-HOO" sang out Joe in the shower.

Alex’s eyes flicked towards the bathroom and then rested back on Frank’s face with one eyebrow raised.

"What can I say? Joe likes pizza," stated Frank matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, I never! Anyway, what do you want on them – any toppings you’re not particularly keen on?"

"No…oh…Joe doesn’t like anchovies."

"Does anyone?"

"Me."

"Well, in that one respect, we certainly differ." Smiled Alex. "Rob - Mark’s brother and leader of our little band of warriors, and Kiwi Dave are popping round. We thought you might like to meet them before you leave tomorrow."

"Kiwi Dave?"

"All will become clear. See you downstairs in a bit."

***

Frank and Joe were seated in the lounge talking to their three new friends when there came a ringing on the doorbell.

"That’s either the boys, or the pizza, and I don’t know about you, but my stomach’s hoping it’s the food!" said Helen rising to her feet and leaving the room. They heard her open the front door and voices filtered through. "Bad news friends, its Rob and Kiwi!" she called out loudly from the hallway making them all laugh.

A young man of about the age of 18 or 19 with long, light brown hair, tide back in a neat ponytail came bowling through the doorway into the living room like an over-excited puppy. "Gidday guys," he greeted, enthusiastically.

"Lads, I’d like you to meet Kiwi Dave, or just simply...Kiwi," said Alex to the Hardys.

"A New Zealander, right?" asked Frank smiling,

"You got it in one mate!" he said grasping Frank’s hand. He folded his lanky 6’5 body down on the sofa, next to Joe. "Happy to meet you," he said, pumping Joe’s hand up and down.

"What brings you to England?" asked Joe.

"I’m over for six months from University, studying medieval history."

"That’s how we met," explained Alex, "he came along to one of our training days to observe and has been hanging around ever since."

"Yeah, they couldn’t get rid of me, isn’t that right?"

Alex pursed his lips at Kiwi and touched the side of his temple. "This is Frank and Joe," he introduced. Kiwi grinned from one to the other, his eyes turning up at the corners.

They turned as another man walked in slowly. It was easy to surmise Instantaneously that this was Mark’s older sibling Rob Randall, for his face bore the now familiar chiseled features and his eyes were the same piercing blue color. He was considerably taller than Mark however, standing at around 5’11. Despite his clothes, Frank and Joe could not fail to notice his impressively muscular physique. He stood silently in the doorway, unblinkingly observing the scene before him coldly. His eyes settled slowly on Frank, studying him closely, his expression unchanged.

Helen following up behind stopped short, wondering why the banter in the room had ceased, she saw Frank and Joe’s regarding Rob uneasily. "Don’t let him frighten you boys, he’s really just an old Teddy Bear!" she grabbing him under the ribs, and he lurched and grunted in surprise.

She introduced the Hardys to him and he nodded from one to the other in greeting. "You’ll notice he’s a man of very few words – just how I like ‘em. Mean and moody!" He mumbled under his breath and sat down on the arm of Alex’s armchair and folded his arms.

The doorbell rang again and Helen turned back on herself and re-traced her footsteps. Joe and Kiwi got up and followed her out to give a helping hand. Helen was already at the door, paying the delivery girl when she turned and noticed for the first time they were standing there. "I’ll takes these in, if you wouldn’t mind getting some plates?" she said. "Kiwi knows where they are."

Two minutes later Joe and Kiwi joined them again and divided up the dishes. The pizza boxes had already been opened and the majority of people where now sitting on the floor surrounding them. Joe crouched down next to his brother and helped himself to a slice.

"So, what do you fellas do back home?" asked Kiwi, chewing.

Frank and Joe threw each other a look, remembering their agreement not to mention detective work. "We’re both still at high school."

Mark spluttered, "you’re still at High School?" he asked amazed. "You’re both a bit old aren’t you?"

"No, I’m only 17," pointed out Joe.

"17? I thought you were in your twenties!" exclaimed Mark. "How old does that make you then Frank?"

"18. I should’ve left by now, but I was kept back a year."

"Why?"

Frank blinked, realizing he’d dropped a clangor, Joe rolled his eyes. "Erm…illness," he spluttered out quickly, "I was ill for a number of months." His cheeks reddening and he instantly regretted the deception, but he couldn’t tell them the real reason he was held back a year was because their sleuthing had caused him to miss a lot of schooling.

"What was the matter?" asked Alex.

"Do you mind if we don’t talk about it – kind of delicate," said Joe, coming to Frank’s rescue.

"Of course," said Alex. "You don’t look any the worse for wear though. Can I just ask…you are completely recovered, aren’t you?" he added, a concerned tone to his voice.

Frank began to feel like a complete heel and just nodded, wishing he’d never mentioned being kept back a year. "Joe," he thought, "take me outside now, and give me a good kicking!"

Helen changed the subject. "So, we’re still going to the re-enactors’ fayre tomorrow?" she asked her friends, snuggling up against her husband.

"What’s that?" asked Joe.

"It’s a buyer’s fayre that’s held once a year in a huge hall. Traders set up stalls and sell all sorts of things, from all periods. Even if you’re not into re-enactment, you can still buy some very nice, unusual gifts."

"Sounds interesting," commented Frank.

"Yes it is," smiled Helen. "Afterwards, there’s always a multi-period banquet, and everyone goes in costume. Great fun!"

"Hey…hey…hey," said Kiwi, bobbing up and down excited, "Why don’t you guys come along?"

"We were planning on heading off tomorrow," replied Joe, doubtfully and turned to his brother. Frank was already looking at him for his opinion. "We can’t really encroached any longer on Helen, Alex and Mark."

"Nonsense!" snapped Alex. "It’s been great having you around, it’s fine by us if you want to stick around for a few days longer."

Joe looked at Frank again, realizing that Frank was enthused by the idea. "Okay," he agreed reluctantly.

Rob cleared his throat and the room fell into an expectant hush. Holding their collective breaths, everyone waited eagerly for him to speak for the first time that evening. "Glad that’s decided, now let’s chow down."

"My god, it talks!" shouted Mark sarcastically, making everyone laugh. Rob turned to his brother and shoved a slice of greasy pizza into his face.