by Sara Bell
"That's the way of it, I'm afraid.” This time, Elwin sounded truly sorry. “My only choices are to either charge you both and allow a court of nobility to reason it out, or to let the both of you go."
"Begging your pardon, Highness,” Gareth said, “but I've conceived of a better way to test the mettles of Denmar and myself."
"I'm not getting any younger, boy,” Ruan said. “Tell us your plan and have done with it."
"Very well.” Gareth took a deep, sustaining breath. “As soon as we leave this chamber, ‘tis my intention to challenge Denmar with a fight to the death."
Chapter Sixteen
"Are you out of your mind?” Tristam whirled on Gareth, his eyes alight with outrage and the sure belief that Gareth had lost his wits. “You can't think to fight that scum."
"Of course I can.” Gareth had expected Tristam's reaction, and he was prepared for it. “You once said Denmar would be a fool to face me sword for sword. ‘Tis a fight I can win, Tristam."
"In a fair fight, perhaps, but you've seen for yourself that Denmar has no respect for the rules.” Tristam turned pleading eyes to the High King. “You can't allow this challenge to proceed, Highness."
"And just why can't he?” Ruan regarded Tristam with a surly frown. “The church has long ordered priests in question to undertake physical trials to prove their innocence or guilt. Why shouldn't warriors be put through the same ordeals?"
For his part, Elwin didn't seem to be listening to either of them. Watching Alric with eyes that missed nothing, he said, “And what say you, Alric?"
Rather than answering the king, Alric looked to Gareth. “You've been planning this all along, haven't you? ‘Twas what you meant when you said one way or another Denmar would soon pose me no threat."
"It was.” Gareth wasn't about to lie to him, not now. “If Denmar accepts this challenge, ‘twill be with one condition: no matter the outcome of our battle, he must forever surrender any claim on you and drop his vendetta against the houses of Drystan and Kray."
"If you believe Denmar will abide by your terms,” Tristam said, “then you're crazier than first I thought."
"Denmar will conform to the terms, all right.” Ruan spoke up again, and Gareth was surprised to find in the man an ally. “I may be old, but I vow I'll live long enough to see that Denmar will keep his word to stay away from young Alric, here, should Gareth lose the challenge."
"'Tis old women's speak, this talk of losing.” Elwin came around the table, not stopping until he was standing directly in front of Gareth. “Are you certain this is the course you wish to take? You've still the option of dropping your charge against Denmar and waiting for more evidence to surface against the varlet."
Gareth shook his head. “I've had enough of waiting. ‘Tis high time Denmar met with justice for all the evil he's spread through this kingdom."
Elwin seemed well pleased with the answer. “Then I shall meet with Denmar and deliver to him your challenge personally."
Ruan protested. “'Tis a servant's job you take upon yourself, Elwin."
Elwin shrugged. “Perhaps, but I long to see the look on the blackguard's face when I lay out Gareth's terms.” Elwin turned to go, only to stop midway and look back at Gareth. “Should Denmar accept, the challenge will begin at first light tomorrow morning. I'm expecting you to win."
Gareth's only answer was a softly spoken, “So am I."
Ruan said nothing after that, choosing only to follow Elwin out, thus leaving the four of them alone.
Still stewing over Gareth's decision, Tristam turned on Finn, who up until that moment had chosen to remain silent and was still seated in his chair. “What say you of this, Finneas? Any grand visions or prophecies you'd like to bestow on us?"
Ignoring Tristam's sarcasm, Finn stood and then took three slow steps to where Gareth and Alric were standing.
"I see nothing save for the brave warrior standing before me.” Finn tapped his right fist against his chest in a show of respect. “Creator keep you tomorrow, King Gareth.” With no more than that, Finn left.
"That's it? ‘Creator keep you'?” Tristam eyed Finn's retreating back with disgust. “The man has the power of foresight at his command and all he has to say is, ‘Creator keep you?'” Tristam tossed his hands in the air. “I'm surrounded by fools, the lot of you.” He, too, turned to go, but Gareth stayed him with a hand to the shoulder.
"I must do this, Tristam. ‘Tis the only way we'll ever truly be free of Denmar."
"And if you die, what then?” Tristam didn't turn back to face him, but Gareth could feel Tristam's fear beneath his hand.
Gareth had only one answer. “Then Drystan will be safe."
"And I'll have lost both my brothers.” Tristam cleared his throat and shrugged out from beneath Gareth's hand. “Excuse me if I consider that too high a price to pay, even for my kingdom.” This time when Tristam made to leave, Gareth didn't try to stop him.
Instead, he watched Tristam go with a heavy heart. Long after the doors had closed behind him, Gareth stood, aching for Tristam, for himself, and for the unknown outcome of tomorrow.
"He loves you, Gareth."
Gareth looked to Alric with troubled eyes. “So do you, and you aren't trying to stop me."
"Only because I know this is something you have to do.” Alric gave him a sad smile. “I'm not saying I like it, but I know you well enough to know you'll not rest until you've Denmar's head mounted on your wall.” He exhaled a long, slow breath. “My only regret is that I'm not the one in position to challenge the vile scourge."
"It had to be me, Alric. I'm the one Denmar placed his charges against."
"I know that.” Alric held out his hand. “Come. Let us retire to our chamber and await word of Denmar's acceptance. The sooner you finish this, the sooner we can get on with our life together."
Gareth wanted that with every fiber of his being, but he had to be certain Alric understood the risks, as well. “There's always a chance—"
Alric cut him off by pressing that same outstretched hand to Gareth's lips. “No, there isn't. If Denmar takes you up on this, you will win the day.” Alric's eyes bored into his. “There is no other option. Not for either of us."
* * * *
It seemed to Gareth as if an eternity passed before a solid knock sounded on the door of their chamber. He cast a quick look at Alric before rising from his chair to answer the summons.
Gareth was certain it was Elwin, come to give him Denmar's answer. Swallowing down the mixture of anticipation and dread warring in his stomach, he opened the door wide and got a sweet-smelling, silver-eyed surprise as Glenna of Hume rushed in and engulfed him in a fierce hug.
"Oh, but it's good to see you again,” she said as she squeezed him with a great deal of strength for someone her size. No longer hampered by a bulging belly, Glenna was able to get close enough to whisper in Gareth's ear.
"Has that brother of mine been taking care of you?"
Before Gareth could answer, Alric pulled Glenna away from Gareth and into his own arms. “What are you doing here? And where are Stefan and the babe?"
"With their nurse in the guest quarters.” It was Rowan who answered as he stepped through the still-open door and gave first Gareth and then Alric each a hearty slap on the back. “And as to what we're doing here, Alric, you'll have to ask your husband's brother."
Gareth's eyes widened. “Nadar?"
"Not that brother,” Tristam said, coming in behind Rowan. He tapped one thumb against his own chest. “This one."
"You summoned them here?” Gareth was shocked. “When?"
"You aren't the only one who sent out missives the day you were ordered to come here to Banning.” Tristam shrugged. “Let us just say I thought it a good idea to have as many people backing you as possible.” He shouldered his way past Rowan, coming to a stop just on the other side of Gareth. “You should know that I called Balthazar from Kray, also. He arrived just moments ago and is being housed with the king's personal physi
cian. Quite an honor, or so I understand it."
As Alric took Glenna and Rowan into the sitting room on the other side of the bedchamber, Gareth questioned Tristam further. “Why would you call Balthazar? I've no need for a healer."
"I thought perhaps he could testify as to the effects of the tisrocaine powder and of the probability that ‘twas the same substance that killed Declan. I was hoping Balthazar's testimony would strengthen our case against Denmar.” Tristam sighed. “Of course, I had no idea at the time you were planning on matching swords with the scoundrel or I wouldn't have bothered."
"Tristam—"
"Your words are wasted on me, Gareth. I understand why you're doing this, but I still say there are other ways to see that justice is served.” Tristam shook his head. “Not that it matters now. I've just come from a meeting with the High King."
Gareth narrowed his eyes. “You went to talk him out of allowing the challenge."
"For all the good it did me, yes.” Tristam snorted. “Elwin's as hard-headed as you are, it seems. At any rate, he informed me right fast that Denmar has accepted your terms and will meet you on the lists at first light."
As soon as Tristam made the pronouncement, Gareth's pulse quickened and his ears rang with the humming excitement of impending battle.
After that, the evening passed in a blur for him. Glenna and Rowan regaled them with stories of their new daughter, Helene, and afterwards Glenna and Alric spent a private moment in shared mourning for their father. Gareth was too focused on thoughts of the coming fight to be anything other than distantly aware of what was going on around him. That, and he was busy studying Alric's face, memorizing every beloved angle and line.
For all his bravado about killing Denmar with his bare hands, Gareth was too seasoned a warrior to ignore the risks. Tomorrow could just as easily mark his end as Denmar's, and if that were the case, Gareth wanted Alric's image emblazoned on his mind as he made his way into the afterlife.
* * * *
Dawn came sooner than he would have thought, and though neither he nor Alric had slept, Gareth felt strangely refreshed. After the others had left, Gareth had spent long hours in Alric's arms, enjoying the solace and comfort of his husband's body. Now, regardless of the outcome, Gareth felt himself ready for the coming challenge.
Elwin's men arrived with the rising sun to escort him to the lists. Alric was allowed to walk with him as far as the stands, but the lead guard stopped him just short of the arena.
Casting an apologetic glance in Alric's direction, the man said, “I'm sorry, Sire, but from here he must go on alone."
Alric's only answer was a tight nod. Turning to face Gareth, Alric took Gareth's hand and pressed it against his own heart before leaning forward to give Gareth's mouth a soft brush with his lips. A silent acknowledgment of love and understanding passed between them, and then one of the guards led Alric away.
"If you'll follow me, Sire, I'll take you in.” The leader of the guards opened a side gate in the rough timber fence surrounding the arena and then led Gareth inside.
The lists were bigger than they'd seemed upon first glance. A wide, grassless field, the arena was ringed on two sides by high stands where row after row of gaily dressed spectators were already seated. On the left, in front of the seats reserved for nobility, were established an array of vendors selling everything from sweetmeat pies to cold, thirst quenching draughts of ale. To the right was the jousting area: two long, even treks of ground divided by rows of short fencing.
It was the middle of the field that most caught Gareth's attention—a rounded expanse of hard-packed earth surrounded by a low fence with tented bays on either end. Elwin's men led Gareth to the southern bay, where, to Gareth's surprise, Wycaster was waiting for him.
Gareth greeted him with raised brows. “What are you doing here?"
Wycaster pointed to a low table where Gareth's sword and armor lay. “I came to ready you."
Gareth dismissed the guards before turning back to Wycaster. “I assumed a squire would see to the chore."
"Trust a squire with a task this important?” Wycaster sniffed. “Not likely.” He motioned for Gareth to raise his arms and then eased the mail hauberk over his head. Wycaster then reached for his gloves, but Gareth shook his head.
"I can't fight as well with those things on. Best to leave them off."
Wycaster nodded and then helped Gareth strap on his sheath. He was just about to slide in Gareth's sword when a voice behind them said, “Stop right there."
Gareth turned to find Nadar standing at the outer entrance to the bay, a sword in his hand. Hefting the instrument higher for Gareth to better see it, he said, “I thought perhaps you'd have better luck with this weapon than your own.” Nadar glanced at the sword Wycaster was holding. “These appear to be about the same size, so you should have no trouble making the switch."
When Gareth made no move to take it, Nadar took two steps forward and pressed the blade into Gareth's hands. “See for yourself.” It wasn't until Gareth had wrapped his fingers around it that he realized what he was holding.
"Father's sword.” Gareth traced the carvings on the golden hilt with his thumb before lifting his eyes back up to Nadar's face. “Why?"
"Like I said, I thought ‘twould bring you an extra dose of fortune. I've carried it with me since the day father died, and ne'er has it failed when once I lifted it against an enemy.” Seeing Gareth's hesitation, Nadar shrugged. “If you'd rather not use it..."
He grabbed for the hilt, but Gareth pulled it out of his reach.
"You know I do. I'm just surprised, is all.” Gareth slid the sword carefully into his sheath. “I wasn't expecting you to even be here, Nadar."
"You wound me, brother.” Nadar adopted an expression of mock hurt. “I'll have you know I left Vale the moment I received King Tristam's message."
Tristam. Gareth should have known. Still, Nadar had made the choice to respond, and Gareth wanted his brother to know how grateful he was. He was just about to tell him so, when Nadar pulled a stack of banded papers from the pouch at his belt.
"I've something else for you, as well. The sword is only to borrow, but this, you may keep.” He came around the other side of Wycaster and laid the papers on the table.
Gareth eyed the bundle with suspicion. “What's that?"
"Your birthright. I find owning Lachlan doesn't suit me, after all.” Nadar made a dismissive gesture with his hands. “What need I with another holding when I've work aplenty running Vale?"
Gareth couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You realize that with Lachlan back in my hands—"
"Your place as Jarric's son is once again acknowledged.” Nadar came to stand in front of him so that the two of them were eye to eye. “I know what I'm doing. You swore to me you have no designs on Vale, and for the first time, I'm taking you at your word.” The sincerity of his speech was interrupted by a wide yawn. “Unspeakable hour for a challenge.” He clapped Gareth on the shoulder before making his way past him. “Grant me a boon and take Denmar's head off quick so I can be back abed."
"Nadar?"
Nadar stopped and turned back to face him. “Yes?"
"Thank you.” Gareth caressed the hilt of his father's sword. “For this, and all the rest."
"You can thank me by cleaning every speck of Denmar's foul blood off the blade ere you give it back to me.” Again Nadar turned to go but stopped just shy of leaving. “Sonya and Ellyce are waiting in the guest chambers. They'll want to see you as soon as this fight is over. I expect you to stay safe for their sakes."
Gareth nodded and then watched his brother go, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “It seems miracles do indeed happen when least you expect them."
Before Wycaster could answer, the throbbing wail of a trumpet sounded in the distance. “'Tis time, Sire.” Wycaster reached for Gareth's helmet, seating it firmly atop his head before grabbing the shield from the table and strapping it to Gareth's left arm.
Stepp
ing back, Wycaster said, “I'll not wish you luck, my king."
"No?"
Wycaster shook his head. “You've skill enough to vanquish Denmar without relying on the twists of fortune."
"I pray you're right, but either way, I want you sitting in the stands, guarding Alric's back with your life. Denmar is not above trickery, even at this late hour.” Gareth adjusted the fit of the shield until it took on a comfortable feel. “I'll take no chances with Alric's safety until Denmar is rotting in the ground."
"As you say, so it shall be done, Sire.” Wycaster clapped his arm to his heart before leaving to do Gareth's bidding.
Gareth stood alone in the bay and waited.
To his relief, the wait was a short one. Another blast rang from the trumpet, and then the loud voice of the High King's herald sounded through the lists.
"Hear ye, all citizens and guests of Banning. You are hence forth called to witness a test of skills between Gareth, King and Consort of Kray, and Lucien, Lord Denmar.” Another blast was blown. “Combatants, step to the center of the arena."
With purposeful, even strides Gareth made his way out of the bay and into the open. To his left, he saw Elwin and his entourage, sitting high in the center box of the stands. At Elwin's right sat a pale Alric, who was flanked by Glenna and Rowan. Tristam sat in front of them, with Finneas sitting directly behind Alric. Gareth's eyes darted to the top of the stands where Wycaster was perched, guarding Alric as promised.
Assured that Alric was in good hands, Gareth continued his slow trek to the center of the arena. Denmar, with his helmet in his hands, met Gareth midway, a nauseating smile curving his lips.
"A death challenge?” Denmar laughed as he secured the helmet on top of his head. “I have to hand it to you, Gareth, you have more courage than I gave you credit for."
"'Tis you who'll need the courage, Denmar.” Gareth stretched forth his folded hand, knuckles out in a chivalrous display.