by B K Suitter
You have saved me again, thought Aliha, but was too short of breath and disoriented from her hard roll across the frozen street to speak.
“Let the wolf go,” said Bearok as he came to stand by Gretta, his deep voice giving more a command than a threat.
“Little brother,” mocked Beorcus, “this is how you greet me?” and he turned his head and spoke to the Northman that was working the pole against the vicious timber wolf that continued to fight.
“Take it away!” Beorcus said strongly.
“NO!” cried Aliha as she stood next to the Northern Princess.
Gretta roared with disapproval and Bearok took a step forward and this time his voice did reflect a threat. “I said let the wolf go!”
“I have rightfully captured a stray wolf on the street of–” began a serious Beorcus and he took a step towards Bearok.
“The wolf belongs to the girl!” roared Bearok.
“The princess!” corrected Gretta from behind.
“The Southern Princess claims no ownership,” Beorcus stated calmly.
“I do!” yelled Aliha. “She’s mine, I own her!”
“Too late, Princess,” replied a calm Beorcus.
“It’s not too late!” Bearok replied dangerously and he took two powerful steps to stand before his larger brother.
Beorcus pushed Bearok away and yelled out to the crowd that was beginning to gather. Talk of the two Beoraki brothers meeting on the streets of Snowflake during The Ice Pack had preceded the historic event itself, and cries began to relay throughout the Northern port city that the two indeed were meeting.
“Five to one on Whisper!” Beorcus yelled and continued to repeat the phrase while Bearok objected, but it was too late, bets were being made on the streets of Snowflake during The Ice Pack, and by Northern law the event must take place. The large crowd that continued to grow circled wide around Aliha and the others.
“What is happening?” Aliha asked Gretta while she looked around at the mass of people. Timber had calmed and the Northman that worked the pole against her slipped the noose off from around her neck and stepped away. Timber quickly ran to Aliha’s side, and she bent down and wrapped the animal in a tight hug.
“Beorcus will make Timber fight,” Gretta said to Aliha, who gasped in horror. “But not to the death,” she tried to say with a reassuring smile, and she called out loudly to Beorcus and the crowd. “Not to the death! I call for a mercy fight!”
Beorcus shrugged his shoulders as if he did not care and he turned away and gestured for the two Northmen to bring in Whisper. The crowd cheered as the huge glacier wolf walked menacingly into the center of the ring of people. Whisper was as glorified in the North as was his mate, Whitestar. His hair was a smoky white and he had a dark grey strip that ran along his back from his great neck to his long thick tail. The long hairs prickled and stood erect and he bared long dangerous canines, but not a whisper of a growl could be heard. Complications at birth left the massive animal without the ability to bark, growl, or whimper.
Timber moved away from Aliha and the glacier wolf advanced slowly, circling with her. Gretta held Aliha in place and she struggled and fought and pleaded with Bearok.
“Don’t let him do this!” Aliha cried.
“There is nothing I can do, Princess,” Bearok said calmly.
Aliha screamed and tried to pull away, but Gretta was too strong, so she again reached out to the Shadow of the King.
“I command you, Bearok!” Aliha yelled and watched as his face twisted with outrage. How dare this girl command me, was the look he gave her, so she prodded on. “That’s right, Bearok, I command you to stop this madness. Timber is not a wolf for the pits – you know that!” and she kicked out at Bearok, trying to kick him in the groin while Gretta held her arms behind her back. “You know that!” she yelled again.
“Touching,” said Beorcus as he circled the edge of the large crowd for a better view of the coming onslaught.
“Please!” Aliha pleaded as she watched Timber and Whisper circle. Timber growled deep and bared fangs while the quiet glacier wolf slowed and prepared to engage the other wolf.
“Please.”
“Alright!” Bearok roared, giving Aliha an angry scowl before moving into the center of the ring of people.
“Five to one then!” Bearok roared loudly to the crowd, causing the two wolves to move away from each other.
“No!” Aliha cried and again fought to break free from Gretta.
Beorcus looked at his older brother from the edge of the crowd and he smiled. He knew what Bearok would say next.
“Five to one against Beorcus!” the mighty Shadow roared.
The circled crowd of spectators roared back as a heavy wind began to blow and Aliha was knocked back a step. The sky darkened quickly and snow began blow in fits.
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“You could offer me triple that and still I would say no.” The captain was a heavy-set Northman with a thick beard and a powerful looking gut that stuck out far over his waist. “Until The Ice Pack is over, no captain will raise anchor.”
The Beoraki captain just repeated the words of every captain in Snowflake. Since the first day of arrival in the port city, Gideon and Shanks had combed the docks of Snowflake in search of a ship that would sail them south and raise anchor now, not in a ten-day when The Ice Pack and its festivities was over.
Gideon needed to get Aliha to the Temple of Carami as soon as possible, so he started offering large amounts of money to entice the captains into sailing south that day. But none would have it. A few Northern captains offered to make the journey south after The Ice Pack was over, but not one would set sail before.
“What about that ship?” Gideon asked of Shanks as they walked the massive wharf that was packed with docked vessels. All merchant ships in the harbor had their sails stowed away and the huge fishing boats and whalers were anchored in deep water. They were all rocking hard with the waves that continued to grow with the coming storm. Dark clouds that had lined up along the entire coast began to move inland.
“I don’t recall that one being docked yesterday!” Shanks yelled out, raising his voice to be heard over the blowing wind and crashing waves.
“Ice Cutter!” Gideon shouted back, reading the words that were painted on the massive ship. It was larger than most in the harbor and its crew was working hard across the decks to prepare for the coming storm.
“It must have sailed in last night or early this morning!” Shanks said loudly as he wrapped his fur coat a little tighter against the cold spray of the ocean.
“I agree!” yelled Gideon, “Let’s go talk to them!”
“Maybe we should wait until after the storm!” Shanks yelled out, but Gideon was already on the move. As they approached the huge ship, a group of men were coming down the long gangplank that lurched as the ship rocked on the waves. They made the docks and Gideon and Shanks approached the three Beoraki sailors that were wrapped in heavy furs.
“Are you the captain of this ship!?” Gideon asked over the storm.
“Not yet,” said one of the men, and the other two laughed. Gideon tried to laugh with them, but Shanks remained quiet as he eyed the large men. The Northman that answered was tall with sparkling blue eyes and frost colored skin. He grew a narrow white strip of hair that stood tall as it ran from his forehead to the back of his neck, and his face was unusually beardless. Shanks could feel this man was dangerous and not to be trusted.
“Captain isn’t here,” said the Northman. “How can I help?” His words were almost mocking, and he looked at Shanks with a deadly gleam.
“We are looking to gain passage on a ship sailing south!” yelled Gideon as the wind grew a little stronger.
“How far south?” asked the Beoraki sailor whose voice was powerful enough that he didn’t need to yell to compete with the storm.
“The southern tip!” yelled Gideon and the Northmen all grunted in doubt.
“When?” asked the Northman.
&
nbsp; “As soon as possible!” replied Gideon. “Two days!”
The Northern sailors all laughed.
“Good luck,” said the large man as he began to walk away.
“We can pay!” yelled Gideon, and that stopped the large Northmen in their tracks, which gave Shanks an even more uncomfortable feeling about them.
“How much?” asked the Northman, his blue eyes flashing with interest.
“How much would it take to get your captain to raise anchor in two days?!” asked Gideon, his voice growing desperate and serious.
“All of it,” replied the Northman dangerously.
“Let’s go!” yelled out Shanks as he put a hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “We need to find shelter – this storm is only getting worse!”
“All of it?” asked Gideon, realizing he may be in trouble.
“Yes,” said the Northman as he looked around to see who was watching. “All of it,” and he slowly reached for his sword and his two companions began to fan out.
“We do not deal with pirates!” yelled Shanks as he pulled Gideon away from the Northmen.
“Pirates!” growled the Northman, his strip of hair standing tall and unmoving in the blowing storm. “Hard words here in the North,” and he began to draw a long, wicked blade from its scabbard.
Suddenly, shouts erupted all along the massive quay and the whole harbor came to life.
“The brothers are fighting!” cried out men and the message was received and passed on as every man ran off the docks. The three Northmen tucked their swords away and began to follow the racing crowd.
“We will meet again, Asarian!” yelled the Northman to Shanks before sprinting off.
Gideon and Shanks stood on the docks as the brutal storm worked its way over the huge wharf. Waves crashed along the harbor sending a stinging spray of water across the wood and over their booted feet.
“It would seem Beorcus has finally arrived!” yelled out Gideon, and Shanks nodded his head and the two made their way through the driving sleet and howling winds towards the center of town.
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Daphaxian sat at a large round table with four other men. They were in a gambling house and it was packed to the limit. Both men and women from all parts of Asaria drank and gambled, and servers took trays of ale and wine and rich foods continuously out to the greedy patrons that harried them for more. Daphaxian stared at the cards in his hand, his face an unreadable mask.
“I call,” said an irritated Byoadrin as he pushed the rest of his coin into the center pile. He was a tall thin Northman with a shaved frost-colored head and a beardless face, and his one good eye was cold blue while the other was sightless and white. His nose was straight and long, and he had sharp facial features and pointed ears, and he wore earrings of gold and lavish rings on each finger.
Prince Allenmare sat quiet while he waited for Daphaxian to give up his hand. He had done well all morning until the last few hands when Daphaxian remarkably came back from being nearly broke. Now the stakes were high as a large pile of gold and silver spread out across the center of the table. The two other men that joined them had folded earlier and now it was between Byoadrin and Daphaxian, who sat there stone-faced after pushing all his coins into the center pile.
“Show me your cards or I will stack you in pieces,” threatened Byoadrin, who was clearly tired of the smug Asarian. All morning while they gambled the two had verbally sparred, but now the threats were becoming dangerously real.
“You show me yours first,” said Daphaxian, who was dressed in a black silk shirt. “I want to relish in my upcoming victory.”
Byoadrin eyed the man with contempt and then threw his cards down with confidence. They were nines – all four of them.
“No way you beat that, princess,” spat the Northman, his good eye glaring with hatred.
Daphaxian stared wide-eyed at the nearly unbeatable hand, and Byoadrin’s smile was evil. Not many hands could beat the one that was lying on the table amongst the pile of treasure, and Daphaxian laid his cards down one at a time. A Ten, a Man-at-Arms, a Queen of the North, a King of the North, and the last card he flipped with authority so it spun on the table over his four other cards. A God of the North, and all five were black diamonds. A Royal Flush that made Byoadrin curse loudly.
“You cheating dog!” and the Northman stood and reached for his blade.
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Daphaxian mocked. “I’ll give you a chance to win it back,” and he grabbed a piece of silver from his pile and flipped it up at the Northman.
Byoadrin drew his sword lightning fast and it knocked the coin back at Daphaxian’s face, but the Asarian was quicker and he snatched it from the air.
“The brothers are fighting!” said a man as he ran into the packed tavern. Everyone froze in silence as he then ran back out and continued his cry. “The brothers are fighting!”
The tavern burst into motion and all the patrons moved to exit the White Bear. Byoadrin sheathed his sword and then knocked the table over, sending Daphaxian’s treasure across the room. Men and women grabbed handfuls as they ran past and into the street. Daphaxian tried in vain to recapture most of the treasure as he scrambled across the floor, getting kicked and knocked around by the other fleeing patrons. Soon, the entire gambling tavern was empty except for Daphaxian who sat counting the small fraction of treasure that had been piled on the table just moments earlier.
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Bearok swung a powerful fist, crunching the side of Beorcus’ face and causing him to stagger back a step. A left hook to the body and a right cross to the large Northman’s head sent him back two more steps, but Beorcus just spit blood and smiled at his older brother. Bearok feigned a left jab and Beorcus threw a looping hook to counter, but Bearok ducked under the punch and came up with a smashing right elbow that caught Beorcus square in the face, but still he did not go down.
The brothers were in the center of a huge throng of spectators and were given just enough room to circle and fight. The street was filled with people and the second story balconies were the same. There were even men on the rooftops, desperate enough to get a good view of the anxiously awaited brawl between the two brothers.
Beorcus bull rushed Bearok and tackled him to the snowy street. They scrambled around like two ferocious animals and Beorcus quickly stood over his brother, but then came down fast, swinging his right fist hard into Bearok’s face as he landed on top of him.
Bearok reached around Beorcus and held him close as he lay dazed on the ground. His thoughts were swimming and he was reminded of the last time he had been rocked that hard by his brother.
Since Bearok and Beorcus were small, they both knew they would be given the chance to become a Shadow to the King of the North. Their father was the First Shadow to King Ironheart’s father and so their place at the next king’s side was secure. But only one of the brothers could be a Shadow. By Northern law and obvious reasons, the eight Shadows of the King could not be of the same blood.
Beorcus wanted nothing more than to be a Shadow and saw it as an opportunity to be great, but Bearok looked at the chance to become a Shadow as a dismal responsibility. His father often told him that because he was marked with black hair – a rare characteristic for a Northman – he was destined to be a Shadow and serve the king.
A decision by combat was decided for the brothers when they came of age. They would fight until only one was left standing and that boy would grow to be the First Shadow to King Ironheart by decree of the Northern God himself.
The two fought in a massive covered stadium built in the city of Frostbite, which was not far from Castle Coldstorm. The building was packed with Northmen, all betting on the upcoming fight. It had been anticipated since before the two brothers could walk, and all the North knew they would one day fight for the right to be a Shadow.
Beorcus had smashed Bearok for most of the fight, hitting him so hard that Bearok thought to lose consciousness many times, but something in
side the Northern boy raged like fire and the thought of losing any fight or battle drove him mad. Even a fight against Beorcus, his brother, who he dearly loved, he could not bear himself to lose.
In the end, Bearok stood over an unconscious Beorcus. The large boy lay sprawled out across the arena floor soaked in blood with a huge split in his face that ran from his forehead down to his jaw. Bearok had strangely become a Beserker and nearly killed his brother in the blackout of madness. Beorcus was taken away on a stretcher and the two had not seen each other again, until today.
Beorcus came down again with a striking head-butt that smashed Bearok’s face, causing the Shadow’s head to slam hard against the solid ice on the street. The crowd cheered for Beorcus as he punched his brother’s face repeatedly, roaring like an animal gone mad.
Bearok laid there near to defeat. He had no desire to hurt his brother again, but the rage of the Berserker began to grow. He held it back while continuing to take severe punishment from his brother, but it became too much and his eyes began to glow a luminous white and his wild black hair blew like fire around his head.
Bearok roared and exploded outward, lying on his back he threw Beorcus off and away. He rose slowly with power, standing there with an indomitable strength that radiated around him. The crowd all took a step back in awe and Beorcus yelled in rage as he came in with a devastating right hook. The attack landed square on Bearok's jaw and the vicious blow turned his head sharply, but the Berserker was unfazed. He looked back at his brother and stepped forward while driving his fist into the large man’s chest, causing Beorcus to fall backwards into a throng of people that fell under his crushing weight.
Suddenly, the full force of the storm began to tear heavy tiles away from the roof tops of the buildings. Large ceramic shards began sailing out into the streets and hitting people as they tried to get out of the way. Men were blown off the roofs and balconies as snow blew in circles and large flakes the size of a man’s fist began to whirl in thick driving blankets.
