"Not really." Valr Magnus looked up as the barmaid wound her way toward him. "I just wanted to get to know the man who's going to send me to Valhalla. Assuming he wins, of course."
Calistin found his rage giving way to confusion. He had envisioned his meeting with Valr Magnus many times, and it never went anything like this. In his mind, the Northman immediately assaulted him as soon as he pronounced his name and tribe. "Oh, I'll win," he mumbled as the barmaid set down the mug by Magnus' right hand.
"Thank you," Magnus said, waving the barmaid away.
She hesitated a moment, as if to say something, then scurried off in silence.
"Very well, then," Magnus said, without a trace of fear. "Any messages you want me to take your mother?"
Calistin's eyes narrowed, and he studied the man in front of him, seeking offense in his question. The mere mention of the mother Magnus had killed suggested flippancy and intent to rattle.Yet, Calistin realized, in one question the Aeri had essentially decreed Kevral a courageous warrior and Calistin the better swordsman.
When Calistin gave no reply, Magnus turned his attention to Treysind, eating and drinking with gusto. "What's your name, young man?"
Treysind waved a hand. "Oh, ya kin call me 'boy.' It don't 'fend me like it do him." He swallowed a wad of food so huge, Calistin could see it go down his neck. "Name's Treysind."
A few moments passed in silence before Valr finally said. "Is that your whole name?"
"Yep." Even though he continued talking, Treysind stuffed more mutton into his mouth. "I's a orphan, so's I ain't got no Nobody's son ta tack on there. Don't know whose son I is, acshly. An' I ain't got no title or tribe or nothin' neither."
"You're not Renshai?"
"Hel, no." Treysind said it with an enthusiasm that surprised Calistin, given how much Treysind wanted to become his brother. "An' as Hero says it, I wiel' a saword 'bout as good as a cat do." He held up grimy hands with bits of mutton stuck to them. "Paws, appar'ntly."
Magnus took a sip of his ale. "I suppose it's reasonable for me to assure you that, if you lose the battle, I'll make sure no one harms your friend."
Calistin had not even considered Treysind's welfare; and, in light of Colbey's recent words, that bothered him. He tried to attribute the lapse to courage. "That's not necessary, since I'm not going to lose. Not to you."
"Probably not," Magnus did not lapse into false bravado, though he demonstrated no fear either. "But even the greatest of warriors makes a mistake sometime. And that mistake is usually his last."
Calistin appreciated the implication that he was, in fact, the greatest. "I don't make mistakes."
Magnus smiled. "Well, whatever your possible errors, you certainly don't suffer from a surfeit of humility."
Calistin was not entirely sure whether or not he faced an insult. "False modesty is not a virtue."
"Nor pride," Magnus added. "Be that as it may, aren't you going to eat your dinner?"
The plate beckoned but, thus far, Calistin had managed to resist. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To face me slowed by a bellyful of meat."
Valr Magnus clamped his jaw, obviously biting back his own irritation. "Not at all. Nor slowed by starvation. I want to find Valhalla in the most magnificent battle of my life. I want to love every minute of my existence as Einherjar. I don't want to spend years or decades waiting for you to join me so I can finally face you at your best. And if I won? What joy or pride can come from defeating an opponent not at his best? Then, when I finally joined you in Valhalla, would it be to find you stewing in bitterness? I think not."
Calistin could barely believe what he was hearing. "It didn't seem to bother you any that your people cheated so you could murder my mother."
For the first time since he had joined them at the table, Valr Magnus lost his suave composure. He simply stared at Calistin, his features pinched, an artery throbbing at his temple. "What," he finally managed, "are you talking about?"
"The man who jumped on her. Surely you noticed."
Magnus moved nothing but his mouth. "You mean the Erythanian spectator who slipped and fell? He could just as easily have landed on me."
"But he didn't, did he?"
"Dumb luck." Magnus ran a finger through the condensation on his mug. "Many a misstep, many a falling branch, even the weather has turned the tide of battle."
"Yes," Calistin agreed. "But this wasn't a natural phenomenon, was it? This was the work of a man."
"I would say the 'misfortune' of a man."
"And I would say the deliberate action of a hired cheater."
"That's a strong accusation." Magnus' jaw remained clenched after speaking. "One that begs proof."
Calistin closed his eyes, trusting his other senses implicitly to warn him of danger. He could still vividly picture the scene on the Fields of Wrath. He opened his eyes before speaking, "I saw the man in the tree, the only one in the tree. That Erythanian did not fall; he leaped with intention and deliberate aim."
"Forgive me if I seem unreasonable. I just don't believe my own people would practice such trickery nor demonstrate such little faith in me." Magnus met Calistin's gaze directly, his pale eyes full of honest wonder. "It's not uncommon for the losing side of any battle to see fouls where they do not exist, to call them even when they don't see them."
Calistin leaned toward his rival, holding his gaze with as much intensity as he could muster. He tried to emulate Colbey's dire stare and hoped he had inherited the necessary color and power. The mountain-hard gray tinting the standard Northern blue eyes seemed to make all the difference. "I am trained to notice everything. I can see the potential in any warrior just by studying the layout of his muscles, can evaluate his training in a single move. That Erythanian was an arrow well-timed and trained. His fall was no accident."
Valr Magnus did not quail beneath Calistin's stare, but he did back down with a deep sigh. "Calistin, I can tell you're sincere. You believe every word you spoke-"
Calistin did not wait for a "but." It would enrage him, and he did not want to start their battle inside a tavern. It could never lead to the fair one-on-one fight he needed. "I believe because it's true." He leaned in further, straddling his food with his arms. The intoxicating aroma of the mutton filled his nose. "I'm not a deluded child rushing in to defend his mama. I'm a man, older than I look, a competent warrior who has won many battles, in and out of real warfare."
"Yes, but-"
Calistin continued over the Aeri. He needed to finish. "I'm considered not only the best of the best when it comes to combat but also when it comes to teaching the most capable warriors in all the world. These eyes…" He raised his brows and fully opened his lids, "… miss nothing."
"But that Erythanian, they explored his history. And there was nothing-"
"Of course not. That deceit was well-planned and executed. It had to be." Calistin saw the uncertainty on Valr Magnus' face and knew he had scored an important victory, one that, for once, had little to do with swords and combat. "And you had to know-"
Treysind placed a hand on Calistin's leg in clear warning.
Valr Magnus seemed to emerge from his trance, and his considered look turned angry. "If you're accusing me-I most certainly didn't-I bested a Renshai in single combat." He started to stand. "I did it with honor and integrity. Don't impugn my-"
Treysind jumped in to rescue his hero again. "He's jus' sayin' ya had ta know he's got good seein', not ya had ta know 'bout tha trick."
"Oh," The Aeri dropped back into his seat. "I thought you were going to accuse me of having a hand in deceit or of knowing about it in advance."
It was exactly what Calistin had been about to say, but he was smart enough to take the reprieve Treysind had won him. The truth was, he no longer believed his intended accusation was right. "Of course not. No warrior brave enough to face the best of the Renshai, twice now, would sully his courage by trickery. The gods would never have such a man in Valhalla."
Valr Magnus sat back with a guard
ed smile, arms crossed over his chest. They were a warrior's arms, strong and sinewy but not bound by muscle. He had that rare, near-perfect build that left his abilities nearly limitless. Calistin would pay money for a class of students exactly like Magnus, at least in figure. "Calistin, if you give me some time, I can find answers to your accusations. If I discover that we bested your people by trickery, I will do whatever is in my power to lift their exile or, at the very least, base the future of the Renshai on a truly fair fight. Or we can have that battle now and let the details fall where they may. I leave the choice, Calistin Kevralsson Ra-khirsson, entirely up to you and will abide by whatever decision you make."
Calistin knew what he wanted. He had not come so far, had not inflicted his rage on the best warriors of the West, to wait.
A hand fell to Calistin's shoulder. For an instant, he imagined it was Colbey's, reminding him of his need to act in ways that affected the history of the entire world, not just of himself. Killing Valr Magnus, while infinitely satisfying, would not save the Renshai from their plight. But the fingers belonged only to Treysind, the touch a silent gesture of warning and support. "I-," Calistin started, unable to finish, torn between right and need. "I want-" He knew exactly what he wanted and doubted he could suppress it. Other words would not flow from his tongue.
The door to the tavern banged open suddenly, sucking the smoke and warmth from the room. An army stood in the doorway, bristling with weaponry and dressed in matching colors: aqua and bronze.
Calistin's heart raced with excitement. Only one possibility occurred to him: they had discovered that a Renshai sat among them and had come to do battle, a hundred or more to one. And, he realized, he relished the challenge.
Valr Magnus sprang to his feet. "What's wrong, Olvirn?"
The leader of the mass blinked in the hazy light. "It's Bearn. Pirates are overtaking the coast en masse, and King Griff has asked for every army, every warrior the world can muster."
Calistin sprang to attention. His heart rate quickened still further, galloping like hoofbeats in his chest.
"I'm coming," Valr promised, then looked at Calistin. "If I can bring my… friend. He may not look like much, but he's the best swordsman I know."
Calistin had no choice but to nod, their feud forgotten for the moment. If the West's high kingdom fell, the rest of the world would surely follow. He had at least as big a stake in the outcome of that war as any of the gathered Northmen.
The army retreated from the doorway, and Valr Magnus looked at Calistin. "I'll insist they put you under my direct command."
Calistin glared. "I won't obey you."
"Nor anyone else, I don't imagine." Valr Magnus headed for the door. "You'll infuriate any Northern commander; but, at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that, when it's all over, we'll battle one-on-one to the death."
Choiceless, even in his own mind, Calistin followed in silence.
And Treysind dutifully trailed his hero.
CHAPTER 39
Bearn's kings have followed their hearts through eternity and are acclaimed for their wisdom.
-Tem'aree'ay Donnev'ra Amal-yah Krish-anda Mal-satorian
It seemed to Saviar Ra-khirsson that they might just as well have met with the Mages of Myrcide smeared in filth and reeking of creek water for all the good his arguments did them. Again and again, he presented his points, using different words, different tones, his most eloquent pleadings. Jeremilan and the others only shook their heads sadly. Saviar could have achieved the same results by shouting at the mountains.
Saviar sighed, rolling his gaze over the craggy walls, the strange, one-sided windows, and the twenty-six adult mages ranged on various pieces of furniture. He sought out and found Subikahn leaning casually against the wall. The twin only shook his dark head sadly. He had nothing to add. Chymmerlee crouched in front of the group, facing Saviar, her hands clenched and held to her lips.
Saviar tried again. "You're not understanding the gravity of this situation."
Jeremilan spoke politely, with only a hint of impatience. "I believe we are."
"If Bearn falls…"
"If," Jeremilan repeated. "Bearn is very strong and has many allies."
"Deservedly so." Saviar tried to make a new point where the others had failed. "Despite its position as high kingdom, Bearn grants great freedom of rulership, of worship, of usage to all the Western countries beneath her. Her king is fair, her decisions just, her taxes minimal."
Jeremilan did not argue. "Yes."
"If Bearn falls," Saviar started again, this time not pausing to allow interruption, "our lives are essentially, quite possibly literally, over."
"We don't know that," Jeremilan said.
Saviar would not succumb to such a weak argument. "It's true the future is unknown, but only a dolt blinds himself to its clear predictions. So far, we know that the enemy wishes only to kill us, that they make no other demands and slaughter those who even attempt to parley. To assume a bright future in the face of that knowledge is idiocy of the highest order."
A murmur swept the room. Young Saviar had not quite called their centuries-old leader a fool. Twice.
"Careful," Subikahn mouthed.
Jeremilan rose, clutching the arm of his plush chair with one withered hand. "Are you suggesting we're stupid if we don't follow your advice?"
"I'm only saying…" Though glad he had finally riled his audience, Saviar chose his words with care. He did not want their new enthusiasm to end in magic cast at himself. "… that Bearn needs us. And that you stand to lose your very lives if you don't assist her."
"And if we do assist?" Jeremilan's voice remained strong despite his age. "We will all survive?"
"I… can't promise that," Saviar admitted.
"In fact," Jeremilan pressed his advantage. "We are certain to lose at least a few lives in battle, especially when the enemy realizes we're the source of any magic."
"We can protect you." Now that Jeremilan had, at least, imagined the possibility of helping, Saviar could not afford to back down. "We will keep your casualties to a minimum."
"The two of you?"
"What? No. All of us. All of Bearn's allies would certainly-"
"Would they?"
Again, the question caught Saviar off guard. It seemed perfectly obvious to him.
"Because people tend to revile things they don't understand. In Shadimar's day, people shunned, despised, or pretended to be mages. The Renshai saw our strangeness as reason enough to annihilate us."
Saviar threw up his hands, wondering if the mages would benefit from younger leadership. "That was a long time ago. Things have changed."
"Have they?"
"Of course. Centuries cannot pass without progress. Swords have become sharper, stronger, cheaper. Food storage techniques have advanced to the point where a king can keep a shed of meat safely through the winter, preventing starvation anywhere in his kingdom. Horses are larger, sturdier. They can travel longer distances. Elves, elves live among us. So very, very much has changed."
"But not basic human nature."
Saviar rolled his eyes. "Even what you call basic human nature."
"Is that so?" Jeremilan started to pace, and the others respectfully gave him a path. "There are no wars?"
"Well…" Saviar could hardly deny them, given what he was asking the mages to do.
"Northern tribes no longer squabble over territory? Countries no longer need borders? Nationalities no longer exist because Easterners, Westerners, and Northmen breed freely together?"
Saviar did not see the purpose in this argument. "You can take anything to its extreme-"
"And where are these elves you spoke of? Why can't you use their magic?"
"Hopefully, someone close to the elves will convince them to come also."
"Why does someone have to convince them?" Jeremilan stopped to face Saviar directly. "Don't they walk freely among you?"
"Well, no," Saviar was forced to admit. "But they could if they
wished to. Elves are… well, elves.They're capricious and unfocused, the very definition of chaos. They've lived reclusive lives for as long as the world has existed. That doesn't change in a decade."
"Are you certain humans didn't drive them to seclusion?"
"No!" Saviar did not have time to divulge the entire history of the elfin race coming to live on Midgard. At one time, the elves had tried to slaughter the humans, whom they believed responsible for the destruction of Alfheim. Later, they had seen elfin/human hybrids as the answer to their ever-shrinking population. "In fact, the king of Bearn married one, and one of the Bernian princesses is half-elfin."
"True as that may be…"
It irked Saviar that Jeremilan left the possibility open that he was lying.
"… the reasons elves gave for going underground may have been phrased self-protectively. If they stated they were hiding from humans, the humans might see them as enemies and actively hunt them down."
Saviar made a disgusted noise. "You have a wondrous knack for seeing the worst in everything, sir. No great civilization was ever built on pessimism."
"True." Jeremilan smiled. "But the man who sees the worst in everything rarely walks into danger."
"Only because he never walks into anything."
Jeremilan clearly did not see that as the insult Saviar intended. The old man merely smiled. "We have survived as long as we have because we remain secluded, like elves. No one knows we exist, and we wish to keep it that way. I have lived through the rise, fall, and destruction of many Northern tribes, including the one that tried to utterly destroy the mages."
Saviar hesitated, at first thinking that Myrcide had survived two attempted massacres.Then it occurred to him that Jeremilan referred to the Renshai, that the elder did not realize the tribe had refash ioned itself and returned, much the way the Myrcidians had. Saviar saw no reason to correct that misconception now. It might goad him to break his promise to his brother. "You've remained safe because humans who had no knowledge of magic and elves would have no reason to seek you. These invaders, however-"
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