Skoll and Tarvos stepped out from behind the head table into the space that had been cleared for them and unbuckled the knives from around their waists. Tarvos briefly met his father's eyes as he laid the hammerhorn-leather sheath on the table in front of him. Gunnlod gave a brief nod of his head; a silent communication that he knew his son would fight fairly, with no dirty tricks. Tarvos nodded back, then turned to face his opponent.

  Skoll was grinning with anticipation. He clearly expected to win and would enjoy it a great deal. Maybe you won't enjoy it as much as you think, thought Tarvos, but the truth was that this would be the hardest fight he'd even fought. It wouldn't be like the friendly tussels he occasionally had with the warriors of his own clan that always ended with friendly slaps on the back and another horn of ale. Skoll intended to humiliate Tarvos in front of the entire six clans. He wanted Tarvos kneeling in front of him, bruised and bleeding. Spiritually broken. He wanted to look into Tarvos's eyes and see the clear knowledge that he was a lesser man.

  Yeah, good luck with that, thought Tarvos. He braced himself to retain his dignity no matter how the fight went. It wouldn't matter if he lost as long as he lost bravely. Well, of course it would matter, he thought ruefully. To lose would be shaming no matter how brave he remained. So make sure it doesn't happen, he told himself. Make sure you win.

  He looked out into the crowd of spectators, all cheering either his name or that of his opponent, and saw Daphnis staring back at him looking worried and scared. He gave her a reassuring smile, but it only made her look more worried. Beside her, Narvi was giving him an enthusiastic grin, though. "Crack his head open!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Stamp him into the dust!"

  Tarvos smiled back at him, but then his head exploded with white light and he fell to the damp stone floor. Fury filled him and boos of disapproval came from the crowd. Skoll had struck him with his fist while he hadn't been looking. There were no rules as such regarding when the fight started or how it was fought, but to strike the first blow before one's opponent was ready was widely regarded as bad sportsmanship. Skoll didn't care, though. He just wanted to win and he didn't care how.

  Skoll ran forward, intending to kick him in the side hard enough to break ribs and maybe rupture organs but Tarvos rolled to the side, grabbing his ankle and pulling him off his feet. Skoll fell and Tarvos climbed back to his feet as fast as he could, his head still spinning.

  "Bold of you to show the whole hall that you can't win fairly," he said as Skoll also stood. Laughter and Cheers of agreement filled the hall. Skoll roared with fury and ran forward, but Tarvos dodged to the side and jabbed him as hard as he could in the kidneys. Skoll grunted with pain and spun around, his fist flying, but Tarvos dodged again and tried for another jab to the kidneys.

  This time Skoll was ready, though, and grabbed his wrist. He gave it a savage twist, and Tarvos had no choice but to go with it or suffer a dislocated elbow. He fell to the floor and Skoll gave a cry of triumph as he raised a foot to stamp on his face, but Tarvos kicked out with his foot and hit Skoll on the kneepad. Skoll cried out in pain and Tarvos took the opportunity to pull his arm out of the other man's grasp. He scrambled back to his feet and staggered back to create a few feet of clear space between himself and his opponent.

  Skoll was fingering his knee and kneading it gingerly, but then he stood upright with his full weight upon it and took a few steps back and forth as if testing it. Then he glared at Tarvos, and this time there was murder in his eyes. Tarvos risked a glance at Daphnis and saw her still staring anxiously at him. Around her, though, the entire hall was cheering and waving their ale horns in the air. "Get him Tarvos!" someone shouted. "Take the hairy grat down a peg or two."

  Skoll charged at him again, and again Tarvos dodged, this time giving him a solid punch to the stomach. Skoll doubled over with a whoosh of air driven from his lungs, giving Tarvos a clear chance to punch him in the jaw. A possible knockout blow that would win the fight for him. Tarvos suspected that the other man's jaw was a lot stronger than the small bones of his fist, though. He might fail to knock out the other man and leave himself crippled in the process. He opted for the safer option on punching Skoll on the nose, therefore. His nose would crumple, absorbing the energy of the impact. Tarvos's hand would be safe, and the shock of the blow might make Skoll rethink the wisdom of continuing the fight.

  Blood sprayed from Skoll's nose as Tarvos's fist made contact, and Narvi gave a great shout of joy, punching the air with his fist. "That's the way Tarvi!" the boy shouted. "Show him how the Robin Hood clan fights!"

  Skoll fell to the side to land on the floor, but he rolled further before Tarvos could take advantage of his position and onlookers jumped to the side to get out of his way. Tarvos ran forward, but his foot slipped on a puddle of ale and by the time he'd regained his footing Skoll was standing again, ready to launch another attack.

  "Stop playing with him, you idiot," said Greip impatiently. "Just put the whelp down. There's still ale to be drunk."

  "I'll drink his blood instead," swore Skoll. His head was lowered as he faced Tarvos, as if he was an enraged lancill about to charge its prey. Then he ran forward with his eyes blazing with madness, his hands clenched into fists by his side.

  Tarvos dodged to the side again, but this time Skoll was ready for the move. He lashed out with his huge, meaty fist and it connected solidly with the side of Tarvos's head...

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  ☆☆☆

  Narvi cried out in shock as his older brother's head was knocked to the side by the blow, a spray of blood flying from a torn lip. Then Tarvos fell to the damp, ale-stained floor and lay still, his eyes closed. Skoll dropped to his knees beside him and slammed his fist into Tarvos's face again and again until men run forward to drag him away by the arms. "Let me go!" he shouted furiously. "Let me go!"

  "You've won, lad," one of the men told him. "It's over."

  Behind the table Gunnlod stood, looking concerned, but another man was examining the unconscious youth and he gave his father a reassuring nod. Gunnlod sat again, looking relieved. "Take him to one of the guest huts," said Bergelmir. "Let him sleep it off." The man nodded and picked him up, slinging him over his shoulder.

  Narvi ran forward to examine his brother for himself. "Is he going to be alright?" he asked anxiously.

  "Sure , lad," the man replied, still walking towards the exit. "I've been knocked senseless many times. Never did me any harm."

  "It's his first time," said Narvi. "Skoll cheated. Tarvi would have won easily in a fair fight."

  "If I guess right, this won't be the last time they come to blows," the man replied with a smile. "Perhaps this lad'll have more luck next time."

  Narvi nodded. "Take care of him, okay?"

  "He'll he fine, lad. Don't you worry." He reached the door and carried Tarvos out into the late morning sunlight.

  Narvi watched them go, then turned to return to the table he'd been sharing with Daphnis. The woman couldn't show too much concern for her betrothed, of course. It would be demeaning and humiliating for Tarvos. Skoll would have been sure to accuse him of needing a woman to look out for him, and that was the kind of reputation that could stick. It could cost him his position as clan leader one day. She had remained at the table, therefore, but when Narvi pushed his way back through the crowd he arrived to find that she was gone.

  He looked at the nearest of the hall's side entrances and saw the door being closed by someone who had just passed through it. He looked toward the main table and saw Skoll being congratulated by the men of his tribe. His father, though, was paying him little attention as he spoke to the leader of the Merlin Clan. Skoll gave him an expectant look, but Greip continued to ignore him. Skoll took a long drink from an ale horn, threw it across the room and marched across the hall to the same door Daphnis had just gone through.

  Narvi followed him with his eyes, feeling a sudden alarm. He glanced across to his father, but Gunnlod was taking another great bite from his fleethorn haunch while laughing at something Skrymir had said. Narvi thought about going to tell him that Skoll was following Daphnis, but a growing sense of urgency made him unwilling to take the time. Instead he turned and raced after Skoll, following him out through the door.

  Outside, he saw Daphnis hurrying towards the guest huts, Skoll striding fast after her. Narvi ran after them, anxious to catch up, but Skoll reached the woman before the boy had closed half the distance. He grabbed her by the arm and spun her around to face him. "Off to console your pet welkie?" he sneered.

  "Let me go, Skoll," said Daphnis, trying to pull her arm free.

  Skoll held on tight, though. "Or maybe you're off to tell him you'd rather marry a real man. After seeing him drooling and bleeding at my feet perhaps you're having second thoughts about him."

  "You cheated," said Narvi, reaching them. "You knew you couldn't beat him fairly."

  Skoll glanced down at him in annoyance. "Go away, little welkie," he said. Then he laughed. "Two brothers," he said. "A little welkie and an even smaller one."

  "You're a coward," said Narvi furiously. "You're a..."

  Skoll slapped him hard across the face, knocking the boy to the ground. "Nobody calls me a coward, boy," he spat. "I've killed men for less."

  "How brave you are," sneered Daphnis. "Striking a boy a head shorter then you." She helped Narvi climb back to his feet.

  "Don't turn your back on me, woman" said Skoll, grabbing her again. "When you're my wife I'll teach you to respect me."

  Daphnis laughed scornfully. "I'll never be your wife," she said. "I'd sooner cut my own throat." Around them people were starting to gather, drawn by the raised voices.

  "You'll obey my every command or I'll cut it for you."

  "You touch her and I'll kill you!" shouted Narvi.

  "Watch your mouth you little turd!" Skoll shouted down at him. "One more word out of you..."

  "Coward!" shouted Narvi. "You're a big pile of muskril dung!"

  Skoll roared with fury and slammed his fist as hard as he could into Narvi's face...

  ☆☆☆

  Daphnis gasped with shock as the boy was thrown back by the blow, blood flying from his nose and mouth. "You monster!" she cried, dropping to her knees beside the boy. "You call yourself a man..."

  "You heard what he said," said Skoll, rubbing his fist against his leggings to wipe off the blood. "No-one talks like that to me."

  "How is he?" A woman asked, kneeling beside Daphnis. "The poor boy looks senseless."

  Daphnis's face was going white, though, as she stared down at the boy's face. "He isn't breathing," she said. She tilted his head back to try to clear his airway. He still didn't breathe. She put a finger to his neck, looking for a pulse.

  "He's killed him!" a woman shouted, pointing at Skoll. "He's a murderer!"

  Skoll was backing away, starting to look scared. "The runt had it coming," he said. "You all heard what he said."

  "What's going on?" another woman asked, hurrying over to join the growing crowd.

  "He killed him!" The first woman said, pointing at Skoll again. "He's a murderer."

  "No, he's just senseless," another woman said hopefully. "Right?"

  Daphnis still had her fingers to Narvi's neck, searching for a pulse. She pressed harder, then tried a slightly different position. 'No, no, no," she moaned, tears appearing at the corners of her eyes. She grabbed Narvi by the shoulders and shook him. "Come on, Narvi! Stop playing around! It's not funny any more."

  "Who is he?" A woman asked.

  "The younger son of Gunnlod," another woman answered. "The son of a clan chief."

  "I am also the son of a clan chief," said Skoll, looking fearfully around at the crowd, all of whom were staring either at him or the fallen boy.

  "Someone fetch his father," a woman said, staring down at the tragic scene. "Now!"

  Skoll was looking this way and that as if searching for a way to escape, but then a look of determination appeared on his face. He would brazen it out. He was the son of a clan chief. Nobody dared touch him. He saw a woman running towards the Great Hall while Daphnis continued to try to rouse Narvi, with no more luck than she'd had before. Then he crossed his arms across his great, barrel chest as he waited for her to return.