Lorgen’s face turned red with anger, while behind him, Nedo was shouting something at his father that I couldn’t make out with all the raised voices around us. Three-Fingers pressed his sword harder against my neck as he leaned closer to me, his breath smelling like rotting meat. “I should spill your blood right now, whelp,” he hissed.
Einhard wrapped his strong hand around Lorgen’s wrist. “Save it for the challenge, Three-Fingers. His death is assured, but it must be done in accordance with the law.”
I smiled at the Amenti chieftain as he reluctantly sheathed his sword. “Don’t worry, old man,” I said as Lorgen turned on his heels. Three-Fingers paused at my insult, his shoulders stiff with anger. “You’ll get your chance to kill me. As soon as I’ve dealt with your Blood Guard, I’m coming for you.”
Not long after that, I found myself standing alone with Einhard in his tent. The moment the tent flap closed, the blond man was on me, sweeping me up in one of those crushing embraces that I recalled so well. “You figured it out!” Einhard said. He lifted me off the ground, laughing as he shook me. “I wasn’t sure if you would understand.”
“Would you mind putting me down?” I managed to say. Einhard might be older, but it seemed to me, if anything, the Pith was even stronger than I remembered.
Einhard set me down, still chuckling. He stepped back as he studied my face. “You’ve gotten older,” he said.
I grinned. “Which means so have you.”
Einhard laughed as he looked me up and down. “Not just older, but bigger too. Much bigger.” His face turned serious. “I never really believed you opened those gates, you know.”
“Never?” I asked.
Einhard turned and poured some wine into several tins, handing me one. “Well, maybe a little at first. I was bitter after our defeat at the pass, so yes, I’m ashamed to admit that I did think bad things about you and Jebido and Baine.” He paused then to drink. “By the way, how are they? Do they still live?”
I nodded and hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Alive and well and waiting in Gasterny for me.”
Einhard chuckled. “So, all three of you back where it all started.” He shook his head. “How the Master toys with us mere mortals. You can only laugh at His sense of humor. Either that or spend your days weeping about it.”
I shifted the tin in my hands uncomfortably, not in the least bit thirsty. “Einhard, as much as I have missed you and want to catch up with you, I do have five men outside that need killing first. Perhaps we could talk about that?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Einhard said with a wave of his hand. He set his tin down on a bench behind him. “How much do you know about the challenge?”
I shrugged. “Only that I must face the Blood Guards first and that there will be no rest for me in between each bout.”
“That’s right,” Einhard agreed. “Three-Fingers can decide on the order of the combatants, but you, as the challenger, get your choice of weapons.”
“For each battle?”
“Yes,” Einhard said with a nod. He took a moment to open the tent flap and look outside before he let it fall back into place. “We still have time. I recommend you change weapons after every fight. It won’t help much, but at least you’ll get a chance to catch your breath. Delay things as long as you can.”
“The men that I’m fighting,” I said. “Can you—”
“I can and I will,” Einhard said. “My guess is Lorgen will send his Sword against you first. He knows he won’t get to torture you now, which I imagine must be eating away at his insides. So, since he won’t get to see you suffer the way that he thought, I expect he’ll send his best against you first in hopes the challenge ends quickly. The Sword’s name is Umar the Bleak. He’s as unlikeable a bastard as you’re likely to meet, but a master with the sword. I’m sure you can beat him, but it would take a long time, and you would undoubtedly be dealing with a wound or two afterward. You can’t afford that. Lorgen will expect you to use your sword, so I recommend you fight him hand to hand. He’s big and strong, but so are you. Just don’t let him get his hands on you.”
I nodded, remembering my battle with Hervi Desh. He had been big and strong too, and most likely a more experienced fighter hand to hand than this Umar the Bleak, but I had beaten him anyway.
“Once you kill Umar,” Einhard said. “Lorgen will probably send out the Eye. His name is Yaar the Windy.” Einhard paused at the look on my face. “His farts are legendary,” he explained. “It’s said they are so loud it can even drown out thunder.” I grinned as Einhard continued, “Yaar is a crafty little bastard, fast and deadly with either a war hammer or an axe. But the man is only passable with a longsword, so he should be easy pickings for you.”
“All right,” I said. “Who’s next?”
“The Ear, Manek the Quiet,” Einhard said. “He’s the oldest man you’ll face today, but don’t let that fool you. He’s still got plenty of strength left, and he’s as deadly as they come. The good news for you is he’s not as fast as he used to be, so he shouldn’t give you any trouble.” Einhard glanced at my father’s axe strapped to my back. “I’m pleased to see you still have that. Use it against Manek.”
I nodded. “And the last one?” I asked.
“The Shield,” Einhard said with a sigh. “His name is Dace the Fearless.” Einhard looked at me appraisingly. “Knowing Lorgen, he’ll keep Dace for last, just in case you manage to get that far. Dace is big and stupid, but he’s also mean and knows no fear. He will be a formidable opponent.”
“What are his weaknesses?” I asked.
Einhard frowned, then he shrugged. “There aren’t any.”
“Wonderful,” I muttered. “Any suggestions on how I fight him then?”
Einhard smiled. “I would recommend carefully.”
“Thanks a lot,” I muttered. “And what about Lorgen? How do I fight him?”
“Shield and sword, strength against strength,” Einhard said immediately. “Lorgen was a mighty warrior once, but his time in the sun is coming to a close, and you are just the man to send him into the darkness.” We both looked up as someone scratched on the canvas from outside. “It’s time to go,” Einhard grunted.
“One last thing,” I said. “What happens after I win?”
Einhard paused. “What do you mean?”
“What happens to my men inside Gasterny after I win this thing?”
Einhard smiled, his green eye twinkling as he pulled aside the tent flap. “After you win this challenge, my dear friend, your king will surrender the garrison to me. If he does not, then I will kill everyone inside just like I promised I would.”
16: The Blood Guard
We stepped outside into bright sunlight, with a persistent breeze whistling around us that swayed the tips of the trees back and forth in the forest behind Einhard’s tent. Piths on foot and horseback were massed all along the riverbank and to the west, encircling the cleared area where the challenge was to take place. Colorful banners of mixed reds, yellows, blues, and greens flew from lances, announcing the various tribes that had come north with Einhard. I recognized the Hardees stag banner, as well as the soaring hawk of the Lemisk, the charging bull of the Cimbrati, and the serpent banner of the Ralisin. There were others amongst the massed army that I didn’t know as well—a three-headed boar, a pouncing wolf, and a strange sea creature with a spiked tail. But for every one of those banners, hundreds more depicted the rearing bear of the Amenti or the fire-breathing dragon of the Peshwin.
Einhard and I walked to the center of the clearing where Lorgen Three-Fingers and his four Blood Guard awaited us. Lorgen looked furious, though his baleful glare was fixed on Einhard, not on me for a change. The burn scars from the Ascension Ceremony weeks ago could still be seen in the grasses, though rich green shoots were already working hard to eradicate them.
“You set this entire thing up!” Lorgen shouted, pointing at Einhard as we approached. “This was your idea all along, not the whelp’s!”
&n
bsp; Einhard and I paused in front of the Amenti chieftain and the Sword smiled that dangerous smile of his. “I can’t imagine what you mean, Three-Fingers,” he said innocently.
I ignored the two men as they cut back and forth at each other with words, focusing instead on the Blood Guard. I recognized Umar the Bleak immediately. He was the biggest of the four men, and he had been the one who had carried the parlay branch for Lorgen Three-Fingers. An older warrior with long grey hair and a grey beard twisted into three points would be Manek the Quiet, I guessed. Beside him stood a small man with fine scars crisscrossing his face. He had several war hammers and axes in his belt, and I assumed he was Yaar the Windy.
The last man would be Dace the Fearless. He was almost as big as Umar, with long brown hair pleated down his back like a twisted horsetail. Dace just stared back at me blankly when he saw my gaze on him. He wore a cloak of bear fur around his shoulders, making him look even bigger, and he was moving impatiently from foot to foot, as though eager to get on with killing something. The dark pits of his eyes studied me emotionlessly, showing not even the slightest hint of humanity in them. I knew instinctively that Einhard was right. Of the four, Dace would be by far the most dangerous. I turned my attention back to what Einhard and Lorgen Three-Fingers were saying.
“You spoke with the whelp in your tent!” Lorgen said hotly as spittle flew from his mouth. “I want to know why?”
“We were catching up on old times,” Einhard said with a shrug. “I already told you that. Besides, what does it matter what we talked about in there?”
“It matters,” Lorgen growled, “because I think you’re lying to me. I think you told this bastard how to fight against my men.”
“Now, why would I want to do that?” Einhard asked. “We are both on the same side, aren’t we?” The Sword paused as he cocked his head to one side. “Or are we? I mean, you have openly defied our queen more than once in the last few months. I have even heard rumors that you covet the crown for yourself.”
“That’s a lie,” Lorgen snarled in protest, though I could see the guilt clearly in his eyes.
“Is it?” Einhard asked. “Did she not specifically order you to raid only and not attack in force until the Pathfinders had read the captives’ blood properly? Of course she did. Yet you went against her orders for your own selfish reasons, which could have put the rest of us in jeopardy. So, now that I think about it, maybe I am starting to wonder if we really are on the same side.”
Lorgen pointed at me, his eyes filled with rage. “That bastard gelded my son! What was I supposed to do?” The Amenti chieftain held his clenched fist up. “I had their king in my hand, Einhard. My plan to draw him here was a good one, and you know it.”
“Yes, you did have their king,” Einhard said dryly. “And then you let a few hundred Ganders snatch him right out from under your nose and take control of the garrison.” Einhard gestured to Gasterny. “A building we already controlled. Now we have to lose valuable warriors to get it back. Warriors we will need. If you hadn’t been so negligent and had left men to guard that garrison, none of this would have happened in the first place. So I suggest you put the blame for this where it belongs, on your shoulders.”
Lorgen Three-Fingers scowled darkly. “Then, if we must go ahead with this farce, I reserve the right to choose weapons.”
“No,” Einhard said without hesitating. “As the challenged, you set the order of your fighters, nothing more.”
Lorgen cursed. “But you told him what—”
“That will be enough!” Einhard snapped. “My patience with you is running thin, Lorgen. All of this is your doing, not mine, so accept that fact and get on with it.”
Lorgen Three-Fingers took a deep breath, glancing at me once before finally nodding. “Very well, Einhard,” he said bitterly. He started to turn away, then came back to stand in front of me. “But my men will not be wearing any armor,” he said with a sneer. “So, if your pet Gander here has any honor at all, he will do the same.”
“That will be his choice,” Einhard said, though I noticed he gave me a worried look.
Lorgen smirked at me, his eyes alight with challenge. “What’s it going to be, whelp?”
“Will you also be without armor when I face you?” I asked, holding his eyes. “Or is that just for men who are your betters?”
Lorgen’s face flushed, while beside me, I could sense Einhard grinning. “You’ll never get close to me, whelp,” Lorgen Three-Fingers snarled. “My men will take you apart one piece at a time, and when they’re done, I’ll feast on your brains and shit you out the next morning.”
“You do have a way with words,” I said with mock admiration. “But you didn’t answer my question. Will you be wearing armor when I kill you?”
“It won’t happen, whelp,” Lorgen snapped, looking irritated now. “But if it makes your knees stop knocking, then yes, I agree I won't wear armor either.” He grinned. “My son and I are looking forward to this. Nedo wants your balls. I think he plans on hanging them off his saddle.”
Lorgen turned then and strode stiffly away while Einhard and I shared a look. “You know what they’re going to try to do, don’t you?” Einhard said.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Then make sure you stay away from the bastards,” Einhard said under his breath. “Good luck,” he added as he made his way toward the center of the clearing. He raised his arms, waiting until the massed Piths began to quiet down. “Today,” Einhard shouted. “We recognize the right of Hadrack of the Peshwin to a Tribal Challenge. As is the custom, Lorgen Three-Fingers, chieftain of the Amenti, will now present his first Blood Guard.” Einhard had said to expect Umar the Bleak, but instead, Yaar the Windy stepped forward. He was wearing only a simple tunic now, with his hands free of weapons. If Einhard was surprised, he gave no sign of it as he looked to me. “As the challenger, Hadrack of the Peshwin will now choose his weapon of choice.”
“Swords only,” I said as I unsheathed my axe, then began to strip off my armor and mail.
“I’ll hold that for you,” I heard someone say. I turned to see Saldor behind me, indicating my father’s axe that I’d balanced against my leg. I paused, then nodded and handed him the weapon. “It’s beautiful,” he said, running his fingers along the carved figures with appreciation.
“I was hoping you had survived,” I told him as I undressed. I looked at him sideways. “You’re too good a man to be with the Amenti, Saldor. You should join with Einhard when this is all over.”
Saldor grinned. “I might just do that,” he said. He lifted the axe to me in salute. “Strength to you, Hadrack of the Peshwin, and may the Master look down on you with favor.”
“The Tribal Challenge will begin now!” Einhard shouted, motioning Saldor away as he stepped backward, leaving only Yaar and me in the clearing. “It will not end until either the challenger or the challenged are dead.”
Yaar the Windy came at me then, moving fast like a pouncing cat as he jabbed a short sword no longer than my forearm at my gut. His choice of weapon caught me completely by surprise, and I retreated under his furious onslaught as he continued to stab and slash, trying to get past my guard. I had said swords, but I hadn’t specified anything beyond that, so Yaar was well within his rights to use the smaller weapon. I just didn’t understand why.
The little man was blazing fast, dancing forward and back, and side to side as I worked feverishly to fend off his attacks. He always remained just out of my reach, and as my frustration grew with each miss of my sword, I began to grasp why he’d chosen the smaller weapon. I couldn’t hope to match his speed with my bulkier, heavier blade, which Yaar had clearly known, and all I was doing was wearing myself down for nothing. I decided to wait the warrior out, planting myself in the center of the clearing while the smaller man circled me warily. Finally, when the Pith realized that I wasn’t going to chase him any longer, he started a series of lightning-like feints, jumping toward me, then spinning away as I slashed at empty air. Yaar
grinned his scarred face at me each time I missed, calling me slow and stupid like a blind, pregnant cow. I tried not to let his goading get to me, telling myself to fight this battle my way, but with every failure to make contact, I could feel Yaar’s words of scorn gnawing away even more at my insides.
“Come on, you big stupid ox,” Yaar said, coaxing me with his hand as I missed him by a wide margin once again. “Surely you can do better than this? I’m right here. All you have to do is catch me.”
I roared, having had more than enough of the other man’s taunting. I abandoned my earlier strategy and charged, swinging Wolf’s Head left, then right as I descended on him, hoping to catch the little man as he dodged to either side. But Yaar anticipated me, and he dropped to the ground, rolling easily away. I tried to stomp in his grinning face with my boot as he twisted past me, but he was much too fast. Yaar nimbly rose to his feet and he chuckled, then motioned for me to try again. I knew the Pith could do this all day if he had to, which he seemed more than willing to do. With four more men waiting to fight me, I didn’t have that luxury. I needed to put the smug little bastard down right now.
I returned to the center of the clearing, catching my breath as I studied my opponent. Piths were pressed in all around us, arguing and shouting as bets were being doubled and tripled by the minute. Find his pattern, I told myself, trying to drown out all the noise as I concentrated. The answer lies there, somewhere. I started to advance on the Pith slowly, forcing him to retreat and only reacting to his feints defensively. I watched the lithe movements of his feet through hooded eyes, not wanting to give away my intent. Yaar took a step back, then a second and a third before he skipped to his left three steps. Then two steps to the right, followed by a feint, fast and straight for my midsection before leaping away. I swung Wolf’s Head clumsily, expecting to miss, but needing to keep up appearances. I even cursed in frustration, which drew a scornful laugh. Then the Pith moved in a similar pattern a second time, then a third before I was sure. I had him.
The Wolf At War Page 23