He was no more than ten paces away when he saw the city guard closing in on him at a run. He turned down one of the many paths in the market to get away, only to find another pair of guards who conferred with each other before pointing and shouting an alarm.
He mounted Ebony and galloped away, yelling at the crowds to move out of his way as he raced for the open streets beyond the market. He caused such a commotion people began shouting and pushing each other. Before he knew it, it was a full-blown riot with him caught in the middle.
He tried to maneuver Ebony through, making for openings in the fighting, but the openings closed as fast as they appeared. Soon whistles were blowing and cries of alarm were going out from the crowd. He was still trying to plot a course through when he was pulled from his mount by two large men.
He fought to break free, managed to wriggle from their grasp. After a moment on his backside to catch his breath, he came up fighting, landing a blow to one's jaw with a left hook before making a clean right jab to the other's ribs.
Both brutish men seemed to relish the idea of a fight. One even thumped his bare chest with his fists before signaling with his hands for Emel to come at him.
The face tattoos revealed one to be a mercenary from Vale, but it was the other's half shaved head and distinctive nose piercings that gave Emel pause. He'd heard the legends of the Twin Isle fighters, but had never seen or faced one in a brawl.
"I've no quarrel with either of you," he said quickly. He put up both hands, a sort of universal sign that he did not wish to fight.
Carefully, he reached back for Ebony's straps, so that he could calm the horse's disquiet. Afterward, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of copper drudgers.
The two men looked at each other, grinned, and then came in swinging. The copper drudgers went flying.
Emel bobbed away, dropped to his knees, swung right then left, catching first one and then the other on the sides of their abdomen. The oblique muscles in this area were often thin and a weakness between one's hips and torso, so he used this to his advantage as he struck out again.
As both men brought their fists down, he jumped up, his raised fists connecting with their chins.
Blood dripping from his mouth, the Twin Isle fighter laughed openly and came at Emel.
The Vale fighter took a step back, momentarily stunned.
Twin Isle's blow caught Emel in the right shoulder, twisting him around even as Emel came back around with a roundhouse punch.
Emel felt his hand and arm wing out and around as he pulled across and connected with the side of the other's head. Twin Isles went down on his ass, his legs crumbling beneath his weight.
Expecting a moment's reprieve, Emel turned on the Vale fighter, but the other man bounced up much faster than Emel expected, exhorting his deity, Mallick the True, to come to his aid.
As Emel attempted to land a follow up punch, the Vale fighter grabbed him in a bear's embrace. He twisted and turned trying to break free, just as the Twin Isle fighter unleashed a haymaker.
Emel saw the wild swing coming out of the corner of his eye. He had a split second to react and did the only thing he could. He pulled back, stomped on the booted foot of the Vale fighter, pouring in every bit of force possible.
He heard bones break, felt a whoosh of air as the haymaker swooshed past his head, followed immediately by anguished screams.
He put up his hands as Twin Isles came in swinging. "Enough. Enough. Surely this is nothing that a few mugs of ale can't settle?"
The big fighter found humor in the statement, laughing even as his comrade groaned and moaned. "I like you, little man," he said as he jabbed right and then left.
Emel handily avoided both punches. "You'd like me even better with a few mugs in you. I'm certain."
"Ha," the other said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Emel saw more movement. Guards were starting to push their way through the raucous crowd, using clubs to break up the fighting. Behind them were lines of cat patrollers.
He said, "Time to end this or we'll both end up in the King's dungeon."
Twin Isles came at Emel like an angry bull, intending to grab onto him much as the other fighter had, though from a different approach--one with his arms well out in front.
Emel tried to turn away but was unable to and soon found himself locked arm in arm with the other man.
At this point, the struggle became a contest of strength and he knew it wasn't something he could win against the big fighter without resorting to drastic measures. Still locked onto the other and pushing with all his might, he said, "If I submit, you win and this is over. Agreed?"
"Greetings from King Jarom Tyr'anth," the big man said as he glared.
Emel's thoughts turned instantly from ending the fight by submitting to ending the fight forever. He relaxed the grip of his left hand, even as he tightened his grip on the right. He thrust forward, his torso twisting so far his left shoulder dislocated with a resonant pop under the full strength of the other man.