Unaware of Saviar's internal turmoil, Verdondi tried to extricate himself from the situation. "I didn't… didn't mean any offense. I… just… just wanted you to know that… I understand.You see, Captain Erik is actually my uncle by blood. My… my parents were… killed." He seemed on the verge of tears, which snapped Saviar fully out of his fury. He did not want to humiliate the only Northman who had acted as a friend.
Not trusting himself to speak of the matter at hand, Saviar asked in a flat tone, "What happened to your parents?" From the corner of his eye, he watched the preparations. Kevral crouched in the middle of the combat area, calmly cleaning her swords. Saviar searched for her opponent.
"A group of brigands assaulted my mother. She returned home clinging to life. My father took them all on in vengeance, but they overpowered him. She lived on for a few months, but she felt responsible for his death. Eventually, infection overwhelmed her."
"That's horrible."
Verdondi closed his eyes, gritted his teeth. "Yes." He forced himself to continue, "They, the ones who killed my parents, were Northmen of our own tribe. So I came to see there are good and bad in every group of people." He looked askance at Saviar, seeming almost to plead. "Among Renshai, too?"
The Northman had dared to share his most vulnerable moment, and Saviar found himself feeling strangely protective. He had never thought of his tribe in those specific terms. Renshai were simple to understand: life and death intertwined, based solely on a swordwork they considered the only pathway to eternal glory. Saviar thought of his younger brother and the many times he had wanted to throttle the pompous pest. "Among Renshai, too," he finally agreed.
Verdondi seemed about to say something more, but no words emerged.
Saviar rescued him from the trouble of speaking. "Excuse me, again. I'd like to visit with my mother before the battle."
"Of course," Verdondi gestured for Saviar to go.
Saviar studied the battlefield as he approached. Knights still patrolled the roped-off area, large enough to support three battles at once. Someone had cleaned the area of debris, leaving only a fine film of crushed weeds over the dirt. Clearly, the Northmen were taking no chances of giving the Renshai any advantages, including familiarity with the grounds or use of their vast experience waging war on hazardous terrain. Shadows of foliage and the nearest cottages marred the otherwise clean perfection of the field. Two large trees towered directly over the makeshift arena, though not a single shed stick lay beneath either of them. Saviar could see a fresh wound where someone had hacked down and filed a bit of root that might have caused a trip hazard. Under the guise of fairness, they will see to it every advantage is theirs.
As if to prove Saviar's point, Valr Magnus finally leaped over the ropes to enter the combat area. Kevral watched him, clearly judging every movement, and Saviar instinctively did the same. Though large, he was not muscle-bound, and moved with a quickness that spoke of remarkable agility despite the armor that encased his chest and abdomen. He kept his arms and legs bare, but clutched a helmet in one hand and a sizable shield in the other. The broadsword at his hip appeared well-made.
A thought occurred to Saviar, and he veered from Kevral to Thialnir where the Renshai leader stood with the Northern captain, the king, and Humfreet's knightly entourage. Time to turn the tables. "Sir." Saviar addressed Thialnir, though he spoke loudly enough for the knights and the king to hear. "Is it fair for the Northman to wear armor while our champion has none?"
Thialnir turned to face Saviar directly, his movements haughty but a smile playing across his lips that only Saviar could see. "We've discussed this, Savi. Their solution was to offer Kevral some as well, but she refused to hide behind hunks of metal like a coward."
Saviar had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He dared not look at the Northmen lest he further aggravate the situation. Renshai shunned even jewelry because it might deflect a blow. Allowing anything but one's own quickness and skill to escape and answer an attack was perceived as the lowest form of weakness among Renshai. Saviar had known the answer before he asked the question and only brought up the subject in the hope that he could goad Valr Magnus into shedding his own protections.
But the Northmen's champion took no notice of the conversation. He stood in the arena, studying everything, including his opponent. Kevral seemed oblivious to his scrutiny, though Saviar knew she noticed every detail, every movement.
Feeling his grandfather's gaze boring through him, Saviar made a dutiful bow to the king, though he still addressed Thialnir. "Forgive me for raising a matter already addressed. I just could not imagine a true warrior seeing the inequity and choosing to wear his armor anyway." He stopped there. If he directly disparaged Valr Magnus as a cheater or a coward, he would attract his father's ire. As it stood, they all knew what he meant; and he had stated it surreptitiously enough to skirt rudeness.
King Humfreet clapped his hands suddenly. "Silence!"
Saviar cringed, at first believing the command directed at his insolence. Then, he realized the king of Erythane addressed the entire gathering.
The crowd quieted. Only then, Saviar truly noticed the vast numbers of people who had gathered. They stood in masses, the smaller ones attempting to see around the taller. Renshai children perched on parental shoulders to watch. Erythanians and Renshai sat in tree branches, on boulders, or on cottage porches. A few even squatted on the rooftops, a precarious position given the Renshai's lack of knowledge and experience when it came to construction. They might battle on any surface, but their ability to properly and safely erect buildings was limited.
Standing in the vicinity of the king, Saviar had an unobstructed view of the proceedings. No one dared block King Humfreet, not even the knights of Erythane, though mounted knights repeatedly shooed away anyone else who stepped too near the ropes.
Kevral rose, her movements casual. She seemed utterly composed, as if out for a stroll rather than facing a great challenge the outcome of which would determine the future of an entire tribe. She sheathed her first sword, a perfectly crafted blade she had received from Colbey. At the time, she had needed to battle a demon, and he knew her plain, steel weapons could not touch it. His had a hint of power simply because it had so long graced the hand of a god. She considered it her greatest treasure, and it never left her side.
Kevral sheathed her second sword as lovingly, a slender blade that once bore the name Tisis, Vengeance. Ironically, it had slain the first Valr, Valr Kirin, in a battle more than three centuries ago. The Einherjar, Rache, had gifted it to Kevral after she bested another of the Gloriously Slain in fair combat. In Valhalla, Rache had befriended Valr Kirin and gave Kevral the sword that she promised to rename. She now called it Motfrabelonning, Reward of Courage, and cherished it nearly as much as her unnamed weapon.
Valr Magnus stepped toward her. Sunlight sheened from his breastplate. He moved with a catlike lightness that belied the heavy armor and the shield he now wore strapped to his forearm. He had handsome features below boyishly tousled gold hair that fell in curls around his ears. His sinewy limbs hinted at speed and dexterity well beyond the norm. He stood more than a head taller than Kevral and was at least twice her weight. With a wave to someone in the crowd, he pulled a gleaming helmet over his head.
Saviar's heart pounded, and he found himself incapable of turning away.
"Ready?" King Humfreet called to the combatants.
In reply, Valr Magnus unsheathed his mighty sword. It seemed to draw the attention of the sun, flicking shafts of silver among the audience. Many turned away, apparently blinded by the reflection.