Battle Through the Nine Realms - Chapter 30 - Always Stop When Told (Patreon)

Five remained, and the announcer had done his job, whipping the people in the seats into a frenzy.  Each boy moved as one, walking in a line to where a jar rested on a stone pedestal.  Bior was there, wearing an outfit that made Magnus think of kings.  Leather armor with gold and silver runes covered the seams, reminding him of what Odin had had.  A massive cloak of green fabric that looked expensive based on the forest green color had more runes stitched along the edges.  Two axes hung on his belt, each covered in runes.

A single-file line of teens moved, and each dropped their now-metal token with their name on it into the jar.

Cheers erupted as favorites dropped theirs inside, and when all five were done, they moved in the line they had been taught, standing shoulder to shoulder and facing Bior, whose beard was in a state of perfection, braided perfectly.

The jarl raised his hand, and the crowds went silent, no one risking getting removed for cheering when it wasn’t time.

“Tonight, five warriors are left.  Each of these boys has earned the right to be called a man! Many of them would best those of you in the seats that surround them, and yet, soon, it will come down to just one!”

The crowd roared, cheering names or just making noise, excited at the truth of what was to befall.

As the jarl’s hand started to rise, the crowd went silent again.

“I shall draw the matches so that no one will continue to spread false rumors. Odin will direct my hand, and Thor will be my witness. Tomorrow, only three will remain, and then just two.  The warriors you hear about around fires, the thegn, and housecarls are warriors who made it this far. Never forget the men who stand before you now! May they always bring honor to the Vikings!”

Goosebumps ran up Magnus’s arms from the roar that came from the crowd.

The jar was lifted by Bior, and the man began to shake the pottery around, the crowd becoming so loud it seemed to vibrate through Magnus’s chest.

When the jarl’s hand went into the jar, everyone went silent in a heartbeat.

One moment, they were under the torrent of a waterfall, and the next, they were standing in a graveyard.

Jarl Bior shook his hand around in the jar as he lowered it back to the stone pedestal it originally rested on.

“This one shall receive the blessing of Odin and sit out tonight, gifted with the chance to watch and learn about his competitors.”

Slowly, working the crowd and the teens who stood there, waiting to hear what name might be read, the jarl held one up in the air, the name turned so none could see it but him.

“Warrior Broddi!”

A cheer came, and the young man on Magnus’s right sighed.  The dark-haired boy looked relieved, knowing that he would make it to the final three.  

Every other combatant shifted slightly, knowing now that there would be no pass.  The only way to make it to tomorrow was through the spilling of blood.

Bior’s hand went into the jar again, and the throng went silent.

“Warrior Anlaf!”

Cheers came, and the boy on the end nodded, taking a deep breath and holding a hand up into the air.  His red hair shook as he waved, a large part of the crowd chanting his name.

The jarl gave the boy a moment, letting him enjoy the chance, and finally raised his hand, silencing the crowd.

He reached in, making a face as he found a token and pulled it out.

A smirk appeared through his beard, but only the five could see it due to how close they were.

“His opponent shall be…Warrior Einar!”

Relief washed over him as Magnus realized he would get another chance to watch Skardi fight.

A grunt came from the giant as the boy clenched his fists.

Raising both hands, Magnus turned and waved to the crowd, overwhelmed by the number of people chanting Einar! Einar! over and over.

With that last bit of news decided, Magnus felt bad for the last boy.  Hastein knew he was going to go against Skardi, and standing this close to him, one could notice the boy was trembling slightly.  

“That means our last two shall be Warrior Hastein and Warrior Skardi!” Bior shouted as he pulled the last two tokens out and handed them to the man next to him.

The crowd roared with one last long moment of praise, everyone knowing that in thirty minutes, the first fight would take place.

“Warriors, go get warmed up and prepared,” Jarl Bior said as he came over to stand before them.  “Honor Odin with your fights.”

***

Reinn cleared his throat, and Arngrim ignored the Lendmann’s displeasure at Magnus’s choice.

“It’s his call. He is the one fighting, not you,” the rune crafter stated.

“It’s a dangerous move, but it does provide some chances of an early win.  Do you think he’ll use those crazy moves he practiced back home?”

Snorting, Arngrim nodded.

“It wouldn’t be our Einar if he didn’t show off like that.”

Reinn nodded, watching as Magnus entered the ring with the massive Dane axe.

Anlaf came toward the center of the ring with his axe and shield, surprised to see that Magnus would trade the safety the shield brought this late in the matchups.

Both teens came forward and gave a bow as the judge verified neither would be calling to fight for the death.

“I wish you well, Einar,” Anlaf said with a grin.

“Same to you, Anlaf,” Magnus replied.

Having had his first pre-match pleasantries in this entire ordeal, Magnus moved back to his starting position and saw the frown still on Reinn’s face.

He hated how many times this combination got him back home, and even when he knew it was coming, it set him up for the next attack.

Only against a shield and axe did this have a high success rate, and Magnus knew that Skardi wasn’t going to go that route, most likely.  The giant had taken a Dane axe every fight, using his Strength to overwhelm his opponents and their defenses.

Holding the axe with his hand at the end of the wooden shaft, Magnus went through the plan in his mind once more. He was either going to win with a flashy move and put a little fear in the giant's heart or hope to make it past the first salvo and win the old fashion way.

As the horn sounded, Magnus roared and charged, something he had not done in a while, and came with the axe held high, prepared for a downward slash.

Anlaf immediately shifted to the defensive stance, knowing that if he miscalculated his approach and didn’t get past the head of the axe, it would result in taking a damaging blow.

He raised his shield as Magnus swung downward, using his axe to help brace the incoming strike.

At the last second, Magnus used the power in his shoulders to pull back on the swing, shortening its range and sliding the shaft through his left hand. 

As the blade barely cleared the edge of the shield, his left hand clamped down on the wood, and Magnus thrust forward, the tip of the axe head now propelling toward Anlaf’s stomach.

The teen tried to react, but like Reinn, Brennor, and Hrein, none were prepared for such a move the first time they experienced it. Anlaf was unable to dodge or adjust the position of his axe and shield.

Speed and Agility were among Magnus’s strengths, and his Perception allowed him to control them better than most.

The metal tip plunged between the arms that tried to block the blade, piercing the three inches of the sharp metal tip through the leather armor and into Anlaf’s stomach.

Magnus kept driving, pushing the boy backward as the teen lost his balance, hunched over the axe and unable to react.

Anlaf dropped his axe, grabbing the wooden shaft as he tried to fight against the pain and force lancing through his core.  His feet were barely able to keep up with the speed at which Magnus was propelling him backward.

A shout came, and suddenly, he fell over. The axe ripped from his stomach, and warm blood flowed from the wound.

The crowd needed a moment to process what they had just witnessed, one of the fastest victories so far and another one from Magnus.

“Einar! Einar!”

Over and over, the crowd chanted as Magnus hefted the two-handed axe above his head, feeding into the crowd.

Magnus walked to where Reinn and Arngrim were standing, both men now smiling as he came.

“I wished you wouldn’t have shown that yet,” Reinn muttered as he gave Magnus a slap to his shoulder.  “Still, the crowd seems to love you for it.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t get to see Skardi’s face,” Arngrim said.  “He wasn’t prepared for that any better than the rest.”

Magnus nodded and handed the axe to the rune crafter, who took it and moved to get it cleaned off.

Scanning the crowd and then turning so he could watch the other two combatants, Magnus saw Skardi scowling as their eyes locked.  Neither was willing to break contact first, so the giant was upset when someone from his camp pushed him, ending their contest.

“Tomorrow or the day after is going to be exciting when you both finally meet,” Reinn said.  

“I guess neither of us expects Skardi to lose,” Magnus replied. “I almost feel bad for Hastein, but hopefully, the boy will not suffer too much.”

“Only Odin knows,” the Lendmann replied.

The frown on the man’s face told Magnus everything he already knew.  Skardi would torture the teen.

***

The crowd booed, but the only one who seemed more upset was Skardi as Hastein walked away with his spear, unwilling to fight to the death.  

Roaring in frustration, Skardi pointed at where Magnus stood, watching the event unfold as Jarl Bior started to walk away.

“Fight me now, you ragr!”

The giant’s shout was heard across the dueling field, and the crowd became hushed with whispers as everyone, including the jarl, focused on Magnus to see how he would respond to such an insult.

Letting the moment take a minute, Magnus ignored the hand that touched his shoulder, knowing Reinn was trying to warn him.  When the area was almost completely silent, Magnus attacked.

“Wait until Odin declares it time for you to face me! Until then, realize no one wants to fight you because you have no honor!”

A few cups clanged against the wooden benches and stone floors, everyone else silent as Magnus’s insult resounded louder than if he had walked up and slapped Skardi across the face before them all.

The giant’s face turned red, and he hefted his axe above his head, looking like he was about to toss it.

No one noticed Jarl Bior and the speed at which the older man moved.  The dangerous aura that seemed to come off him had not been fake because those massive hands grabbed the wooden shaft as it was held behind the head of Skardi and yanked down hard on it, bringing the blond-haired giant to the ground.

A foot found a place to rest on the boys chest as the Jarl stood over him on the ground, the giant’s axe now in the leader of this city, the blade only a few inches from Skardi’s face.

“Do something like that again, and it won’t matter whose son you are. I will personally end your life and send you home.  Do you understand?”

The tone the Jarl spoke with was like a blade being ground against a sharpening wheel.  There was no doubt that the words he uttered were not a threat but a promise.

It took a moment for Skardi to realize what had just happened and what had been said.  Only the Jarl could see the fear in the boy’s eyes as he realized the predicament he was in.

“For…forgive me, sir!” Skardi stammered, holding both hands up in surrender.

With a grunt and a slight push of his foot, Bior moved off the teen, never letting go of the axe he now held.

Jarl Unnulf was completely red-faced, glaring at his son across the dueling field, boring holes into his skull from the force.

“We are done for the day! Go home, and tomorrow, we will see what Odin chooses for our matchup!” Jarl Bior shouted to the crowd, slowly spinning around as he held the massive axe in one hand, pointing it at them all.

What should have been a celebration and excitement was soured, murmurs and curses occasionally shouted by someone before ducking behind the guards who scanned the crowd for problems.

Magnus watched as Skardi stood up and backed away from the jarl, who appeared to have laid claim to the axe in his hand.  Moving swiftly to where his father was, a thwack rang out, and Magnus felt and heard the impact that came the moment the teen got in range of his father.

A single backhand took the boy off his feet, depositing him to the ground like a bag of flour.  He didn’t rise, and for a moment, every eye wondered if Jarl Unnulf had killed his own son with a single hit.

Their healer paused by the Jarl, waiting to be told he could intervene.  Finally, the man nodded, and the healer approached the young boy, laying hands on him while the tattoos began to glow.

Blue piercing eyes came across the field and stared at him.  There was no hatred or condemnation, only a look Magnus thought he understood.

Does he really want me to defeat his son?

“We need to go.”

Hrein’s voice didn’t cause Magnus to move, so the man instead used his hands, grabbing their last contender and spinning him around.

“You spoke well; do not ruin it by gawking like a child.”

Nodding, Magnus quickly moved to where everyone else was gathered, waiting for the guards to direct them through the tunnel that would help them escape the throng of those who had gathered to watch the fights.

The sound of Arngrim laughing rang out for a second until the older man saw Reinn’s gaze and stopped himself.

“Do not celebrate until we are back in the ale house,” the Lendmann said, his eyes watching over everyone.  “Honor today hangs by a thread, and one act right now could topple that which was carefully stacked.”

Brennor and Hrein grunted in agreement.

Silence was their companion as the group set out, feeling the gaze of a city upon them.