"Two dozen and him unarmed if the giant is the demon that he says he is," another added.
"Silence!" Capian ordered once again. The councilmember looked steadily at Gerid and asked, "How can you prove yourself?"
"I will fulfill whatever is reasonable,
Councilmember Capian, and perhaps even that which is unreasonable. I have been blessed by the gods to be unbeatable in battle; if that is the way you judge things here. Set your best fighters before me and I will lay them back down again."
"Fine. In one hour, Captain Salazar will bring you to the duelers' field. You will face any who wish to test themselves against you, up to twenty men. You may face them as many at a time as you wish, but you must defeat them all and I would prefer they be left alive to fight another day. This is your test after all, not theirs."
"Bah, you are too soft on our people sometimes, Capian," Jurgmich complained from beside the man.
The giant pirate glared at the stony voiced man, "I kill when its necessary and prefer it to be the enemy. Perhaps you would like to test me, Jurgmich, when the giant's test is over?" The much smaller man quickly shook his head and the one eye looked to Gerid again. "You have one hour. Eat, sleep, or do whatever you wish to prepare but you will be at the field unarmed and prepared to defend yourself in one hour."
The sun stood nearly at its peak shining through the steamy air of the warm island city. Not for the first time would Gerid consider the previous day's storm a thorn in his side. Losing his ship had been bad enough, but now the constantly oppressive heat and humidity would play a factor in a duel that would hardly be easy. He had fought enough pirates at sea to realize that there were excellent soldiers and warriors making up their breed and these would undoubtedly be the cream of the crop, unless, of course, they doubted he could beat their worst in the numbers that they would undoubtedly throw at him.
The man had spent most of the hour allotted him to eat and prepare in other ways aboard the Patahk. Gerid had informed a stunned Jahkob of the day's events as well so the man would be aware of the chance of Gerid's death in the upcoming challenges. The sailor then tried to talk him out of the idea.
Gerid went to the galley to eat a bit of fish and bread which he washed down with a pint of ale, all the while Jahkob, Janus and even Sardya tried to talk some sense into him about canceling the fight.
Finally as the allotted hour neared its end, Gerid turned to them and said, "Enough. Sardya, you were to be my guide to this dueler's field. Are you going to lead me as you promised? You all knew enough of my plans to know that this might have to happen. I am not afraid, so not one of you should be either. So, Sardya?"
The woman sighed and moved to reach into a trunk that had been placed on the deck, apparently at the captain's request because Gerid had not seen it there earlier. Opening the trunk, Sardya pulled out a pair of large metal plates. "Well, at least take these then." At his upraised eyebrows, she explained, "These are bracers. You have assuredly heard of them even if you have not seen them before. They are just barely legal under your contest's rules. They are not weapons and yet not quite armor either. They can be lashed to your wrists and are strong enough to deflect a typical sword blow. I thought that you could use them though I doubt that they'll make much of a difference in saving your life when it comes down to the full battling you'll be facing on the field."
They had left the Patahk and started up onto the shore when Jahkob suddenly ran up to Gerid and his guide. "Admiral, look."
Following the finger pointing down the beach where they had first washed ashore, he spied what had brought the sailor and Janus running, but he still had to hurry to the dueler's field for his battle. Sailing between two of the pirate's warships was a much smaller and completely beaten looking Trotter. The storm had broken one of the main masts completely in the night. The second had only broken in half. A jury rigged temporary mast standing half the height of the originals served as the only set of sails moving the ship.
He nodded, "Good. Some of the crew must have survived." Then Gerid turned and walked up the street towards the city. Captain Salazar had to nearly jog to catch up to his longer steady strides. There was no time for him to wait for the crippled ship to judge the damage or casualties. If he didn't attend his duties now, neither their commander nor they would ever leave Quardic except as slaves.
Sardya slipped several questioning glances at the giant as they proceeded up the main road dodging people and drawn carts on their way to the field, but they were to the doors of a large barnlike building and going inside, still silent, without a single question asked or answered and then it was too late. They were separated by a pair of burly pirates dressed in black armor with gold, foil highlights on shoulders and chest. The men said nothing, but rather gestured to the far doorway that admitted a view of sunlight and a dusty field surrounded by the rest of the building's walls.
Gerid re-evaluated his opinion of the building as he stepped into a surprisingly large, arena-like, open-tothe-air field. The construction from outside did resemble a barn but within it was much like the arena in Tristan. Bleachers lined all sides of the building and pirates by the hundreds sat upon them in eager anticipation of the fight that they figured to be his death match.
Boos came from the crowd at his entry, though they were scattered. The pirates for the most part were forced to have respect for the giant who would fight against impossible odds. Laughter and talking in general cut off only seconds after his being put into position. When Capian's voice rang out, he simply turned his head to stare at the man. A box hung above the main crowd on the northern wall of the arena. In it sat the council and Capian stood before its rail.
"I understand the unusual requirements of this test. If you wish to forebear dying in it, I will accept your refusal now."
Gerid merely shook his head and the crowd drowned out any words he might have thought to say as they cheered his courage. Capian nodded to either side of the field and a stream of men entered from their gates. Ten exited from each. Big burly men, scarred veterans, and men smaller but with a dangerous look in their eyes all entered to face Gerid. There would be no quarter given from these and he had to believe that they had indeed sent their best for only Capian and the council had a look that seemed more fierce than these twenty before him.
"How many will you fight at once, Admiral Aramathea?" Capian asked loudly though not a voice had cheered in the entry of their champions. It was like everyone had held their breaths collectively. The odds were more one-sided than anyone had guessed, Gerid thought.
The giant gave his answer promptly even as he took in each man's appearance. "Ten in the first wave, they can join as each man falls individually or as a group for all I care."
The crowd cheered their approval. A man of such reckless abandon would surely give them a show, even if he was a dead man. The men surrounding him didn't even blink as Gerid stood unmoving in their midst.
Capian nodded from his perch and shouted one last time, "Then begin!"
Every other man stepped carefully forward to approach him from the pirate ranks. "Who will be the first to cut you and who will be your slayer?" one scarred man asked casually, with a sneer seemingly etched into his mouth.
"I want his head as a trophy," one from behind him answered with a laugh.
"You are brave but foolish, admiral," the one with the sneer continued. "We are the best. Some of us have been looking for you on the sea to test ourselves for months now."
"And now I am here," Gerid shifted his stance to eye as many of the men as possible. "But you will be glad that the rules don't include your deaths as you would have found on the sea. Now let us dance, gentlemen."
A rustle of cloth and the whistle of air as the first man sought his back with a spear alerted Gerid to the battle beginning. He whirled and spun on his right foot. Catching the spear in one hand from one of the smaller men, Gerid wrenched the weapon from the surprised pirate's hands. Continuing his motion, the pirate flew up and over the heads of the opposing li
ne of his fellow pirates.
Gerid had no time to worry over whether that was all for the man or not. He had a weapon now and others to deal with. Whirling the ten foot spear like a quarter staff, Gerid moved to meet attack after attack in a split second. Blades were turned. Spearheads deflected and only the dull head of a mace found an opening. To that, Gerid caught it in the crook of his arm and shrugged it free of its owner.
The heavy metal weapon landed at his feet and Gerid brought the shaft of the spearhead down atop one pirate's head. A sickening crack could be heard over the din of men struggling to get to him. The pirate sank like a stone onto the field.
"Get his arms," one man gasped from behind him.
"Stab him," another shouted beside him.
Spinning on one heal, the spear held before him, Gerid cleared a little space momentarily and sent another man stumbling away holding his ribs. Lunging forward, he brought the shaft down on another man's sword hand before it sprang up to catch him under the chin. The pirate fell back onto his rump holding his chin and blood trickled from between his lips.
Curses could be heard from further off as the waiting line of pirates realized that several of their number could be replaced already. Gerid dimly noticed the reinforcements coming to seal the holes in the circle, even as his spear took another man across the temple dazing him and sending him toppling away.
The second wave of men roared their challenge and they all rushed him as one. One pirate as large as Gerid brought his sword down mightily onto his spear shaft splitting it into two. Shifting his grip, Gerid met the attack using the two halves as clubs. One, two, three, four. The makeshift clubs caught the man driving him away, but not down.
Gerid's boot caught the mace handle and flipped the shaft up to grasp the end easily. The pointed end of his spear dropped from his hand only to be replaced by the much heavier mace. Catching a sword blade on its end as it slashed at his chest, the metal of the slim blade shattered easily. He raised his other arm and caught a blade to send it caroming off his bracer.
The man with the broken sword slid away to get another weapon, but Gerid had no time to worry over him. Another man with a spear tried to impale him with its steel tip. Twisting, Gerid deflected the drive with his right bracer and, finishing his twist, brought the shaft of the mace hammering into the side of the man's head.
This was taking too long, Gerid thought wearily. Though he was glad that he didn't have to kill anyone for once, Gerid couldn't help longing for the quick ending his giant axe would have given him here. Never ceasing his defensive measures, the giant labored to reduce the number of his attackers without killing them.
Blades caught his shirt on sleeve and chest. Few found his skin, however, as the giant kept slipping between the attacks to return hits for misses. A spear found its way to his side before the mace brought the man down with a thudding blow. A club caught the side of his head, but his thick skull merely let him know the pains of a missed block and he continued to deal out punishments to the men assaulting him.
Suddenly, the men broke off their attack. Gerid was breathing heavily now. Even his stamina could be taxed by such a prolonged workout. The commander quickly added up their numbers, all looking tired and bruised as he must as well by now. Seven. The odds were evening as men littered the ground around them. Those fallen all were breathing even if they were unconscious. He could assume that they would live though their headaches would be long if Turas was fair.
The men all looked at the giant in their midst warily. One man's arm looked broken, but his other hand held a sword ready to renew the attack. More than one limped or winced as they moved. As the men waited, Gerid started to smile. The delay was giving him time to recover his strength even as they tried to gain theirs, but his energy could replenish itself in minutes given the time.
The pirates seemed to realize their predicament enough to begin circling at one of the scarred veteran’s gestures. He spoke, though his voice rasped from need of a drink after the battle and the dust in the air, "You do fight well, giant. I see how you came to be an admiral, but don't think that you can survive this. It has become personal now. Prepare to die."
Gerid grinned and then began to chuckle. His laughter only seemed to anger the men more. As one, they leapt to confront him from all sides. Whirling into a kneeling stance while knocking aside many of their attacks, he then countered by launching up again into a pair of pirates immediately before him. Both fists, clenching his weapons, connected with chins. Both men had their eyes rolled back before they hit the ground. A sword drove into Gerid's back near his side wound. Blood was flowing from the two wounds freely now, but he knew that they would heal soon enough.
He reached behind him and caught the arm holding the sword. Pulling the man forward, the giant sent the man into a flip as his elbow slammed the man's head back again. Gerid turned and there were four. The men all jumped back in fear. It was time, he thought.
The men were daunted but their courage held for one last attack. Deflecting all but the spearman's attack away from him, Gerid allowed the spear to pierce his chest. The pain was not as great as in the past, though he dropped to his knees with it even so. The spearman could not free his weapon. It was driven too deep. The other three men tried to finish him off as their fear dictated. Gerid caught their attacks on his bracers and flipped away two of them with tugs of their legs.
Two still stood. Gerid dropped both weapons to grab them in their shock at his rising. Both heads met with a crack before they toppled to the ground. The juggernaut turned to the other men just rising again. The spear jutting from chest he simply wrenched it out with a sickening splorch of blood and flesh.
One man turned white and staggered away weakly. A second later, the man lost his lunch. The other man held his ground, the scarred veteran who had led the final charge.
It took several seconds before Gerid could breathe again and when he did, the giant let out a roar that sent the veteran reeling back in fear.
"By the gods, what are you?" the man asked weakly, but still held his sword defiantly.
Gerid's eyes blazed with the anger that the pain always brought with it. He grated through clenched teeth, "Some would call me the Avatar of Turas and some say Turas himself though I don't agree. What I do is bring down any who stand before me. I do not lose. I do not die. Drop your weapon and join me and you will all have what I have promised!" He finished as his voice continued to escalate. The crowd seemed to be holding its breath once again. The man could almost sense their fear.
The pirate before him sheathed his weapon and nodded. "I do not know why I believe that you are anything but a demon let loose upon us. Maybe it is because you treat everyone with honor. You fight and avoid killing those who are less than dust to you.
"Maybe you are a god. Maybe not. But I will gladly pledge myself to you and your quest."
Gerid nodded and asked, "And what is your name?"
"Xamec Murdon, the captain of the warship Daybreak."
Turning back to face the council box, the giant shouted, "I have passed your test. You can send more if you want. As I said once before, I would rather have you as allies, but I could still slay your men until you give in. Can we avoid such measures?"
Capian stood calm as stone. "You have passed the test. We will join you as Xamec has already agreed. Please wash up and come to my home. I am sure that you are hungry and I do feed my guests well, I am told."
Gerid nodded and turned to go back through the gates he had entered. As he walked, Xamec fell in beside him. A pair of the black armored pirates gestured towards a newly opened room where Gerid could see steam from a bath already beginning to billow out towards him.
A bath would do him good now that this task was all but done, he thought.
Chapter 42- Finishing Blow
The men were all awake before dawn. The previous night's raid was still fully on all their minds. The gargoyles and assassins had not been fully successful, but the damage had been done and an al
ready faltering group of golem wizards had been reduced by more than half.
Terris had no men to lead in particular or prepare for the upcoming battle that everyone knew was coming, so all he could do was peek in on General Falack and the other leaders of the combined armies of Sileoth and Maris. He found them arguing with who should lead whom and to where. The men fought amongst
themselves so often that Terris often wondered how they could have survived against Merrick's invasion for so long.
Iylin, as Sergeant of the Black Guard, was there as well and was the first to notice and greet the former king and general. "Good morn, Lord Terris," the young man stated loudly enough for the men to turn their heads to the tent opening.
"Good morn, Iylin, gentlemen. I see that things proceed slowly. We haven't long before Merrick's forces attack now. Will we be ready?"
The general of Sileoth's second legion stared angrily at his former enemy as did the man's aides. Even forced to work together, the natural animosity for the rivals was still evident and, knowing that Terris would support Falack before him, it seemed unlikely to disappear soon. "We'll be ready. Why are you here anyway?"
"My dear Helton, I am here to help as always. I only came to see if there was anything else that I could do. I've seen that preparations for some of my ideas have already been implemented, so that leaves me free to come visit you."
The general glowered even more fiercely before turning away to mutter to his men. Terris fought the natural emotion that would cause him to shake his head. Such a gesture would serve to have one of the man's aides take offense for him. A needless act that had best be avoided by wiser heads when more pressing matters were at hand.
Instead, he turned his attention back to the men from Maris. "How do you think we will fare today?"
"Much as you, I would guess," Falack answered glumly. "I just received a report that nearly five thousand horse arrived. It's a joint venture between Staron and Marshallan lancers and light cavalry from what my spies tell me. Another legion of footmen is about a league away and may be here by the end of the day, if we last that long."
The High King: A Tale of Alus Page 44
