“I’m not trying to insult you or Sandal or Dinah.” He gave the daughter a long look. “Uh, she’s as captivating as the sun, but I don’t think I’m ready to be a husband or help rule a kingdom, of any sort.”
“You need to think more before you speak.” Hercullon leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the table. “Any other man would be dancing on the table and kissing my ring. But not you. Offered the world and he turns his cheek.” He tossed his head back. “Ha!” He erupted in gusty laughter. “Ha ha hahahaha!”
The blood brothers shared a shrug.
Dyphestive caught a playful smile on Sandal and Dinah’s faces. He regained his wits. “This was a test, wasn’t it?”
Hercullon caught his breath, took a long drink, and held up a finger. He set the tankard down and wiped his eyes. “Your faces turned as pale as linen sheets. I didn’t know if you wanted to run or hide.” He reached over and slapped Dyphestive on the shoulder. “You are truly a good young lad. As I said, any other man would have jumped at the opportunity, but you didn’t.”
“So, you don’t want me to marry Dinah?”
Hercullon shrugged. “I like you, and my daughter does need to wed. Let us consider this to be the beginning of a beautiful courtship.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Perhaps you will come around after a long stay.”
The blood brothers were shown to ample, cozy new quarters inside the Culpepper Homestead. Dyphestive paced the room, with his fingers locked behind his head, while Grey Cloak made himself comfortable on the bed.
“You’ve really done it this time.” Grey Cloak smirked. “You’re going to be the new leader of Ice Vale, a frozen land that offers abundant snow and warm cider.” He flopped back in the bed. “Sheesh.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Dyphestive tossed a log in the fireplace and placed his hands on the hearth. “I told them I didn’t want to marry.”
“Yes, you did a fine job. You were so convincing, they gave us permanent room and board.”
Dyphestive had said everything he could think of to try to persuade the Culpeppers that he wasn’t the right man for the family. He’d spent the rest of the meal trying to convince them of it, but the Culpeppers wouldn’t take no for an answer. They made it perfectly clear that they thought he and Dinah were a perfect match, and Dinah made herself more than tempting. “What am I supposed to do?”
“The question is: What are we supposed to do?” Grey Cloak sat straight up. “Did you see Sandal’s sticky fingers? Her paws were all over me. If Hercullon saw her, he’d kill me.”
“No doubt he would. You need to keep your hands to yourself. It’s embarrassing.”
“Me? I was fighting her off. The more she drank, the more demanding she became.” Grey Cloak shook his head and flopped back onto the bed. “This isn’t good. I told you we should leave, but you wanted to be polite. Now look at what you got us into.”
“I know. But even you couldn’t have imagined this would happen.”
“I agree.” Streak lay at the foot of the bed. “Personally, I think you should marry her. After all, you could do a lot worse. She is gorgeous.”
“True enough,” Grey Cloak said. “But we’re still on the run. Lest we forget, Black Frost is still out there looking for us. The last thing we need to do is appear in a wedding.”
“Anvils!” Dyphestive hit the wooden mantel, knocking it down to the floor. “I didn’t even think about that. They’re chasing us—or a younger us—across Gapoli right now.”
Someone knocked at the door and entered. It was Lorry, escorted by two brute guards wearing loincloths and furs. They carried the Iron Sword and Rod of Weapons, along with the packs the brothers were given by the dwarf Hannibull. The guards quickly departed, and Lorry closed the door behind them.
“Your gear. I thought you would feel more secure with it in your possession.” Lorry slunk into the room and sat down on the second bed. “Your meeting with the Culpeppers went well. If it didn’t, you’d be swimming in the moat right now.”
“Isn’t that refreshing?” Dyphestive asked. “You knew about this, didn’t you Lorry? You could have warned us.”
“And lost my head? No, I work for the Culpeppers, not you.” The sly man crossed his legs and politely placed his hands on his knee. “You should be glad. Both of you. You have acted with honor, and the Culpeppers approve of your character. That’s a rare thing these days.”
“So, is this the announcement going through the township? Are they telling the people that Dinah is going to be married?” Dyphestive asked.
“The announcement was made that she has found a worthy man and a formidable champion,” Lorry said.
Dyphestive’s back straightened. “Champion? What do you mean by champion?”
7
“The Culpeppers are very persistent.” Lorry smoothed his slick black hair over. “You have proven to be a worthy son, a worthy heir. You are strong and formidable. You will be the new champion and battle in the barbarian contest.”
“He spoke seriously.” Grey Cloak laughed. “I thought that was a jest.”
“No, it’s a prestigious event.” Lorry produced a nail file and began working on his fingernails. “Hercullon has battled for the township for decades. He has singlehandedly kept the peace. Five years ago, he nearly lost his life in a close contest. He isn’t as strong or fast as he used to be, and the Wolves in the Rocks produce another champion every year, someone younger and stronger. They say their new champion is invincible. This year, they are chomping at the bit.”
Dyphestive looked Lorry dead in the eye. “What happened to the warriors Hercullon battled before?”
Lorry gave a puzzled look. “He killed them. The battle is to the death.”
“So, there’s more to it than meets the eye.” Dyphestive rubbed his jaw. “Why didn’t he ask?”
“Hercullon is no coward. He will fight if need be, but the future of Ice Vale is at stake.” Lorry blew the dust off his nails. “The contest is renowned in the north. Nobles and dignitaries come from the lands of Ugrad to watch. Even Riskers from Dark Mountain come out of respect.”
“Dark Mountain?” Grey Cloak asked.
“Riskers?” Dyphestive asked.
“Don’t be uneasy. The Culpepper family is in good standing with the forces of Dark Mountain. We are one of their top suppliers of steel.” Lorry stashed his nail file and rose. “I realize you have much to consider. I’ll bid you farewell.” Then he exited the room.
Grey Cloak shook his head. “It’s getting worse. I should have known it would get worse. Brother, we need to leave, and I mean now.”
Dyphestive approached the bay window and took in the full view of the peaceful city. He leaned his arms on the window frame. “I’d never have thought a place such as this would feed the slaughter caused by Black Frost.”
“Perhaps Hercullon isn’t the noble barbarian he pretends to be,” Grey Cloak said.
“I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t know what Black Frost does.”
“Oh, he does. He turns a blind eye to it. Most businessmen do.” Grey Cloak started stuffing his feet into his boots. He picked up the Rod of Weapons and stood by the window with his brother. “We have to go. Now.”
“You know we won’t be able to stroll out of here unnoticed. Perhaps we can convince them to let us leave. That would be safest.”
Grey Cloak shrugged. “Nothing is safe, and we can’t stand around and hope Black Frost’s minions don’t spot us. If they see us, we’ll be doomed.”
“Black Frost has thousands of minions. Chances are, whoever he sends won’t know anything about us.”
“What are you saying? You want us to ride this out? We can’t risk it. We need to find a way out now.”
Dyphestive nodded. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to Hercullon. In the meantime, you see what you can do.”
“Certainly.” Grey Cloak moved back to the bed and sat down. “I’ll think of something.”
“You’ll find
Hercullon in the training arena. Follow me,” Lorry told Dyphestive, who’d bumped into the ferret-faced man as soon as he’d exited his room. “Hercullon spends a great deal of time preparing for the battle. He is truly dedicated. He carries the world on his shoulders and cares a great deal about the township.”
“I see,” Dyphestive replied.
As they navigated the hallways, they passed many strapping guards with bare chests and loincloths. “Pardon me for saying, but you don’t fit in with the other barbarians.”
“No, that much is certain. But barbarian blood does run through my veins. I’m what they call a runt, like your dragon. My limbs are no stronger than a young woman’s, weaker perhaps, but I’ve managed to make myself useful.”
Lorry led Dyphestive down the steps to a lower level. They entered a vast rectangular training room. Racks of weapons lined the walls. Marked wooden targets stood at the ready for arrows and spears. Fiery urns spaced along the walls and in the corners gave the stone room a warm glow. Hercullon stood near the middle of the bloodstained floor.
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Lorry bowed and departed.
Hercullon worked a weighted club, too big for a normal soldier to handle. He spun it around his body like a jo stick. He was naked from the waist up, and the aging barbarian’s bulging biceps glistened. Sweat dripped from his brow, and the scars that decorated his body stood out red against his skin. He flipped the club over his shoulder and unleashed a roundhouse swing. His heel slipped on his own sweat. He twisted his knee and went down on his hip. “Aaaargh!”
Dyphestive hurried over and offered his hand.
Hercullon waved him away. “I don’t need help getting to my feet. It’s staying on them that’s a problem.” Using the club like a cane, he pushed himself up, put the club on his shoulder, and started to limp away. “As you can see, I have a bum leg. I’m not the barbarian I used to be.”
8
Dyphestive took a seat on a long stone bench beside Hercullon. “What happened?”
“The Wolves in the Rocks bring forth a new champion every year. I swear by my boots each new one is stronger than the last.” Hercullon unraveled the strips of cloth covering his calloused hands. He cracked his neck from side to side. “I’ve always had an edge that saw me through.”
Dyphestive caught the older man’s penetrating stare. “You’re a natural, aren’t you?”
“Aye, like you.”
Dyphestive nodded. He saw no sense in hiding what he was. Hercullon was a seasoned man, not a fool. Lying to him wouldn’t get Dyphestive anywhere. “Your leg didn’t heal?”
“Oh, I healed, but that had more to do with the barbarian in me than anything else. I’m not as extraordinary as others I’ve crossed. I’m as strong as an ox, and I can sniff out a trap, but I still age. In my last match, the brute nearly twisted my leg off. He drove a stone dagger deep into my knee, to boot.”
“There are weapons?”
“Of sorts. The contest takes place in a crude arena. Two barbarians enter, and only one comes out alive. It is our way.” A bucket sat on the end of the bench. Hercullon picked it up and drank from it. He handed it to Dyphestive. “Here, drink the melted snow of the mountains. It’s always fresh.”
Dyphestive found a kindred spirit in the brawny Hercullon. He drank and listened to the elder warrior talk about his people.
“I’m almost embarrassed to say, but I wasn’t raised by the barbarians.” Hercullon stared deep into a fiery urn. “The people of Ice Vale had been battling for centuries, warring off and on, fighting off barbarian raiders. During one of those skirmishes, I was captured. I was young then and became a Culpepper slave. I never would have thought it, but I found myself agreeing with their civilized ways. I became one of them. I became their champion. I’ve been that ever since.”
“Do you still have family in the Rocks?”
“Aye. We don’t speak. I don’t blame them. They feel I turned my back on them. Perhaps I did, but the truth is, I did what I did to keep the peace. It was the only way to keep them from killing themselves. Heh. It doesn’t sound very barbaric, does it?”
Dyphestive shrugged. “I haven’t met any barbarians aside from you.” He took another drink. “But I can’t fault a man for trying to keep the peace. That’s harder than fighting.”
“Ha! Agreed, Dyphestive. You are a wise young man.” Hercullon gave him a hearty slap on the back. “I have my brethren breathing down my neck on one side and the forces of Dark Mountain on the other. I’ve had my fair share of sleepless nights.”
“Which is worse?”
“What, the barbarians or Dark Mountain? The mountain, of course.” Hercullon spit. “It is to my shame that we melt the steel for those filthy dragon riders. That is how we survive. That is how we thrive. But the invisible walls will collapse one day. I can feel it in my bones. I see it in their eyes every time they look at me. One day, they will come to take what is ours. I can only hope we are ready.”
“And you think I’d want to take your place.” Dyphestive smiled. “Do I look crazy?”
Hercullon tossed his white mane back and let out a gusty laugh. “Tell me more about yourself. How did you come to be here?”
Hercullon had put him on the spot, and he didn’t know what to say at first. The situation was complicated. “Grey Cloak and I have been on our own for a very long time.”
“I’ve known men like you. Adventurers. But you’re naturals. Have you had another calling? Many are recruited to the mountain. Alas, the Sky Riders are gone.”
“Let’s just say we’ve managed to escape their notice.” He zeroed in on Hercullon’s last statement. “Did you say the Sky Riders are gone?”
“Aye. Black Frost’s brood boasts he swallowed them in flame, one and all, as well as the giants on Gunder Island.” Hercullon grumbled, “Or so those rat Riskers say.”
Dyphestive’s shoulders sagged. His stomach soured. He’d hoped they might be able to warn the Sky Riders, but it appeared they were too late.
“You look wounded, my friend,” Hercullon said. “Were you kin to the Sky Riders?”
“I’ve never been kin to anyone except Grey Cloak, but the news you shared is troubling.” He decided to pick Hercullon’s thoughts. “You seem sad as well. Did you know any Sky Riders?”
Hercullon nodded. “I did cross them in my travels. I was far younger then, like you. You meet a Sky Rider, you don’t forget them or their dragons. The world is worse off without them. But men can’t hang their heads and mourn. What we have to do, we have to do for ourselves.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “So, will you champion the contest for me?”
“Do I still have to marry your daughter?”
“If you don’t win, that won’t matter, but the choice would be yours. If you win for me and still do not wish to wed, you will still have bought me five more years to find a suitable heir. At least it would buy me time.” Hercullon gave him a serious look. “Dyphestive, I feel it only fair to warn you—the champion on the other side, he’s stronger than all the others I faced before him. He’s a natural too.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen him. They call him Mad Wolf the Berserker. He has every wolf in the hills chomping at the bit. I don’t fault their enthusiasm.”
Dyphestive stood. “Don’t worry about me.”
Hercullon couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. “You’ll fight, then?”
“I’ll do what I must to keep the peace.” He started to walk away. “Tell me, do you remember the name of the Sky Rider you met?”
“Aye.” Hercullon rose. “Olgstern Stronghair. He was the best.”
9
Grey Cloak was just about to leave his quarters when he ran into Sandal Culpepper, who met him outside his door. She wore a fur top that exposed her midriff, a long leather skirt, and fur boots. The older woman pushed him back inside and closed the door.
“Hello, Grey Cloak,” Sandal purred seductively. With an enticing look, she pushed him back toward the be
d. “I’m glad I found you alone. I wanted to speak with you.” She stroked his cheek with a warm, feathery touch. “Handsome elf.”
Zooks.
Grey Cloak slipped away from her and moved toward the door. “I was going to take a walk. Why don’t you join me?”
She barred the door with her body. “We can’t do that. If the servants saw us together, they would talk. That’s why I need to be with you alone. Sight unseen.” She seized his wrists in a strong grip then placed his hands on her waist and danced him backward. “Dance with me, Grey Cloak. You can dance, can’t you?”
His cheeks flushed. The sway of her hips and sweet perfume captivated his attention. His body began to melt into hers. “There isn’t any music,” he said in a dry voice.
“We will make our own music.” Sandal rested her head on his chest. “You’re strong. I can feel it. And you dance well. I know. I’ve danced all of my life.”
“Yes, you’re a good dancer. Wonderful.” He opted to be polite until he could fully understand what was happening. Sandal’s sensual, overbearing behavior caught him off guard. “Er, what did you want to talk about?”
With her cheek on his chest, she closed her eyes. “Pardon?”
“You said you wanted to talk about something?”
“Oh, yes. I’m lonely, Grey Cloak. I need a man like you, a young man, to understand me.”
He swallowed. “But you’re married.”
She sighed. “Have you ever been married, Grey Cloak?”
“Well, no, but I’m very young.”
“I know.” Sandal squeezed him. “I’ve been married a long time. It’s not the same as when we were young. I have needs. My husband is too old and too busy to meet them. He spends no time with me. No time at all. I need attention.”
It seemed odd that Sandal would be lonely with so many fit warriors guarding the homestead. A woman like her could have any man she wanted. “Sandal, why me? There are plenty of men, not that I condone it.”
Barbarian Backlash: Dragon Wars - Book 14 of 20: An Epic Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Adventure Series Page 3