Viking - Chapter 20 - Beta (Patreon)

All along the stone wall of the dueling fields, young men and women stood shoulder to shoulder while waiting for Bior Glandursson to speak.

The deafening roar of the crowd had made it impossible in the last twenty seconds to hear anything and even the horns that had blown were drowned out.

Finally, everything went mostly silent after a third sounding of the horns.

Torches had been driven into the dirt floor, creating a wide circle of light.  All over the seats, lanterns were lit up to provide light for those there.  High above both moons shined down, creating a very memorable moment.

On the stage that had been brought out was the Jarl and before it was two metal buckets.

Magnus ran his fingers along the wooden tag with his name etched on it.  It reminded him of his dog tags back on Earth.  

“Now the time has come for the choosing!” Bior shouted. “Vikings, come forward and put your token in the bucket! Future thegns on the right and future shieldmaidens on the left!”

The crowd cheered as the field became a mass of bodies moving toward the buckets.  Some sprinted forward, wanting to be the first to put their name in.  Others like Magnus waited back, always watching to see how someone moved. 

“We need to hurry!” Osvif groaned as Magnus continued his slow pace.

“Trust him,” Guat said. “You and I both know he is going to make it into the top.  We wouldn’t be here like this if it wasn’t for him.”

Hearing Guat’s praise made all that hard work seem a little easier.  The guy had been a tool and a jerk since day one but slowly he came around and now, Magnus would trust his back to him.

“Some already got hurt,” Magnus pointed out.  “Too much chaos.  Better to wait.  They won’t turn us away.”

Both boys saw the crowd and the trampling of a few hopefuls.  Healers were coming to aid but this was not the way to start such an event.

As the group dissolved, the three approached the metal bucket along with a dozen others, each one watching as all put their wooden tokens inside. 

When the last person dropped theirs in and returned to the wall, the applause and cheering stopped and then every eye turned to what was going to come next.

Boards were erected and on each one were groups of two nails spread all over.  Tonight, they would select the first round.

“I can’t believe I’m the twenty third fight!” Osvif exclaimed. “Glad I don’t have to wait all day like you two.”

Magnus and Guat both laughed as they lay in the darkness of their room. Guat was at the end of the day, and he was in the middle. One hundred and fifty-four battles would take place. Multiple circles would be going at the same time, but still, that number of people like himself trying to earn a name was going to be a busy week.

All he had to do now was sleep.

Years of learning to rest when any moment might require you to move for days had taught him to never spoil this moment.

While Osvif thrashed around for a while longer, Magnus’s dream returned to the same place as always.  Standing in that hallway with Odin sending him back to Earth.

Cheers and boos rang out from the crowd as the fights took place.  

Magnus held the shield out for Osvif.

“Remember what you know and be smart.  This one looks to be more nervous than you and it appears like a good warm up fight.”

Nodding, Osvif took the shield and smiled.  

They had trained with metal-edged shields for a while, but these were wrapped in hardened leather.  It was so much lighter that it moved like it was weightless.  When Magnus had mentioned training with a heavier one they all thought he had been stupid but now it all made sense.

Osvif’s opponent used an axe and when the judge motioned for the two of them to get set, each approached and gave a nod.

One eye stayed on Osvif while the other was on the circle behind him.  

Skardi was playing with the teen in his circle.  The young man facing the giant might have had a chance against a normal person, but the first blow delivered by Skardi had broken the teens shield.  Once that was done, Skardi switched up to kicks and shield slams, enjoying the spectacle being displayed for the crowd.

When the sound of axe head on wood came from Osvif’s fight, Magnus turned and watched as his friend put into action everything he had been taught.

The other boy charged, slamming his shield into Osvif, trying to use the height advantage to slash overhead with his axe.

The clang of axes colliding rang out as Osvif blocked the attack was almost as funny as what came next.

Bending down low, Osvif let the larger man press against him, ending up rising off his feet from the momentum of the charge.  When that happened, the shorter man twisted and turned, depositing the other teen on the ground.  The thwack of a shield hitting the young man’s head sounded like a board against a coconut.  That hollow sound always seemed the same.

Without waiting, the judge rushed in and ended the match as Osvif placed his axe head against the boy’s neck.

Cheers came from where Thorketil and the rest of their group sat.  

“Nice job!” Magnus exclaimed as his friend ran over after celebrating in the middle of the circle.

Osvif’s grin looked like it might break his face in half.

The boyhood friend of Magnus threw down his weapon and shield and grabbed him in a bearhug.

“I did it! I did it!” Osvif cheered while celebrating with his best friend.

“You did! Now put me down, or I’ll punch you in the nose.”

Laughing, Osvif deposited his friend on his feet, and they hugged, both glad to see him walk away with a victory in the first round.

“This is going to be awful, you know that don’t you?” Arngrim asked as they looked at the opponent for Magnus.

“Better than having one like Osvif’s opponent.  How bad do I need to look?”

The two of them studied the teen who was almost as well built as Magnus, was just an inch or two taller and had enough facial hair to show he had hit puberty early.

“Let him get a few good kicks and shield slams in,” Arngrim replied.  “Don’t let him cut you unless you’re certain it won’t be the end.  They just need to see you barely win.”

Rotating his shoulders and stretching his neck, Magnus nodded and took the axe and shield from the older man.

As the blond headed teen walked away, Arngrim looked up into the sky and muttered a prayer.

The first strike came, and it was sent as a test by Magnus’s opponent. The teen's name was Adils and he hailed from the northeast section of Midgar.  Whoever had taught him how to fight made certain he understood the power of the one he face and to not rush in unless you were certain you could win.

Absorbing the impact against his shield, Magnus felt the blade dig into the wood and was glad it hadn’t been a full-strength attack.  It would have taken a chunk out of the shield if it had.

The left leg came, sweeping toward his and Magnus had to backup, acting like he was stumbling to dodge the kick.  Adils didn’t wait, this time coming at him with more zeal.  His axe came down, trying to find the edge and rip the shield from Magnus’s hands.  Swinging with his axe upward, the blades collided right at the lip of the shield, sending Adils’s weapon scraping across the wood.

He shouted, kicking, slamming, slashing over and over his axe at Magnus, trying to find a way to either force him toward the edge of the circle and out or land a blow that would let him end this fight.

Sweat poured down the dark-headed teen as he fought with everything he had.

Magnus’s shield was on the breaking point, gouges of wood missing, and hunks hacked off the outer rim.  

The crowd seemed to sense the shift in the battle and cheers were coming as people called out for blood.  Some were booing Magnus’s lack of fighting back, yet he didn’t care.  All he did was occasionally spot Arngrim, waiting to see if the man gave him the go ahead.

Finally, after two minutes, the sound of a goat laughing pierced the noise of the crowd near his fighting circle.

Adils had slowed down, his stamina waned from all the blows he had delivered.  Magnus waited for the next chop and stepped sideways awkwardly and swung his axe at the boys head.  The handle spun in his hand, bringing the flat edge to bear and bashed the skull in enough for a crack to ring out.

Like a tree that had been chopped down, Adils fell to the ground, not getting to his feet after the blow he had taken.

The crowd had gone silent, surprised at the sudden turn of events as Magnus fumbled with his axe.  Only a second passed before the judge ran forward and shouted the fight was over, waving at Magnus to stop his next move.

Nodding, he gave the best performance possible and waved to the crowd, ambling over to where Arngrim was waiting on him, a small smile hidden inside his brown beard.

“Einar my boy, that was some of the best acting I have seen in a long time.  That poor man behind me with the red face just lost a silver coin.  I mentioned I believed in you and that Odin himself would intervene.  He said I was a fool and made the offer to wager.  Tomorrow we shall see just how good that performance created odds for you.”

Grinning, Magnus deposited the broken shield on the ground and slid his axe back into the loop on his belt.

“By the way, did you really have to hit him in the head?”

Shaking his head, Magnus shrugged and pointed a thumb at Adils who they were tending to on the field.

“He said some things during the fight about my mother.  Seemed only fair.  It was there or his manhood and I wasn’t certain how that would be taken by the crowd.”

Groaning, the rune crafter absently reached for his own tenders and shook his head, grimacing at the thought.

“No I would say that’s not a good move for now.  Maybe later, but round one, that would be a bad way to start your reputation.”

“Einar the ball crusher!” Magnus exclaimed.  “Has a certain ring, doesn’t it?”

Rolling his eyes, Arngrim put an arm around Magnus and led him toward the steps that allowed access to the stands.  “No… no it does not.”

Guat’s opponent was one of the weakest looking in the bunch, but Magnus saw how the wiry teen moved.

“You saw my fight. He’s going to be like that, except he won't wait as long.”

“How do you know that?” Guat asked, adjusting the shield a few times.  “He looks like a twig.”

“Forgive me for what I’m about to say, but what happened the last time you got overconfident about someone who looked like a twig?”

Wincing, Reinn’s son shook his head as he closed his eyes.

“That one stings a bit, but I hear what you’re saying.  What should I do?”

“Do you want to look smart and end this fast or draw it out?” Magnus asked.

“Why don’t you tell me what to do? Then people will think I’m the better of us three.”

Nodding, Magnus pointed at the axe still in his belt loop.  

“Take it out and practice like you’re going to toss it.  Give a few good motions.  Obviously, don’t do that, but pretend.”

Without asking, Guat spent a half minute practicing like Magnus said.

“Now when it starts run toward the guy, shouting like an idiot and pull back like you’re going to throw it.  When you bring it forward, don’t toss it but he’ll either hold up his shield to block or dodge one way.  Regardless of what he does, he should limit his vision with his shield.  When that happens, ram into him but stay low.  Make sure to really explode with your legs and hips like I taught you.”

Guat snorted as he banged his axe against his shield.

“If we face off, just make me look good before you beat me, ok?”

“No promises.”

As the two teens faced each other and waited for the match to start, Magnus watched those blue eyes of the teen Guat was facing.  They were not scared and no matter how much the boy tried to act like he was, Magnus read him like a book.  A dangerous opponent indeed.

The call to start came and Guat did exactly as he had been told.  The loud roar, followed by how he pulled his arm back caused his opponent to grin.  Losing a weapon here was almost always a loss.

Three steps from the teen Guat flung his arm forward and the skinny blond headed teen shifted left, holding his shield up, just in case.

Guat’s next two steps moved with the grace of practicing for years. Countless hours had been spent teaching him and Guat how to use their legs and hips.

By the time the boy realized the axe hadn’t flown by, Guat’s shield was connecting with his, and the force of the impact sent him flying backward about eight feet, landing awkwardly as he hit the ground.

Even across the ring and with the crowd, Magnus heard the sound of a bone snapping, followed by the scream of pain.  Guat was on top of the boy, slamming his shield into his opponent's left leg and another crack came.

The judge rushed in, ending the match as the sounds of screams filled this side of the dueling floors.

Shaking his head, Guat trotted over to Magnus and grinned.

“Well, looks like I finally won a match against a skinny opponent.”