The Steele Wolf

“EIN!” the Dømari called and pointed to the bald Stahler.



He grinned and strutted around the arena like a rooster. Walking over to the weapons rack, I glanced over them before selecting a different weapon. My eyes fastened upon a mace and chain. Grasping my shield and mace, I reentered the arena as a small plan began formulating in my brain, swinging the mace experimentally. I was down one point already. I would have to take him out, and fast.



The Dømari shouted to begin and I had to hand it to him, the Stahler didn’t try anything new; he rushed me, same as before. Moving backwards, I got myself as close to the rope as I felt comfortable being. Focusing power, I waited and quickly sidestepped him and turned my back towards him in a graceful arc as I swung the mace as hard as I could towards the shield, and at the same time I focused more power behind it. The mace hit the wooden shield and I heard a grunt from him as the shield split into three pieces.



“EIN!” the Dømari called out in my favor.



Surprised, my bald opponent stumbled and this time I advanced, swinging the mace forward as I closed in.



He grinned in triumph as he brought up his axe to catch the mace and wind it around the handle. He knew with one good tug he could disarm me. But that is what I was counting on. With the mace chain wrapped around the axe, he started to pull backwards on it and I held on and ran towards him. I jumped forward the same time he yanked leaping onto his bent knee, I kicked him as hard as I could in his chest using his own momentum to pull me into him, which caused him to stumble backwards over the rope and drop his hold on the axe handle.



“Tvier, Prir and Svegari!” Which meant two, three and winner. I thanked God that these early rounds went quickly. Walking over to a stand, I grabbed a tankard of water and drank it down, making sure to stay hydrated and to not drink any mead. Sitting in the shadows of a huge tree, I waited and watched the opponents.



How’s Fenri doing? I asked Faraway.



He’s won all of his matches, Faraway answered back. So have Bvork and a few others.



My next match, I waited to see what the other opponent was bringing into the ring before selecting my weapon. Luckily it was a sword. Feeling more confident, I followed a similar procedure of fighting, only this time I made attempts to draw out the fighting a little longer and added more hard strikes to the shield before using power to crack it in two. I didn’t have to use power to work on disarming them of their swords. I used the basic training I learned from Garit and Kael.



I grinned as I thought about Kael accusing me of not engaging in combat. I did get disarmed once again, but the score was tied one-one. It came down to sword skill and stamina. I got pushed over the rope once and then the score was two-one and I was able to push him over the rope. Finally, I was able to disarm him, and take the win. I watched tiredly as his sword hit the dirt. I heard cursing and kicking as he walked out of the ring.



Odin slowly walked over to me and handed me more water, being careful to not show me too much attention. “You’re slowing down, lass, but not as much as the larger brutes. If you keep your focus, maybe you can do this.”



Nodding my head, I took another swallow, refusing to say a word lest someone hear me. I was physically exhausted and losing control. I was drawing on more and more of Faraway’s strength. More cries of disappointment and shouts of congratulations were heard as another match ended.



“I think it’s gonna be close,” Odin whispered as he covered his mouth and stroked his beard to hide his words. “I think it will be between Bvork, Fenri and that one.” Odin tilted his head towards the far arena and I felt my face turn into a disgusted frown. It was the Stahler clansmen with the dirty furs and helms who had assaulted me the night before.



Oh, great, I thought, just what I needed. When my turn came again to fight, I noticed we were now being paired against the winners from the other arenas.



Fenri was pitted against Bvork and they were equally matched in strength and swordsmanship.  I could tell from the way they taunted each other, that there was some intense dislike between the two men. They weren’t fighting for a simple win; they were fighting for something else—pride. And they were ruthless in their pursuit. They were tied two each and I prayed that Fenri would come out on top, when Bvork took a handful of dirt and threw it into Fenri’s green eyes, blinding him. Taking full advantage, Bvork swung his sword and sliced into Fenri’s leg, bringing him down to the ground. Blood spilled from the leg wound, and dirt covered his face. Fenri tried to scrabble away holding his sword while desperately trying to wipe the dirt from his eyes.



Bvork came up from behind and grabbed Fenri’s head and smacked it into the ground with a loud thud. Blood poured from a fresh wound coating Fenri’s forehead. The onlookers Boo’d Bvork’s unsportsmanlike conduct. Without pausing, Bvork stepped on Fenri’s hand that gripped the sword and I heard a sickening crunch and a muffled scream from Fenri.



I turned my head so I wouldn’t see, and tears started to come to my eyes unbidden. What had I done? Because of me, Fenri was injured. An ugly laugh came from Bvork and I turned back to see him kick Fenri’s sword away from his prone body. The crowd turned silent; there was no joy in winning this way. So far very little blood had been spilled today, which was rare, but none that was done with such obvious intent and hatred. Even in the heat of the games, a warrior’s battle rage took over and there were always a few in the moment casualties. But our clan was a clan of warriors and they readily accepted any loss as normal.



I slid to my knees and stared into the arena to see if Fenri was all right. He was flat on his back. Slowly he turned his dirt and bloodstained face towards the crowd, blinked the last of the dirt from his eyes, and stared at his crushed hand.



His eyes then followed the path of his hand past the arena to meet up with my wide tear-stained ones. It took Fenri only a few heartbeats before his eyes widened in surprise as he recognized me in my warrior disguise. Sitting up and cradling his injured hand, I could see that his face went from astonished, to anger, to a blank mask. With all of the dignity he could muster, he pulled himself off of the ground.



Fenri walked towards me and stopped, leaning in to me to whisper angrily, “Is this what you wanted?” Glaring at the people around us, who backed away in fear, he went on. “I could have made you happy. I thought you wanted me to prove to you that I was strong enough to be your lifemate. I had no idea that this is what you had in mind. What were you thinking?”



Holding still, I shook my head and raised my shoulders in answer.



“Well, I hope you win, or that you are ready to live with the consequences,” he said, nodding toward my cousin who was speaking with my uncle Rayneld, a great bear of a man. With that last warning still ringing in my ears, Fenri pushed past me roughly and headed away from the crowds, steering clear of the medical tent.



Dropping my head in shame, I looked at my scuffed boot. I felt defeated. My only hope now was to win the competition and maybe try to convince him of what I was trying to do later. I gripped my sword in anger and waited until it was my turn to enter the ring.



The crowd parted for Bvork. Raising his hands to the crowds, he saluted them and then strutted in carrying a two-handed broad sword and no shield. He fought with a shield with Fenri. He must be changing his tactics after talking to his father.



Looking at Rayneld, I saw that his black beady eyes narrowed as he studied me and then nodded to his son. Sweat started to pool down my back as I looked at his son too. He must be extremely confident in his blocking abilities if he chose to fight without a shield.

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