The Northern Tribes

18

One clear voice rings out, deep and true like a bell. Reth Valaric now stands, and we all stare. The room falls uncomfortably silent. Hawke begins to say something to the Reth, but Valaric puts up a hand to silence him. It works instantly and Hawke averts his eyes, now downcast. I can tell what he said by the way almost everyone seems troubled.

"He accepted?" I whisper softly to Catall for confirmation. Catall nods without taking his eyes off his leader. The entire room is incredibly on edge now. Valaric and Kami share a look before the Reth begins down the stairs. It is so quiet in the room the footsteps of a mouse could be heard.

From our side of the room, a young man who seems to be around my age approaches the Reth, kneeling in front of him and bowing his head. He begins to speak and holds up a sword in both hands as if he is offering it to the Reth. When I glance at Catall, his mouth is set in a hard line. No one else moves. Hawke continues to stare at the ground, almost angrily.

The Reth watches the man in front of him with distinctive coldness before cutting him off with a kick to the chest. The man falls backwards, and grovels, but the Reth isn't paying him any attention. Instead, Valaric has his sights set on Malta. He says something to his challenger, with an expression I've never seen before. The hint of a dark, confident smirk plays on his lips. His icy eyes are locked on Malta, indicating no hesitation.

At his words, Malta pulls out a broad, curved sword, leveling it at the Reth. Another one of the advisors addresses Malta, her tone one of disbelief and pleading. But Malta similarly has his sights set on the Reth and her voice dissipates in the air without impact, leaving only deadly silence in its wake. The Reth motions for Malta to attack.

These people are utterly insane. Malta is easily twice the Reth's age, probably more. He also has quite a significant advantage in size. But no one moves to stop it when Malta attacks. I know what Valaric is capable of, but fighting humans is very different from fighting beasts. And although the Reth is wearing his swords on either hip, he makes no move to retrieve one. Malta is charging him while he is unarmed.

In a move too fast for me to follow, Valaric meets Malta's sword with one of his own, dropping to a knee to deflect the blow. He deflects and then swipes at Malta's abdomen. The advisor jumps backward and they watch each other as the Reth stands again. They clash a few more times in this manner, making violent and powerful swings. They seem to be testing each other. I get the feeling neither one is fighting at full strength. When I glance around at everyone else, they are watching closely- uncomfortably.

I look at Kami, noting her usual calm demeanor hasn't changed. But Meja and Hawke watch with suspense, worry clearly etched in their features. Aven is almost completely composed, but the usual soft curve of her eyes is hardened and betrays her concern.

The two fighters have taken much of the space near the throne platform as their arena, displacing the tribespeople who had been there. They're all now shifting and crowding further back, with most onlookers unable to take their eyes off the fight. And as the fighters cross swords again, I see it for a second time. The expression of intense fatigue from earlier overcomes Reth Valaric's face. Although it only lasts for the blink of an eye, it affects his performance and Malta is able to land a blow. He slices the Reth's side and there is an audible collective gasp as a satisfied look crosses the advisor's face.

The worry and tension in the room increase tenfold. Even I am concerned that my own prey will be taken from me before I have a chance to enact my attempt at revenge. But Valaric seems rather unfazed. He levels his sword and continues the fight without slowing.

They are now clashing for longer periods of time, dodging their opponent's swings and countering with their own. I notice, however, that the Reth is swinging his sword significantly less at his advisor. He dodges the advisor's sword nimbly, but doesn't always counter with an attempt of his own. He seems to be baiting Malta, controlling the pace and direction of the fight.

However, I begin to question the validity of my interpretation as his side becomes stained deep red, leaving blood to drip on the cold stone floor. Neither of them are wearing any protective gear and although Valaric has another sword on his hip, he makes no move to retrieve it.

Slowly, but steadily it becomes apparent that Malta is getting tired from his repeated attacks. His movements grow slower and the Reth lands a blow to his shoulder. This is the beginning of the end for Malta. He grows more desperate and his fighting becomes sloppy, which provides several openings. Valaric uses every opening and soon Malta is bleeding from at least four different wounds, panting and glaring at the Reth. When Malta falls to a knee, Reth Valaric speaks. His voice is calm and deep and soft.

But Malta responds with a biting tone and gasping breaths. I glance at Catall for translation, but he is too engrossed in what is happening to even remember I'm standing next to him. Malta thrusts again, attempting to land a blow. But Valaric dodges easily and cuts him deeply. Malta cries out in agony and rage but falls to his hands and knees, his sword clattering loudly on the floor a few arm lengths away. His many wounds are draining him of blood quickly now.

Valaric turns and looks at him coldly, his eyes reminding me once again of the volkudo. His gaze sends shivers down my spine and I become filled with extreme doubt once again that I could ever even injure this guy. He sheaths his sword, and approaches Malta, speaking calmly while pulling off his glove.

We all watch with mind-numbing anticipation. As Valaric approaches, leaving a thin trail of blood, the raised pattern on his hand begins to glow red. Malta looks up, glaring at the Reth. They exchange words a few times before Valaric is standing right in front of Malta. And as he begins to put out his glowing hand towards the advisor, Malta reveals a small hidden dagger while lunging desperately for the Reth. I'm sure there are gasps or perhaps even screams but I don't hear them. I only hear the blood pumping in my ears.

Valaric lurches backwards and although Malta was aiming for his glowing hand, he is only able to sink the dagger handle-deep into the Reth's thigh. And as Valaric pulls his leg back, Malta uses what seems to be his last bit of strength to pull the dagger to the side, cutting as much of his leg as possible. Valaric's face shows surprise for a brief moment, before giving Malta the coldest, deadliest look I've ever seen. My palms get sweaty in response and I try to ignore how pathetic I am.

The glare indicates that he realized how much damage Malta did before any of us do, because when he tries to steady himself, he can no longer use his leg and he ends up on the ground as well. Then there is shouting and the room erupts in movement. Although many tribesmen begin to rush to the Reth, he holds up a hand, still glowing red, and everyone stops once again.

Valaric climbs to his feet, his jaw clenched, his face drawn. I realize I'm holding my breath when I begin to feel lightheaded so I force myself to breathe again. He limps heavily towards Malta, who still glares hatefully at the Reth. With labored breathing, Valaric looks down at Malta, who lunges with the dagger again. But this time, Valaric disarms him with ease, and says something darkly before colliding his glowing hand with Malta's forehead.

There is a blinding white flash of light so bright it makes me squeeze my eyes closed. When I open my eyes again, I see Valaric on the ground in front of Malta, sitting in a growing puddle of his own blood. But Malta... it's almost as if Malta has turned into the living dead. He looks haggard and pale and old. His wounds are no longer bleeding, in fact, they appear to be scarred over. His hair is pure white, along with his eyes. His lips are cracked and white, as if he hasn't had water in a long time and his cheeks are sunken. And he sits silently, staring with his sightless eyes at nothing, swaying ever so slightly back and forth.