The Trees And The Night (Book 3) (45 page)

Second, the Southern lad did not wish to be near the preparations of Manfir. Until this point, he and the prince shared a vision on what they could accomplish against the Anvil. Thus far they fulfilled their wildest ambitions. These successes emboldened Flair, but Manfir inexplicably changed tactics. If the giant won this challenge, the Keltaran soldiers would rally to his cause. Was Manfir risking the lives of all his men in this brash gamble to unite the two armies?

One of Flair’s troops called out.

“Movement to the north.” cried the man.

Instantly the horsemen launched their mounts toward two dark figures, small in the distance. The cavalrymen rode hard for a few minutes. Flair’s grim expression softened then flashed into a broad grin as his unit approached the slowly moving figures.

Brelg bent forward to strap a steel shin guard upon Manfir.

“Leave it, my friend,” stated the prince. “On horseback my legs might be vulnerable, but on foot I will need all my mobility to dodge the strokes of the Keltaran.”

Brelg nodded at the logic of the request and tossed the guard aside.

“Do not fool yourself into thinking you can wear this beast down,” said Brelg. “Like all the mountain giants, he will possess unusual stamina. His size will not make him tire quickly. You must find openings and attack aggressively. The more you dance away from him, the more you wear yourself out.”

A buzz grew in the ranks of the Guard and Manfir gazed over their heads to the field beyond. A pair of massive Brodor slowly trotted to midfield. Upon their backs sat Fenrel and his witless guard. The prince wore a golden breastplate embossed with a ram’s skull. Black undergarments ran from his neck to his gauntlets. A steel plated skirt flowed to his knees where the tops of iron bound boots halted. Sweat poured from beneath a golden helm adorned with ram’s horns and his dirty, flame colored hair lay matted to his forehead and shoulders.

The pair reined in and the Keltaran prince dropped from his saddle. He slammed a pike bearing the Ramsskull insignia into the hard packed earth. His guard jumped from the saddle and hastily arranged a weapon’s stand. Quickly he retrieved a pike, staff, broadsword and mace from holsters and scabbards attached to his mount. Finally, the guard removed an enormous dual headed ax from the Brodor and leaned it in the center of the stand. Fenrel stepped forward.

“I make claim on this land for Fenrel Stormbreaker. I choose to extend the Invitation of Hadraig to the murderous cowards of Zodra,” boomed the voice of the giant. “Will any dare accept the challenge?”

Manfir frowned at Brelg.

“Lies upon lies.” said Manfir. “So is the way Amird builds his domain.”

Brelg nodded then gathered Manfir’s weapons within his arms.

“I WILL!” thundered a reply from behind the Guard’s northern rank.

The army spun and immediately opened a corridor for a group exiting from between the Knuckles. Manfir’s eyes widened in shock as Flair and a small cavalry unit led the limping figure of Granu and a haggard Cefiz into the midst of his army.

“I WILL FACE YOU!” called Granu once more toward his stunned brother. “But first I must ask leave to do so from my commander.”

Fenrel spluttered expletives but Granu ignored his brother’s glare and moved through the Guard toward Manfir. A murmur grew amongst the Anvil as well. The distance was too great for the Keltaran to hear the exchange, but several sharp-eyed giants recognized the abbot. Word rapidly spread and the tide of Keltaran soldiers swelled forward, closer and closer to the challenge site. Fenrel grew red in anger. He spun and barked at his Ramsskull.

“Keep them in their ranks.” shouted the giant trying to maintain control over his army.

The Ramsskull’s thugs drove up and down the line brandishing their weapons and threatening their own men but already the two armies stood only one hundred yards apart.

“You heard ‘im. Stand your ground!”

“Back in line you dogs, or your wish to be front and center will be granted during our first charge!”

Granu reached Manfir and lightly bowed to the Zodrian. Manfir returned the gesture.

“Young master Flair informs me that you intend to sacrifice yourself to my brother,” said a smiling Granu. “I had grown to believe you were an intelligent man, Zodrian. What has transformed you?”

“Desperation and a desire for victory.” smiled Manfir in return. “The pair forces my hand into questionable action.”

“Suicide is the ultimate act of desperation and accomplishes naught,” stated Granu. “ My brother is a master with both the hammer and the ax. You are without a horse, a severe limitation. You are also outmatched in this battle.”

“That may be true,” returned Manfir, “but the responsibility is mine. I would ask no man to fight in my stead.”

“The responsibility is hardly yours,” laughed Granu. “Justice is every man’s responsibility. Besides, Fenrel is a product of both his own bitter greed for power and my own ignorance. Had I been less concerned with the greater world and gave but small attention to my younger brother, perhaps I could have avoided his downfall. As it is, Fenrel is the responsibility and the failure of the House of Stormbreaker. I will set my own house in order.”

The giant grew grim and in his eyes Manfir saw a determination unlike any he had ever beheld. Still, the prince remained unwilling to pass on the challenge.

“I cannot allow you to ...” began Manfir.

“My prince,” interrupted Cefiz sternly, “you have been a friend and a leader for many years. I obeyed your commands and recently turned from folly upon your suggestion, but this time you must listen to me. This is not your destiny. The task at hand lies before Granu son of Grannak. No more will be said on the subject.”

Manfir stared hard into the unflinching eyes of the lieutenant and witnessed a similar resolve there. Something occurred to these men during their absence. Manfir could not guess at what it was, but he was sure powerful forces were at work. Finally, the prince bowed before the Keltaran.

“May Avra guide your hand,” said Manfir to the black robed giant. “We will outfit you with what armor we can and provide you with weapons.”

“Armor will do little good,” shrugged Granu. “If Fenrel strikes a solid blow he will cleave any armor forged in Zodra or my mountain home. As for weapons, I carry my staff, and my second carries what little else I need.”

Cefiz smiled and nodded, acknowledging the role Granu bequeathed him. Manfir noted an oaken handle protruding from a bedroll on Cefiz’s back. The Zodrian prince nodded then held a hand out to the giant. Granu firmly grasped it.

“Fare you well, Granu Stormbreaker, heir to the Granite throne,” said Manfir.

Granu smiled and nodded again to Manfir then spun and limped toward the battlefield leaning heavily upon his staff. Cefiz followed closely behind and the Guard parted to let the men through.

“Fenrel, I am here to accept the Invitation of Hadraig in the name of the Zodrian kingdom,” boomed Granu.

The eyes of Fenrel bore into his brother.

“More lies and trickery out of the Zodrians,” called Fenrel to both his brother and his own army. “This witless fool is so enamored with their wiles that he doesn’t see how he plays into their greatest hopes.

“Look how deeply your delusions of peace carry you into the trap of your enemy, my brother. The Abbot of the monastery of Awoi, a man of peace and principle, now intends to battle to the death against his own brother in the name of peace. How ridiculous you are? A cripple, a jester sent on a fool’s mission at the request of his own enemy.”

Fenrel spun toward the Anvil laughing.

“Take heed, men of Keltar. So is the natural order of this world. The yipping dogs of Zodra cannot find a champion more suitable to face me than the hobbled outcast of our own kingdom. Our worst is their best!”

Many of the Ramsskull roared and laughed in approval. The main body of the Anvil remained silent. Fenrel’s eyes narrowed in anger and he spun back to Granu.

“I was to face the Zodrian prince,” snapped Fenrel, “but as in all things the Zodrians deceive. No matter. I will dispose of Prince Manfir on the Anvil’s first charge through his ranks.”

Granu remained silent, leaning on his staff.

“Still the great man of peace I see,” scoffed Fenrel. “You bring a crutch as your only weapon.”

Fenrel strode toward the weapon’s rack maintained by his second and lifted a huge wooden war hammer. The hammerhead was the width of a man’s head and was bound in iron. Its handle nearly matched the length of Granu’s staff.

“My weapons are not so simple,” said the giant, “but I will show honor by matching wood with wood. I have no need to dirty my steel with your blood.”

Fenrel spun the hammer in his hand and immediately charged forward on Granu’s position. The older brother tensed and drew the staff up across his body with one hand while the other motioned Cefiz back. The Zodrian lieutenant complied and cleared the battlefield.

Fenrel moved quickly for such a big man. He spun the hammer deftly in his thick hands as he searched for an opening in Granu’s defenses. When he approached to within a yard from Granu, the hammerhead flipped and crashed toward the abbot. Granu’s staff shot upward and met the hammer just beneath the head.

Granu danced from beneath the heavy mallet as it rode the length of his staff toward the ground. The abbot needed all of his concentration. The hammerhead met the ground with a loud thud and instantly Fenrel whipped the long handle in a sweep.

Granu tried to dodge backward to escape the move, but his injured leg reacted too slowly and the hammer’s handle caught him squarely on the right shoulder. The giant tumbled backward. The Ramsskull erupted in a roar of approval. Fenrel ripped the hammer upward and stalked toward his prone brother. The weapon plunged downward again, but Granu was already moving. He rolled further to his right and sprung to his feet, favoring his left leg as he raised his staff.

Again the hammerhead slammed into the ground. Fenrel cursed and hefted its heavy head. The Ramsskull commander glanced at his brother’s stance and read the difficulty Granu encountered there. Fenrel rushed forward jabbing the hammer at Granu’s torso. The abbot parried the thrust forcing the hammer’s head further to the right with his outstretched arms.

Granu was off balance and stretched open as his long arms and staff applied pressure to the hammer’s head. Fenrel saw the opening he desired. The mallet head dropped and all the pressure Granu held upon it launched the abbot stumbling to his right as the support was taken away. Quickly, the younger brother used the handle as a weapon once more. The thick oaken handle snapped forward. Fenrel roared in triumph as he saw his brother’s ribcage wide open for punishment.

Fenrel missed something. Granu staggered right. The abbot’s foot landed squarely upon the hammer’s shaft just above its head. Granu’s weight was too much for Fenrel to hold. The handle, intended for the abbot’s ribs, halted in mid swing. Granu stumbled further. His staff flailed behind him blindly as he tried to make a desperate assault on his attacker. Luck prevailed and the staff met Fenrel’s forearms just above his gauntlets. The force was not great, but the blow combined with Granu’s weight upon the handle popped the weapon from Fenrel’s hands.

Granu caught himself and turned as Fenrel lunged toward the hammer. The abbot jumped forward and stabbed his staff beneath the hammerhead. Granu ripped up on the hammer just as Fenrel’s hand plunged forward to grasp it. The force sent the huge weapon spinning through the air and landing two-dozen yards past Cefiz’s position.

Fenrel’s eyes widened and he froze in a crouch. Granu was not close enough for an attack. However, Fenrel was without a weapon. Granu stared at his brother calmly. Fenrel’s eyes darted toward his second who stood gaping at his master’s situation.

“You have been disarmed, Fenrel,” stated Granu, “but I am not as dishonorable as you would have our people believe. I offer you alternatives.”

“What alternatives?” scoffed Fenrel.

“I do not pretend to think the Anvil would follow me at this time,” said Granu. “I have been in the camp of our enemy. Doubts would linger. However, all here know my uncle and his faith and service. Step down Fenrel. Step down and turn control of the Anvil over to Olith.”

Fenrel’s eyes narrowed.

“You offered ‘alternatives’.” said Fenrel. “What are the others?”

“Only this,” said Granu grimly. “You may rearm yourself and we will finish this. However, this offer will be made only once. If you are disarmed again I will do what I must.”

Fenrel relaxed and stood tall. He smirked toward his older brother then slowly backed toward his second.

“You act as if you show me pity by allowing me to rearm.”

“I do only as the rules of challenge instruct. I allow you to rearm because it is honorable. I have no pity for you, Fenrel.”

Fenrel grimaced then spat on the ground as he reached for a large pike propped against the weapons stand. The weapon’s head was equipped with a wicked, barbed point. Its three sides ridged with serrated edging.

“It is I who demonstrated too much pity here today,” snarled Fenrel.

The giant hefted the pike in his hand.

“My pity is my undoing, brother. I met wood with wood in an attempt to keep our proceedings fair. I forget your treason and lies,” boomed Fenrel loud enough for his army to hear. “Traitors should receive no compassion. Not even from one so just as myself. Let us see how a man of peace and his staff of wood deals with a warrior and his steel!”