“Cool!” Tissa hadn’t listened to me, and was standing not far off. She was raptly watching Flank, who, I had to admit, was impressive. Her friend wasn’t there—I assumed he’d run off or just decided not to come into the castle. It hit me that she was watching the proceedings as if following some TV show or Indian movie. What brother of mine are you? Brother finds brother! And then twenty minutes of music and dancing…
“You’re telling me,” I concurred. “I wonder who’s going to fight him.”
I figured the bayron would shout out something like and now entering the middle of the ring, from the MacSummers clan, the undefeated Ri-i-inald! But no, Flank wasn’t about to wait for an announcement, as he leaped down from the wall, swung his claymore around, and snarled at the group standing closest.
“Who?” he asked sarcastically. “Who wants to risk their neck? What’s wrong? I thought you wanted a duel!”
“As if we’re going to give you a duel,” MacMillan said as he blew his nose onto the pavement. He continued without even bothering to look at the dark-haired fighter. “Rabid dogs don’t get medicine; they get put down. And this one is worse than a rabid dog—he killed his own brother. Our laws weren’t written for him. Gelts, what are you waiting for?”
Three arrows smacked into Flank MacLynn simultaneously. He let out a roar, spun around again, and was able to block the fourth arrow. That only gave him temporary relief, however, as two more slammed into his legs. He wobbled, then crumpled to his knees, and a MacLynn warrior, judging by his pants, ran over and thrust his sword into his back. The blade jutted out of Flank’s chest, something dark red leaked from his mouth, his eyes rolled back, and, finally, he locked eyes with me. For some reason I found myself in the first row—I wasn’t sure how that happened, but it had.
“Wow, that’s scary,” Tissa squeaked, hiding behind me and grabbing hold of my sleeve.
Flank’s eyes bore into me, and in his face I could see scorn and indifference to everything: life, me, the MacSummers, the MacLynns, the MacMillans, and all the rest. But there was something else, too, and I understood him without a word passing between us. The warrior who had stabbed Flank in the back pulled his sword out of his body and was about to finish him off. But before that could happen, I took three steps forward, swept my sword in an arc, and took Flank MacLynn’s head right off his shoulders
You completed Additional Quest 1: You killed Flank MacLynn. If you beat the main quest, you will get the additional reward.
“Geez, why are you so violent?” Tissa muttered loudly. “Why did I even come here? I’m never going to be able to sleep now.”
“A good strike,” grunted MacMillan. “Heavy, just took one. You know, you’re kind of puny to be a real MacMillan, but if you need a clan, I’ll put in a good word for you with our council.”
I had to laugh at the absurdity: I was again being invited to join a clan, only this time it was a real one. Do they take the kids out clearing dungeons every Friday?
“Hey, are you okay?” Tissa tugged on my sleeve.
Was I? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t exactly know why I’d decapitated the crazy warrior, especially since he was already mortally wounded by the five arrows sticking out of his body—not to mention the gaping hole in his chest. For the quest? Doubtful. For the glory? Of course not.
It might have just been that I was the only outsider in the courtyard. I wasn’t one of the many he’d grown up with, the many he shared blood with. And I saw a plea in his eyes: he’d never been one of them, and he didn’t want to die at their hand like a ram at the slaughter. He wanted me to do it, someone just as much an outsider to the gelts as he was. It wasn’t that I’d boldly cut off his head; he’d allowed me the honor. He may not have been right in that head, and, for that reason, I felt sorry for him. Even though it was a wordless request, I couldn’t help but think it was the first he’d ever made…
“Take Flank’s sword, Thane—it’s your trophy by right,” Rinald said, handing me MacLynn’s sword. I stuck it in my bag without a second glance.
You completed Additional Quest 2: Morrigot Castle was captured. If you beat the main quest, you will get the additional reward.
“It looks like Rennor got away,” said a disappointed chieftain, the one who’d bet five sheep on me. It looked like my decapitating strike had made an impression on him. “What a shame!”
“No, he didn’t,” MacLinds said as he walked over. “We caught him outside—they’re bringing him over now.”
Just then, someone was led through the gate. He was tied up, his mouth was gagged, and he was wearing expensive clothing.
“Ah, so Rennor MacLynn decided to pay us a visit,” Fergus said contentedly. “Untie him so we can have a little chat.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
In which vows and promises are fulfilled.
Rennor, contrary to my expectations, wasn’t that tall or broad-shouldered, though he was wiry and too smart to fight. As soon as he was untied and ungagged, he spat and started rubbing his wrists.
“By what right, I ask you?” he said quickly, staring at the heads of the clans. “By what right do you come to my castle and kill my people?”
“By our right as inhabitants of this land,” Fergus answered calmly. “You are lawless, you spit on our customs, and you couldn’t give two copper coins for a warrior’s honor. The council has condemned you to death.”
“I’m a leader like you, and you can’t just lop off my head like you did for that idiot,” Rennor said, kicking Flank’s head. It was still lying there on the pavement. “Your stupid laws forbid it.”
“We are aware,” Fergus nodded.
“And you can’t challenge me to a duel yourselves,” MacLynn continued maliciously. “You’re leaders, and I haven’t declared war on your clans.”
“We’re aware of that, too.” The bayron was serenity itself. “Don’t waste too much time trying to talk your way out of this, MacLynn—I already know everything you’re going to say, so I can just go ahead and tell you who’s going to duel you.”
“And who is that?” Rennor snarled. “I hope it’s not some sheep farmer?”
“No.” MacSummers pointed at me. “It’s Hagen, Thane of the Western Reaches, and confidante of Queen Anna, the ruler of all the lands in the West. He’s noble enough to face you in a duel. Really, I’m just glad you’re noble enough to stand across from him.”
It was nicely done—my estimation of the old man rose even higher.
“Wow!” Tissa hissed in my ear. “Is that true about you?”
I shrugged a shoulder, as if to tell her to leave me alone. I’m watching the show!
“I don’t know him,” Rennor said, screwing his face up dubiously as he looked me over. “Hey, Thane, why do you even want to fight me? And are you really a thane?”
“Oh, he’s a thane, all right,” Fergus jumped in. “If you need it, I can show you his credentials. As far as the reason you keep asking about… Thane Hagen, remind us who your friend is? The one you fought shoulder-to-shoulder with in all your battles?”
Ah, that old bastard! I’d been getting all the tricky ones lately.
“His full name is Lossarnakh MacMagnus, from the Magnus clan, Laird of Morrigot, Bailiff of Fassarlakh and Targot,” I said busily. “Though I just found out about that recently. I mean, that he’s actually a MacMagnus and all that. Also, if I made a mistake with one of his titles, I apologize—it’s hard to memorize that much right away.”
“So he survived,” MacLynn said, spitting again. “I missed that. What a shame! But what do you care about him? Is it worth dying for a coward?”
“You watch your tongue,” I said to Rennor. “Lane is an incredible warrior, and we’ve all been in situations where we just had to live to fight another day. Don’t even try to tell me that you headed off into the forest because you wanted to go seduce some young shepherd girl. You ran, leaving everyone here to die—your clan, your family, and that crazy one.”
“And?” MacLynn grinn
ed cynically. “Sure, I chickened out, and that doesn’t bother me in the least. I want to live, and so I accept your challenge, even if you haven’t given it yet. I’ll kill you and leave this castle, and none of you will dare stop me—you’re all slaves of your precious laws, and that’s your weakness. Then I’ll come back and kill every last one of you like cattle at a slaughter. Arrows in the back, poison, witchcraft—I’m not like you, you bunch of rocks stuck in your stupid traditions. I live in the future, I have a goal, and I’m always moving toward it, even if that means stepping over bodies. I’ll flood the Borderlands with blood if I have to, or even the whole West! And when you all die, I’m going to sleep with your wives in your homes, your sons will shepherd my sheep, and your daughters will warm the beds of my warriors.”
“That’s very touching, I’ll admit,” I praised him as I pulled my shield off my back. “But you’re supposed to add something like ‘you’d better believe it, you scum’ and spit in someone’s face. Anyway, come on, let’s dance.”
Rennor smirked as he looked around at his clanmates.
“Well, my faithful friends, who will give me their weapon? Or am I supposed to fight this so-called thane with my fists?”
An older warrior emerged from the crowd and handed him a broadsword and shield.
“I won’t forget to thank you, Gneyr, when I return them,” Rennor assured him.
“You should be careful about his promises,” I noted, as I twisted my wrist to whip my sword around. “Who knows what this weasel means when he says he won’t forget to thank you. Maybe he wants your wife? Or your daughter?”
“What a sharp tongue this little runt has,” MacLynn announced to everyone. “I think I’ll cut it out to use as a lucky charm.”
“I really do have good luck,” I assured him. “I think it’s good enough to make sure I keep my tongue. Those ears of yours, though, I’ll definitely chop those off. They’re so floppy—you don’t see that every day. “There’s a museum in Aegan full of freaks like you, so they’ll make for a great exhibit. Even if they’re there without the rest of your head.”
Rennor pursed his lips, and I could tell that my comment had hit home. His ears really were gristly, sticking out, and bulging, almost like galoshes. I had to think he was self-conscious about them—the first score went in my column.
“Form a circle, gelts, form a circle,” MacMillan said, and the crowd dispersed before reforming around us.
“Thane Hagen of the West and Rennor MacLynn, fight honorably and remember that you are fighting to determine whose truth is real,” Fergus said with authority. “The death of one of you will show whose side truth was on.”
Rennor moved well, wafting smoothly from side to side like quicksilver. He took small steps as he moved around me. We sized each other up slowly, and he rotated the blade of his broadsword almost too imperceptibly for me to notice.
“Ha-gen, cham-pi-on!” a clear, girly voice rang out, followed by a couple claps, and it sounded like Tissa was in one of the first rows. She just can’t keep still!
“Young woman, behave yourself,” a harsh woman’s voice replied. “Stand there and watch how your man fights without that display of emotion. It’s not becoming for the wife of a thane.”
“Oh, he’s not mine!” the young mage girl’s indignant voice shot back.
I wasn’t sure how their spat ended, as Rennor finally decided to try a strike.
His sword crashed against my shield. It was a heavy blow, and I felt it, even if my arm didn’t go limp. My return shot hit his shield, as well—it would have been silly to think that I’d break through his defenses that easily.
We traded a few more swings before dropping back toward the edge of the circle, carefully watching each other’s swords.
This is ridiculous. Just two words, and I’d have had some fun gentlemen in odd armor from the Shadow Brigade crush him into jelly—but I couldn’t do that. The stubborn highlanders would have considered anything like that black magic and chopped the both of us to bits, complete with shouts of he’s a wizard! and spitting in my face. Or maybe they’d just stone me…
Rennor approached me slowly, then suddenly leaped, slamming his shield into me and leaving me with my own shield smashed up against his chest. Then he tried to bring his sword down on top of me. Somehow, I was able to get my own sword up to meet his right above my head. As our swords locked overhead, he freed up his shield and thrust it up into my jaw. The devastating blow had me seeing stars, and I would definitely have lost some teeth if we’d been fighting in real life.
I was thrown backward and left just a sliver of space open, but that was enough to feel the tip of his broadsword cut a nice slice out of my chest armor. My health bar started to drop. He was fast, and he’d drawn first blood…
Over in the West, everyone would have been reacting to the sight with groans, advice, and swearing. Strangely enough, the gelts stood there silently. There was no emotion whatsoever. The only shout I heard came from Tissa.
“You ass, damn it!” That earned her a cuff in her smart, if intemperate head from the strict woman standing next to her—at least that was what I thought I heard.
I spat and decided it was time to say something cliché. That’s what real heroes always do when they take a hit.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I spat again. “My little sister is stronger than that—you should ask her to teach you how to fight.”
Rennor narrowed his eyes and threw himself at me.
We whirled around in a circle trying to be the first to get a good shot in. He knicked my shoulder, and then got me in the side; I got lucky and cut into his chest. Still, they were insignificant wounds, and neither of us felt our strength waning. He was even too fast for me to use my abilities—there just wasn’t time.
“You’re more a dancer than a fighter,” croaked MacLynn. “Fight like a man!”
“How am I fighting?” I shot back indignantly just as he tried his leaping trick again. Instinctively, I took cover behind my shield and brought my sword up to block what I thought was coming. I guessed right with the shield, though the sword… Rennor dropped his shield and, in one incredibly fast and fluid motion, pulled a dagger out of his boot and buried it in my side. Yet another hit…
I kicked his shield away and knocked the dagger out of his hand, though that opened my arm up to an attack from his broadsword—it was just a good thing that it wasn’t the sharp edge. My arm went numb, and I lost another 7% of my health, dropping it into the red zone. The worst part was that my shield slid off my arm.
“Blade on blade,” Rennor said with a satisfied smile. “Now you’re mine, you little pig. I cut you up good, and now I’m going to skin you.”
I was breathing too hard to reply, and the only thing I could think of was getting to the health potions in my bag. I had to drink them, but how? Right in front of the watching crowd? Even if I do, he’ll kill me when I raise the potion to my mouth.
We circled each other in yet another deadly dance, keeping our swords pointed at each other.
There was a clash as our swords met, and sparks flew—I’d only ever seen that in the movies. Steel rang, I wheezed, Rennor locked eyes with me from just centimeters away. The gelt, snakelike, stuck out his tongue, his eyes white with hatred. Damn it, he’s too strong—he’s going to crush me. I let my sword down, trying to catch his leg and dive to the right without showing him my back. But it only almost worked—his sharp blade caught and crunched through my armor. This is going to cost me a fortune at the blacksmith. Maybe I need to start leveling-up my crafting skills?
We slammed into each other again, my guard against his round, cup-like hilt.
“You’re a dead man—you’re bleeding your life away!” he hissed, spittle spraying everywhere.
“Oh, God, your breath stinks!” I shot back. I was able to push him off me.
Our swords met again, scraping along each other, and we twisted them simultaneously, our goal the same. We were both successful, and we were bot
h left completely unarmed. First the shield, now the sword…I’m not going to have to get undressed now, am I?
“A-ah,” yelled Rennor as he threw himself on top of me without even trying to go for his sword. My throat was a much juicier target. Get off me!
We rolled around the hard stone surface in a single, heaving pile, our fists battering whatever they could reach.
I’m not sure how I was able to shake him off, and I couldn’t even figure it out when I thought back later, but, one way or another, it happened. It was just a few steps, but I tossed him backward. I used the precious few seconds that bought me to leap toward my sword, which was maybe five steps away.
I was fast, but not fast enough. Rennor came crashing down, dropping me to the ground and latching an arm around my throat. But underneath me, I felt something: a hilt attached to a blade.
Wheezing, and not looking to waste any of my last few points of health, I grabbed the dagger, twisted my arm around, and sank it into the body on top of me. Once, twice, three times…
My opponent’s arms weakened, and I was able to free myself from his death grip and wriggle out from under his softening body. Coughing, I got up on all fours without dropping the dagger.
The rasp I heard from behind me told me that Rennor was still alive. Without standing up, I turned around to see him on his knees. Lunacy mixed with rage in the pair of eyes fixed on me.
“Why won’t you die already?” I said, crawling over. When I took him by the shoulder, he tried to reach up for my throat again. The dagger in his stomach put paid to that idea.
He really was an incredibly strong adversary. It was only after the fourth stab that his eyes rolled back and he collapsed onto my chest.
Sicilian Defense Page 32
