Chapter 4

To prove that Wilhan hadn't lied about killing the dragon, he and his brothers showed up at the roped-off area wearing upper body armor made out of the beast's scaly skin. Lorgar showed up with a full face helmet, chain mail, and metal greaves, leaving only his knees and a small part of his thighs vulnerable. Overtop of his mail shirt he wore the wolf skin cloak that signified he was a berserker allied to a chief. Most berserkers only wore a bearskin or wolfskin into battle with nothing but their own skin underneath, so the crowd was a bit disappointed to see Lorgar so well protected; but the big man wanted to put on a show of power and of wealth.

Wilhan had planned to take off his own armor, but he decided against it when he saw that he was facing a mountain of metal. In addition to his scale armor he put on the simple iron helmet with nose guard that had belonged to his father and strapped it under his chin.

Just looking at the two men, it was obvious to the crowd that there was no way that the smaller Wilhan could win, and the odds reflected that. In fact, just about the only people betting on Wilhan were his family and a few of his comrades-in-arms. And most of them were not betting heavily. Most that is.

Traditionally, such duels proceed by the men bashing the opponent's shields to pieces until one man was left empty-handed. If it was a fight to the death, then that man was either killed or he gave up. Giving up lost him his honor; death was preferable to most warriors.

The men took their places and Lorgar was given one last chance to apologize. He answered by spitting in Wilhan's face.

A ram's horn sounded to begin the fight. Wilhan's first strike was disappointing to say the least. The man who had first strike generally used it as the first of a whirlwind combination, hoping to force is opponent off balance and delay a counter attack. Wilhan did little more than tap his sword against Lorgar's shield. He saw no advantage in slamming the edge of his sword against the iron rim of his opponent's shield. He wanted to kill the man, not the shield.

Both the crowd and Lorgar saw Wilhan's opening move as a sign of fear and timidity.

Lorgar, sensing an easy victory, went after Wilhan like a raging bull. He had no great regard for the honed edge of his own sword, and he clubbed it against the iron boss of Wilhand's shield. Lorgar's sword was a beastly heavy single-edged thing that weighed in at five pounds, and the strike was so powerful and jarring that Wilhan thought that his wrist might have cracked. Lorgar followed that strike with a shield bash and another sword strike.

The shield bash that followed caught Wilhan as he tried to sidestep out of the tight confines at the edge of the roped off fighting square. His foot caught on a small tussock of grass at just the wrong time, causing him to stumble and fall ... to be killed within fifteen seconds of the horn sounding.

That was the thought going through the minds in the crowd, and Wilhan's mind as well. And it might have been the case if Wilhan hadn't opened with such a limp fish of an opening strike.

Lorgar himself was off balance but just for a second before he recovered. Instead of going after the floundering boy with his sword swinging, as he would have done later in the battle when the adrenaline was pumping, Lorgar watched the ungainly fall looking to gain the position for the kill. That delay was just enough time for the comedy of it all to hit him, and instead of pressing his advantage he started laughing and walked back to the center of the ring. He wasn't going to chase Wilhan around as if the boy were a slippery chicken in the barnyard.

To Wilhan's credit, he recovered quickly and could possibly have survived if Lorgar had pressed ... if Lorgar had pressed and been unlucky or unskilled.

Wilhan knew what he had done wrong; he had not been ready for such a violent onslaught so soon in the fight, he had misjudged his position in the small ring, and he had tripped on the damn clump of grass because he abandoned a strong stance for a weak one.

He would not make those mistakes again.

When Wilhan was back on his feet the two combatants circled. Lorgar threw the next strike, and that started the fight Wilhan had expected; maneuver, strike, counter strike. Once it began it was no less violent than the opening moves, but Wilhan's counters were just as forceful and dangerous as the clan thane's.

Wilhan was quick and skillful, and he made several good thrusts to get a feel for Lorgar's technique. But before long his shield was in tatters and a halt was called so that he could pick up another.

The crowd appreciated that Wilhan wasn't letting himself get killed quickly -- again. Even if they were not rooting for him they wanted a good show. Lorgar was breathing heavily from the exertion and did not object to Wilhan taking a little longer than was necessary to get his second shield. He was also questioning his decision not to kill the boy when he had the chance.

Wilhan was not taking his time because he was shaken by the stumble. The gods had already determined when he would die, and there was nothing he could do to change that. He was actually glad that he fell down, and he was taking his time to let his agents negotiate longer odds for additional bets.

He was confident that he had Lorgar's style figured out, but he could use an opportunity if he could get one. So just as they started the second shield round, Wilhan told the monster, "Talk in the streets is that your pretty wife is childless because you waste your seed in sheep every chance you get and can't get hard for her."

Lorgar, his face turning purple, took a step back, lifted his sword and shield to the gods, and bellowed in rage.

"So it must be true, you big limp-dicked oaf." Wilhan managed to say just before Lorgar bore down on him. The hoped for opening presented itself and Wilhan was ready. The cut to Lorgar's sword arm was not serious, but it drew blood. In some contests that would have been the end of it, but this bout was to the death.

The cut, on top of the insult, only served to infuriate Lorgar more and bring on the berserker rage. Wilhan stood up to the onslaught without finding another opening, and then he heard his second shield crack. He knew that it would only take one or two more hard blows before it failed and there was little chance that the raging berserker would politely stop in the middle of the fight to let him pick up a new shield. There was no choice, Wilhan had to make his move and trust in Oakheart.

He side-stepped and parried blows as long as he could in hopes that his bets would be placed, but before long, the shield failed and Wilhan had little more than a flopping wooden duck in his hand when he clashed with the steel covered madman for the last time.

The remnants of Wilhan's shield parried one more blow of Lorgar's sword. Then a confused look came over the big man's face, and he slowly sank to his knees. Some in the crowd thought that for a split second they could see the tip of Wilhan's sword sticking out of the wolf fur on Lorgar's back, but that would have been impossible. Swords didn't go through chain mail on the way out the other side. They barely ever got through to make their way into an unlucky man's body.

Oakheart had penetrated the berserker's shield, his front mail, the ribs and muscle of his chest cavity, his spine, and finally, the steel chain mail, and leather wolf skin on the far side.

Bloody froth bubbled out of Lorgar's mouth with his last gasping breaths as he collapsed to the ground.

The crowd stood stunned at what they had just witnessed. And at that moment, the power structure of the Elksen Clan began to shift.

Both Lorgar's dead wife and his new wife came from powerful families, and neither one's father had been especially happy with the way Lorgar treated their daughters. They had put up with it because Lorgar was one of the Engruth's men, and they had hoped that the connection through marriage might result in some favors from the chief, but it never did.

The king had placed bets on both men. If Lorgar had won, the king would have almost covered the money lost on Wilhan, but since Wilhan had won, the king made a pretty penny, all in secret of course. His youngest daughters had placed small wagers on Wilhan because they thought he was good looking. The queen and her two sons, one of whom was Prince Arnek, the heir apparent, all had bet on Lorgar.

Engruth was disappointed in the outcome. He owed Lorgar his life for battles when they were both younger, but he did not especially like the man. Lorgar was not intelligent enough to be of much use in the court, but he had been reliable in providing equipped fighting men, and in consistently losing whenever he gambled. Mostly, Engruth was disappointed in the outcome because he wanted to see Fexrem suffer.

In the matter of Fexrem, the king was inclined to rule against Engruth, and throughout the night and the following day there were negotiations between the king and the clan chief.

As Fexrem waited to hear the outcome of his appeal, his family was quick to send armed men to secure Lorgar's possessions before anyone decided to steal anything.

The evening after the duel, Wilhan asked to speak with Lorgar's wife, Henna, and his oldest daughter, Marin. When they arrived he was also introduced to the two younger daughters, Freyna and Toria. He told Henna and Marin that he fondly remembered meeting them two years previously, and he apologized to them for his part in the loss of their husband and father. When he asked what was to become of them, Henna said that she doubted her father would take her back; if he did he would have to return her bride price to Lorgar's family. She would probably go to Lorgar's brother, Grunden, and become his wife. Technically, Henna was a free widow, but tradition held that a wife who was childless would be married to the next brother in line, and he would not have to pay an additional bride price. That was not appealing to Henna because Lorgar's brother was a cruder -- and possibly more violent -- version of Lorgar. Grunden worked for Lorgar by managing the farm.

Marin said that she and her sisters could possibly go live with uncles on their mother's side, but Marin didn't want to leave Henna. Wilhan got the idea that Henna had not been treated well. It was all very confusing to him; he just wanted to make sure that the girls would be alright.

The girls were dismissed with the promise that Wilhan would pay for their food and lodging until he got things figured out. Ethanda found Henna as she was leaving, not sure what to say, but wanting to say something, and she offered her friendship if the girls would accept it.

The following day, an obviously hung over Grunden sought out Wilhan and announced that he was Lorgar's overseer. He had a laundry list of debts owed to him, and he promised to continue to oversee Lorgar's farm as soon as Wilhan paid him the money that was owed. He also said that he would be taking Henna and the girls, his nieces, off Wilhan's hands.

Wilhan told Grunden that he was not obligated to pay any of Lorgar's debts, and that Henna and Lorgar's daughters were now his property. If Grunden didn't like it he could appeal to the clan council of elders.

Wilhan expected to have to pay Lorgar's debts, but he certainly was not going to take some stranger's word that a debt was owed. The council would require witnesses. What he said about the girls being his property was just a stall tactic. If Wilhan pushed that claim, it would require a ruling from the council too.

Grunden went directly from Wilhan to both Henna's father and the father of Marin's mother with a story that Wilhan was going to make thralls out of the girls.

Both men forced their way in to see Wilhan and then were rather short and condescending to him. Wilhan pointed out to both men what had happened to the last person who had insulted him, mentioned that his family had several dozen armed men who would give their lives for him at a word, and then pointed out that all of the girls seemed to be afraid of Grunden. That last part was why Wilhan had told Grunden that he was keeping the girls.

Wilhan told the two men that he had no intention of making the girls leave their home if they didn't want to, and he asked them what their plans were for the girls. He pointed out that the bride price would have to be returned to Grunden if Henna went back to her father; she was no longer a virgin and seemed to be barren after two years of marriage. She would not be desirable to a wealthy man in the future.

Henna's father admitted that there had been a miscarriage, probably due to Lorgar's temper and a beating. Hearing that infuriated Wilhan, and he said that if he found out that a man had mistreated his daughter in that way, the man would be dead before he had a chance to ever do it again. "No, I take that back. I would expect any daughter of mine to take her own revenge, but if that was not possible, then I would kill the man." Henna's father let the implied insult go. He had been no match for Lorgar, and he certainly did not want to fight the man who had bested the berserker, even if the man was just a boy. It was not as if Wilhan had disparaged the way he had raised his sons or trained his hunting dogs; and what was said was said in private.

In the end, Wilhan asked the two men to be patient while he got the finances straightened out; then he could better discuss the fate of the girls.

That same day the king called Fexrem to him, and with the king sat Engruth.

"I have made my decision on your appeal, Fexrem." King Arfald told him. "I find your argument not without merit, and because the Nwevii were in our territory the property you gained could be considered found money. But at the same time, you had no authority to attack and kill within our borders, so rather than charge you with those murders I am ruling that your forces were acting under Engruth's mandate to protect this part of the kingdom ... You will pay the money in question to Engruth. But as a reward for your service to the kingdom, I am elevating you to the status of marklord and giving you dominion over the southern borderlands from the Aydren River northward for twenty leagues -- two days march. You are to defend that region, apportion land as you see fit, and collect taxes."

Fexrem didn't know whether to be honored or horrified. That land was several days beyond the frontier, it needed to be cleared of trees before it would grow anything, and there were no markets nearby.

"I'll do my best, my Lord King, and thank you." was all that he could say.

Marklords were the most powerful of the nobility and ranked just below blood princes. Fexrem now ranked above a clan chief, whose power came from their clan rather than from the king. What that meant was that King Arfald saw Fexrem as a man who could factionalize the Elksen Clan, and a clan civil war wasn't good for anyone. It would either cause death and destruction within the Elksen territory, or it would result in the formation of a breakaway clan. And since the king had only marginal control over clans, he much preferred to give territory to a lord, whose power he could then take away if need be.