Mortal (Book 3)

Chapter 28

Endarie and Taarie have prepared a beautiful green gown for me, carefully made with long flowing sleeves and a loose waistline to conceal my ever-growing bump. Instead of wearing the Jagged Crown, they elect to have me wear an emerald circlet instead. I'll admit, it does match better, and it sends a gentler message.
"Carth? Remind me, what were the rules we agreed upon?" I ask her. She sits in a chair nearby, trying to ignore the sisters as they fuss over my hair.
"Fight to the surrender, no healing magic or potions allowed. They can only use the weapons they registered with me." She says.
"Who are the first two contestants?" I ask her.
"Torvar of Markarth versus Vilkas of Riften." She says, reading out of her book. I roll my eyes; Torvar will be on his knees in an instant, that is if he shows up sober.
"That's hardly a match. Who's after that?" I ask.
"Umana of Elinhir versus Ig of Dushnik Yal." She says, stumbling over the orcish names.
"An Orc! Now that might be interesting." I tell her.
"Alright. I suppose you're ready." Taarie sighs as she gives up on my makeup since I refuse to quit talking. Carth snaps her fingers, and without hesitation the nearest guard leaves to retrieve Galmar and Ulfric; she didn't even look up from her book. She's settled in quite nicely.
"Ready?" Ulfric asks, smiling at me from the doorway; I nod, standing slowly from my chair.
"... What?" I ask as he continues to stare.
"You're just beautiful." He says. I roll my eyes at him, but I smile.
Galmar and a party of guards escort us through the streets, a little more empty than our wedding. I begin to wonder where everyone is, until I realize they're all packed in atop the wall that surrounds the courtyard of Castle Dour. When they notice us entering, the crowd erupts with applause. I wave back enthusiastically as we're escorted to the stairs to take our seats in a sectioned off portion of the wall. As we're close to the seats Carth leans over to my ear.
"Make a short speech, thank everyone, then welcome the competitors in when you're done. He's a list of their names." She says, handing me a small folded sheet of paper. "They'll come out of that door." She explains, pointing to it.
"Got it." I mumble as I approach the wall, still waving to the crowd. When their cheers subside, I begin.
"Thank you, thank you! I'm proud to see all of the citizens of Solitude here today, and to those of you that have travelled, my husband and I welcome you. As your Queen, I am in need of an honorable warrior that can promise their protection and service for the rest of their lifetime as my housecarl. It is not a position to be taken lightly, so I decreed that a public tournament be held to judge those up for the challenge. I'd like to welcome our participants; First, Astra of Falkreath!" The crowd cheers, and a young Nord woman in iron armor steps out of the door, smiling and bowing to the crowd. She looks a bit too young and a bit too fresh, with no visible scars and an obvious struggle to carry the heavy armor. Still, she seems confident.
"Next, Iolea of Blacklight!" I shout, gesturing to the door. A Dark Elf female steps out, hardly acknowledging the crowd as she stomps over to her place next to Astra. Astra attempts to shake hands with her, but only gets a glare.
"Ig, of Dushnik Yal!" I announce, praying that I pronounced it right. The biggest Orc I've ever seen steps out of the shadows, ducking through the doorway. To be fair I haven't met many orcs, but Astra and Iolea seem just as shocked as I am. He towers over both of them as he takes his place in line. Astra appears a few shades paler.
"Jeer-Gei, of Thorn!" I shout. An Argonian man stalks out of the door, waving to the crowd. However, as soon as he meets eyes with Idolea, he appears to hiss. Idolea takes a menacing step forward and growls something at him, but she's too far away to hear. Thankfully, it doesn't escalate from there.
"Thorwulff, of Windhelm!" Another Nord steps out, but this one is a man; he looks familiar. He gives the crowd slight acknowledgement, but promptly turns to me and takes a deep bow, then appears to blow me a kiss. Without thinking I roll my eyes, but thankfully the crowd laughs. Thorwulff laughs along, bowing again and taking his place with the other competitors. Behind me I can hear Ulfric, Galmar and Carth whispering hurriedly, and I wonder what could be wrong. I check my list and have to refrain myself from rolling my eyes again.
"Torvar, of Markarth!" I shout, trying to feign some enthusiasm. Torvar stumbles out the door, shouting back at the crowd. He's obviously very drunk; for some reason I had hoped he might take something seriously for once. He at least gets some laughs from the crowd as the other competitors are forced to help him to his place.
"Umana, of Elindir!" Umana steps out, her hair much shorter than I last saw it and her face adorned with emerald green war paint. She's covered once again from head to toe in steel plate armor. She waves to the crowd only a bit before taking her place and nodding to me.
"And finally, Vilkas of Riften!" I announce. He awkwardly steps out of the door, waving to the crowd but hardly looking up. He's not really made for crowds. "I would like to thank each of the competitors here today for their courage and sacrifice, and even to the seven of you who may not win today, I appreciate your effort. The rules of the competition are simple; The first competitor to surrender loses. The competitors may only use the weapons they have brought here with them today. Finally, no healing magic or potions may be used by the competitors, although healers will be here to assist at the end of each match. For our first match, we'll have competitors Vilkas of Riften, and Torvar of Markarth." The crowd cheers once more, and I return to my seat next to Ulfric, who is in heated discussion with Galmar.
"What's going on...?" I mumble as I sit down. They look to each other, unsure of how to tell me. "What?" I ask again.
"Thorwulff..." Galmar stutters.
"What about him?" I ask. Ulfric sighs, rubbing his face.
"He's my little brother..." He groans.
"Your brother? Why didn't he tell us he was coming? You don't think he's angry we didn't invite him to the wedding, do you?" I ask.
"Probably, but I didn't invite him on purpose." Ulfric grumbles.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"He would've ruined our wedding, Nova. You'll thank me later." He sighs.
"You've never told me about him at all, Ulfric. Every time I bring it up, you change the subject. What are you hiding?" I ask him, grinning suspiciously.
"We're not on good terms, lets leave it at that." He sighs.
"There you go again. Where's he been?" I ask.
"I never asked." Ulfric grumbles.
"Ulfric—" I start, but I'm interrupted by a horn, marking the start of the match, and the crowd cheers over my voice.
Vilkas stands on one side of the courtyard while Torvar sways in place on the other. Vilkas takes a few cautious steps forward; Torvar however, elects to run at Vilkas with his sword raised high in the air as he screams. I see Vilkas change the angle on the back foot of his stance, and I remember the side stepping technique he taught me. Unfortunately, just as Torvar starts to close in, he unfortunately trips and slides across the stone. Vilkas graciously steps back to allow Torvar to stand, which takes several awkward minutes.
"Is that man drunk?" Galmar asks incredulously.
"Torvar? I don't know if I've ever seen the man without a drink in his hand." I explain.
"You know him?" Galmar asks.
"Ye s, he was at our wedding. He's a Companion too, isn't he?" Ulfric asks.
"Barely. He's not qualified at all to be a housecarl. Then again, he's only interested in things he's not qualified for." I complain. At this point, the crowd is hysterical with laughter, and they get worse as he finally stands and they see that he has a large, bleeding scrape on his forehead from his fall. He starts towards Vilkas again, only to slip on his own shield which he forgot to pick up off the ground. Vilkas drops his stance and looks up at me, as if asking what to do. I throw my hands up and shrug, and the crowd begins to cackle once again.
When Torvar finally stands once again, he finally gets close enough to Vilkas to actually cross swords. Vilkas takes the opportunity to bash Torvar in the face with his gauntlet, and he stumbles back to the ground, totally limp. Carth waves her hand and summons the healers standing nearby. Two of them approach Torvar, and one signals to Carth that he's only unconscious. As the healers heft Torvar onto a stretcher, the crowd cheers Vilkas' name. He waves to them and sits on a bench on the edge of the courtyard as Torvar is carried away to the temple. I announce the next match, my old acquaintance Umana versus an enormous orc named Ig.
"Now this one might actually be interesting. I know this woman too, she's outstanding." I explain.
"High praise, from the legendary Dragonborn. But that Orc... He's massive." Ulfric says as Ig reaches his side of the arena in only a few long strides, hefting a large warhammer.
"Sure, but look at that shield." Galmar says as Umana enters the courtyard, carrying her shield covered in long steel spikes.
"Her shield is quite impressive. What's more impressive is the damage it does." I add. She puts on her helmet and the match begins. Ig runs at her, swinging his hammer high above his head. Thankfully she dodges it but it smashes into the ground, leaving behind a large crater. He swings at her again, this time to the side. The hammer clangs against her shield and knocks her to the ground, leaving one of the larger spikes bent inwards. She rolls away from him and regains her footing, adjusting her grip on both her sword and shield.
"She has a plan." I tell them defensively.
"Whatever you say. I think she's about to get her whole head knocked off." Galmar laughs.
"I hope there aren't any children here." Ulfric jokes with him.
Ig attempts two more side swipes with his hammer, but Umana jumps back and dodges both of them. You can tell Ig is getting frustrated, and he's running out of energy to swing that hammer. Finally he angrily swings overhead again, which Umana effortlessly dodges. However, this time when his hammer gets stuck in the ground, Umana steps up onto the head and takes another step on the handle, using the leverage to bring herself up to his level and promptly smack him across the face with her shield. He drops the hammer and falls backward, and she jumps off of his shoulder and lands behind him. Ig clutches his bleeding face and screams in pain. When I look back to Umana she looks at her shield, and skewered on one of the spikes is Ig's eye. She pulls it off and slings it on the ground in disgust, smashing it under her foot as she approaches Ig again. The healers begin to approach as well until Umana grabs Ig by his ponytail and begins dragging him across the courtyard, making it clear the fight isn't over. She hoists him up by his hair, displaying his mangled face for the crowd and pointing her sword at his remaining eye. Even from this distance and with her helmet muffling her voice, what she says next is clear.
"Surrender, or I'll take the the other out too!"
"I surrender... I surrender! Please! Gods, no..." Ig cries pathetically. Umana throws him back to the ground, and the crowd, who's been mostly silent for this match, erupts in applause and cheering. She takes off her helmet and raises her arms triumphantly as the healers attempt to carry Ig away as well, only to realize they can't lift him. They enlist the help of two guards, and a bit later Carth sends down two more because even that isn't enough. Finally the six of them lift the giant, sniveling orc onto their shoulders and slowly carry him to the temple. Despite the fact that Umana just displayed the fact that she could easily lift at least part of his weight, she takes her seat next to Vilkas on the bench and ignores their struggle.
The next competitors are Iolea, the Dunmer woman, and Jeer-Gei, the Argonian man.
"Carth, did you put them together on purpose?" I ask her suspiciously.
"Well I had to make things interesting somehow. I thought there would be some suspense in putting the two Companions together, but I suppose that was more for comedic relief." She explains.
Iolea stalks into the courtyard, her two swords already drawn and her red eyes darting around every corner.
"She seems very... Alert." Ulfric says.
"Or paranoid." Galmar adds.
A moment later, Jeer-Gei enters as well, two small waraxes on each hip. He waves to the crowd confidently, taking his side of the courtyard.
"They're both dual-wielding? This is going to be interesting."
"My money is on the lizard." Galmar grunts.
The horn blows and the two of them dive at each other. Iolea is dangerously fast with her swords, but Jeer-Gei hooks them with his axe blades and blocks her. At the same time, he never quite manages to disarm her. She kicks him in the chest but he rolls backwards and lands back on his feet. He begins to spin towards her swinging his axes, but she dodges each of them. Just as it seems they're evenly matched, Jeer-Gei manages to land a small blow across her stomach. She screams and flies into a rage, dropping one of her swords and flying at him with a sparks spell in hand. For a moment he's paralyzed with fear, and another he's paralyzed by her lightning.
"Is that allowed?" Ulfric asks.
"Well the rules only said they could use the weapon they signed up with, it didn't say anything about spells." Carth shrugs.
Iolea stands directly over him, taking her sword in both hands and preparing to shove it through his gut.
"I surrender!" He yells as he regains consciousness. She thrusts her sword down anyway, and the crowd gasps. As she steps away it's clear that Jeer-Gei is still alive, only pinned to the ground by her sword piercing his leather armor. She stomps over to the sword she dropped before, picking it up off the ground. She stomps back toward Jeer-Gei and he raises his arms to protect himself, but she only pulls her sword out of the ground. The crowd cheers reluctantly as she throws herself down on the bench next to Umana and a healer attends to the wound on her stomach. The other healer helps Jeer-Gei up and wraps his arm over his shoulders, helping him limp away to the temple.
The final competitors of the day are Astra, the young nord girl, and Thorwulff, my dear brother-in-law whom I've never met. Ulfric and Galmar apparently have nothing to say as Thorwulff enters the courtyard. Now that I really look at him, he looks very similar to Ulfric, except several years younger, a bit thinner, and with darker hair. He carries a greatsword on his back and waves to the crowd as he takes his place.
Astra enters sheepishly a moment later, perhaps a bit less confident than when she first appeared. She carries a simple iron waraxe.
"I hope Thorwulff has a hangover, for her sake." Galmar says apprehensively. Ulfric leans forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees and his fingers laced together in front of his mouth. Just before the horn blows, Thorwulff bows in our direction, but I know it was directed at Ulfric. He then draws his sword and takes a few steps toward Astra, who appears frozen in place. Thorwulff draws closer and closer to her, where she stands with her axe drawn but her eyes wide with fear. Thorwulff even seems a bit confused as he takes the last few steps toward her. Finally she raises her axe over her head and runs at him screaming. Thorwulff easily blocks her with his sword, but the blade of her axe shatters into a million pieces. She stares at the remaining wooden handle of her axe, then collapses to the ground in tears.
"I surrender! I surrender!" She sobs, clasping her hands over her head. Thorwulff appears to raise his sword again, to which Ulfric and I both rise out of our seats and most of the crowd gasps. However, he only means to sheathe it again. He extends a hand to the girl, helping her up off of her knees and gently guides her toward a healer to treat the scratches she received from the shards of her axe. He pats her on the back as the healer takes her away, and the crowd respectfully applauds. He bows again, once to the crowd, and once again to Ulfric, who releases a sigh of relief.