The Kinkiller

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. By the time Tarren was done, there wouldn’t be anymore. He’d promised that to himself so many times that he had started to believe it. But Frear Valley was dozens of miles away, and he’d have to win control of the clan before he could think about the dragons. That’s what The Delmoot was for.

They had been running towards the village for almost an hour, expertly weaving between trees and brush. Kanned ran in front, Tarren behind her and Mirnal following at the rear. The clashing of steel rang out somewhere to their left, the grinding screams of combat reaching Kanned’s ears first. Without stopping, she turned and started off toward the fight, checking the straps on her shield and gripping her spear tight in her fist. Tarren smiled to himself as he pulled his axe from the straps on his back. They had planned for this for weeks, and now that The Delmoot had commenced, Kanned, Mirnal and he were working like a well oiled machine.

The Delmoot was held every 20 years and served to choose a new Laanorr, who was the leader for Delaan, Tarren, Kanned and Mirnal’s clan. This year, 7 competitors had put their names in for The Delmoot. Each picked two others to help them, and if they won, those two would serve as their Laanier’s, the trusted advisors of the Laanorr . Tarren had barely had to think when choosing his potential Laanier’s. Kanned and Mirnal were his oldest friends, they had fought at each other's sides and hunted with each other for years.

Two days ago, each team had been put in the woods, equidistant from Deltier, the village and home to the Delaan. At sunup this morning, The Delmoot had begun, and the seven teams were allowed to start moving towards the village. At sundown, the last team standing at the village gates would win.

Tarren remembered their strategy sessions the past two nights. Mirnal had thought the best strategy would be to run straight to the village and take on whoever got there as they came. He had thought that as others fought in the woods, they’d be tired by the time they reached the gates. Kanned and Tarren had outnumbered him though, rejecting his proposal. They knew that whoever got to the village first could be faced with constant fighting until sundown, taking on challengers as they arrived. If they could time their arrival right, they would be able to more easily pick off a team or two in the woods and then face whoever was left at the gates. By seeking out fights between two other teams, they would be able to keep their strength up and kill the other competitors as they fought each other.

Tarren’s legs churned as he followed Kanned up a small hill, the noise of the fight growing from the other side. Kanned leapt over a fallen tree at the top and disappeared over it. Tarren glanced behind him to see Mirnal, his bow strung and an arrow already in his other hand.

You are going to impale yourself on that arrow one day. Tarren could hardly count the times he’d warned Mirnal of running through the woods with arrows in hand.

Please don’t let this be the time my warning comes to head, he thought, turning back towards the top of the hill. He reached the top of the hill and vaulted over the fallen tree. Kanned was crouched on the other side of the fallen tree, catching her breath and looking down at the clearing at the bottom of the hill. Four men were there fighting, two others lying dead in pools of their own blood. Two of the living men were caught in a standing wrestle, their swords and shields scraping against each other as each tried to gain the upper hand. A third man was jabbing at the fourth with a spear, the fourth man sliding out of the way and catching the spear on the haft of his axe. Mirnal caught up to Tarren and Kanned, and the three watched for a moment catching their breath.

Without a word, Kanned stood and took off down the hill, propelling herself forward with a few strides and then sliding on her knees, howling like a wolf as she hurtled towards the four fighting men.

“I suppose that means we’re going,” Tarren said softly. He stood hurriedly, hefted his axe and ran after Kanned. Mirnal chuckled and loosed an arrow at the four men, who had been caught off guard by Kanned’s warcry. The arrow bounced off of the shield of the man with the spear and Tarren could hear Mirnal cursing behind him as he ran to catch up. Tarren was running at full tilt down the hill, his axe trailing behind him on his right side. Kanned slid down the last few strides of the hill, leaping up and stabbing her spear at the closest man, the one with the axe. He stepped back out of the way and the other man took advantage, stabbing him through the neck. The man with the axe fell to the ground, blood bubbling out of two holes on opposite sides of his neck and gurgling out of his mouth. Kanned stepped forward, engaging his killer with a few hard stabs of her spear.

One of the men with a sword had used Kanned’s distraction to take the head off of his opponent, and now came barreling at Tarren, who had just reached the bottom of the hill. Tarren met his charge, clenching his teeth and gripping his axe with both hands. A roar emanated from his lips as he slammed his axe into the charging man’s shield. The man stumbled back, a chunk of his shield splintering off. Tarren moved forward, swinging his axe in massive arcs. One swing missed, and then another, as the man kept reeling backwards. Tarren’s lips were bared, teeth grinding against each other, breath leaking through the gaps. As he advanced, he realized he knew this man. He had worked for a tanner in the village, hardly more than a boy. Tarren slowed his attack, trying to force himself to think of the man only as an enemy. His hesitation allowed the man to find his feet and spread them, preparing for a counterattack.

Here it comes, thought Tarren, aiming a third swing at the man, knowing it would miss. The man tensed, preparing to pounce while Tarren was stuck in a backswing. His axe swung inches in front of the man’s face, and the man smiled, leaping forward and stabbing his sword outward.

Most men would have been caught dead by this. Tarren was not most men. He easily sidestepped the man’s stab, stopping his axe mid swing and bringing it down over his head and onto the man’s sword arm with a grunt. The sword dropped to the ground and the man shrieked as his hand and forearm went with it. He stumbled back, trying to hide behind his shield as Tarren came down on him. Tarren’s axe slammed into his shield, shattering it and leaving the man’s arm a broken mess. The man grimaced, whimpering as he waited for the final blow. Tarren brought his axe up, meeting the man’s eyes. His axe fell to his side. His opponent was not a man any longer, just a scared boy. He nodded his head towards the forest and the boy began crawling away, whimpering and clutching the bloody stump that used to be his arm.

He turned away, scanning the clearing for Kanned and Mirnal. They had finished off the last man and were now moving through the various dead men and taking armor and weapons off of them. Mirnal looked up as Tarren walked over, tossing a waterskin at him. Tarren grabbed it from the air, uncorked it and took three gulps of water.

“We should get moving,” Tarren said, his voice scratching in his throat. “Others may have heard the noise and could be coming this way.” He looked around the clearing and at the hills around it, corking his skin and fastening it to a loop on his belt.

“Not an advantageous spot to take on a fight,” he grunted as he picked up his axe and put it on his shoulder. Kanned smiled, standing and glancing up toward the sun, still half way rising.

“This way,” she said, securing a newly won knife on her hip. She took off running, her long legs, effortlessly carrying her up the hill, back toward the village. Tarren sighed and took off after her, patting Mirnal on the back as he moved past him.

They ran for another hour, taking a few breaks to catch their breath and quench their thirst. Tarren struggled to get the boy’s face out of his mind, whimpering behind his shattered shield arm, the stump of his other arm hanging useless. The sun had reached the sky directly overhead by the time the village gates appeared before them. Kanned stopped short at the sight, holding her hand up to stop Tarren and Mirnal. She crouched down, staring off into the woods between them and Deltier. Tarren moved next to her, putting the head of his axe into the dirt and leaning on it. Mirnal stood behind them, scanning the forest around them. Deltier’s gates could be seen below them, a clearing laid out in front of it. Tarren could make out a few men moving around the clearing and thought he could see a few bodies lying around it as well.

“Looks like at least two groups have made it to the village already,” Kanned said, squinting through the woods. “Maybe even three, but only one still stands. Seems to be in full force.”

“We may want to assume that only two groups made it to the gates and that there are two still out there,” Mirnal said, still scanning the forest behind them.

“I am quite confident there are three down there,” Kanned said, “but I suppose we can err on the side of caution,” she glanced at Tarren, rolling her eyes slightly. Tarren stifled a laugh, but in reality he knew Mirnal was right. There was no way to know if any other groups had been killed before getting to the gates, or if Kanned had miscounted. She would not like that suggestion, so Tarren kept quiet. He stood and turned to face Kanned and Mirnal. They both looked at him, expectantly, waiting for orders. He was not used to those expressions and it took him a second to remind himself that he was in charge.

“We still have plenty of time before sundown,” he said. “We could wait a few hours, see if anyone else shows up, and then pounce if they do?” He didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but he was as unsure as they.

“And if no one shows up?” Mirnal said, glancing toward the gates. Kanned slapped him on the arm.

“If no one shows up then we have to attack, fool,” she spat the words out at Mirnal, glowering at him.

“Yes, if no one shows up in an hour or two, we move on the village and engage whoever remains,” Tarren swallowed, turning back towards the village and crouching back down.

“This is a good vantage point,” Mirnal said, “but anyone else who means to move on the gates may come here as well. We should move to the north side of the gates, there is plenty of cover there.” Kanned had already planted her spear in the ground and was sitting, propped against a tree. She scoffed at Mirnal’s suggestion, pulling a waterskin from her belt and uncorking it.

“No,” Tarren said, hoping he sounded more sure than he felt. “We’d give up sight lines on the gates, and allow any teams that are behind us to do exactly what we hope to do. We’ll stay here, stay alert and be fine.” Tarren knelt his axe against a nearby tree trunk, ending the conversation. A leader must be decisive, or at least his father had always said. Tarren smiled softly to himself. His father had never led anything but a hunting party of a half a dozen men, but talked as if he was a great king that led a nation. Tarren leaned back on the tree his axe was leaning on, pulling the waterskin Mirnal had given him off of his belt and taking a swig. Kanned sat across from him, staring towards the gates to the village. Above them both, Mirnal stood glaring into the woods, fingering his bowstring to a melody only he could hear. Both of their eyes, Mirnal’s round dark ones, and Kanned’s narrow grey ones, were better than Tarren's, so they always assumed watch over him. Still, he felt like it was his duty to do something, so he kept his eyes glued to a spot far off in the woods.

“We all know you can’t see anything out there,” Kanned chuckled. “Let us watch, you get some rest. If anything happens, we’ll warn you.” Tarren smiled at her and nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning back and relaxing his muscles. He wished, like he had wished so many times, that the three of them could have lived their life unbothered for the rest of time. But he knew things now that he never thought he would and nothing would ever be the same.

Tarren still remembered seeing the man stumble out of the woods, blood streaking his pale face as he fell into the dirt. Mirnal had almost put an arrow in his back, but Tarren had stopped him. They had brought him into the village and after he was well enough to talk had listened to him. Much of the clan had wanted to kill him from the start, but the Laanorr had stopped them. Tarren half wished he had let Mirnal kill the man, because what he would say would haunt Tarren for the rest of his life.

-----------------------------

“They burned down everything,” Ovrul said, choking back a sob. He was sitting in the middle of Deltier’s Hall, most of the clan sitting or standing around him, listening intently.

“We had no warning, no clue what was happening,” Ovrul continued. “They just came one morning. Tore down buildings with their claws and lit up entire streets with fire” A laugh barked out from the side of the room. Dorst stood up, a mocking smile on his face.

“You want us to believe that your city was set upon by dragons!” others quietly laughed around Dorst. “And, pray tell, how did you escape the wrath of these vicious beasts?” Dorst asked mockingly. Many of the men around Dorst started laughing, but the Laanorr silenced them.

“Sit down Dorst!” he barked. “This man is our guest and we shall listen to him. Not all of us are as young and foolish as you to dismiss stories of this sort so easily. Continue Ovrul.”

Ovrul scowled at Dorst and the other laughing clan members, an angry tear leaking from his eye.

“Yes, my city was attacked by dragons,” Ovrul swallowed. “There were three of them, massive beasts with teeth like swords and scales as hard as armor.” Ovrul started to sob. “They… they torched the entire city. I ran, I ran to warn others but found only ash where other great cities used to stand.” He buried his face in his hands, whimpers emanating from behind them. One of the Laanier guided him to the side of the hall and the Laanorr stood.

“Ancient legends tell of a time where men lived in Frear Valley. Centuries ago, the dragon riders drove them out, scattering them across the continent. Our ancestors fled from the dragons, and if what Ovrul says is true, we may be in danger from these very same dragons.” A murmur took up in the gathering, Tarren could hear some still laughing at the suggestion that dragons existed, but most had been silenced by the Laanorr.

“What would you have us do, old man!” Dorst stood back up, defiantly pointing at Ovrul. “If what this madman says is true, would you have us march to a fiery death?” He turned toward the assembly. “How can we trust the words of one man, and if he speaks true, how can we do anything against these beasts?” Another man stood up, Gennar, one of the smiths.

“You would have us sit and wait to be turned to ash as his people were!” At this the assembly sunk into screams and howls, calls for action and calls of cowardice and insanity being hurled around. Tarren could take no more, so he slipped out, eager to hear more from Ovrul and the clan elder about these dragons.

-----------------------------

“The sun will set in an hour or so,” Mirnal said, glancing up at the slowly darkening sky. “We should go.” Tarren and Kanned both stood up at the same time, stretching their limbs and picking up their weapons. There had been no movement in the forest or at Deltier’s gates in the past few hours. Tarren hoped that meant the only two groups remaining were them and the one at the gate. He took a deep breath, putting his axe over his shoulder and checking the various armor straps on his arms and legs. About two thirds of the way down, the trees thinned out, providing no cover around the gates.

“We should try to slip down to the tree line,” he said, glancing at the elongating shadows on the forest floor. “Visibility is not high, and Mirnal may be able to get a few shots off without us having to engage. If not, we charge in and fight close quarters,” he glanced at the short sword that Mirnal had strapped to his belt. “Are you ready to finally use that thing?” he said, causing Kanned to bark out a small laugh. Mirnal smiled and nodded, slipping past Tarren and Kanned and moving towards the gates.

“You two stay behind me,” Mirnal said. “Your heavy footsteps may alert them, especially you Kanned.” Kanned reached out to hit Mirnal, but he had already slipped out of reach, smirking.

“I’ll make him pay for that,” she growled.

“He’s right, you know,” Tarren said, smiling and moving down the hill after Mirnal. From

behind him he could hear Kanned muttering insults at the two of them.

He followed Mirnal, staying at least ten strides behind him so the group at the gates would not see a bundle of people. Mirnal slid effortlessly through the forest, moving silently from tree to tree, his eyes staying glued to the people at the gates. They reached the tree line after a while, and Mirnal crouched down to nock an arrow. Tarren could almost make out the faces of the three people at the gates. Two of them were pacing in a semicircle around the third who was leaning up against the gates, cleaning a large broadsword. Kanned slipped into position next to him, staring at the gate as well.

“That’s Korrin!” she said, at a level that could just barely be called a whisper. Tarren’s heart dropped. Korrin had been friends with Tarren as long as anyone, even Kanned and Mirnal. He had been the fourth member of their group when they had gone hunting and raiding, only separating from them when Ovrul showed up. Dorst, who had led the opposition to Ovrul, was Korrin’s father. When the clan began to separate into factions over the last few weeks, Dorst and Korrin had stood in stark opposition to Tarren and Ovrul.

“I can put an arrow into his side from here,” Mirnal said, fitting an arrow onto his bowstring.

“No,” Tarren croaked out softly. He put his hand on Mirnal’s bow, forcing it down. He stood up, hauling his axe up and resting it over his shoulder. He stepped forward, pushing through the branches and out of the cover of the trees.

“What are you doing!” hissed Kanned, grabbing his shoulder. He shrugged her off and strode into the clearing.

“Korrin!” he shouted, before Korrin or his group saw him. Korrin’s head jerked up from his sword, the cloth that he was holding dropping to the dirt. From here Tarren could recognize Korrin’s two fighters, his sister, Della, with a short sword and shield and Nolt, one of the clan’s best hunters, with a thick spear. They started moving toward Tarren, ready to engage him, but Korrin stopped them. A sad smile came over his face as he strode toward Tarren, his broadsword dragging behind him. His companions followed several strides behind him, silently staring at Tarren.

“I must confess, old friend, I had hoped you wouldn’t make it here before sunset,” Korrin said, coming within a few strides of Tarren, just out of each of their weapons range. “Foolish of me, I know, but we can always dream.” Tarren felt his muscles weakening, memories of the love he held for Korrin flowing through him. He tried to stand straight, stonily staring at Korrin. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.

“Why don’t you tell Mirnal and Kanned to come out here,” Korrin still had that sad smile on his face as he glanced toward the trees behind Tarren. Tarren heard the rustling of branches behind him, but didn’t dare take his eyes off of Korrin.

“Please,” Tarren could barely get the words out. “Please Korrin. Don’t make me do this.” He stepped back, feeling Mirnal and Kanned stepping up behind him.

“What would you have me do, Tarren?” Korrin said, shrugging slightly. “If I let you win, the Delaan will fall into civil war, or worse be destroyed. The outsider can’t be trusted, you must see this.” Korrin almost sounded like he was pleading with Tarren.

“You would rather the entire village, the entire forest burn down, while you and your father hide in denial?” Kanned spat the words at Korrin. Korrin’s sad smile shifted to Kanned, slipping slightly into a sneer.

“Dragons. Are. Not. Real.” he spoke slowly and stiffly, as if they were children. “You must see this,” he repeated, his eyes shifting back to meet Tarren’s.

“No,” Tarren said softly, “I see nothing of the sort. Please move out of the way.” Tarren stared straight into Korrin’s eyes, and they stared right back.

“You know I can’t,” Korrin stepped one foot back, bringing his sword forward and gripping it with both hands, the blade angled across his chest. Kanned and Mirnal both tensed, Kanned raising her shield and pointing her spear towards Korrin, and Mirnal drawing his bow. Della and Nolt stepped forward, readying their own weapons. Only Tarren stayed still, staring into Korrin’s eyes and praying he stepped away.

“No,” Tarren said sternly. “If we have to do this, there is no reason to endanger anyone else. We’ll settle this, me and you, Korrin.” Tarren gestured to Kanned and Mirnal, who lowered their weapons. Korrin nodded slowly, doing the same to Della and Nolt. Nolt’s speartip dropped, but Della stayed tensed.

“Della,” Korrin said, turning toward his sister. “He’s right. This is the proper way to settle this. My victory would mean nothing if you were to die in the process.” He put a finger on Della’s sword, lowering it. Della kept glowering at Tarren, but stepped back. Tarren pulled his axe off of his shoulder, lowering into a fighting crouch and gripping it with both hands. Korrin held his sword out in front of him, and the other four moved out of the way, forming a border around the two fighters.

“For the love we have shared, I will give you one last chance to step aside, old friend,” Korrin said as the two men started circling each other.

“I was going to offer you the same,” Tarren said, smiling sadly. Korrin darted forward, swinging his broadsword at Tarren’s chest. The haft of his axe easily caught and deflected the sword, as he moved back. Korrin had more reach and quickness with that sword and Tarren wished he had one as well. The two fighters stepped forward again, Korrin slashing at Tarren and then skipped back to avoid the swinging axe head. They exchanged a few more blows, none being aimed with true anger. A part of Tarren still hoped his old friend would back off. Korrin was cautious of Tarren’s axe, knowing how dangerous it was, but Tarren struggled to get inside of Korrin’s sword to land a blow. They danced around each other, stabbing, slashing and swinging to no avail.

The noise of the fight had brought the clansmen onto the top of Deltier’s wall and they cheered and jeered as the two fought. Korrin leapt forward, aiming a huge slash at Tarren’s face. A forward swing of the axe blocked the blow, a backhanded swing bought Tarren some space. He advanced stabbing forward with the blunt top of the axe. Korrin moved to the side, hacking downward at the haft of Tarren’s axe. The impact almost knocked the axe out of Tarren’s hand, but he held on. Stepping forward, he shouldered Korrin in the side. Korrin stumbled back, swinging his sword outward to keep Tarren from coming too close. The tip caught Tarren’s thigh, cutting a gash in it. He stumbled backwards as Korrin regained his footing and moved to charge at Tarren. A flurry of blows flew, steel screaming as Tarren barely blocked them with the haft of his axe. Korrin slowed and Tarren managed to get a counter off, causing Korrin to step out of reach. He took the advantage, aiming a heavy overhead swing at Korrin, who barely blocked it and moved out of the way.

The two fighters separated, catching their breath. Tarren could feel the blood trickling down his pant leg, almost leaking into his boot. The gash ached and every step turned the ache into a stab of pain. This fight would have to end soon. Tarren looked up to see Korrin preparing to engage again. He charged before Korrin could move, closing the gap between them and roaring as he swung his axe down at Korrin, who had been surprised by the vicious attack. His sword came up weakly, pushing the axe head away from Korrin’s body. Tarren kept pressing, bringing the axe back around for another swing. The steel rang out as it hit Korrin’s sword, a shockwave going up the axe haft and into Tarren’s arms. Korrin yelped as his sword was ripped from his hands. The blade landed in the dirt with a muffled smack, out of Korrin’s reach. He fell to his knees, Tarren standing over him.

“Nooo!” A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. Della drew her sword and charged at Tarren from behind Korrin. Nolt caught her in his arms as she ran, pulling her into a hug and trying to calm her. She kicked, still screaming and spitting at Tarren.

“It’s ok, Della,” Korrin said softly, turning to look at his sister. She sagged in Nolt’s arms, sobbing as she looked at her brother. Korrin turned back to Tarren. Their eyes met and Tarren’s axe almost slipped from his hands.

“It’s over, Korrin,” Tarren glanced up at the sky, the sun was disappearing behind the forest, sending hues of purple shooting through the air. “Stand up and surrender.” Korrin shook his head.

“Kill me.”

The words stabbed through Tarren.

“Look me in the eyes and kill me.” Korrin straightened his back, defiant. “I refuse to watch as you destroy our clan. If you let me live, I shall fight you and that madman until one of us dies.” Korrin stared at Tarren, his lips a hard line.

“No,” Tarren said, nodding his head. Korrin said nothing, putting his head down. The world froze around Tarren. The screaming of the clan, of Della were silenced. The pain in his leg was far away. All he could hear was the breath in his ears as Korrin’s words echoed in his mind. His axe rose, gripped by hands that he had no control over. It came up over his head and swung downward in one fluid motion. The steel bit into the back of Korrin’s head and lodged itself halfway into his skull. Blood sprayed outward and Tarren let go of the axe, falling onto his hands and knees in the dirt. His eyes filled and he wept, his tears mixing with Korrin’s blood that spattered the dirt in front of him. He could vaguely hear Della screaming, could almost feel Kanned and Mirnal moving forward to help him up.

But none of that was real. Only the mud, soaked with blood and tears was there. The blood of his fellow clan member, the blood of a great fighter he had respected, the blood of a friend he had loved for years.