One of the men lowered his sword and laughed. “We heard, that’s a nice voice you’ve got but not a song I’ve heard before,” he said.
Goldie looked at the company. Cleary a courier and his guards, with a spare horse, so they could maintain a good pace and always rest one. The main one was younger than his friend but clearly in charge, the other looked like he’d gotten by his whole life on the size of his body and willingness to follow others.
“You have four and thus, you could spare one,” he said.
“Four is the perfect number for our purpose,” the man said.
The other stepped forward, his mouth full of cooked meat and a very unintelligent face. He spoke around his food. “King’s business, fuck off.” He waved his sword at Goldie, trying to shoo him.
The other was more talkative and clearly bored with his current company.
“Ok but how about I stay, just for a bit, rest my legs for a spell and then I fuck off.”
The smaller and bored one just smiled. “Of course friend, just put your sword over there and that’s fine, we have some wine you can share”
“He could be dangerous,” the boy piped up, looking scared.
“So are we,” said the man. “No reason not to enjoy each other’s company. We were just going to play some cards, you any good,” the man asked Goldie.
Goldie almost laughed and just said a silent prayer to the lady. “No, I’m terrible but I’ve always wanted to learn.”
Chapter Twenty Three.
Seth woke early feeling fresh in spite of the mead he’d drank the night before. He’d sat up late talking with Snake Tongue as they sat by the fire in his Keep as the older man told him tale after tale of his own life. It was nice to be treated as his equal in a way he’d never been at the Keep, but then he was just one face in so many, still he’d admired the man, he’d taken the time to know his recruits by name and knew their parents and stories. He’d always said a man’s birth didn’t define him. Many of the Northern heroes had been simple people raised to greatness by their deeds alone.
Snake Tongue was there to wake him shaking him by the shoulder. “It’s time boy, get dressed and get your sword. I’ll wait for you outside,” he said and walked out.
Seth slid naked from the bed and quickly dressed himself. Snake Tongue had armor laid out for him and it was fine beyond words. It still looked like home but it was ancient and special. Seth slid into the underclothes and the heavy mail pants and shirt. A man from the shadows appeared to help him place the solid metal chest piece high around his throat. On the front was a bright crimson crest of Blood. Snake Tongues own armor, it fit well. Seth slide on the metal gauntlets which covered him to the wrist and the server buckled on his boots. Seth looked at himself in a viewing bronze and was amazed, he did look like the Druheim at least.
He walked from the room and tried to get used to the weight of the metal that clung tightly to his body. Snake Tongue smiled when he saw him. “That should help convince some,” he said and slapped him on the arm. The older man handed him the sword he’d gotten from the trader and Seth bending down the man slide it into the scabbard across his back.
Snake Tongue began to walk and Seth followed him, creaking slightly.
“Now I have no real idea of what you’re up against, except for old legends and tales passed down by people like me. As far as I can tell you’ll be fighting, justifying and proving.” He said.
“You’ll need to show you are the Druheim. You’ll be tested first in battle but that’s the easy part, next will come justifying, from what I gather they’ll stack up your crimes and ask for you to explain yourself.”
Seth thought back of what the unknown old man had shown him aboard The Opulent, he knew they would be harsh judges of his actions. He thought of the old rules and codes of his grandparents and knew he could expect that kind of harsh opinion. The very old North people had been against sex outside of marriage and before it, it led to too many killings and they didn’t have the boys to spare so they just married young and stayed that way. Even now he was at the age where he should be taking a wife. What he’d done with Seraphina would be a sin in many of their eyes. It mattered not that he actually care about her and spent every second minute worrying about where she was now and what trials she was undergoing.
“Third proving. I have no idea what that will be but I assumed it may be knowledge of the past heroes of the north, so I’ve taught you as best I can.”
Soon they had walked until they stood before a small wooden door that he knew lead to the wine cellar.
“You go through there,” he said.
“The wine cellar?” Seth asked.
Snake Tongue laughed. “No not the wine cellar,” he pushed Seth down the stairs gently. “Make us proud boy.”
Seth placed one metal boot after the other down the stone stairs towards the small door. He pushed it open and it swung wide. Inside all was darkness, it was like staring into another rift, that deep dark nothing that seemed to swallow the light and maybe that’s what it was. Taking a deep breath and drawing strength from his appearance if nothing else Seth stepped forward into the blackness.
He’d expected to open his eyes and be transported somewhere and almost laughed when the darkness continued. It was a terrifying feeling to be surrounded by total black. The door shut behind him and he was engulfed on all sides by the darkness, it spread out before him like an ocean. Seth put his hands in front of him but he knew there was nothing there, no objects, walls, wine racks. He wasn’t in that cellar even the ground felt wrong. It was soft as sand and not stone.
Gathering his courage Seth walked strongly ahead in the pitch dark, fighting the natural fear of shutting your eyes and walking headlong. He walked and walked and began to count his paces, by the time he got to one hundred his hearing had sharpened and he was hearing things. He thought he could hear faint cries and people taking. At one point he thought he heard Seraphina voice talking to some man about her fears. He pushed passed them and walked on. He hadn’t thought of her while he was here, he couldn’t he just hoped wherever she was she was ok.
As he walked and walked Seth saw a crack of light appear. He was filled with such relief. He saw it was the hatch of an even smaller door. He could hear a very real noise on the other side of it. Pushing the hatch it swung open in the middle like a tavern trapdoor and Seth climbed from it ungainly in his heavy armor.
Outside the sun was bright, it hit Seth eyes hard making them water. He looked around and tried not to shit his pants. He was in the middle of an massive arena. All around him was sand and then raising from it natural stone cliffs and ledges. He saw that a few assorted people sat and stood on them. Only ten or so, but very different from each other, some finely dressed others ragged, many different races of his land but all seemed to radiate with a power he could feel even from that distance. Seth walked further onto the sand and looked at the end of the arena. He saw a mouth in the cliff open, as the metal gates that shut it swung wide.
A lone man was walking slowly towards Seth. In his hands, Seth saw he held a rapier and dagger and he thanked Snake Tongue for the heavy armor. As the man walked Seth could hear a buzzing in his mind. He looked up at the watchers with pain. He could feel that were arguing with words that were beyond his hearing. It was just pain and emotion to him. With a rush of pain in his body, he felt it. So much of his strength starting to be ripped away, a feeling of hotness coursed through his body as they took every memory and skill he’d ever stolen from another. He felt them go one after the other and he was horrified at the sheer number of people that had fallen beneath his blade, how could one person have so many enemies.
He felt the weight of the armor and sword in his hands as the man approached, at least, he’d had his two weeks with Snake Tongue to regain what he once was, he held his large blade in place and waited, his own strength and skill the only ones left to him. Clearly they wanted to test what he was, not what he’d become.
As his opponent came
into focus Seth was shocked. It was the general himself, the catalyst of so much. Where would he be now if this man’s steward had never noticed him? Dead in that debt prison, working his debt off as a field hand or escaped back home living a simple life.
He was a sight. Seth had visions of this man in his prime, a young killer fine and strong now he puffed as he jogged slowly towards Seth. A fat belly hung over his pants and his hair had grey streaks. Still he was a much more skilled fighter than Seth.
The general stopped before him and Seth almost laughed. “Want to catch your breath? Really you’re the trial? Why did I even train?” he yelled.
“Never fear boy I’m twice the man you are and now your stolen gifts are gone, you’re just what you always were, a big dumb northern slave,” he spat.
Seth felt the rage fill him and he swung his massive sword down at the man with force. He neatly sidestepped the blade and thrusting with his rapier, hit Seth in the stomach with ease. The thin sharp blade glanced off the plate mail with a long scratching sound. Seth smiled as he thrust his elbow sidewards and hit the general in the face, knocking him from his stance. The man staggered and stood again, perfect form, even if he wasn’t in perfect form.
“You fucking cheat, nobles don’t wear armor like that,” he spat, he lunged again and score a deep cut to Seth’s arm. The thin blade slipping through the links of armor at his elbow. Seth yelled in fury and throwing down his sword leapt at the general. He felt another thrust glance off the plate as his neck and he was on him. Seth hit the man hard in the face with his plate metal fist, it cracked his teeth and lips. Seth let the blood lust have him as he hit the man again and again. He stood after a few moments, standing back from what he’d done. The general was dead, he’d killed him for the second time. Better trained, better educated, faster and much smarter. Still people wore armor for a reason, round one to the big dumb northern slave he thought, trying to find a sense of victory in his actions.
“But your dead again, you never should have bought me,” he said quietly to the body and walked to the sand and picked up his sword. He felt the buzzing in his mind again and the anger that floated through the air towards him. He couldn’t hear the watchers words but could feel their moods. Very dark, only one seemingly laughing. Clearly they expected a bit more style and class from their Druheim.
Seth wasn’t going to play with them anymore. He pointed his sword around the circle at the far off figures, there were an even ten of them.
He shouted. “Come on then? This is it, bring on the next one.”
At the end of the arena Seth saw it again, the cage door opened up and from it came the man Dirst and the four men Seth had killed in the room when he’d sent Seraphina into the dead world. Then he’d had a bow, the Wolvern and a lot more talent for this. Seth lowered his blade as they came. He could feel outrage from somewhere around him. The watchers were again arguing with each other, someone clearly not happy at the odds. Too quickly they were upon him.
The four stood back as Dirst came at him. The man said nothing but the look on his face was that of deep rage and pure focus. Seth had no idea what would become of the general now, if that was even him, just a guise or his soul. He didn’t care.
Dirst thrust his rapier at him, again aiming for the spots where he wore only chain mail. The broadsword was too long and heavy to fight a man like this. Seth held it the hilt in one hand and the blade in his other. His mailed hand would protect him. He used it like a bow, striking with both ends.
Seth dodged the thrust and lashed out with the pommel side of his sword. Dirst jumped back and ran his dagger uselessly across his Seth's knuckles as he retreated. Gods, he was glad for this armor. Dirst glowered at him.
“You’re a cheater,” he spat.
“You fight men who don’t have a tenth your training, that’s cheating too,” he spat back.
Seth snapped the sword point forward and Dirst dodged to the side. Seth lashed out with a headbutt but missed, the man was too quick. His dagger found Seth’s other elbow joint and sunk in deep. Seth screamed with pain as it ripped into his muscle and blood flowed from it. He almost dropped his grip on the sword and stepping back calmed himself. This idiot wanted to fight a Northman, he’d give them one. Taking the sword in its proper two handed hold Seth stepped back and took a huge sidewards swing at the man. He jumped back but Seth felt the air cutting from the blade. Following the swords momentum around Seth spun fast and brought it down in a long arc but not to the ground, he swung it again and again around his body and lashing out at Dirst each time it passed him.
Dirst was forced back and back from the blade it missing him each time, waiting for his moment to strike Seth’s chain mailed back. Seth knew he had him when he saw the faint smile on his face. As the blade came around for another swing Dirst jumped back again but just far enough. Seth released the grip of one hand, giving the blade another foot. The heavy sharp blade ripped his stomach open from hip to hip. Dirst fell back screaming, he grabbed his stomach trying to hold in his innards but was dead within seconds, hands wrapped around his own organs.
Then they were on him. Seth was glad for the momentum of the blade and kept it swinging around his body, his head snapping around and bringing it to any who would lunge in. This was what it was meant for. Many foes, keeping them at bay. No one having the strength to block it, only avoid and avoid. These men, at least, had proper swords if for one hand. Jumping forward on one swing Seth brought the blade down towards the first man. He raised his sword to block it and Seth’s own just forced it downwards at him as well. The man’s own blade entered his skull as Seth’s ripped into his shoulder. Knowing they would be at his back. Seth jumped into the man hard and rolled past his falling body, feeling the blades score light marks on his back.
He came up as two rushed at him, picking up the fallen man’s sword he tossed it at one catching him in the face. His friend turned to look in shock as he ran. Seth double stepped across the sand at him and entering his stomach deeply with his broadsword, killed him. The man fell backwards leaving only one.
The man looked around him at all the carnage. Seth was in another place, he saw not a man with a face and features, only a sword, shoulder movements, directions of attack. The man lowered his head and ran at Seth. Seth blocked his swinging blade with his own, but the man was faster than he and he had his own short sword back again faster and slashed at Seth exposed face, the blade cut his check deeply and Seth cried out falling back, blood flowing from the wound and spattering his armor. The man was on him in a moment and grinned in Seth’s face. He placed his boot on Seth's chest and raised his blade above his face. “This is for the general you piece of shit,” he said.
The man leant forward and thrust down hard with his blade but his metal boot slipped on Seth’s blood covered chest plate. He lost his balance and fell backwards hard. Seth turned his head to the side to watch as the man fell backwards in the sand, his own sword flew up from his hand, spun in the air almost perfectly and landed point first deep in his own stomach. He died with a look of complete bewilderment that Seth shared.
Seth stood slowly, covered in blood but victorious. His cheek was still dripping blood and he placed his hand to it to try to stanch it. What the hell was that? He thought. That was some of the truly worst luck he’d ever seen. Looking at the watcher he saw one clearly. A woman with a long white dress, pitch black hair tied back neatly, bowed to him, he thought he could see the glimpse of a devious smile glinting back at him. Around him he felt the moods, he’d clearly impressed some with the battle but all seemed to be directing scorn at the lady who somehow had helped him.
Seth decided to get the focus off her.
“Anyone else?” he yelled, barely able to stand.
In response he saw them one by one file away, they wandered back into the shadows of the viewing stones and were soon gone. With the last being the lady and one old man who hit his hand to his chest and gave him the salute of the warrior. At the end of the arena the door opened
and Seth knew no more were coming. He began limping towards his next challenge, hoping there would be a chance to sleep first.
Chapter Twenty Four.
Renfra sat in the desert sands and let them think they had him. His hands were tied roughly tied behind his back, with some coarse rope which rubbed his skin raw. They kept bows raised at him and told him they would use them quickly if he said anything that seemed like a chant. The one Grimm had drawn a circle in the sand around himself and Renfra could feel the power of it. Clearly this man was very dangerous, he looked at him and marked his face, it would be easy to remember.
The black woman stood before him with a sword pointed at his face, she kept pressing it against his cheek which had started to bleed. He knew he could break these ropes and escape, his lord had given him the strength but he had the feeling a direct bow shot would still stop him.
“So this is the part where you torture me until I tell you my plans,” he said simply. They looked at him blankly as he spoke in Pellosi. The Northman Grimm spoke his words in the desert tongue for them. It was strange to watch the light dancing words come from his mouth, Northern was such a harsh tongue, they sounded angry all the time. Pass me the mead sounded like pass me the mead or I’ll kill you.
Renfra laughed at him. “You speak their dirt tongue? I have a feeling we should be chasing you not this riffraff,” he said.
Grimm just smiled. from his circle “You’re welcome to try,” he said back in perfect Pellosi. Who was this man? He wondered if it might be the one Seth but he was meant to be younger and also dead.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m just what you hate, someone acting above their station, now shut up and answer her questions,” Grimm said.
The black woman, who wore the white patch, which he knew meant she was their leader, spoke to the Northman and he translated. Renfra was surprised and scared by her question.
“Tell us about your god, who is he and what does he want,” he asked.
Take My Heart...: Dark Ages - Fantasy (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 3) Page 11