Princess Elsanne Eikenaar
The Lords of Jake Lake
Part II
(The man with the bronze hand)
“Jadefort’s wall ain’t finished yet,” Hajot reported, after they had crossed the second bridge, this one over the Dragontoe River, its three smaller tributaries having the shape of a claw, Jadefort built to protect the last two bridges over them, right at the proverbial knuckle. The Oasis had turned into a buzzing jungle since yesterday, but this part of it was cleared out, the ground flattened and the sun blasting on their heads unobstructed.
At least you can breathe much easier, Elsanne surmised, looking curiously out of her window at the abandoned small fort.
“Kuntur is spending my dinar, with nothing to show for it,” Prince Radin commented and walked on foot near the leader of his guards, to see for himself. “No one stopped you?”
“No patrols that I noticed.”
“Worker crews?”
“None outside the walls, or their huts.”
“What in Uher’s name are they doing? What’s this, a fucking vacation?” Radin sounded angry.
“Perhaps they stopped? It’s too hot today,” Elsanne offered and most men present frowned, with a couple of them snickering. Was her Cofol so bad? She wondered. Elsanne had worked diligently to improve her knowledge of the language and could converse in Cofol with the Prince pretty easily now.
“Most of the workers are slaves, wife,” Radin explained, as if he was talking to a gullible child. Elsanne narrowed her eyes annoyed.
“Don’t confront him in front of his men, Princess,” Loes advised her, whispering as if they were captives themselves.
“What are you afraid of?” Elsanne snapped at her.
“I’ve heard things, from Tobro,” The boy slave with the gigantic fan. “You might want to work slowly on this.”
“Define slow… Things have to change here, Loes.”
“We may find this more difficult, than it appeared back home, Princess.”
Elsanne grimaced and thought to rebuke her maid, but commotion coming from outside forced her to turn her attention away. Hajot pointed to a group riders coming from the site of the other bridge, the one leading to Dia and by the time Elsanne twisted her head that way, another group had appeared coming from the west side of the fort.
These were a lot of riders. All of them armed.
“Are they Kuntur’s men?” The Prince asked.
“Some of the saddles are ours, Bloodfang,” Hajot commented, alarm in his voice, just as Elsanne jumped out of the carriage to have a better view of the newcomers. “I council ye stay back, my Lord.”
“It’s a good day!” One of the newcomers boomed, his voice a metallic gruff, clear as the sound of steel striking rock.
“You’re trespassing on Prince Radin’s lands!” Hajot barked back angry.
“Where the hell are our men?” Her husband wondered aloud and seeing her approach ogled his eyes terrified. “Get back on the carriage!” Radin ordered her, just as the leader of the newcomers snarled back his answer.
“Yer talking to the Lord of Jade Lake, Khanite scum!”
Elsanne blinked in shock at the hatred in his voice.
“Fuck, they’re Horselords,” Radin cursed and retreated towards his wife.
“Arm yourselves!” Hajot barked to the rest, Elsanne having no clue what was going on, pausing unsure and looking around her, as the rest of the guards rushed to the front to defend the Prince.
“Get back up, for fuck’s sake!” Radin bellowed, coming her way furious.
Hell is your problem?
“IS THE PRINCE HERE?” The Horselord called out louder than anyone else. “Are ye hidin’ Radpour?”
“Take your horses and leave the fort, fiend!” Hajot retorted.
The man, clad in mail under his intricate bone armour, one hand in a gleaming bronze lifelike gauntlet resting on the saddle, the other naked, pointed a thumb the fort’s way.
“I’ve won the Fort wit my blood. Claimed the land between the rivers—”
“You’re not the Lord here!” Hajot cut him off.
“Ye’ll fight me for it? Are ye the Prince?”
“My Lord?” Hajot asked turning his head to look at her husband.
“Ah, there he is,” The Horselord noted nastily. “Which of the lot are ye?”
“The Lord of Jade Lake. My people call me Bloodfang,” Radin replied, standing tall. “You have a name, son of the plains?”
The Horselord stood back surprised at the polite term.
“I’m Kalac, son of Duham.”
“You don’t have the men to enforce your demands, Kalac,” Radin told him diplomatically.
“I have men enough now, to kill yer guards, yerself and take yer women, Prince.”
Uher help us, is he insane? Elsanne thought glaring at the brute.
“Your win will be short-lived, Kalac,” Radin countered.
“Much like yer life, Prince,” The brute deadpanned, a smile appearing on his ascetic and sun-scorched face.
Radin glanced at his guards, all six of them, then at the mounted warriors, at least a dozen Elsanne could count, all of them with arrows ready on their curved bows and grimaced frustrated.
“What are your terms for the duel?” He queried, both Elsanne and Hajot reacting together.
“Huh? What’s this madness?”
“I’ll fight him, my Lord.”
Elsanne turned her head towards the gallant guard. “No, you won’t.”
“You’re not fully healed, my Prince,” Hajot explained, not looking at her.
Radin sighed and glanced at the gaunt Horselord.
“They seem pretty worn out,” He reasoned, then smacked his lips and nodded at his man.
“What will it be, Prince?”
“I haven’t heard your terms, Kalac.”
“You win, my men leave.”
Radin nodded, a little pale in the face.
What happens, if we lose? Elsanne wondered, very interested to hear the rest of the agreement.
“Hajot will fight you, or your best man.”
Kalac pressed his lips tight.
“No deal.”
What?
“I was injured in a tourney, Kalac,” Radin reasoned, and freshly married, Elsanne would have added, her husband clearly uncomfortable that he appeared weak before his men and the Horselords. “You’ll seek glory, fighting an injured warrior?”
Kalac raised his bronze hand high.
“Kalac has only one arm made of flesh, Prince of Rin An-Pur,” His smirk right evil. Several of the Horselords cheered at his words.
“Sounds like you’re the one fearing my man, Kalac,” Radin replied readily and the murmur of the riders turned angry.
Kalac nodded. “I shall kill yer man first, then fight ye, Prince Radin. These are my terms,” He announced for all to hear and then turned his horse to talk with his second in command.
Elsanne gulped down, numb to her toes.
“I can take him, my Prince,” Hajot reassured, remarkably calm considering the circumstances.
“Give him my good helm!” Radin ordered and put a hand on his man’s shoulder. “I know you will.”
Elsanne never found out, if he believed it.
“Stop this,” The Princess of Kaltha urged her husband, as the two men glared at each other mounted on their horses. Hajot had a shining steel spangenhelm on, his face hidden behind a mask depicting a hideously smirking face, with openings at the eyes and mouth. Can he even see, under that? She wondered. “You’re gonna get him killed.”
“Close your mouth!” Radin snapped at her, his handsome face contorting furious. “There’s nothing I can do!”
“You’re the Lord here,” Elsanne hissed through her teeth, deeply insulted he’d yelled at her in front of everyone. “Order him to stand down, Radin.”
“I won’t,” He replied, clenching his jaw. “Learn your fucking place, wife!”
“Learn yours!” Elsanne shouted back at him. “I ain’t your slave!”
“Here they go,” Their driver commented, interrupting their staring match.
Hajot, clad in brilliant segmented mail, charged his stallion towards his smaller opponent. Both Kalac and his horse were smaller in size. The flat field wasn’t meant for a tourney, but it was straight enough to allow them to stand about twenty meters apart. They crashed in the middle of it, Hajot turning his torso and snapping with his war spear towards the Horselord, in a move it reminded her of Radin, when he’d faced De Weer back at Riverdor.
Then they were apart again and she couldn’t figure out, if someone had been hurt, or not. Elsanne puffed her cheeks out, her haphazardly closed top almost popping right open and spilling the goods out for all to gawk on. Not that anyone was looking at her, so she put a hand on to keep everything secure, as the two opponents, turned their mounts around and charged again.
The horses neighed and snorted, tongues hanging, hooves digging in the soft ground, the ever increasing sound of their trot turning violent and the crowd watching cheering in ecstasy, especially the gathered Horselords. It was breathtaking watching two fearsome riders clash with each other so close to the action. Hajot appeared to be more focused this time, Elsanne had her eyes on him, but suddenly flinched and raised his spear point high, just before he met Kalac for the second time. Elsanne snapped her eyes on the Horselord, caught the tail end of his impossible jump off the saddle, had the man climbed on it mid-charge? She wondered, and watched him crashing on the Cofol knight, managing to just avoid his spear.
AAWW!
Went the crowd as both fighters tumbled down on the ground, Hajot hard on his back and Kalac bouncing off him to crash a couple meters away, without his spear. Hajot shook his masked head and jumped on his feet, his opponent slow to get up, left arm daggling useless and that bronze fake hand of his, appearing too heavy to lift.
“KALAC THE FEARED!” The Horselords thundered with one voice, sending a shiver down Elsanne’s spine, as Hajot slowly approached their leader, who stepped back nimbly, pushed his wild hair off his face first and then used his good hand to unsheathe his sabre.
Hajot raised his spear above his head with two hands, flipped it once around expertly, his left hand extending forward at the end of it and the right securing the long shaft behind his nappe. Dancing on the balls of his feet, reminiscent of Prince Radin during his duel with Ralph at the tourney, he closed in on the oddly unfazed Horselord.
Elsanne gasped, her attempt at drawing breath failing and her vision blurred. Loes clasped her right hand with hers so hard, she felt her bones crack.
Kalac moved, the moment Hajot committed, spear swinging around high alike a greatsword, in what was a feint, the Horselord dodging it by simply twisting his neck to the side. Hajot pulled the war spear all the way back, still holding it high, feinted again and attacked mid-move with a downward thrust, aiming for Kalac chest. The Horselord raised his useless arm and grabbed it before it plunged into him fully. The steel tip on it actually did penetrate quite a bit, shattering the bone armour and tearing at the mail underneath, before sinking into flesh. All of the above happened in the less than ten seconds.
“What in Uher’s name?” Radin exclaimed in shock.
Hajot put his hand on the Horselord’s rising blade right at its mid-point, the tip of it aimed at his unprotected stomach, tried to stop it from moving forward, the curved edge slashing through his hard-leather gauntlets, blood painting the still moving blade.
“Argh!” Hajot cried out, understanding that he had to kill Kalac before he spilled his guts out and pushed with everything he had to break through the Horselord’s grip on his spear.
“Come on!” Radin hissed, eyes ogling in desperation.
But the spear wouldn’t budge. The grip on it with the bronze hand solid, the reason for it becoming apparent to everyone that looked closer at it.
“Fingers closed on the shaft,” Their driver said awed, at what he was witnessing. “That’s fuckin’ unnatural!”
Unnatural, or not, the simple fact of it was that Hajot failed to shove more of his spear into Kalac and the sinewy Horselord, his hardened face remaining apathetic, slowly cut through the Cofol knight’s fingers first, hand next and run the length of his blade through the hapless man’s stomach.
All the way.
“NOOOO!” Elsanne screamed recoiling in horror, seeing the nasty end of it exploding out of the gallant guard’s back, the blood a striking red on the white armour, Loes fainting and collapsing next to her, under the elated Horselords triumphant cries.
You could hear a pin drop, in the smooth clearing before Jadefort’s brick walls. Radin was shaking with silent rage, the rest of their guards stupefied at the outcome of the duel, while their driver was trying to help an unresponsive Loes to her feet and Elsanne just looked on, as if entranced, at the bloodied Horselord snatch the spear tip out of his chest and then, using a cruel boot, removing his sword from the slain Hajot, proceeding to wipe blood and entrails using his leather pants, with the ease of a professional butcher.
Kalac took a deep breath at the end of it, sent a hard stare to his grinning men and turned his pitiless eyes on Prince Radin.
No.
“I believe, ye owe me a duel,” He announced, without bothering being polite this time.
Radin grimaced, his face dark and unreadable.
“You’ll have your duel,” He said, through his teeth.
“THERE’LL BE NO DUEL!”
That was Elsanne, her furious cry turning into a crone’s screech at the tail end of it, having had enough of this nonsense. Radin glared at her, looking unhappy, the rest of the Cofols snapping out of their gloominess and looking even less pleased than the Prince. The Horselords gasped collectively in turn, most of them noticing her for the first time, as she bravely pushed forward and approached Kalac, trying to keep her eyes away from the body of Hajot that was laying still, in a pool of his own blood.
Collapsing like Loes will ruin this for sure.
Kalac raised his wild brows either impressed, or taken aback, eyes a dark brown, face marred with scars and deep lines from exposure to the desert sun, even outright burned at places.
“Who might ye be?” He asked in that characteristic gruff voice that send a shiver from the base of her neck, down to her toes.
“The Princess of Kaltha,” Elsanne blurted out, fast as she could, fearing she’d lose her courage and become the laughing stock of the crowd.
A feat she’d probably already accomplished.
“Wife,” Radin called from behind her, sounding tired. “Come back here.”
Kalac looked her up and down intrigued. He then cast his eyes on Prince Radin.
“Ye made a slave of an Issirian Princess?”
“I’m no one’s slave!” Elsanne exploded, her anger fueling her courage.
“Yer his consort,” Kalac replied, not convinced, but slightly amused.
“I’m his wife!”
“Was my meaning,” The Horselord smacked his lips and glanced at his men, gauging their mood. He’d a gleam in his eye, Elsanne didn’t like, but wanted to exploit. “Ye have a counter offer, Princess of Kaltha?” The last part he’d said, with a heavy dose of razz, getting a lewd snicker out of his men.
So you want to keep them entertained, Elsanne thought. She’d absolutely no idea what were the dynamics between them, nor the time to find out. This man needed a win and she’d grown up in a palace. Elsanne was privy to more backroom deals by the time she was ten, than she had dolls to play with and dresses to ruin.
“I do, if you agree there won’t be another duel.”
“What’s the offer?” Kalac queried, without agreeing to anything, half-amused half-interested. Whether it was to what she had to say, or her personally, Elsanne didn’t care.
“You get to keep, what you won with blood,” She said, remembering his words. The crowd, both Cofols and their… wilder cousins, exploded in uproar hearing her. Some yelling, others outright laughing, even belittling her, but a good amount of men cheered, mostly Horselords. Kalac took notice of the latter.
“Jadefort and the land between the bridges,” Kalac noted. “What about today?”
Elsanne had to force herself, not to look at the lifeless body of Hajot.
Keep your eyes straight girl, think of… she couldn’t think of anything.
“What do you want?” She croaked.
Kalac snorted. “Supplies, food for our horses. What ye carry in those carriages.”
“That’s absurd,” Radin intervened. “There will be no deal—”
“We agree,” Elsanne announced, cutting him off, much to the surprise of the Prince’s guards.
Kalac stood back and examined them both in silence for a couple of moments. He pressed his right hand on the still bleeding wound on his chest, while he thought about it, then casually licked the blood off his fingers. Elsanne noticed his fake hand daggling useless, the bronze part of it rigid, naught but a piece of metal that shouldn’t have moved earlier.
Or come alive.
The whole event bizarre.
But apparently, all an illusion.
“Yer husband will never agree, Princess,” Kalac said finaly.
“He will.”
“He’ll send an army here, the moment I let ye go.”
“That will make me angry,” Elsanne deadpanned. “I don’t believe he’ll enjoy that.”
This time she got a laugh out of almost everyone, but her husband.
Kalac shook his head, appearing impressed. He looked towards Prince Radin.
“Give me yer woman and I’ll take my men and leave. Ye can have the fort.”
Wait what?
“Forget it,” Radin said, in his no nonsense kind of way.
Thank you husband.
Kalac snorted. “Then I’ll take her deal, Prince. Leave us the wagons, yer man’s weapons ‘n horse and ye may go.”
Radin glared at him, letting his hatred show.
“Don’t expect me to honor a deal with a murdering thief, Kalac!” He spat incensed.
Kalac nodded calmly, surprisingly not insulted by his outburst.
“Ah, spawn of Radpour,” He replied pragmatically. “I know ye won’t.”
“Can you ride, dear?” Radin asked her, no warmth in his voice.
Are we not together now, husband? Elsanne thought sadly, pushing his hands away to climb on her mount. A mare, with goofy eyes. She patted her sweaty mane with a hand softly and got lost in her thoughts.
“Will you honor the deal?” She asked him an hour later, after they left the last bridge behind them, the jungle around them a crazy kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, no one had the stomach to enjoy. The death of Hajot had ruined everyone’s mood, but none was as affected as she was.
Probably.
“I shall have his head, but not before cutting his tongue and taking his eyes out,” Came the Prince’s pointed reply.
“Don’t underestimate him.”
Radin laughed at her advice. “Insulting me, will not give you any leverage in the future.”
“Do I need one?” Elsanne countered.
“There’s only so much patience I can do,” Radin replied, keeping his eyes upfront. “Eventually you will need my favor, wife. You are not in Kaltha anymore.”
Right, she thought, looking at her mare’s long head. As if I hadn’t figured that one out myself.
Dia castle was three times the size of Jadefort, built to resemble a typical Jelin castle, with four towers guarding its corners, tall brick walls and a courtyard that was more a garden, the large clean water pool and spring in the middle, ending that resemblance. It was orderly though and the area surrounding it cleared of jungle and the rest of the local flora to a point. If one stood at the top of the south square tower, Radin explained later in the day, trying to mend the bridges between them, he could easily spot in the distance, the strikingly tall peak called Ovinet’s Nest, dominating the mountain range.
“Who was Ovinet?” Elsanne asked, eager to keep the conversation going.
“If I may answer, Prince Radin,” A plump effeminate man said, coming to greet them, when they reached her quarters, after they navigated the pleasant flower garden. The majority of the buildings were located at the periphery of the garden, which reminded her of Lorian architecture. The man’s penciled blue eyes, not those of a Cofol, but of a Northman unexpectedly, were kept on her face while he waited for the Prince’s answer. Radin nodded with a smile, so the man wearing, what Elsanne was certain was a woman’s green silk tunic, stepped forward gracefully, bowed his head and answered. “The Queen’s Wyvern.”
“Thank you, Mister…”
“The name is Jasi, Mistress. I’m not worthy of further adornments.”
“Don’t believe him,” Radin cut in. “Nothing runs in here, without his say so.”
“Thank you, Jasi,” Elsanne repeated not buying it, having lost account on the number of slaves her husband was keeping. Another three women, one dressed more provocatively than the other, were standing behind the… well-rounded Jasi and hadn’t said a single word since they’ve arrived.
“Where’s Kuntur?” Her husband asked looking displeased, while Elsanne tried desperately to find some kind of excuse to greet the rest of the staff.
“Master Kuntur Tsuparin, was called to Tyeusfort last month, my Prince,” Jasi replied, a little too sultry for Elsanne’s likes. She eyed him suspiciously, wishing Loes had recovered enough to be present. She knew how to root out trouble.
“On what business?”
“The Khan decreed we should offer some assistance to the main army.”
Radin all but snarled, not believing his ears. “He took my men?”
“Not everyone, my Prince.”
“What’s left then?” Radin asked, raising a hand to stop him from answering too quickly. “Other than the guards needed for the castle.”
Jasi sighed deeply, crossed his hands over his bouncy chest and adopted the melancholiest expression the Princess of Kaltha had ever seen.
“Alas, my dear Prince Radin,” The effeminate man replied. “The castle’s guard, is what’s left.”
“There’s a Horselord’s raiding party occupying Jadefort right now! You hear that you darn eunuch!” Radin blasted him, as if he was responsible for this. “They killed Hajot before my wife’s eyes!”
Elsanne clasped her hands in front of her now seemingly rather modest bustier, due to the amount of female flesh on display and glanced around those present to gauge their reaction to the Prince’s admission. The ‘slave’ comment from Kalac had rattled her pretty badly.
Jasi hid whatever surprise he might have felt, behind a polite smile and another well-practiced bow, two of the slave girls followed his lead as well, hiding with giggles their relative shock, which is to be expected, Elsanne supposed and the third young woman paled, her Cofol golden skin turning a sickly yellow, her slanted eyes narrowing and despite the effort to produce some kind of a smile, she failed miserably.
The reason plain as day to Elsanne’s female mind.
Radin had a lover.
We can work around that, she thought faking she wasn’t livid.
“Ah, dear wife,” Prince Radin said, as an afterthought, perhaps ready to apologize. “I almost forgot. Vynia, step forward girl, for Uher’s sake.” The woman with the deleterious stare did. She wore two pieces of cloth on her, if one was being generous, a good amount of jewelry and her open sheer white tunic, not helping mediate the lewd spectacle. Like at all. Similarly to the whores at Issir’s Eagle, she decided, returning the glare. “Elsanne,” Radin continued oblivious to what was happening, or just a plain idiot. “This is lovely Vynia, my first wife.”
The Princess of Kaltha blinked, but said nothing.
Jasi’s heavily painted eyes opened wide in realization and the fleshy eunuch took a precautionary step back, while a dumbfounded Elsanne, was lost… in a whir-mill of happy thoughts, of sorts.
Radin had a wife.
Lovely?
First?
You piece of giant royal shit!
And you, I’m going to gouge your eyes out with a spoon!
Are you freaking kidding me?
Princess Elsanne Eikenaar
The Lords of Jake Lake
Part II
(The man with the bronze hand)
“Jadefort’s wall ain’t finished yet,” Hajot reported, after they had crossed the second bridge, this one over the Dragontoe River, its three smaller tributaries having the shape of a claw, Jadefort built to protect the last two bridges over them, right at the proverbial knuckle. The Oasis had turned into a buzzing jungle since yesterday, but this part of it was cleared out, the ground flattened and the sun blasting on their heads unobstructed.
At least you can breathe much easier, Elsanne surmised, looking curiously out of her window at the abandoned small fort.
“Kuntur is spending my dinar, with nothing to show for it,” Prince Radin commented and walked on foot near the leader of his guards, to see for himself. “No one stopped you?”
“No patrols that I noticed.”
“Worker crews?”
“None outside the walls, or their huts.”
“What in Uher’s name are they doing? What’s this, a fucking vacation?” Radin sounded angry.
“Perhaps they stopped? It’s too hot today,” Elsanne offered and most men present frowned, with a couple of them snickering. Was her Cofol so bad? She wondered. Elsanne had worked diligently to improve her knowledge of the language and could converse in Cofol with the Prince pretty easily now.
“Most of the workers are slaves, wife,” Radin explained, as if he was talking to a gullible child. Elsanne narrowed her eyes annoyed.
“Don’t confront him in front of his men, Princess,” Loes advised her, whispering as if they were captives themselves.
“What are you afraid of?” Elsanne snapped at her.
“I’ve heard things, from Tobro,” The boy slave with the gigantic fan. “You might want to work slowly on this.”
“Define slow… Things have to change here, Loes.”
“We may find this more difficult, than it appeared back home, Princess.”
Elsanne grimaced and thought to rebuke her maid, but commotion coming from outside forced her to turn her attention away. Hajot pointed to a group riders coming from the site of the other bridge, the one leading to Dia and by the time Elsanne twisted her head that way, another group had appeared coming from the west side of the fort.
These were a lot of riders. All of them armed.
“Are they Kuntur’s men?” The Prince asked.
“Some of the saddles are ours, Bloodfang,” Hajot commented, alarm in his voice, just as Elsanne jumped out of the carriage to have a better view of the newcomers. “I council ye stay back, my Lord.”
“It’s a good day!” One of the newcomers boomed, his voice a metallic gruff, clear as the sound of steel striking rock.
“You’re trespassing on Prince Radin’s lands!” Hajot barked back angry.
“Where the hell are our men?” Her husband wondered aloud and seeing her approach ogled his eyes terrified. “Get back on the carriage!” Radin ordered her, just as the leader of the newcomers snarled back his answer.
“Yer talking to the Lord of Jade Lake, Khanite scum!”
Elsanne blinked in shock at the hatred in his voice.
“Fuck, they’re Horselords,” Radin cursed and retreated towards his wife.
“Arm yourselves!” Hajot barked to the rest, Elsanne having no clue what was going on, pausing unsure and looking around her, as the rest of the guards rushed to the front to defend the Prince.
“Get back up, for fuck’s sake!” Radin bellowed, coming her way furious.
Hell is your problem?
“IS THE PRINCE HERE?” The Horselord called out louder than anyone else. “Are ye hidin’ Radpour?”
“Take your horses and leave the fort, fiend!” Hajot retorted.
The man, clad in mail under his intricate bone armour, one hand in a gleaming bronze lifelike gauntlet resting on the saddle, the other naked, pointed a thumb the fort’s way.
“I’ve won the Fort wit my blood. Claimed the land between the rivers—”
“You’re not the Lord here!” Hajot cut him off.
“Ye’ll fight me for it? Are ye the Prince?”
“My Lord?” Hajot asked turning his head to look at her husband.
“Ah, there he is,” The Horselord noted nastily. “Which of the lot are ye?”
“The Lord of Jade Lake. My people call me Bloodfang,” Radin replied, standing tall. “You have a name, son of the plains?”
The Horselord stood back surprised at the polite term.
“I’m Kalac, son of Duham.”
“You don’t have the men to enforce your demands, Kalac,” Radin told him diplomatically.
“I have men enough now, to kill yer guards, yerself and take yer women, Prince.”
Uher help us, is he insane? Elsanne thought glaring at the brute.
“Your win will be short-lived, Kalac,” Radin countered.
“Much like yer life, Prince,” The brute deadpanned, a smile appearing on his ascetic and sun-scorched face.
Radin glanced at his guards, all six of them, then at the mounted warriors, at least a dozen Elsanne could count, all of them with arrows ready on their curved bows and grimaced frustrated.
“What are your terms for the duel?” He queried, both Elsanne and Hajot reacting together.
“Huh? What’s this madness?”
“I’ll fight him, my Lord.”
Elsanne turned her head towards the gallant guard. “No, you won’t.”
“You’re not fully healed, my Prince,” Hajot explained, not looking at her.
Radin sighed and glanced at the gaunt Horselord.
“They seem pretty worn out,” He reasoned, then smacked his lips and nodded at his man.
“What will it be, Prince?”
“I haven’t heard your terms, Kalac.”
“You win, my men leave.”
Radin nodded, a little pale in the face.
What happens, if we lose? Elsanne wondered, very interested to hear the rest of the agreement.
“Hajot will fight you, or your best man.”
Kalac pressed his lips tight.
“No deal.”
What?
“I was injured in a tourney, Kalac,” Radin reasoned, and freshly married, Elsanne would have added, her husband clearly uncomfortable that he appeared weak before his men and the Horselords. “You’ll seek glory, fighting an injured warrior?”
Kalac raised his bronze hand high.
“Kalac has only one arm made of flesh, Prince of Rin An-Pur,” His smirk right evil. Several of the Horselords cheered at his words.
“Sounds like you’re the one fearing my man, Kalac,” Radin replied readily and the murmur of the riders turned angry.
Kalac nodded. “I shall kill yer man first, then fight ye, Prince Radin. These are my terms,” He announced for all to hear and then turned his horse to talk with his second in command.
Elsanne gulped down, numb to her toes.
“I can take him, my Prince,” Hajot reassured, remarkably calm considering the circumstances.
“Give him my good helm!” Radin ordered and put a hand on his man’s shoulder. “I know you will.”
Elsanne never found out, if he believed it.
“Stop this,” The Princess of Kaltha urged her husband, as the two men glared at each other mounted on their horses. Hajot had a shining steel spangenhelm on, his face hidden behind a mask depicting a hideously smirking face, with openings at the eyes and mouth. Can he even see, under that? She wondered. “You’re gonna get him killed.”
“Close your mouth!” Radin snapped at her, his handsome face contorting furious. “There’s nothing I can do!”
“You’re the Lord here,” Elsanne hissed through her teeth, deeply insulted he’d yelled at her in front of everyone. “Order him to stand down, Radin.”
“I won’t,” He replied, clenching his jaw. “Learn your fucking place, wife!”
“Learn yours!” Elsanne shouted back at him. “I ain’t your slave!”
“Here they go,” Their driver commented, interrupting their staring match.
Hajot, clad in brilliant segmented mail, charged his stallion towards his smaller opponent. Both Kalac and his horse were smaller in size. The flat field wasn’t meant for a tourney, but it was straight enough to allow them to stand about twenty meters apart. They crashed in the middle of it, Hajot turning his torso and snapping with his war spear towards the Horselord, in a move it reminded her of Radin, when he’d faced De Weer back at Riverdor.
Then they were apart again and she couldn’t figure out, if someone had been hurt, or not. Elsanne puffed her cheeks out, her haphazardly closed top almost popping right open and spilling the goods out for all to gawk on. Not that anyone was looking at her, so she put a hand on to keep everything secure, as the two opponents, turned their mounts around and charged again.
The horses neighed and snorted, tongues hanging, hooves digging in the soft ground, the ever increasing sound of their trot turning violent and the crowd watching cheering in ecstasy, especially the gathered Horselords. It was breathtaking watching two fearsome riders clash with each other so close to the action. Hajot appeared to be more focused this time, Elsanne had her eyes on him, but suddenly flinched and raised his spear point high, just before he met Kalac for the second time. Elsanne snapped her eyes on the Horselord, caught the tail end of his impossible jump off the saddle, had the man climbed on it mid-charge? She wondered, and watched him crashing on the Cofol knight, managing to just avoid his spear.
AAWW!
Went the crowd as both fighters tumbled down on the ground, Hajot hard on his back and Kalac bouncing off him to crash a couple meters away, without his spear. Hajot shook his masked head and jumped on his feet, his opponent slow to get up, left arm daggling useless and that bronze fake hand of his, appearing too heavy to lift.
“KALAC THE FEARED!” The Horselords thundered with one voice, sending a shiver down Elsanne’s spine, as Hajot slowly approached their leader, who stepped back nimbly, pushed his wild hair off his face first and then used his good hand to unsheathe his sabre.
Hajot raised his spear above his head with two hands, flipped it once around expertly, his left hand extending forward at the end of it and the right securing the long shaft behind his nappe. Dancing on the balls of his feet, reminiscent of Prince Radin during his duel with Ralph at the tourney, he closed in on the oddly unfazed Horselord.
Elsanne gasped, her attempt at drawing breath failing and her vision blurred. Loes clasped her right hand with hers so hard, she felt her bones crack.
Kalac moved, the moment Hajot committed, spear swinging around high alike a greatsword, in what was a feint, the Horselord dodging it by simply twisting his neck to the side. Hajot pulled the war spear all the way back, still holding it high, feinted again and attacked mid-move with a downward thrust, aiming for Kalac chest. The Horselord raised his useless arm and grabbed it before it plunged into him fully. The steel tip on it actually did penetrate quite a bit, shattering the bone armour and tearing at the mail underneath, before sinking into flesh. All of the above happened in the less than ten seconds.
“What in Uher’s name?” Radin exclaimed in shock.
Hajot put his hand on the Horselord’s rising blade right at its mid-point, the tip of it aimed at his unprotected stomach, tried to stop it from moving forward, the curved edge slashing through his hard-leather gauntlets, blood painting the still moving blade.
“Argh!” Hajot cried out, understanding that he had to kill Kalac before he spilled his guts out and pushed with everything he had to break through the Horselord’s grip on his spear.
“Come on!” Radin hissed, eyes ogling in desperation.
But the spear wouldn’t budge. The grip on it with the bronze hand solid, the reason for it becoming apparent to everyone that looked closer at it.
“Fingers closed on the shaft,” Their driver said awed, at what he was witnessing. “That’s fuckin’ unnatural!”
Unnatural, or not, the simple fact of it was that Hajot failed to shove more of his spear into Kalac and the sinewy Horselord, his hardened face remaining apathetic, slowly cut through the Cofol knight’s fingers first, hand next and run the length of his blade through the hapless man’s stomach.
All the way.
“NOOOO!” Elsanne screamed recoiling in horror, seeing the nasty end of it exploding out of the gallant guard’s back, the blood a striking red on the white armour, Loes fainting and collapsing next to her, under the elated Horselords triumphant cries.
You could hear a pin drop, in the smooth clearing before Jadefort’s brick walls. Radin was shaking with silent rage, the rest of their guards stupefied at the outcome of the duel, while their driver was trying to help an unresponsive Loes to her feet and Elsanne just looked on, as if entranced, at the bloodied Horselord snatch the spear tip out of his chest and then, using a cruel boot, removing his sword from the slain Hajot, proceeding to wipe blood and entrails using his leather pants, with the ease of a professional butcher.
Kalac took a deep breath at the end of it, sent a hard stare to his grinning men and turned his pitiless eyes on Prince Radin.
No.
“I believe, ye owe me a duel,” He announced, without bothering being polite this time.
Radin grimaced, his face dark and unreadable.
“You’ll have your duel,” He said, through his teeth.
“THERE’LL BE NO DUEL!”
That was Elsanne, her furious cry turning into a crone’s screech at the tail end of it, having had enough of this nonsense. Radin glared at her, looking unhappy, the rest of the Cofols snapping out of their gloominess and looking even less pleased than the Prince. The Horselords gasped collectively in turn, most of them noticing her for the first time, as she bravely pushed forward and approached Kalac, trying to keep her eyes away from the body of Hajot that was laying still, in a pool of his own blood.
Collapsing like Loes will ruin this for sure.
Kalac raised his wild brows either impressed, or taken aback, eyes a dark brown, face marred with scars and deep lines from exposure to the desert sun, even outright burned at places.
“Who might ye be?” He asked in that characteristic gruff voice that send a shiver from the base of her neck, down to her toes.
“The Princess of Kaltha,” Elsanne blurted out, fast as she could, fearing she’d lose her courage and become the laughing stock of the crowd.
A feat she’d probably already accomplished.
“Wife,” Radin called from behind her, sounding tired. “Come back here.”
Kalac looked her up and down intrigued. He then cast his eyes on Prince Radin.
“Ye made a slave of an Issirian Princess?”
“I’m no one’s slave!” Elsanne exploded, her anger fueling her courage.
“Yer his consort,” Kalac replied, not convinced, but slightly amused.
“I’m his wife!”
“Was my meaning,” The Horselord smacked his lips and glanced at his men, gauging their mood. He’d a gleam in his eye, Elsanne didn’t like, but wanted to exploit. “Ye have a counter offer, Princess of Kaltha?” The last part he’d said, with a heavy dose of razz, getting a lewd snicker out of his men.
So you want to keep them entertained, Elsanne thought. She’d absolutely no idea what were the dynamics between them, nor the time to find out. This man needed a win and she’d grown up in a palace. Elsanne was privy to more backroom deals by the time she was ten, than she had dolls to play with and dresses to ruin.
“I do, if you agree there won’t be another duel.”
“What’s the offer?” Kalac queried, without agreeing to anything, half-amused half-interested. Whether it was to what she had to say, or her personally, Elsanne didn’t care.
“You get to keep, what you won with blood,” She said, remembering his words. The crowd, both Cofols and their… wilder cousins, exploded in uproar hearing her. Some yelling, others outright laughing, even belittling her, but a good amount of men cheered, mostly Horselords. Kalac took notice of the latter.
“Jadefort and the land between the bridges,” Kalac noted. “What about today?”
Elsanne had to force herself, not to look at the lifeless body of Hajot.
Keep your eyes straight girl, think of… she couldn’t think of anything.
“What do you want?” She croaked.
Kalac snorted. “Supplies, food for our horses. What ye carry in those carriages.”
“That’s absurd,” Radin intervened. “There will be no deal—”
“We agree,” Elsanne announced, cutting him off, much to the surprise of the Prince’s guards.
Kalac stood back and examined them both in silence for a couple of moments. He pressed his right hand on the still bleeding wound on his chest, while he thought about it, then casually licked the blood off his fingers. Elsanne noticed his fake hand daggling useless, the bronze part of it rigid, naught but a piece of metal that shouldn’t have moved earlier.
Or come alive.
The whole event bizarre.
But apparently, all an illusion.
“Yer husband will never agree, Princess,” Kalac said finaly.
“He will.”
“He’ll send an army here, the moment I let ye go.”
“That will make me angry,” Elsanne deadpanned. “I don’t believe he’ll enjoy that.”
This time she got a laugh out of almost everyone, but her husband.
Kalac shook his head, appearing impressed. He looked towards Prince Radin.
“Give me yer woman and I’ll take my men and leave. Ye can have the fort.”
Wait what?
“Forget it,” Radin said, in his no nonsense kind of way.
Thank you husband.
Kalac snorted. “Then I’ll take her deal, Prince. Leave us the wagons, yer man’s weapons ‘n horse and ye may go.”
Radin glared at him, letting his hatred show.
“Don’t expect me to honor a deal with a murdering thief, Kalac!” He spat incensed.
Kalac nodded calmly, surprisingly not insulted by his outburst.
“Ah, spawn of Radpour,” He replied pragmatically. “I know ye won’t.”
“Can you ride, dear?” Radin asked her, no warmth in his voice.
Are we not together now, husband? Elsanne thought sadly, pushing his hands away to climb on her mount. A mare, with goofy eyes. She patted her sweaty mane with a hand softly and got lost in her thoughts.
“Will you honor the deal?” She asked him an hour later, after they left the last bridge behind them, the jungle around them a crazy kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, no one had the stomach to enjoy. The death of Hajot had ruined everyone’s mood, but none was as affected as she was.
Probably.
“I shall have his head, but not before cutting his tongue and taking his eyes out,” Came the Prince’s pointed reply.
“Don’t underestimate him.”
Radin laughed at her advice. “Insulting me, will not give you any leverage in the future.”
“Do I need one?” Elsanne countered.
“There’s only so much patience I can do,” Radin replied, keeping his eyes upfront. “Eventually you will need my favor, wife. You are not in Kaltha anymore.”
Right, she thought, looking at her mare’s long head. As if I hadn’t figured that one out myself.
Dia castle was three times the size of Jadefort, built to resemble a typical Jelin castle, with four towers guarding its corners, tall brick walls and a courtyard that was more a garden, the large clean water pool and spring in the middle, ending that resemblance. It was orderly though and the area surrounding it cleared of jungle and the rest of the local flora to a point. If one stood at the top of the south square tower, Radin explained later in the day, trying to mend the bridges between them, he could easily spot in the distance, the strikingly tall peak called Ovinet’s Nest, dominating the mountain range.
“Who was Ovinet?” Elsanne asked, eager to keep the conversation going.
“If I may answer, Prince Radin,” A plump effeminate man said, coming to greet them, when they reached her quarters, after they navigated the pleasant flower garden. The majority of the buildings were located at the periphery of the garden, which reminded her of Lorian architecture. The man’s penciled blue eyes, not those of a Cofol, but of a Northman unexpectedly, were kept on her face while he waited for the Prince’s answer. Radin nodded with a smile, so the man wearing, what Elsanne was certain was a woman’s green silk tunic, stepped forward gracefully, bowed his head and answered. “The Queen’s Wyvern.”
“Thank you, Mister…”
“The name is Jasi, Mistress. I’m not worthy of further adornments.”
“Don’t believe him,” Radin cut in. “Nothing runs in here, without his say so.”
“Thank you, Jasi,” Elsanne repeated not buying it, having lost account on the number of slaves her husband was keeping. Another three women, one dressed more provocatively than the other, were standing behind the… well-rounded Jasi and hadn’t said a single word since they’ve arrived.
“Where’s Kuntur?” Her husband asked looking displeased, while Elsanne tried desperately to find some kind of excuse to greet the rest of the staff.
“Master Kuntur Tsuparin, was called to Tyeusfort last month, my Prince,” Jasi replied, a little too sultry for Elsanne’s likes. She eyed him suspiciously, wishing Loes had recovered enough to be present. She knew how to root out trouble.
“On what business?”
“The Khan decreed we should offer some assistance to the main army.”
Radin all but snarled, not believing his ears. “He took my men?”
“Not everyone, my Prince.”
“What’s left then?” Radin asked, raising a hand to stop him from answering too quickly. “Other than the guards needed for the castle.”
Jasi sighed deeply, crossed his hands over his bouncy chest and adopted the melancholiest expression the Princess of Kaltha had ever seen.
“Alas, my dear Prince Radin,” The effeminate man replied. “The castle’s guard, is what’s left.”
“There’s a Horselord’s raiding party occupying Jadefort right now! You hear that you darn eunuch!” Radin blasted him, as if he was responsible for this. “They killed Hajot before my wife’s eyes!”
Elsanne clasped her hands in front of her now seemingly rather modest bustier, due to the amount of female flesh on display and glanced around those present to gauge their reaction to the Prince’s admission. The ‘slave’ comment from Kalac had rattled her pretty badly.
Jasi hid whatever surprise he might have felt, behind a polite smile and another well-practiced bow, two of the slave girls followed his lead as well, hiding with giggles their relative shock, which is to be expected, Elsanne supposed and the third young woman paled, her Cofol golden skin turning a sickly yellow, her slanted eyes narrowing and despite the effort to produce some kind of a smile, she failed miserably.
The reason plain as day to Elsanne’s female mind.
Radin had a lover.
We can work around that, she thought faking she wasn’t livid.
“Ah, dear wife,” Prince Radin said, as an afterthought, perhaps ready to apologize. “I almost forgot. Vynia, step forward girl, for Uher’s sake.” The woman with the deleterious stare did. She wore two pieces of cloth on her, if one was being generous, a good amount of jewelry and her open sheer white tunic, not helping mediate the lewd spectacle. Like at all. Similarly to the whores at Issir’s Eagle, she decided, returning the glare. “Elsanne,” Radin continued oblivious to what was happening, or just a plain idiot. “This is lovely Vynia, my first wife.”
The Princess of Kaltha blinked, but said nothing.
Jasi’s heavily painted eyes opened wide in realization and the fleshy eunuch took a precautionary step back, while a dumbfounded Elsanne, was lost… in a whir-mill of happy thoughts, of sorts.
Radin had a wife.
Lovely?
First?
You piece of giant royal shit!
And you, I’m going to gouge your eyes out with a spoon!
Are you freaking kidding me?
