Niall Mac Nechtan, Lord of the Tuatha Dé Danann, Steward of the North of the blessed kingdom of Mag Tuired, travels to the lands of the barbaric Kirinches to investigate a mysterious murder that has taken place in his lands. Carried away by the prev...
There was a frying pan brought, with meat stewed in some kind of sauce, bread chopped into uneven pieces, two more mugs of beer, a bottle of something transparent and two small flat cups, like saucers. The smell of strong alcohol from the bottleneck hit Niall's nose even from the center of the table. He was again surprised. For some reason, he thought that the famous firewater would be the color of flames, not colorless.
Cumal poured the firewater into the cups and lifted his own in salute. "Kanpai! That's what they say, something like: 'Your health!'"
He knocked back the cup's contents, and Niall bravely followed suit.
His mouth and throat burned, as if he had really swallowed a torch, as Cumal had joked. In a wave of fire the drink reached his stomach, scorching everything in its path.
"Take some food, quick!" Cumal groaned, taking a sip from his mug, and stuffed a large piece of meat into his mouth. With his bare fingers. Niall hurriedly followed suit, and the fire in his stomach subsided a bit, leaving only hot waves which rolled throughout his body, relaxing his muscles and causing a strange, inexplicable calm.
Only now Niall realized how tense he had been.
"Great stuff, once you get used to it," Cumal commented as he chewed on the meat. "The trick is not to get carried away. I warned you about the hangover. Nothing helps, even healing spells. Now you understand why they are never cold? I think they don't even step outdoors while sober. Hey, Niall, are you listening to me?"
"Yes," Niall said with some difficulty. "How often do you come across such specimens?"
"Oh Goddess, here it comes. I have always said that you have a passionate nature, my dear Steward of the North, Lord of Lightning Niall Mac Nechtan. You've been trying so hard to get Roigh out of your head, and now you are looking for someone to replace him? Look at me, I sleep with everyone who happens to be around, and don't attach special meaning to anyone. Well, maybe only to you, but then again, we are childhood friends. No, I don't often come across such wonderful specimens of the barbarian breed. Although, I like the redhead more. I think he has Tuatha Dé blood. Theoretically, it's possible. Someone had been fooling around some five hundred years ago — my dad, for example, he was such a womanizer after all, and red-haired giants began to be born among the Kirinches. You know, they behave quite freely with each other, those two gorgeous men. I won't be surprised if they are secret lovers. Forbidden love and all. Or they could be brothers. Not full brothers, obviously — half-brothers with the same mother, say. Or sworn brothers! The Kirinches have such a custom: an exchange of blood, a kiss on the lips, and two men become sworn brothers. By all the demons of Anghaine, I would like to exchange blood and everything else with the redhead! Just look how the chief paws his shoulder! No, stop, don't turn around, he is looking right at you!
Too late. Niall already turned around and met the gaze of slanted eyes on a narrow, swarthy face with a large mouth and a slightly too long nose.
Surprisingly, the barbarian's eyes were dark blue. Dark navy blue, almost violet, like black grapes, but still not black. The eyelashes were so thick and long that they shaded the eyes, hiding their true color. He didn't look away, and Niall stared, lost in the violet depths.
Why, oh why weren't they in Mag Tuired, in some village's tavern? Or in Ath Luain, in Daire Mac Cormac's feasting hall? Niall would've looked at the guy, then showed him the door with his eyes, and the guy would obediently leave to wait outside for the lord. No one would have thought much, because nothing special would be happening, the lord was within his rights, and the guy was lucky...
The big, sensuous mouth twisted into a grin and said something, and the redhead laughed, followed by everyone else at the table.
"What did he say?" Niall asked through clenched teeth. For some reason it seemed the barbarian had said something about him, and not something particularly flattering.
"I didn't quite hear," Cumal answered quickly. Too quickly. Niall knew his friend well.
"Don't lie to me, Cumal Mac Ruadh!" he ordered harshly. "You did!"
"Please, Niall. He is just a stupid, uncivilized barbarian."
"I want to know what he said!" Niall said almost word by word, squeezing Cumal's hand and sending a small charge through his fingers.
Cumal gasped and jerked his hand back.
"Okay. If you absolutely have to know, he said, 'I would have f&cked that girl in green!' "
Niall nodded. He suspected something like that from the barbarian's tone and facial expression.
He poured himself another cup of firewater and drank it in one gulp like ordinary water. Chewed on a piece of roasted meat, drank some beer. Then he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood up, slowly straightening to his full height.
The barbarian gave him the pointed once-over from head to toe and grinned arrogantly. Great Danu, humans are truly stupid.
"Translate, Cumal," he ordered, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.
In the blink of an eye Cumal jumped out from his seat and grabbed his elbow.
"You're crazy!" he hissed, turning pale. "We are beyond the Shield, you can't just kill a barbarian out of the blue!"
"I'm not going to kill him. I'll teach him some manners. Come on, tell him that I challenge him to a fair fight, with weapon in hand, on the beaten ground. Until first blood."
For a few seconds Cumal glared at him fiercely. Niall could have vouched that his friend was now thinking of enchanting him, forcing him out of the tavern and burning away all memory of the incident. But the lords of the Tuatha Dé Danann were strictly forbidden to use magic against each other. And it was unknown whether fire would be effective against lightning. In their youth, they fooled around, using magic tricks on each other, despite the prohibitions. But then their magic was immature, childish.
White with rage, Cumal released his elbow and swore, "Demons rip you apart, Niall Mac Nechtan! Starting a fight over an innocent joke! Okay, not so innocent, but still! To hell with you, fight all you want, just swear that you won't kill him!"
"I would never kill such a handsome human!"
The young barbarian seemed to instinctively know that the matter concerned him. He called out to them in his own language, harsh and unmelodious. Cumal snarled in the same language and uttered a long sentence, finally translating Niall's challenge, judging by his full name that flashed among the incomprehensible words.
The barbarian smirked and rose to his feet, still with the same lazy animal grace. He took from the table a long narrow sword, slightly curved — the traditional Kirinch weapon. He jerked his head at the door and again added something obscene, judging by the way the other Kirinches guffawed and Cumal blushed.
"Tell him we'll see who is a bottom!" Niall smiled confidently, predatory.
"I will not translate your bragging, you horny dogs!" Cumal hissed. Infuriated, he looked like an angry cat. "Wouldn't it be better to catch each other in some secluded spot and f&ck your brains out, but no, you need to put on a show!"
He was still muttering when the crowd, cheering, carried them out of the tavern and onto the road. The ground here was well-beaten and not strewn with boulders, like the surrounding hillocks. The spectators retreated, forming a circle, in the center of which remained Niall and the young barbarian. It was already dark, but Cumal waved his hand and circled the combatants with a ring of fire that emitted enough light.
The crowd gasped and backed away. The young barbarian didn't raise an eyebrow. He didn't even stop smirking.
Niall longed to wipe that smirk off his handsome face.
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