Blades of Wolfsbane - episode twelve

A story in the Ravenglass Universe.

Ragnar steeled himself and gripped his weapons.

“Good luck,” Kest said.

“I won’t need it.” He closed his eyes in a silent prayer then walked into the ring.

He scanned the bare earth, checking for stones or bumps that might come in useful, to find it swept flat.

His father’s eyes locked on his.

Ragnar pulled his gaze away and tried to ignore all those people watching him. He turned as his opponent entered the circle.

Leif stood a foot taller than Ragnar and was one of Sven’s closest allies. Armed with a sword and shield, he brushed by Ragnar, his scarred lip giving him a permanent sneer. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you because you’ve already taken a beating.”

Ragnar stared through him and rolled his shoulders.

Olaf signalled for them to bow.

Ragnar bowed to his father and then to Leif. The lad might have been a prick, but he still deserved respect.

“Fight!”

Leif planted his feet into the ground and peered over his round shield. “What are you waiting for?”

Ragnar held his sword and dagger and took a wide arc to approach.

Leif sprung at Ragnar, swinging his sword towards his face.

Ragnar spun and slashed his dagger across Leif’s back, drawing a red line from his right shoulder down to his left hip.

Leif fingered his wound and stared wide-eyed at his blood-covered hand.

Olaf pointed at Ragnar. “First blood, Ragnar the Younger!”

“No,” Leif said. “It’s not fair.”

“Silence, boy.” Olaf glared at him. “Stand down.”

Leif turned to the crowd. “He fights like a woman.”

“Get your wound treated and rest,” Olaf said. “Accept your loss like a warrior.”

Huffing, Leif marched past Ragnar with his chin raised.

With a sigh, Ragnar returned to the covered area and sat, panting as the pain from his father’s beating flared once more.

Kest grinned and sat across from Ragnar. “You were fast out there.”

“I don’t have the strength for a drawn-out fight. My father beat it out of me.”

One of the smaller boys tapped Kest’s shoulder. “You’re next.”

Kest nodded and strapped on his shield. “Wish me luck.”

“You won’t need it.”

Kest cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t be an arsehole.”

“Fine. Good luck.” Ragnar handed Kest his sword and followed him outside. He stood with the other boys to watch.

Olaf raised his hand. “Kest and Torsten.”

Kest stopped in the centre of the ring and bowed to Ragnar the Elder and then to his opponent.

Torsten was smaller and thinner than Kest, but what he lacked in stature, he made up for with speed. Armed with only a longsword, he held it across his body with a two-handed grip.

“Fight!”

Torsten raced forward and screamed. He swung his sword down with full force, slamming it against Kest’s shield.

Kest parried the blade through a series of strikes and counter-strikes.

Ragnar wondered if their extra training had helped Kest’s speed and strength.

The crowd cheered when Kest ducked a broad horizontal slash and caught Torsten’s forearm with his sword point.

“First blood, Kest!”

Torsten cradled his forearm and nodded at Kest.

When Kest left the ring, Ragnar smiled. “That was well fought.”

“Thanks. I thought he was going to take my head off at one point.”

Ragnar shrugged a shoulder. “I doubt it. Dull blade like that would more likely just get lodged in your neck and you’d bleed out slowly.”

Kest winced.

“At least he took his loss like a warrior.”

“True. Doesn’t stop him being any less of a prick though. I’m surprised Leif didn’t start rolling about on the floor crying.”

Ragnar sniffed.

“What was that?” Leif stood over Kest with a few other lads in tow.

“Just saying you didn’t take your defeat very well out there.”

Leif laughed and pointed at Ragnar. “He only won because he cheated.”

“Tell that to Olaf,” Ragnar said squaring up to him. “We could go again if you’re not happy with the result.”

“So you can fight like a woman again?”

Ragnar shrugged. “If I fight like a woman, what does that say about you?”

A few of the watching boys laughed.

Leif’s sneer deepened. “You think that because you’re the chieftain’s son you can do what you want.”

Kest shook his head. “Leif can read minds now. I say we burn him as a witch.”

Ragnar raised a hand. “Maybe being the chieftain’s son has taught me to take my losses like a man, not a snivelling child.”

“You got lucky.” Leif looked him up and down. “And based on the state of you, you won’t get much further in this tourney.”

Ragnar sighed. “Will you please piss off now? I’m missing the next bout.”

Leif narrowed his eyes and signalled to his friends. “Come on.”

As Leif stormed off, Kest shook his head and sighed. “What a massive arsehole.”

“Yep.”

“You think he’s related to Sven?”

Ragnar shook his head. “Doesn’t have the raven nose.”

“True.”

“Speaking of raven-nosed arseholes—” Kest gestured past Ragnar to Sven with Leif following close behind. “Looks like someone’s been telling tales.”

Sven stopped in front of Ragnar and stared down at him.

Ragnar rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Sven? Let me guess, Leif came to you complaining.”

“You took him by surprise. But we both know if you face me, I’ll beat you.”

“We’ll see.”

“And when I do, I’m going to make sure you stay down.” He smiled at Ragnar. “I’m sure your father would approve.”

“Or he might just have you exiled as an example of what happens to raven-nosed pricks,” Kest said.

“Don’t waste your breath, Kest.” Ragnar raised his chin. “After all there’s enough hot air being blown around here already.”

Silence stretched between them for several heartbeats.

“I’m done talking,” Sven said. “Hopefully, we’ll meet in the tourney. And if not…” He let the words hang and stalked away.

Ragnar clenched his fists. “I hate him.”

“Call him by his true name. You hate that raven-nosed arsehole.”

Ragnar grinned. “I do.”

One of the younger lads tapped Ragnar’s hip, causing him to start. “What?”

The boy shrunk back from Ragnar’s glare. “You’re…you’re up next.”

“Thanks.”

Kest patted Ragnar’s back. “If you win this, you’re in the final bout.”

“I know.”

“Just imagine it’s Sven out there. Imagine smashing that stupid nose of his.”

Ragnar grinned and picked up his sword and dagger. “Will do.”

Striding out to the ring, Ragnar gave a nod to his opponent. “Harald.”

“Ragnar.” Large and slow, Harald was often the butt of Sven’s jokes. But he was one of the strongest boys Ragnar knew. He stood with a two-headed axe and shield. Even dulled, a weapon like that wielded by Harald could break bones with ease.

The pair bowed to Ragnar’s father and then to each other.

“Fight!”

Harald lumbered forward and swung his axe.

Ragnar whirled around him, dodging, and weaving, letting the larger boy wear himself out.

When Harald began to pant and his swings slowed down, Ragnar darted forward and cut a shallow nick into his chest.

“First blood, Ragnar the Younger.”

Harald glanced down at his chest and frowned.

“Good bout.” Ragnar patted his friend’s shoulder as they left the ring together.

“How did you get so fast?”

Ragnar shrugged. “I’ve been doing extra training.”

“You’ll have to give me some pointers.”

“Sure thing.”

Harald tore his shield from his arm and snatched a cup of ale from a serving girl. “Good luck with the next round.”

“Thanks, Harald. With Creation’s will, I’ll win this thing.”

Harald stopped and smirked. “You know Sven’s still in, right?”

“I do. But I know I can beat him.”

Harald squeezed Ragnar’s arm. “You’re good, but you’re not that good.”

Ragnar held his tongue as Harald joined his other friends.

He turned his attention to the next bout—Kest versus Sven—and cringed at the quick work Sven made of Kest, leaving his friend with a deep gash on his cheek.

Olaf pointed to Sven. “First blood, Sven!”

Though pleased he would not have to face Kest, the idea of fighting Sven sent waves of cold washing over him. He looked up at Kest’s approach and forced a smile. “You fought well out there.”

“No, I didn’t.” Kest dropped his shield next to Ragnar and clutched his face. Blood streamed between his fingers. “Ouch.”

“You alright?”

“I need to see the healer. He cut me real deep.”

Ragnar studied the cut. “You’ll have a mean looking scar.”

Kest smiled then winced.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

“I’ll be fine. You get ready. Smack that raven-nosed prick from me.”

Ragnar gazed across the arena. “I’ll try.”