Adham and Tejay looked at each other questioningly, before Adham turned to Damin with a cheerful grin. “No, I think we’re just going to sit here and make fun of it.”
“Go down and talk to him, Damin,” Almodavar advised, shaking his head at Adham’s frivolous reply. “Something’s going on, but I doubt Narvell will have you shot before he has a chance to explain.”
“You doubt it?”
Almodavar shrugged. Even the old captain seemed to be biting back a smile. “You can never tell, my lord. He could be down there on Charel Hawksword’s orders, or it might be something more personal. Have you done anything to upset your brother lately?”
“I haven’t even seen him in six months.”
“Well, then!” Tejay declared. “Off you go! You trot down there and find out what’s going on and we’ll wait here to see if Narvell orders one of his lads to take a shot at you. That should give us a good indication of how serious he is about blocking our progress into Elasapine.”
Damin gathered up his reins and glared at his companions. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”
“Not at all,” Adham assured him. “We’re all desperately worried for you, Damin. Really.” He leaned across and nudged Tejay. “Aren’t we, Lady Lionsclaw?”
“Oh! Absolutely!” Tejay agreed.
Damin swore under his breath and kicked his mount into a canter, heading down the road to where the Elasapine forces were arrayed, cursing all relatives in general, but his brothers in particular. As he approached the Elasapine forces, a single horseman broke away and rode out to meet him. Damin breathed a sigh of relief when he realised it was his younger brother.
“Narvell!” Damin greeted him, as they moved close enough to speak without being overheard by their forces. “What in the name of the gods do you think you’re doing here blocking my way?”
Narvell glanced over his shoulder to survey his troops as he reined in and then turned to Damin, grinning proudly. “Pretty impressive, don’t you think?”
“Pretty stupid was my first impression, actually,” Damin retorted.
“Aw, come on, Damin, don’t be angry with me,” Narvell pleaded with an ingenuous smile. “This wasn’t my idea.”
“Whose idea was it?”
“My grandfather’s.”
“Charel Hawksword sent you out here to declare war on me?” Damin shook his head in disbelief. Narvell was his half-brother and the Hawksword family was probably the Wolfblade family’s closest and most trusted ally. “What did I ever do to upset your grandfather?”
“Well … nothing, really …”
“Then why the hell are you declaring war on me?”
“You’re so damn touchy, Damin. It’s nothing personal. And stop exaggerating. I’m not declaring war on you. I’m making a stand.”
“Is this because you’re afraid we’re bringing the plague with us?”
“It’s because Grandpa thinks if I just let you march your army into Elasapine without raising a finger to object, for the rest of my life,” Narvell explained, “people will be whispering that Narvell Hawksword is afraid of his big brother. It may not mean much now, but someday, when I’m Warlord of Elasapine and you’re the High Prince …”
“You cannot be serious! I’m here to protect Hythria, not challenge you! Hablet’s massing for an invasion, for pity’s sake!”
“We don’t know that for certain.”
Damin looked at his brother, suddenly suspicious. “I know what’s going on here. Charel’s lost his mind, hasn’t he? And you’re covering for him.”
“He’s got a valid point, Damin.”
“He’s senile.”
“Not my grandfather,” Narvell chuckled. “He said to say hello, by the way. He’s looking forward to seeing you again when we get to Byamor.”
Damin scowled at his brother. “That’s rather moot, don’t you think, given you’re blocking my way with an army.”
Narvell shrugged, unconcerned. “I suppose he meant after I beat you.”
“Beat me?” he asked. “Now I know you’re joking.”
Narvell sighed. “Can’t you do me a favour, just this once? We can have a bit of a skirmish, I’ll kick your royal rear enough to make it look convincing and then in a magnanimous act of nobility, I’ll invite you into Elasapine to show there’re no hard feelings. Nothing could be simpler!”
Damin let out an exasperated sigh, convinced he’d never heard anything more preposterous in his entire life. “Except that if I let you beat me, Narvell, for the rest of my life, people will be saying that Damin Wolfblade is afraid of his little brother.”
Narvell studied him hopefully. “Well … aren’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Not even a little bit?”
“Even if I was afraid of you,” Damin replied, “which I’m not … I’m not going to risk the lives of my Raiders fighting yours when I need your men and mine, fit and ready to fight Hablet.”
“Fine,” Narvell agreed with a shrug. “Let’s do it the oldfashioned way, then. Single combat.”
Damin peered at his brother closely. “You’ve been waiting out in the sun too long, old boy. It’s starting to affect your judgment.”
“I’m serious!”
“I know you are,” Damin agreed.
Narvell’s good humour suddenly faded, as if he knew what his brother was thinking. “You think I can’t win, don’t you?”
“I think if you’re trying to prove something to your grandfather, little brother, you need to pick a fight you can win.”
“I will beat you, Damin.”
“No,” he replied confidently. “You won’t. Not even if I let you choose the weapons. You’ve never been able to beat me, Narvell.”
“I’ve learned a few tricks since we were children.”
“And I grew four inches taller and forty pounds heavier than you. Still,” Damin added, with a resigned sigh as he swung his leg over the pommel of his saddle. “If we’re going to do this, we might as well get it over with.” He jumped to the ground, pulled off his riding gloves and began to unbuckle his breastplate.
Narvell looked at him in confusion. “Now?”
“Waiting isn’t going to make a difference.”
Narvell thought about it, shrugged, and then jumped to the ground. “Damn right! Let’s do it now. Choose your weapon!”
“No weapons,” Damin told him. “Somebody might get hurt.”
Amused, his brother began to remove his armour. “You don’t have to worry about me, Damin.”
“I’m not,” he replied, lifting the breastplate over his head. “This is a new shirt. I don’t want you getting in a lucky strike and tearing it.”
Narvell grinned. “Whatever you have to tell yourself, Damin. Just let’s do it quickly, eh? The light’s fading and I’m hungry. Once we’re done we can retire back to Zadenka Manor for dinner and …” He stopped fiddling with the buckles on his shoulder and glanced past Damin to where the others were supposed to be waiting on the hill. “Is that Adham up there with Almodavar?”
“Ah, yes,” Damin said, glancing back toward the rest of his forces. Seeing their prince dismount, they must have decided to find out what was going on and the three of them were trotting past the inn toward the brothers, an act that prompted several officers from Narvell’s waiting cavalry to do likewise. Behind them, the troops began to move forward, down toward the village. “The gang’s all here.”
“Lady Lionsclaw!” Narvell cried delightedly, when he realised who rode beside Adham. “What a pleasant surprise!”
“Hello, Narvell,” she replied cheerfully as she reined in her mare. Tejay glanced over his troops and then looked back at the young man. “I see Charel gave you an army for your birthday.”
“Well, what else do you give a man who’s got everything?” Adham joked, reaching down to shake Narvell’s hand.
“Is Kalan with you?” Narvell asked, looking back over the advancing force hopefully as he shook the sorcer
er’s hand. Although he’d never admit it (nor would Kalan, Damin knew) the twins missed each other desperately when they were separated for too long.
“She’s headed back to Greenharbour with Wrayan,” Tejay told him with a frown. She glanced at the prince. “Didn’t Damin tell you about …”
“We haven’t actually got to that bit,” Damin announced, as he tossed his greaves aside and began rolling up his sleeves. “First, we have to let my little brother prove his manhood.”
Tejay looked at Damin in surprise. “You’re going to fight Narvell?”
“No, I thought I’d tickle him to death,” Damin retorted impatiently.
The Warlord’s wife nodded in understanding. “Charel’s concerned the people of Elasapine won’t think you independent of your brother’s influence once you’re a Warlord,” she surmised. “He’s right, Narvell. You should fight Damin. And beat him.”
“Tejay!” Damin objected. “Don’t encourage him!”
In reply, Tejay moved her mount around, placing the bulk of the horse between Damin and Narvell. She leaned over, placed a hand on his shoulder and drew him even further away from the others. When she spoke, it was in a low, urgent voice that seemed at odds with everyone else’s jovial demeanour. “Do you remember that conversation we had about you being intolerably competitive, Damin?”
“What of it?”
“Try to control it. Narvell needs to win this fight. Or at least give a good account of himself.”
“Tejay …”
“I mean it, Damin. Charel’s right to be concerned. His heir needs to prove he can stand up to you. Charel needs to believe he can do it, his men need to see that he can do it, and perhaps, most importantly, Narvell needs to believe he can, too.”
“You want me to let him win?” Damin found the idea almost impossible to contemplate. He shook his head emphatically. “No way.”
“I want you to let him keep his honour,” she corrected. “You’re bigger, stronger and a whole lot meaner than you used to be. I know everyone’s joking and laughing about this, but it’s far more serious than you realise, Damin. You run the risk of making a friend or an enemy in the next few minutes. Don’t get it wrong.”
Damin was sceptical, certain she was reading far more into this silly challenge than the situation warranted. “We’re already friends, Tejay. He’s my brother.”
“And you think a brother can’t turn on you, some day?”
“I think he won’t turn on me,” Damin countered.
A little annoyed at him, Tejay straightened in the saddle and shrugged. “Fine. Do whatever you think is best, your highness. What would a simple woman know? But if you imagine you can walk out there and knock your brother unconscious in under a minute in front of his own troops and not have him resent you for it for the rest of his life, then that damned dwarf didn’t teach you anything.”
Put like that, Damin had a sneaking suspicion she might be right. He was loath to admit it though. Glancing over the back of Tejay’s horse he noticed Narvell was rid of his armour and almost ready to fight. He reached up and grabbed her bridle to prevent her turning away. “What am I supposed to do, Tejay? He’s the one who wants to fight. And for the same reason he needs to win, so do I.”
“I know,” she agreed, glancing over her shoulder at his brother. “And I’m not telling you to lose, Damin. I’m telling you not to humiliate him. Let Narvell walk away from this fight with everyone thinking he could have taken you down. Believe me, his honour and your throne will greatly appreciate the gesture some day.”
Damin looked up at her with a thin smile. “Were you always this wise?”
“Yes.”
“How come I never noticed it before?”
“Because you’re a man, Damin, and men don’t see anything in a woman that doesn’t eventually lead to sex.”
“Ah, now the cynical Tejay I remember.”
She smiled at him. “Do the right thing, Damin.”
“Don’t I always?”
“So far,” she conceded.
“Your confidence in me is overwhelming, my lady.”
“Then don’t let me down, Damin Wolfblade,” she warned. “Because, trust me, the bitterly-disappointed-in-you Tejay is one you don’t want to meet.”
CHAPTER 12
As soon as it became obvious the heir to Elasapine and his royal half-brother planned to resolve this awkward impasse by the time-honoured tradition of slugging it out like a couple of common tavern roughs, the whole mood of the gathered forces changed. What could have been a tinderbox waiting on a single spark to ignite it suddenly took on a carnival atmosphere. The archers lining the ridges relaxed their bows and sat down to watch, laughing and joking among themselves. The pikemen ranked across the ravine lowered their lances and the cavalry dismounted.
Squinting against the setting sun, Tejay. Lionsclaw glanced over her shoulder, as the bulk of the Krakandar troops gathered behind them, cursing all men and their childish need to constantly prove themselves to each other.
She wasn’t unsympathetic. Tejay had been raised in an all-male household; she had four small sons of her own. She knew what men were like, and even empathised with their need to continually establish their supremacy over their foes. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t annoyed by it. Or that she didn’t mean to put an end to this awkward situation with as little loss of honour to both the combatants, as fast as she could possibly manage it.
Dismounting, Tejay led her mare over to where Adham Tirstone stood by his horse watching the unfolding scene with rather a bemused expression. Adham wasn’t quite so dedicated to honouring Zegarnald as Damin Wolfblade and his half-brother. He was his father’s son, a trader at heart who fought only to protect his investments.
“Are they really going to do this?” Adham asked as Tejay walked up beside him.
“Never underestimate the capacity of noble young men to do incredibly foolish things for perfectly good reasons,” she replied with an impatient sigh.
The trader smiled. “That sounds like something my father might say.” Then his smile faded and he corrected himself. “Would have said. Were you trying to talk Damin out of fighting, my lady?”
She shook her head. “There’d be no point. I was asking him to let Narvell win.”
Adham laughed at the very idea. “You’re an optimistic woman, Lady Lionsclaw, I’ll grant you that.”
“I think I managed to convince him to at least let Narvell get a few hits in before he destroys him,” she informed Adham.
Before he could reply, Narvell Hawksword charged at his brother with a bloodcurdling yell and the fight was on. Tejay turned to watch as the gathered soldiers roared their encouragement, certain that no matter how necessary, this could only end in disaster if Damin’s temper got the better of him. It was a valid fear. She’d been there when he maimed his uncle, crushing Mahkas Damaran’s throat with a single, furious blow.
There seemed no danger of that happening at the moment. At first, it was obvious neither brother was very serious about harming his opponent, which was a good thing, given their difference in size. Narvell Hawksword was an accomplished fighter, slender and wiry. He’d inherited more from his fine-boned mother than his burly grandfather. Damin Wolfblade, however, had inherited only his colouring from Marla Wolfblade. Physically, he was pure Krakenshield—over six feet tall, athletic and powerfully built. Additionally, Tejay thought worriedly as she watched the two combatants feel each other out with tentative, probing blows to the encouraging cheers of their large audience, Damin had been tested in a way his easygoing younger brother had never been tested. Leila’s suicide, Starros’s torture and his confrontation with Mahkas had left an indelible mark on Damin Wolfblade, even if it was only visible to those who knew him well.
And Tejay did know him well. From the first time she’d watched him racing Starros, Kalan and Narvell through the broad halls of Krakandar Palace when he was a small child, shouting gleefully at the top of his voice that he’d beat everyone to t
he dining room, to the brash young man who had spent his formative years under her father’s stem and watchful eye, she’d always suspected there was more to him than he let on. But she’d never realised just how shrewd he really was until that awful business in Krakandar. It wasn’t that he’d almost killed Mahkas. It wasn’t even that he stopped himself from killing a man who so patently deserved it. She’d seen Damin Wolfblade display a capacity for rage that was frightening to behold, but what impressed her was why he contained it. It was pragmatism, not mercy, that stayed his hand. Damin stopped himself from killing his uncle because he could see the bigger picture, which was all very well, she mused, but not likely to save anybody here.
Narvell needed to prove himself and Damin hated to lose. It might take as little as one lucky blow on Narvell’s part to inadvertently trigger Damin’s rage. Tejay knew well that once exposed to the light, such a fury took a long time to settle again. It was simmering below the surface, waiting for a crack in the fragile shell Damin had built to hold it back. If that brittle barrier crumbled, Damin Wolfblade wouldn’t care about the big picture. He wouldn’t care about his younger brother’s future as the Warlord of Elasapine. In a moment of blind rage, he could easily decide his own need to win outweighed everything else.
With the chill of the coming night closing in on them, Tejay watched the fight, chewing on her bottom lip, waiting for Damin to make his move, wondering how she was going to be able to stop this fight with the honour of both men still intact. Fortunately, Damin appeared to have heeded her advice and there was no need to intervene just yet. The brothers seemed quite evenly matched, in fact, which clearly wasn’t the case, but it meant Damin was letting Narvell get past his guard just enough to make it look convincing.
She wasn’t the only one who realised Damin was fighting below par. A few paces away, Geri Almodavar wore a disgusted look and when Narvell managed to bloody Damin’s lip with a particularly lucky blow, he started yelling advice, although to which one of the brothers, Tejay wasn’t really sure.
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