Luther's Pride - Part 25

Eira and Rhosyn found their father and mothers gearing themselves for battle at the arena. The evening had fallen, and the dusk twilight yielded to starry night. The world shrank from the mountain ranges on every side to the bounds of the estate, illuminated by arcane crystals and firelight.

The large arena built into the grounds was a raised platform of earth on the edge of the property, with raised stands on one side for an audience and structures at either end for preparation. At one end, the Verdell family girded themselves and examined the weapons Luther’s servants presented to them from his father’s collection. Items won by challenges in the past or purchased for their beauty or function at his father’s whims.

At the other end, the Feothe family appeared ready, their weapons already with them, their armor worn but tended. They outnumbered the Verdells two to one, and their confidence loomed as large as the manor house nearby. Their battle-hardened reputation was hard-earned, and they’d fought the barbarians and creatures in the mountains while the Verdells had only fought challenges from minor nobles in the last few years.

Of the other guests, only Lucas and Emily remained. Emily seemed displeased to linger, but her brother Lucas stood by the Feothes and gazed eagerly toward the Verdells as if counting their lands and wealth among his own already.

“How could you issue such a challenge without consulting me?” Eira asked, glaring at her father.

“Would you have told me the truth? Or would you have tried to frighten me?” Bertilak asked, shaking his head. “You don’t get to decide how this ends for us.”

Rhosyn looked at her mother cautiously. “And you are all in agreement?”

Primrose nodded, patting her daughter on the shoulder. “Your father asked us before he issued the challenge. Branan and his spouses can’t be allowed to spout their nonsense unchallenged. Their insults are more than words. They are poison. Even if we only teach others some wisdom, it’s worth it. Besides, with luck, we’ll spare you having to face them.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead.

“Mama…” Rhosyn hugged Primrose. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Stop acting as if we’re going to our deaths.” Demira said. “We’re going into battle, but we’ve been there before. The Feothe clan is a dangerous foe but hardly our first.”

“But in the event we fall…” Avery said, hesitating. “We’ve made arrangements. Your and Rhosyn’s things have been separated out by the servants. Your gear and… possessions are being brought here as we speak.”

“You did that after issuing the challenge?” Jo asked, worried that there might be a legal issue.

“We did that this morning when Eira informed us she’d marry Luther.” Avery answered. “It’s all done.”

Luther eyed the Verdells with respect and admiration, but he couldn’t help noting the resigned expression in their eyes. Still, Demira spoke truly. They had experience. The grays in their hair suggested their age in contrast with their daughters’ youth. The Feothe clan had their older members, like Branan, but there were younger members whose strength hadn’t yet been proven but hadn’t the opportunity to wane.

Theirs was an empire where might was paramount, and the strength to protect the empire was held above self-preservation and sometimes common sense. Older nobles were respected because they’d grown old in a dangerous occupation. Challenges were meant to ensure that the strongest ruled and defended the lands at all times. Yet, they were sometimes issued by those to answer insults or abused in other ways by the greedy.

Luther had his opinions on the wisdom of the practice, but he’d been one of the few to venture outside the bounds of the empire. He’d seen other practices in other kingdoms and could determine which was best. The people around him here were deeply entrenched in their ways. He could no more convince Bertilak to resign from the challenge than he could Branan, but he still felt he could try.

“If you and your spouses do not wish to follow through with the challenge, you are welcome here.” Luther said. The offer was not a light one. If they withdrew, they forfeited and lost their lands, titles, and possessions. The shame that carried with it was great; most would turn them out or look down on them. Yet, for Eira and Rhosyn’s sakes, Luther would still consider them family. “You are my parents-in-law, and you are always family.”

“I know you mean the offer out of kindness and generosity beyond most.” Bertilak said. “But if you suggest that again, I will challenge you myself.”

Luther nodded. He did not quite understand the obstinance, but he expected it. To withdraw from a challenge was a wound to the pride beyond most’s ability to endure. It was better to die in battle at the edge of a weapon or the cast of a spell than to surrender one’s might and die of old age.

“I had to offer.” Luther said. “And the offer remains whether you accept it or not.”

“None of us will yield.” Avery said, bowing slightly to Luther. “But thank you, my lord.” She smiled slightly. “Do you intend to make Branan such an offer?”

Helena scoffed.

Luther shook his head. “No, I do not. Should any of the Feothe clan yield, they are welcome to seek their fortune elsewhere.”

Avery nodded and took a deep breath as she stretched her fingers.

“We’re ready when you are.” Bertilak said, nodding toward the stands. “The five of you should take your seats and preside over the challenge. Please make the most of this demonstration. We’ll endeavor to point out any weaknesses you might exploit.”

Luther understood. If they lost, some good might still come of the challenge. Bertilak would give his daughters their best possible chance of survival. Drawing the Feothes into battle and killing as many of them as possible would provide Luther and his pride of wives their best chance should the Verdells fall. For Luther, it was a win-win. Eira and Rhosyn, however, stood to lose much.

Eira and Rhosyn stood resigned but hugged and kissed the parents as much as they could, wishing them luck and encouraging them however they could.

Branan and his spouses seemed agitated as Lucas and Emily moved to the stands to watch, and Criella and the servants appeared at the entryway.

Criella ignored Luther as she spoke with Branan and the Feothe family first. She produced the documents necessary for the challenge to be official and legal, and they made their marks on the page. When she approached Branan and the Verdells, she did not acknowledge Luther or his wives but spoke directly to Branan.

“This is your last opportunity to withdraw from the challenge.” She said as she presented the documents. “If any of you does not wish to fight, you simply do not make your mark upon the page.”

Bertilak signed, as did Avery, Demira, and Primrose.

“Very well. May your power prove itself, and may you triumph over your enemies.” Criella said, closing the leather folder she’d brought the documents in. “Your lord, if I may have your signature as the presider?” She turned the papers to Luther.

Luther glanced at her, wondering why she was being so stiff and cold to him. He took the binder, and made his mark, stamping the document with his signet ring. He stared at it for a moment afterward, thinking of all the times he’d watched his father notarize such documents with the ring he now bore upon his finger.

Criella slid the folder from his hands, guessing his thoughts as her hardened expression softened.

“Thank you, my Lord.” Criella said as she closed the binder. “You should take your seats.” She said, addressing Luther and his spouses. “The challenge will begin momentarily.”

Luther sighed, giving Bertilak and his wives one more look. “To your might.” He nodded, and Bertilak and the others bowed in response.

Luther, Jo, Helena, Eira, and Rhosyn moved to the stands. Servants approached Eira and Rhosyn to pull them away to dress, but they shook their hands and dismissed the servants, pulling their white wedding robes about them.

Then, Luther remembered he was in his armor, dressed as if he were entering the challenge himself. That explained Lucas’ confused expression and Emily’s hesitant gaze as she glanced at him, Jo, and Helena. The three looked dressed for war despite having supposedly retired to their wedding night with Eira and Rhosyn.

Branan and his family entered the arena first, meeting Bertilak and his wives in the middle. Luther and his wives sat in the center seats of the arena, watching from their raised position. Lucas sat on Branan’s side, watching at the fence. Emily sat between him and Luther’s family. Criella and the servants, who were off duty and could watch without issue, sat on Bertilak's side. No doubt Wulfric and others watched from the house or nearby.

Luther rose from his seat as the challengers took up positions.

Bertilak bore a sizeable two-handed axe, his full-plate armor shining with a green tabard that bore the crest of his house. Avery stood in a fighting stance directly behind him, her hands raised in open-palmed readiness. Demira stood on his left, a spear in her right hand, a shield on her left, a sword on her back, and a short sword on her belt. Primrose stood on Bertilak’s right and slightly behind him, a staff poised before her, ready to strike.

Branan stood at the far end of the field, his spouses making a constellation of a sword with himself as the tip, furthest away from Bertilak. Agatha stood as the pommel, closest to Bertilak, suggesting they would take up a defensive maneuver first. Between her and Branan stood Raoul behind her, Seahild, Feseral, and Lisabet closest to Branan. Marne and Emory stood on either side of Raoul at a distance, making the hilt of their sword.

“We stand in witness to your challenge!” Luther bellowed, his voice fading beyond the bounds of the arena. “May the mighty prove victorious!” He hesitated, glancing at Eira, but she did not look at him. Her eyes focused solely on her father. “You may begin!”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Bertilak sprang into action. His ax struck against a forcefield summoned by Agatha’s arcanum between them. Still, the shield shattered under the force of the blow, causing Agatha’s eyes to widen in alarm as Bertilak continued his charge and shouldered her to the ground.

Raoul, behind her, charged forward and covered her in an illusion of the ground to try and disguise her. It might have worked if the arena lights were less bright, but the arcane crystals showed her despite the camouflage.

Beside them, Emory charged forward. His hands shifted to claws as he struck at Demira. She thrust forward with her spear as he charged at her. He spun to avoid it but collided with her shield, which knocked him aside as if he’d run into a wall. He moved to stand, but vines sprang up from the ground beneath him as Avery worked her spell, and Demira’s spear plunged through them and him, piercing his chest in a brutal stab.

Cheers went up from the servants at first blood and first kill, but it was too soon to celebrate.

Feseral shouted a spell, but his magic could not heal the dead. Demira’s spear had struck true, piercing Emory’s heart in its thrust. His following cry of despair wrenched through the arena, moving even Luther to feel pity for him.

Marne moved forward, striking at Primrose with a short sword in one hand and a short sword in her second. Primrose dodged the first strike, circling to the outside, and blocked the second strike with her staff, locking into battle with the enchantress.

Primrose answered her strikes with blows of her own, but Marne ducked the staff’s swing and side-stepped the thrust, now on the defensive with her blades turned overhand.

Seahild, in the center of the Feothe’s formation and distant from the front line of the conflict, worked a spell, a heart of some kind in her hand as she raised it toward the sky. As she threw it forward, arcane magic surged with it, and a large angry bear landed beside Bertilak. It reared back at his axe, swinging its right claws like knives at him as it landed on its left forepaw. Bertilak shifted, stepping back from it and Agatha on the ground.

Lisabet turned and moved closer to Branan, whispering something to him as she told him what was happening. They switched places, pushing Branan between her and the battle as he began his chant. Clouds started to form in the open sky above the arena, and Luther’s grip on his chair tightened. The placement hadn’t been a coincidence, it was to buy Branan the time necessary to work his spheromancy and summon the storm. The wind began to blow, sweeping across the arena and stirring the dust.

Eira and Rhosyn sat on either side of Luther. Each reached for him, grasping his forearm and clenching. Joe and Helena held their other hands, respectively, all of them watching the battle play out beneath them. Luther glanced at Eira as her eyes clouded, and she gave in to the temptation to look ahead.