Battle Through the Nine Realms - Chapter 29 - Danger Everywhere (Patreon)

“Had I known you needed this kind of protection, I would have asked my shield sisters to walk with us,” Avitue said, winking at Magnus.

Chuckling, he nodded and motioned to the eight warriors who were hired to escort the pair of them as they walked along the streets of Kopanes.  

Already, the guards had pushed away a few dozen, but after one Viking that had been a little too drunk and didn’t heed their warnings suffered a broken arm, no one else pushed close.

“The price of being me,” he replied, smiling at her.  “Now tell me, what have your thoughts been on the tournament?”

Grunting, she tried to frown, but the curve of her lip gave away the smile she was hiding.

“I’ve been watching the women who are trying to join our ranks these last few days.  What makes you think I’ve been there to see you get your ass kicked?”

“Oh, perhaps it was another beautiful red-headed woman I thought I saw sitting in the stands near my father. Maybe I should see if she is around.”

Pretending to stand on his toes and scan the crowd, Magnus barely dodged the elbow that came at him, chuckling as she groaned.

“You use those words, and yet you never make a move to prove there is anything behind them.  Tell me, Einar Sibbison, are you going to just tease me my whole life?”

He stopped in the middle of their escort and gently grabbed her arm.  The group of Vikings turned and formed a wall around them, their massive bodies providing a little bit of privacy from the people flowing along the street.

“I would make a promise, but we both know I cannot yet because we both know your father wouldn’t say yes either.”

“He doesn’t control me.”

“No, he doesn’t, but I also know that you value his input and wouldn’t want to risk that relationship you have with him.  For that reason, I will earn his favor and then prove to you, as I promised, that I am worthy of you just as you are worthy of me.”

She smiled, grabbed one of her red braids that was hanging over her shoulder, and gently tugged on it, biting her lip as she studied him.

“You’ve grown from the boy who teased me with a kiss and left me wanting more.  Tell me, Einar, when you become the man you say you will one day be, will there be room for me in your life?”

Without asking permission, Magnus slid an arm around her waist, pulled her close, and leaned in till his lips were just an inch from her ear.

The smell of her, flowers and sweat, was intoxicating, and the hormones he felt flooded every part of him.  It took great effort to control those things he knew caused many young men to get into trouble and steadied himself.

“When the time comes, and you join my band, I will show you what Odin intends for us to do.  Then you will decide if you want to be by my side.”

Goosebumps ran along her body, and Avitue shivered once before she leaned her head back, grabbed his neck, and pulled him close, kissing him there on the street.  

Time passed for a moment as both lost themselves to the heat of the moment, ignoring the sounds that came from those who saw the pair acting like this in public.

As their lips finally peeled away from each other and both stared into one another’s eyes, a smile grew on their faces.

“Now, don’t lose tomorrow,” Avitue said as she gave Magnus a gentle shove and moved him back. “I’ve got money on you and am trying to buy another rune.”

Chuckling, he nodded and cleared his throat, wrapping his arm around hers.

“Thank you, we’re moving again,” he said, watching as the guards immediately turned and started leading them on the path they had been instructed to take.

“I hope you get this tattoo. Let me see what it looks like. I’m still waiting to see how the ones on your chest and back look.”

The color of her face matched her hair, and she hip-checked Magnus as he laughed, knowing she would one day keep the promise to show them to him.

***

Every day, the line grew outside the Berserkers’ Den, and hours passed with a steady stream of those who now not only gave a small gift in the growing jar but also required a crate today, housing a few dozen woven flower headbands from girls all over the nation.  

The rest of the competitions had ended last night, and those who came for crafting or to see if they could qualify for runic healing or magic had gotten an answer. They were now allowed to finally glimpse the fighters they had heard about this whole week.

“You better stop smiling at all those flowers,” Guat teased.  “Avitue will find out, and when she returns may end up kicking your arse in front of everyone.”

Laughing, Magnus shrugged and then gave a quick bob of thanks to the two Vikings who had just dropped a coin each in his jar.

“Can you answer a question for me, Einar? My friend here says you’re not going to win again, but I’ve been betting on you since the day you drove that shield into the boy’s throat! Tell him he’s wrong.”

Magnus looked at the pair; both of them had scars and burns on their hands and forearms, as well as pitted spots on their faces.  The scraggly beard resembled the one their blacksmith had back in Kroppr.

“I’ll make it to day seven, so you can count on that.  Day eight will be when Odin himself must decide who walks away with the victory.”

Osvif snickered, having heard that practiced line at least 100 times since Teit started letting people into his establishment.

The shorter one, who had a frizzled black beard, elbowed the blond-headed one and laughed.

“I told you!" he exclaimed before being ushered away by Hrein, who had never taken his right hand off the dagger on his hip.

“You missed seeing Skardi get revenge on Ufi,” Osvif said as the pair walked off, and another two came.  “Seeing him get skewered by his own spear after the giant took it from him was…” the red-headed boy paused, shuddered, and then winced. “Maybe you didn’t miss anything.”

“I don’t mean ill to Ufi.  His father sent a gift to the healing room,” Guat said with a shrug. “It was a good fight, and I lost.  He played me well, and like you, now I have a scar to try and impress the maidens with.”

Magnus lifted his cup for another draft when a shadowed figure flickered at the edge of his vision.

In an instant, Brennor sprang forward as a person emerged from the throng, a gleaming dagger aimed at Magnus. With no time for thought, Brennor thrust his hand out, intercepting the blade's path. The dagger plunged through his palm with a sickening sound of flesh, bone, and sinew being sliced.

Magnus whirled around, knocking over his bench as he caught sight of Brennor grappling with the would-be assassin. Pain contorted Brennor's features into a grimace, but his grip was ironclad on the handle pressed against his palm.

"Guat! Osvif! To arms!" Magnus bellowed over the chaos.

Before another breath could be drawn, Hrein materialized from behind another shadow-clad figure who had been inching closer to their revelry with malicious intent. Hrein's fist connected with the second assassin's jaw in a resounding crack that turned heads even amid the uproar.

The second assailant staggered backward, tripping over an unsuspecting Viking’s outstretched leg. Hrein didn't hesitate; he pounced on the fallen man, wrestling him to the ground amid shattered tankards and curses.

Osvif and Guat leaped up, drawing their own weapons, and formed a protective circle around Magnus and Brennor. The ale house erupted into pandemonium as fights broke out, and people scrambled to either join the fray or escape it.

The assailant tried to escape, releasing his grip on his weapon.  When he turned, the chaos behind him created a wall he couldn’t easily get through.

Brennor lunged at the figure, his right hand grabbing the assassin by the braids at the back of his hair and lifting him upward by it.

The noise of fighting and shouts covered the sound of hair being ripped out by its roots, yet worse was the man’s own dagger being thrust into the back of his neck.  Brennor ignored the pain. His hand balled around the hilt and drove the blade that stuck out the other side of his fist along the spine until it ripped out the left side of the throat, sending blood spraying everywhere.

Horns sounded outside, and those who were foolish enough to brawl due to being drunk or fond of a fight quickly stopped, knowing the guards were on their way.

Hrein climbed off his victim, the blond hair Viking’s eyes rolled back and unresponsive, the attacker's face looking like a mule had kicked it in.

“Are you okay?” Reinn shouted as he raced to where the three boys stood, each holding an axe and a dagger.

“We’re fine!” Guat shouted, motioning to Brennor.  “He needs healing!”

Reinn turned and saw his warrior and friend pulling the blade free from the wound.  It was as if someone had filleted it down the ring and middle finger.

“Hragnelf!”

“On it!” was the healer's reply as he pushed past a few people to get to where Brennor stood, wrapping his hand with a cloth that was lying on the floor.

“This stings worse than I thought it would,” the warrior groaned. “Tell me this won’t mess up my grip, old man.”

“Stop moving and crying like a babe on its mother’s teat, and you’ll be fine,” Hragnelf fired back, frowning as he pulled the cloth off and tossed it aside.

His tattoos began to glow as the man pressed both sides of the hand together, and Magnus found himself in awe at what the healer could do.

“You three need to go upstairs!” Hrein shouted.  “Guat and Osvif, sweep the halls and rooms first, and then do not open the door if it isn’t one of us!”

“Life is never going to be dull when we are with you,” Osvif said as he headed toward the stairs.

Grunting, Magnus knew that was the truth, and it would never change.  

***

“Einar, I offer my condolences for what happened to you last night.  You need to know that I have questioned my men and my son to ensure that no one from my command had a hand in that attack.”

Magnus nodded and gave a simple bow, doing his best not to hurt his neck as he looked up at Jarl Unnulf. 

“I am making every use of my questioners to find out who hired them,” Jarl Bior stated.  “Know that I will ensure that extra guards are given to the remaining five combatants.”

Reinn stood there, not moving or flinching as both Jarls and the Lendmann had the Berserkers’ Den to themselves.  

The three men gave off an aura of danger and death as they stood there. There were no guards present, but a half-dozen were stationed out front and in the back loading area. None of the men standing inside with Magnus were worried about someone attacking. Anyone foolish enough to attempt would find the guards a merciful way to die.

“Tell me, Einar,” Unnulf asked as he studied the teenager.  “Do you truly plan on challenging my son to the death?”

A grunt came from Reinn, but Magnus held up his hand immediately and stopped his Lendmann from getting involved.

“If someone had done to your son what he did to my friend, would you not expect the challenge to come from Skardi’s friend still in the contest?”

The giant Jarl frowned, his blond beard shifting slightly as the man’s jaws twitched.  Suddenly, he broke out into a bellowing laugh and raised his hands to where they almost touched the twelve-foot ceiling.

“Odin be pleased. These boys who are becoming men finally have some balls and honor.”

Unnulf returned his gaze to Magnus and nodded.

“Einar, no matter what happens if that fight does take place, know that I will stand by my word.  Our family will not retaliate.  So, fight without fear and bring honor as you have.”

The giant turned to Reinn and then to Jarl Bior and gave each of them a nod before spinning on his heels and heading toward the door.

When just the three of them remained, Reinn let out a long sigh and shook his head.

“He is still formidable since the day I last saw him,” the Lendmann muttered.  “Is it true he has seven runes?”

Bior chuckled and shrugged.  “That is not for me to say, but I can tell you, I wouldn’t want to fight him without reason.  The man is a monster, more dangerous than many will ever realize.  Not only does he have a sharp mind, but his ferocity in the circle is based on the truth that every man he has ever faced has lost to him.”

Listening to the two men talk about Unnulf left Magnus wondering how much different his son must be, praying to Odin that Skardi had not yet achieved that level of battle prowess.

“I must go,” Jarl Bior said.  “Tonight’s fights take place later in the day.  I must prepare my guards for how busy it will be.  A small group of six will escort you all tonight.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Jarl Bior,” Reinn replied, grinning as the jarl rolled his eyes.

“Einar.”

The jarl and the teen locked gazes, and Magnus stood there wondering what was going to come next.

“Make the last two, and I will offer you a spot in my warband.”

He felt his eyes widen and heard Reinn's shuffling as Bior smiled and turned to leave.  As the jarl walked away, a chuckle came, and the man waved, not looking at either of them.

“Even if you don’t, I still might offer it, just for the way I got to see Unnulf today.”

When the jarl had left the building, a hand slapped against Magnus’s back, and laughter came from Kroppr’s Lendmann.

“Einar, you have to win.”

Nodding, Magnus knew Reinn was right.  No matter what, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity of a lifetime.