Valorian, on the other hand, had had little rest or food for over seven days. He had been severely beaten, his muscles were pulled and strained from the chains, and his strength was depleted by the magic he had used to escape from Actigorium. He knew too well that he was in no condition to fight a physical battle. Yet nothing on earth would make him back down now.
“Why?” repeated Karez, snorting at the ludicrousness of the question. “We grow the meat that feeds them and raise the horses that serve them. In our own way, we are important to them.”
“I’m tired of feeding their bellies,” a man yelled from the crowd. The others muttered among themselves, and several agreed loudly.
“We have nothing to worry about from the Tarns. This little incident will blow over,” Karez declared. “We will pay our tribute, and they will be placated.”
“Little incident!” Valorian bellowed. He came around from behind the big, burly clansman, his eyes crackling and his expression furious. “You call the murder and imprisonment of two families a ‘little incident’? What would you call the massacre of the whole Clan, a small setback? Open your eyes, Karez. Tyrranis will never let us get away with that raid on Actigorium. We’ve outlived our usefulness. We’re worth more to his prestige dead!”
“It’s you he really wants,” Karez shouted in return. “As lord chieftain, I will see that you are turned over with our tribute to General Tyrranis—dead or alive. There is no reason to sacrifice the Clan for one man.”
“What did you say?” Valorian demanded, his voice deadly cold.
Karez did not reply. Instead, he faced the people, drew his sword, and lifted it hilt first toward the sky. “Before Surgart, I claim the honor and title of lord chieftain. Let all who would challenge my claim step forward and answer before the gods.”
All eyes swiveled toward Valorian, and he didn’t disappoint them. Mordan wordlessly handed him a sword, and with equal intensity, Valorian stabbed it point down into the ground at Karez’s feet. “In the name of Amara, I challenge your claim,” he cried.
The people were startled. Men didn’t usually call on Amara, the Mother Goddess, to help in a matter such as this. But Kierla and Mother Willa weren’t surprised. Amara had supported Valorian from the day of his encounter with the lightning. They realized his challenge was just another step in his unfolding destiny.
Karez’s lips pulled hack in a malicious smile. His teeth gleamed against his dark heard. “You have a strange power, Valorian. How can we be sure that you won’t use it against me?” He deliberately paused, as if something had just occurred to him. “How can we ever know that you won’t turn your power against the Clan? What if you already have?” He pointed dramatically into the hall. “Was it Tarnish luck or your magic that sent that arrow into Fearral’s neck?” The onlookers gasped. Kierla drew a long, painful breath and clenched her fingers together. Valorian didn’t move.
But Mordan did. He took stepped forward beside Valorian, his stocky, muscular figure like a bulwark at the man’s side, and he touched his fingers to Karez’s chest. “You weren’t there, Karez,” he said loudly, his tone scathing with contempt. “You couldn’t know. But we who were there saw the magic that Valorian wrought. He saved our lives and was responsible for the success of our raid. There was nothing but the hands of the gods in Fearral’s death. He died with honor, Karez. Do not stain that honor with your own selfishness and stupidity.”
The rest of the chieftain’s guards, Gylden, and several other warriors who had been in the rear guard came to stand by Valorian to show their support.
Karez’s face flushed with anger. This wasn’t a good beginning for his leadership. He hadn’t anticipated the chieftain’s guards siding with Valorian.
Valorian hadn’t expected that either, and he was grateful for their acceptance of him. If he was killed and Karez became chieftain, Karez could easily dismiss them with dishonor from their favored positions or even have them executed. They were taking a big risk supporting him when he was in such poor shape, and now he knew he would have to make their risk even bigger.
He raised his hands to the sun, the light of the Mother Goddess, and he swore for all to hear: “I made a vow when I returned from the realm of the dead that I would never use my power against our people. Today I reconfirm that vow before Amara and all the gods, and before you. I give you my word that I will not use magic against my opponent. We will fight in the honored tradition of swords. Will you accept the victor as your lord chieftain?”
“Yes!” every voice answered him.
Valorian lowered his arms, satisfied. He was taking a terrible chance to fight a man like Karez with only a sword, but if he could defeat his challenger, he would win the respect and trust of the entire Clan.
By this time, nearly all the clanspeople had gathered in the large open space before the hall, almost six hundred men, women, and children of all ages. Quickly they backed up to form a big ring where the challengers would fight.
Duels to decide a new chieftain were traditional and quite practical to the minds of the clanspeople. If several men desired to be lord, they fought with only swords until all but one surrendered. That one was then considered to be the Clan chieftain, chosen by the god Surgart, until he died or was too feeble to lead his people. There were few rules for the duel. The opponents couldn’t leave the ring of battle until the duel was over, and they couldn’t have help from the spectators. They were on their own, with only the gods for their allies.
Mordan pulled his sword from the ground, cleaned the point, and was about to hand it to Valorian when Gylden came up with Valorian’s own sword. “Aiden left this with his clothes and weapons,” he said briefly to his friend. His strong, even features were dark with concern as he handed Valorian the sword and went to stand by Kierla and Linna in the crowd of spectators.
Valorian hefted the blade, pleased to have his own weapon back with its strange blackened blade. Its weight It good to his arm; its hilt fit comfortably in his hand.
Mordan nodded, satisfied. He gripped Valorian’s arm. “Your only chance is to wear him down. Let him do the chasing, and keep the sun to your back as much as possible.”
Valorian inclined his head. He returned Mordan’s grip, pleased to have this man’s concern and friendship. After a second thought, he decided to remove his tattered, filthy tunic and fight in nothing but his pants to give his opponent less to grasp. As he stripped off his shirt, he heard startled exclamations from the people around him. He saw why when he looked down at his upper body. It was a mass of bruises, purple, blue, and red—Tyrranis’s own signature of pain.
Soft fingers touched his arm, and he saw Mother Willa standing beside him, a cup in her hand. She was breathing heavily, as if she had been running. “Drink this,” she ordered and thrust the cup at him. Gratefully he drank the proffered liquid. He didn’t recognize its tart flavor, but it warmed his stomach and spread into his body with invigorating strength.
“I grow impatient, Valorian!” bellowed Karez from the center of the circle. He, too, had stripped to his coarse leggings and stood waiting, his heavy body already glistening with sweat.
Valorian strode to meet him. They rapped their sword points together in salute, and without further ceremony, the combat was joined. Valorian saw Karez’s sword rise and fall even before his own had moved into a defensive position. He managed to parry the wicked blow and duck out of Karez’s way by a hairbreadth.
The big man bulled by him, carried by his own momentum, then quickly turned with a grunt and brought his sword around in a murderous arc that would have cut Valorian in half.
Valorian dodged sideways and leaped back, every muscle protesting. He noticed immediately that Karez was using his sword more like a club, swinging great hammer like blows at Valorian’s head and torso with little thought of skill or finesse. The man was relying on his larger bulk and brute strength to overwhelm his weaker opponent.