Utgar
”We all dance on the strings of our forbearers.”
____Two kyrie soared through the skies above the Braunglayde mountains. The ground below was a colorful tapestry of jagged red rock and faded green trees, and the two watched it closely as they flew. They were following motion in the foliage below, expertly tracking the erratic movements even as the leaves partially hid it.
____“Down there!” The first kyrie pointed. He swerved low to run his prey off. A wheezing squeal signaled the animal turning in a panic, and the second kyrie closed and threw his javelin. The trampling hooves stopped and birds scattered from the trees.
____Both kyrie landed and approached the slain creature. Zatpian, a large animal native to the Glayde, and one not easily struck mid-movement.
____“A fine hit.” The first kyrie said, surveying the wound, “I didn’t think you capable of landing such a shot, Concan.”
____His companion removed his helmet, revealing a fair face hardly native to these parts of Valhalla. “Everything in the north all blends in together. You learn to have a keen eye.”
____The first kyrie removed his helmet as well. His red complexion belonged here, “You’ll have to take me hunting up there sometime, then.”
____Concan laughed, “You’d despise the cold, Utgar.” He grimaced and yanked the spear from the killed animal, “…Besides, the imperial code would make it a headache. You leaving these lands, I mean.”
____Utgar frowned. The Empire, always hovering ominously over his homeland. He shook his head, “Hasn’t it been long enough since the war? They should know we’re no threat. Let alone just one Kyrien—how much damage do they expect me to do?”
____“I don’t know. They’re paranoid.” His friend stooped and cleaned his weapon, “But let’s not focus on such things. Out here it’s only us and the game.”
____Utgar nodded in agreement. He did not care for the state of things in Valhalla, but he also didn’t want to fret on it. In the wilds hunting with his friend, it was more simple. He preferred it that way. Politics soured all moods.
____The day’s catch made for the night’s feast. All of the Otholos Clan gathered in the keep of Archkyrie Tyros—Utgar’s father—to celebrate the successful hunt marking the passing of winter. It was good to see another year.
____Utgar sat at the head table, watching the spoils divvied up and served. The slain zatpian rested at the center of the hall, surrounded on all sides by a legion of other catches and dishes. The air tasted of smoke and spices, accompanied by a thunderous chorus of chatting voices. Kyrien feasts were always an uproarious affair, full of laughter and spilled ale. Always at least one brawl, occasionally a fatality. Life was harsh in the rugged badlands they called their home—a chance to party was always appreciated. It was one of the few parts of their culture the Empire still permitted openly. Most of the rest was “barbarism”.
____Utgar watched two of his fellow clansmen butting heads, quite literally, and hoped that Concan wouldn’t report back to the imperials to cancel feasts too. He was a northerner and a representative, after all. But glancing to his friend the young general was glad to see only bemusement at most on his lips. “Careful, you two.” Concan merely warned.
____“Mind your business, ya prissy northerner!” They shouted at him.
____Concan only smirked, “I’ll join your fight if either of you gets your blood on my prized catch.” He nodded at the slain zatpian served as the main course too close to where they stood.
____The threat seemed to endear him to the two, and they backed off. Still one raised a mug to Concan with an aloof laugh, “Eh, to your catch, Concan! Death to the Empire!”
____He smirked more and raised his glass slightly, knowing they were drunk. Utgar smiled, glad to have avoided an awkward situation. Concan was a good man—he wouldn’t go tattling off to the imperials so easily. He got along with the Kyrien folk just fine.
____One servant raised a horn and signaled the approach of another awkward situation. The doors of the keep opened and in walked Utgar’s father.
____Tyros was not like most other Kyrien: lacking musculature, thin and bent in his old age. His black leathery wings were folded like a cloak about him, and he walked noiselessly to the head table. He took his place seated between his son and Concan, glaring at them both with an intense over-analyzing stare.
____“Concan.” He began simply, “How are you enjoying your stay in the south thus far?”
____Concan replied both truthfully and politely, “The weather is warm and the company lively and honest, lord.”
____“You’re adjusting sooner than our last emissary. His fair skin and precious wings couldn’t handle the dry air.” Tyros tapped his rigid fingers on the table, a signal to his servants that he was impatient for wine, “I’m told you even killed our prized beast here with a single stroke from the air. You must surely be an exceptional hunter. Even a fine warrior can struggle to pin down a zatpian.”
____Utgar watched Concan subtly squirm, “It was only that one killed in a single blow, sir. We caught a wide host of game throughout, both of us.”
____“Indeed.” Tyros said, speaking in an-always growling, muted voice, “It is only a shame that you killed the greater beast. My son must work on his skills if he cannot slay the finer game in his own territory. To have a foreigner be the day’s champion…”
____Utgar frowned, hating how his father always managed to turn everything into a competition. It was awkward now, and Concan nodded only in formality as he tried to diffuse it, “Utgar did the spotting, lord. I only threw the spear.”
____“Naturally.” Tyros said with a dry smile. The servant came with wine, and the old kyrie insistently placed a goblet by his guest as well, “Drink, Concan. Tell me of the northerners on their way to Otholos.”
____Utgar’s frown hardened as red filled both their cups. The night was further souring. “Must we speak of politics now, father?” he asked, wanting only to celebrate with his friend without overserious interviews.
____“Yes. Always. You’ll learn that soon enough.” With that Tyros again faced Concan, pressing ever for more information, “I’ve heard about the Imperial envoy in the south. They’ve passed through the Kiedy and Ludor clans already. I trust you’ve received word about their arrival?”
____“Aye.” Concan reluctantly reported, “It’s only a regular check of Kyrien lands—”
____He’d erred, and the old Archkyrie pounced instantly: “We are natives of the Kyrien Mountains, not Braunglayde. We’ve only been bottled here where it’s easier for the Empire to hold down the lid from the border.”
____“Of Glayde lands—a thousand apologies, lord—being led by Vindar: Jandar’s brother.”
____“You know this fellow?”
____“I know Jandar. We grew up together in the north. He’s a just and honorable man.” Concan sipped his drink before continuing, “As for his brother…”
____“One is always the lesser.” Tyros concluded. Utgar clenched his hands tight. His father rose from his seat, “Thank you for your honest reporting, Concan. I do hope you’ll report honestly to this envoy in turn. They’ll look for any chance to declare us savages and rid us of any dignity we had left. But you’ll tell them the truth, won’t you?”
____“I… Of course, lord.” Concan looked confused at even the suggestion that he might tell otherwise. He watched Tyros turn and leave the hall, then scooted his chair closer to Utgar, “So can we actually eat now?”
____Utgar unclenched his hands and stared at the killed beasts on the table before him, “Yes, though I fear it’s grown cold.”
____Utgar’s red muscles glistened in the sunlight, as he swung his axe for the fortieth time. His foe: a tall twisted stump of Borien wood, splintered further. Despite his strength Borien wood was terribly dense, withstanding so much punishment and still remaining in one piece. “Gah…!” the young general breathed heavily, upset that all his work left so little visible damage.
____His father watched, standing several paces away with his arms behind his back and his wings stretched above to shield himself of the sunlight. He looked as he always did: thoroughly unimpressed, “I expect better by now, Utgar. Redmoot is only a month away, and I won’t have my clan represented by a middling warrior.”
____The ceremonial dictating of clan leaders: by combat of course. Utgar had little interest, “Redmoot’s been banned by the Empire forever, father.”
____“We are holding it this year. I have assurances from all the other leaders. The most powerful tribes have endured to rule every corner of Valhalla for millennia, and ours is fractured deliberately. The clans will unite once more. Now run the set again.”
____Utgar had met the other clans’ heirs before. Few were the bloodthirsty warriors of generations’ past. He had no intention of tearing their guts out with his axe. Still he obeyed his father, turning and relentlessly smashing his weapon into the stump again and again. Sweat continued to gather under the oppressive sun.
____“Are they not…” He muttered between gasping breaths as he trained, “…worried about imperials finding out?”
____“No one will find out. No Kyrien would backstab his culture to those northern swine.” Tyros paced around his son, watching him, “This is a necessary step in strengthening our people. Disarray is part of why we lost the last war. The clans must be united, and Redmoot is how it is done. I intend for you to lead them. Run it again.”
____Utgar faced him, gasping for breath, “But I…”
____“
Run it again.”
____The young general glared at the stump. Still little damage. Such dummies could withstand years of punishment before they were too broken to use. Utgar’s nostrils flared and he threw his axe to the ground, “That’s enough.”
____Tyros glared furiously at his son, “You’re pathetically weak. You’re Kyrien, you’re a born fighter and a raider. You’re also my son, you
will lead the clans one day. You need to be strong if you’re ever going to defeat the Empire.”
____War seemed to be on everybody’s lips these days. They hated the yoke, being absorbed into the imperials’ boundaries, wanted the right to raid again. But the Empire was powerful. It wasn’t worth it. Utgar scowled, “The war was years and years ago. I don’t see them as combatants to be overthrown anymore. I have imperial friends now, father.”
____His father gave him a tight-lipped smile, “Oh, you think that northerner is your friend, do you?”
____Concan. Utgar nodded, “He is.”
____“False.” Tyros said, “He is an emissary of the Empire and a northerner through and through. He is here to monitor us and report back to the Emperor. When war breaks out do you think he will take up arms with us against his own people? Of course not. You would come to blows, and when that happens you’d best be the better swordsman by then. You two are enemies—you’ll realize that now or later. Now run it again.”
____“There’s no need for us to be enemies.” Utgar protested, “There is no war but the one you envision in your head: wanting it so badly.”
____“Wanting what lies beyond. Independence, and… other liberties.”
____“A second war, with nothing promising a different outcome. You’d trade our future for our freedom.”
____The old Archkyrie seemed unbothered with such accusations. He exhaled and nodded casually, “You forget that this is now a rebellion. We have to win our true homeland back. The winds of change are coming. We’ll fight twice as hard. But only if we have a mighty leader to pledge our lives to.” His narrow eyes looked Utgar up and down, “Only if our leader casts aside all weakness. Hesitate, falter only a little, and you’ll be killed. So run it again. Only the strong survive in these lands.”
____“Like you, father?”
____“…Yes.” Tyros watched Utgar turn to leave, “Walk away and I’ll summon Concan to finish the job. His blood isn’t entirely water, despite his spineless race.”
____Utgar paused. He glanced, scanning the training field, seeing all the other kyrie watching the whole exchange. He could read the looks on their faces. They all had the same expectations of him that his father possessed. He had to be the mightiest among them, or he was nothing. Like his brother had been… The insult of Clan Otholos’ leader bringing in a northerner for a contest of strength and endurance…
____He whirled and snatched the axe back off the ground, then turned and smashed the weapon into the dense wood. Again and again, even as his own body screamed in protest. He pictured many things in the place of that stump, and by the time he collapsed of exhaustion it was indeed no longer fit to serve as a dummy.
____The Imperial envoy arrived not four days after the feast, their ranks of silver mail forming a winding sparkling snake through the badlands as they marched to Tyros’ keep. Any Kyrien hoping to sneer at cushy northerners were disappointed, as many of the guests were tall and grim. These soldiers had seen combat in the south already, Utgar reckoned, and their faces were just as full of wariness and suspicion as the southerners greeting them. They wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter if fighting broke out; some might even welcome the opportunity.
____At the head of the convoy rode Vindar on some four-winged steed. He was thin and gaunt unlike his escort, and wore white robes that stood out against the red rock of Tyros’ fortress. Still, he also did not seem intimidated by the muscular scowling southerners, striding forth to examine each and every man Tyros had assembled to greet them in his crimson hall.
____“Such unhappy faces.” Vindar said as he eyed one guard after another, “Feeling restless, perhaps? You’ve all been behaving yourselves?” He stood on his toes to meet one especially large Kyrien in the eye, “You look particularly ill-fit to obey. I bet you’re thinking of strangling me right now.”
____The guard glared him right back, answering through gritted teeth, “I would… never… dream of it, lord…”
____“That’s wonderful. Your descendants may be civilized yet.”
____“Lord Vindar.” Tyros spoke loudly over the display. He too was dressed ornamentally, with his clan sigil in bright red upon his robes, “Clan Otholos welcomes you with open arms.”
____Vindar abandoned his mocking of the guards and approached the old man, “Last time the Empire was here Clan Otholos only greeted it with arms. Now we’ve moved up to open arms.” His narrowed eyes shifted this way and that, “You don’t mind if my men search for any
hidden arms while we’re at it, no?”
____“We’ve nothing to hide.”
____Vindar laughed, “That’s what the last two clans claimed. But I’m sure we can find a thing or two among all the good strong lads in your village.”
____“Perhaps the odd axe for hunting or self-defense.”
____“Perhaps, but if I find so much as a helmet the generosity of our assumptions will vanish.” Vindar snapped his fingers and half his escort made their leave to begin the searches. The envoy continued to pace and eye his surroundings, finally setting his gaze on Utgar, “Is this your son?”
____Utgar had been standing straight at the base of the steps before his father’s throne, as rigid and silent as a soldier. He did not flinch as Vindar approached, standing much too close and continuing to eye the young general up and down as if he were checking a fruit at a marketplace.
____“I’d heard you had two children, Tyros.” The envoy said, “The other…?”
____Tyros scowled, “…Not here. It doesn’t matter. Utgar is my heir.”
____“I see.” Vindar said, speaking to Utgar now, “My brother is the heir to Thaelenk and Nastralund. One day I’ll have to kiss his rings every time I see him.” His scowl gradually became a smile, “I suppose I’ll at least get to have someone else’s heir kiss my feet, eh?”
____Utgar said nothing, though Vindar could hear his hand squeezing his sheathed sword. The envoy’s eyes dropped to the weapon, then back up to Utgar, and he smiled again. He wasn’t afraid.
____“Enough!” Concan said at last. He at least could break the rigid stance and storm forward without the imperials drawing swords: a northern luxury to be sure. He moved deftly to Vindar’s side, gripping his arm, “Enough needless asserting, or I’ll inform your brother that you’re trying to provoke a war in his absence.”
____“It’s an insult that I had to come in his stead in the first place…!” The envoy sighed, “But very well. I’ll have your report in the evening.”
____He whirled and left at that, his troops following him. All the Kyrien breathed freely at his absence. The boot was lifted slightly off their necks for the moment.
____Utgar squeezed his way through the tight corridors which sat hidden between the walls of the keep. His father had built the secret labyrinth into the castle, subtle as a snake, so that he might sneak this way and that and spy on his guests as he pleased. A remarkably stark contrast from the usual blunt and honest Kyrien culture, despite his bleating on about its importance. The hypocrisy was not lost on Utgar, though he too was betraying those virtues by using these tunnels.
____The young general crept down the hidden hall, until at last he glimpsed a slice of candlelight between the bricks and heard voices. Concan and Vindar speaking in private. Or so they thought. Utgar inched closer, peering through the cracked wall and listening in.
____The envoy was within, pacing madly around the octagonal chamber. Concan remained sat at the table in the center, eyes fixed on the surface in contemplative thought. The constant movement of his fellow northerner did not disrupt his gaze.
____“The plots might as well be written on the walls.” Vindar asserted loudly, “Rebellion is brewing in the Glayde. I’ve been told to call back the troops in the north and double our garrisons.”
____“I do question if the Kyrien aren’t the only ones wanting for conflict, lord.” Concan answered plainly. His form remained as rigid as his tone.
____Vindar whirled to pace anew, “Not without cause. Eastport in Kinsland was raided last month. The Kyrien still want their old way without repercussions. We should have wiped them all out to begin with.”
____“That talk is madness! You forget yourself, envoy. You answer to Jandar.”
____“Jandar is unrealistic, as is the Emperor. That makes them highly popular at court and among the smallfolk, but business is messier out here so far from Laur.” Vindar clenched his hands tightly behind his back, narrowing his eyes, “Let them be altruists. Lessers like me aren’t so lucky. We have to do the dirty work. We’ll do it so they don’t have to sully their precious conscience and image.”
____Concan shook his head, “There’s no need. Yes there is violence among these folk, but there is heart also. I’ve seen it. Their mistreatment only fuels their worst aspects, Vindar. I swear it. You cannot put your boot on a man’s neck and be shocked at how he thrashes. They’re only one generation into annexation. Most only want equality.”
____“You’re too young for this talk. They’re lucky to have citizenship at all. You don’t remember what it was like before the annexation. The raids, the pillaging. Brutes and slavers. That’s what they want to return to. I’d have wiped them out.” The envoy stopped moving for just a moment, staring down at Concan, “Are you dense enough to deny it? We put them down for good cause in the war. Their culture is evil. You know it.”
____Utgar’s eyes darted from Vindar to his friend, watching intently.
____Concan sighed, “I do not deny it.”
____The young general’s eyes narrowed. But then his friend continued:
____“However, it would be a far greater evil to destroy them completely. Would you have our noble empire leave such a black mark on history? Folly. Slow change would be better. If they rebel we should fight, but never before. I do not draw my sword for matters requiring only a scalpel, Vindar.”
____The envoy waved one hand dismissively, “Bah, you’ve been among these folk for too long.”
____“Are you suggesting these barbarians of yours have poisoned my mind with such brutish notions as empathy?”
____“Then you’ve been among my brother too long! Fine, defend their honor and your own. I’ll clean up the bloody mess afterwards.”
____Concan rose, “I am only reporting truthfully, lord. You wished to know my estimate of these folk from living among them; I have given it. It saddens me that you are quicker to wash your hands of responsibility than of real bloodshed. Now if it pleases you I should’ve been abed an hour ago.”
____“Very well. Dismissed.”
____Utgar watched him depart, leaving only Vindar in that room alone still looking furious and ponderous. It would please the young general immensely to sneak into that chamber and smash that weasel’s head in against the table. For all the things the wiry bastard had said so casually he certainly deserved it.
____But Utgar did not act, knowing better. The imperial troops would riot, though that’d be a good fun fight as well. But that elation would vanish too: the Emperor would send ten thousand more and put all of Clan Otholos to the sword. Who would condemn it, when their envoy was killed? Such was the grip the northerners had on the Kyrien, and why men like Vindar walked and talked so freely around them as he did. Utgar despised the feeling.
____It would be right to rebel, though we would lose. He mused, thoughts turning increasingly to further impotent fury,
And all of Valhalla would still call us monsters. Damn you, father…
____“We must accelerate our plans.” Tyros instructed as he poured himself a cup of wine, “The Empire knows what we’re up to. Vindar will have the garrisons on the border strengthened, though it will take time to assemble the necessary soldiers. The window is closing.”
____Utgar frowned. He did not like these constant talks of war, especially when he stood to inherit the mess. “You mean to rebel?”
____“All the clans mean it. Why do you think we plan to hold the Redmoot?” Tyros sat, “Sit down, this involves us both. You’ll defeat the other clansmen in battle and unite the south under my banner.”
____Utgar’s conscience tasted of dirty water, “I’m to kill clansmen’s sons—heirs and allies—for the sake of your banner?”
____“…It would not be the first time.”
____Utgar scowled in shame, “Just for the chance of independence?”
____“Of course not. Not only independence. I want the Kyrien Mountains back. We’ll take the border forts in a surprise attack, and the rest of Valhalla beyond will be soft and undefended until they can retaliate.” The old Archkyrie tapped the map etched upon the table, “Burn enough fast enough and they’ll sue for reasonable peace terms. I’ll return half of what we’ll have stolen; that’ll leave most of Lindesfarme in our fingers for starters. Bleakewoode too if our swords are swift.”
____Utgar lacked the lust for conquest. The promise of remote territorial gains were like blood in the water for his father. The young general shook his head, “This’ll be the last war all over again. The imperials will come in greater arms and numbers and smash us into oblivion. We’ll be granted even fewer rights than the last time, provided they don’t just kill us all entirely.”
____“This time it will be different. Sit.” Tyros refused to continue until his son had obeyed, “Cracks are forming in the Empire. I’ve been told a wellspring has been found.”
____Tyros was the last person in Valhalla Utgar would think to resort to the word of legends. One might as well sail off into the north searching for the spear of Odin to solve all their problems. He perked up, “A wellspring? You don’t honestly believe that to be true.”
____“My informants tell me it is. A man named Thormun has discovered a wellspring in Tealeron. I’m told another has been found in Anund. Neither have been shared with the Emperor.”
____“It can only be tales.”
____“If they are tales then they are spreading fast and spreading south.” Tyros said, “A Valkyrie is worth more than a hundred men on the battlefield, and worth more than an emperor depending on who you ask. Believers in the old ways would worship the former.”
____Utgar mused on it. Such a thing would change all the factors. Wellsprings were said to give a multitude of powers to whoever drank of them. Speed, strength…
____His father continued, “If this is true the Valkyrie will take up their own banners as warlords. They’ll all wish to be Emperor. The northerners will have to spread themselves thin to contain these threats. As for the south, should we locate a wellspring of our own…”
____“You wish to make
me a Valkyrie?”
____“Of course! You will win at the Redmoot, unite the clans, drink of the water and march north!” Tyros gave the rare smile, and Utgar did not much like the look of it, “You’ll become a general, a god…”
____Emperor… Utgar finished. He shook his head, “We don’t even know if these wellsprings are real, and already you lay plans to overstretch our people and our resources all the way to the throne.”
____“I offer you greatness beyond our ancestors’ wildest dreams.”
____“My place is here, in relative peace.” Utgar protested, “With Concan, my people, my own keep. I know it’s not perfect, but I still don’t want it all destroyed by ambition.”
____“I did not raise two feeble sons.” Tyros growled, “I suffered your elder brother already: petulant, wishing rather to be a bard than a king, too weak to even put a babe in a woman. You are my heir, and war is well on its way. You will unite the clans—”
____“In your image.” Utgar quickly specified.
____“Yes in my image! We’ve been second-class citizens for too long, for so long that some among us have grown to be cozy with the idea.” The choice words were like darts being thrown directly at the young general. “I’ll not have the chance pass and be under the Empire’s boot forever. We will seize the moment, and your descendants will thank me for it for generations to come. They’ll worship you for it once you man up enough to recognize and embrace your destiny!”
____Utgar frowned. He loathed the accusation of enjoying the Empire’s yoke. He was no bootlicker. But war would upend everything. He would have to marshal the Kyrien with bloodshed. He would have to break through the borders about Braunglayde, defeat the Empire thoroughly, and negotiate favorable terms afterward. He would have to hold off his own, for it was obvious that Tyros and others like him sought to put the northerners under the boot rather than make all kyrie equal. They lusted for Lindesfarme lands and more. And of course Concan would take up arms with his kin. They would become enemies.
____“Utgar.” Tyros said coldly while he watched his son muse, “I am too old. I’ve suffered for a generation without retribution. I’ve raised you as the torch to unite our people.”
____“And the torch you’ll put all of Valhalla to if we triumph? And the torch they’ll put all our race to if we fail?”
____“…Yes.”
____Utgar stared at the old man, seeing the horrible certainty in his eyes. He truly did not care if everything were destroyed. Utgar rose and walked out, putting the conversation behind him. Nothing was resolved, but he did not care. Instead he searched for Concan, wanting to only hunt or spar or fly. Activities where everything was simple and his mind could be far from his destiny.
____The two kyrie soared high above the mountains, where all Valhalla below looked tiny and insignificant. Better that it stay that way. Though the winds in Utgar’s face were harsh, he still felt more serene here. Better a thousand times over than the calm cramped keep below where his responsibilities lay.
____“Your mouth’s open.” Concan lectured him jestingly, “Try not to swallow a bug.”
____“Sorry, friend. My thoughts remain stuck down there.”
____“No need to apologize.” Concan flew in silence for a few moments before continuing, “Will you take up arms with him?”
____His father and the war. Utgar grimaced, “He wants them all to take up arms with
me. These pressures could collapse a castle.”
____“Tyros’ influence is difficult to escape in these lands, it is true.”
____Utgar glanced at his friend. He slowed his flight, “You don’t speak much about your own father, Concan. What’s he like?”
____Concan gave as good a mid-flight shrug as he could, “He was a righteous man, a knight of Laur. Kind, just, slow to anger. Patient with his son, despite that son.” He laughed only a bit, then was silent, “And he knew sacrifice. The sacrifices we all have to make, for our duties… even leaving home…”
____What praise. Such a luxury that must have been, to have such qualities bestowed from father to son. But Utgar did not hold it against his friend, “He sounded like a good man.” He frowned, “They expect me to be a good leader, rather than a good man… But I can’t.”
____“That’s good. You are a good man, Utgar. There’d be blood if conflict arises, and Valhalla would label you a monster.”
____“I stand to be labeled a coward instead. They did not make me heir just to hunt and feast all my life.” Utgar frowned, “They’ll just pick someone else to lead instead.”
____Concan shared his upset expression, “Utgar, the Empire has not been made less powerful in the years since the war. Save your head and stay out of it. I can vouch for you to be spared.”
____But my people… The young general mused. He did not wish to be the last of his kind. The Kyrien had to survive this new war. Concan did not know about Redmoot, fast on its way. Perhaps Utgar had to stay the course in order to save more than just himself. None could call him a coward confined to the luxuries of his keep then.
____But some up north would indeed call him a monster.
____“War is coming whether I like it or not.” Utgar said, “Tyros would lead the charge himself if he were only able-bodied enough to do so. But until then let’s just enjoy the skies.”
____Concan did not look much satisfied at the promise of conflict, but nonetheless he stayed by Utgar’s side. They flew.
____Utgar stepped into the arena, flinching from the blinding sunlight and the rhythmic roaring of the crowds both. Countless Kyrien were gathered all around, tightly packed into the stands or hovering in the air above, chanting and stamping as the young general entered the ring. Word had spread in secret and countless Kyrien had flocked like a horde of fire ants to this remote part of Braunglayde to witness the Redmoot. Breaking its ban was the first droplet of rebellion for many, and they would thirst for more every day after this one.
____Only the spectator’s box containing Tyros and the other clan leaders had space to spare. The bent old Archkyrie was sat in the very center, watching his son like a hawk. Grading his performance already.
____He is watching. Stop shielding your eyes. Utgar reasoned. He quickly donned his helmet, a crude horned head of steel made to resemble a beast’s snarling maw. It was time to become the leader.
Put on your mask. This is the face they all wish to see.
____He surveyed the other combatants as they entered the ring. Other heirs, big and small, wearing only their ceremonial helmets and loincloths with no other protection. No armor, real weapons… this would be a bloodbath, not a sparring match, and everyone in the stands knew it. The roaring chanting was deafening. Redmoot had been gone for years, but it was welcomed back with thunderous cheering.
____I know most of these men. Utgar thought as he measured his competition,
Gurrey and Ollar, both of Kindar’s sons. Good lads. They would make better advisors to me than slain foes. Poor Osfrey of Clan Lodin, he’ll be no threat. Ergar of Clan Miton. Him I’ll enjoy killing. And then Benfry. Good man, but real big. Toppling him will be a problem…
____The horn sounded. Immediately Utgar rushed toward his strongest opponent. He had no intention of turning his back to big Benfry, and if he could not triumph over his greatest foe then there was no point in slaying the others. He would clean them up afterwards.
____The great red behemoth startled at Utgar’s eagerness to fight him, though he quickly recovered and parried the first few swings. Utgar drew his axe back and stumbled as the huge sweeping counterattacks came. He was not used to fighting anyone larger than himself. Sand skirted under his feet as he backed away.
____The crowd’s cheering intensified, blasting in the young general’s eardrums. His helmet softened the noise only slightly, and obscured much of his vision, though Utgar could still see his spectating father out of the corner of his eye. That judging glare and white-knuckled grip of his was more threatening that Benfry’s huge swinging axe. Utgar could not fail; he could not even falter before so many eyes.
____I cannot be on the backfoot. They’ll see a victory as a fluke. I must triumph!
____Thinking quickly, Utgar recovered. He did not rise to his full height, but instead remained hunched low. Rather than futilely attacking Benfry directly, he instead swung for the huge kyrie’s legs. His foe startled at this, and when Utgar managed to clip his knee he instinctually leapt and took to the skies.
____“Boo!” The crowds roared in fury at this, “No flying!!”
____Utgar spread his own wings and pounced, flying up only to take Benfry back down to the earth. They had only a second to struggle on the ground, before Utgar smashed his foe’s weapon aside and planted his axe into Benfry’s chest. Bones crunched beneath its force, and blood began to well up in the wound immediately. Utgar exhaled sharply and yanked the weapon back out, rising to his feet.
____They’ll say he cheated before they say I fought dishonorably.
____Utgar turned to the others. Ollar and Osfrey were both slain by now, with only Ergar and Gurrey still fighting. Utgar strode over to the remaining two, bringing his axe down and clipping Ergar by the wing. The kyrie shouted and whirled, but Utgar merely struck him across the face before swinging his axe into the collapsed enemy’s chest the same he had done with Benfry. Another foe dead.
____Gurrey watched trembling as Utgar pried his weapon out. This last one was no fighter. He’d only made it this far at the cost of his own brother. Utgar gripped his axe and slowly advanced under the booming cheers of the crowd. They wanted to see only one kyrie left standing, even if it’d be no contest. Compassion would only enrage these onlookers.
____Must I really do this? Utgar thought grimly,
Concan would call it an execution. He wouldn’t speak to me for a month, or would fly north entirely. Sparing this heir would secure a strong alliance.
____He glanced at the spectators. They demanded the finality of a fight to the death. Tyros was watching closely. A hint of mercy and Utgar would be deemed weak. Poisoned with Concan’s ideas. That man was here to study southern society, not the other way around.
____Utgar did not want to be weak. He did not want to be the man who had to stand there while imperials like Vindar spat in his face freely. And so Utgar faced his opponent and strode forth. They exchanged only a couple blows—hardly a fight—before Utgar’s axe tasted the blood of its third victim. Gurrey fell and the young general remained the last man standing there in the ring.
____The spectators roared with approval, chanting “King! King!”. Tyros’ intense gaze faltered, and he looked satisfied. No smile or look of affection, just no longer glaring with that analytical judgment he always seemed to possess.
____Utgar sighed under his helmet and wiped down his bloodied axe. Concan would be furious with this mercilessness. But Concan was not here. And the young general had work to do: he was a leader now.
____Utgar raised his weapon and spread his wings wide. The cheering intensified: “
King! King!” And Utgar basked in their praise and glory, surrounded by slain heirs. He flew, and the Kyrien onlookers flew with him: circling about him like a cyclone of bats. He shouted with his most powerful voice, promising them all unity and equality. Power and blood, and the Kyrien Mountains back in their rightful hands. And only after did he land and exit the arena, and doff his helmet and slump against the entrance wall in solitude. Wiping the blood from his hands.
____Utgar loathed being summoned. He was the crowned commander of all the south now, but he was still called upon like a servant in his own keep. Where his father’s banners still hanged. Only the soldiers who came to fetch him treated him with silent respect and dignity, bowing low and asking kindly for his presence. They’d seen him at the Redmoot. They respected his might. They would obey him even if the Emperor himself instructed them otherwise.
____The general entered his father’s chambers, finding the old man flanked by servants gearing him up in armor. He looked highly out of place in the fanciful plate mail of his youth, now too old and thin and bent for it. He gave his son an ugly smile as he entered, “Come.”
____Utgar despised that smile, frowning hard and getting to the point, “What are you doing, father?”
____“We have found it.” Tyros said, “I told you my informants never lie. The wellsprings are real.”
____The wellsprings? Utgar swallowed dry nothing. He did not trust the ancient magic of such legends, wondering if Valhalla was really prepared to engage with them. Especially when all were chomping at the bit to go to war.
____“Vydar of Ostriyick has declared himself a warlord.” Tyros elaborated, “He won’t be the only one, that is certain. The war of the Valkyrie is about to begin, the Empire’s monopoly on power is about to end. Now is the perfect time to strike, and the south has two wellsprings. Two, son! We will be the strongest in this contest!”
____“And the armor?” Utgar asked, “Do you plan to lead the charge yourself? In your condition?”
____“The waters improve more than strength and speed, it appears.” Tyros’ glance shifted to the side. Utgar followed, seeing a servant carrying a thin bowl. The water. The old man accepted the dish, glaring down at it greedily, “My informants tell me Vydar looks decades younger in mere months. Thormun is the same. I shall take on the mantle of Valkyrie. Otholos commands the other clans, after all. I shall drink and become their leader. I shall drink and live forever.”
____A venomous spike of fear stung Utgar’s heart. He took a step forward, “If memory serves, father, it was I who united the clans! Through great bloodshed toward those who’d done me no wrong, I brought us all together. They shouted ‘King!’ talking about me, not you!”
____“Be quiet.” His father said sternly, “You whined like a dog through all your responsibilities. I’ll not have a spineless romantic as our chosen one, not when we’ll likely need to fight other Valkyries in addition to the imperials. No, you shall stay here where you can do my campaign little damage. You will wed Hyra of Clan Ludor. Archkyrie Kindar should be a powerful ally, and we’ll need to seal the rift created between us when you killed his sons.”
____Disbelief rattled out of Utgar’s gaping throat at the words, “When
I killed them? It was Redmoot! I did that for you!! It wasn’t so that I could sit idly by, and Hyra is a harpy besides—”
____“’Tis moot. Ultimately you lack the mettle, just like your brother.”
____Utgar’s teeth clenched hard to make his gums ache, “Did I lack mettle when I dealt with my brother?”
____“Under whose guidance? You were desperate to be heir. No, you’d hesitate your way to the Glayde border and then try to barter for independence. Our people would kill you and give the waters to another. I’ll not have my banner cast down so easily as that.” Tyros smiled, “You should be glad. I’m giving you what you wanted: a chance to waste your life away in peace and unimportance. Let your father bear the responsibilities of leadership. Did you truly desire it?”
____Utgar thought about the peace he’d claimed he wanted. Not worrying about the northerners, the pressures of rule, the expectations of his own culture. War was certain, and he wanted no part in it. And yet with the offer to alleviate him of all those things Utgar still found his blood boiling with infernal rage.
____“You will not live forever.” He said slowly, “I’ve been your hammer to wield long enough. I killed my own brother for you, even though he was ten times the man you are. You will not render his death meaningless by stealing your sons’ crown. I may not want it, but I know you
can’t have it.”
____Tyros just scoffed loudly, “Will you slay your own father? That alone might still make you a man in time for rule.”
____“Give that to me!” Utgar snatched the water from the old man’s clutching hands, the servants and guards backing away and giving a wide berth to the two, “I’ve killed enough kin already. I’ll confine you to the keep and order all the wellspring water brought to me alone.”
____He stared at the clear water in the dish, what little remained unspilled. If the legends were true, there’d be no going back from this. The powers would remain no matter how little they faded over time, and he’d become addicted to its taste. But he couldn’t let his father have it. Or any of the other clan leaders for that matter. They’d all try to usurp him, assassinate him, guide him to their own likings.
____The only way I can keep us from being destroyed or destroying all of Valhalla is to grasp the reins myself. He bitterly realized. So he drank. The choice was now irreversible.
____“Coward.” Tyros growled, “Even now you won’t kill your enemies. For I am your enemy, if you won’t do what needs to be done for the sake of our people. That weakness will forever keep us under the heel, be it the Empire or others.”
____“The Otholos Clan is mine, and the water is mine.” Utgar told him, walking to the door, “You officially have no power, father. What can you do?”
____“I still have the power of my word.” Tyros answered, “And I can name Concan my heir.”
____Utgar froze at the doorway, gripping the handle, “You hate him; you hate all northerners. You would not dare.”
____“I would, and I can.” His father said, “He’s a stronger man than you’ll ever be, and you know it. Faster, wiser, more righteous. Imagine the scandal, knowing how I despise them, placing a northerner on my throne. What that would make you…”
____Utgar turned and glared at the old Archkyrie, “Be silent! Take it back!”
____Tyros slowly shook his head, “Oh, no… No, it is final. Final to all in this room who’ve heard it. I name Concan my heir, saying he is the better son to me than my worthless own.” Now he smiled and nodded, “No amount of water will change it now, boy. Too weak to do anything about it, even as a Valkyrie. Even now Concan could still defeat you, I wager. And to think of all you’ve killed, now for nothing…”
____Utgar shouted with fury, casting the spent dish aside and drawing his sword. He spread his wings and leapt, tackling the old kyrie and driving his blade into his heart. Or nearly doing so. Utgar had to look his father in the eyes first, and he saw them gleaming with malice. Wanting for it.
____The General rose and sheathed his weapon, glaring back down at the unharmed Archkyrie in equal measure. “Take him and confine him to his quarters in the tower.” he instructed the guards.
____They at least obeyed without question, grasping and hoisting Tyros up without a word of his own wants. Now he looked furious, “You still lack the gall! Weak!”
____“I am a Valkyrie General. I do things my way.” Utgar said, “Confine him to quarters. No water is to be taken to him, wellspring or otherwise. We’ll see who is weak in a day or two, or who is fit to lead in three or four…”
____This form of execution pleased his father less, and he struggled and protested, “Do it yourself you coward! Your weakness will lead us to ruin! You
mistake!”
____But his men obeyed Utgar now, and he was led out of sight. Straightening up, Utgar caught his breath and again took on the mantle of leader. He had to, from here on out. He faced the remaining servants, speaking quickly and powerfully, “Any word of Concan as heir leaves this room and I’ll have every last one of you hanged just to be safe. And your families as well!”
____The looks in their eyes spoke obedience, and they hurried out of the chamber as the General stood aside. He sighed and rubbed his brow.
Best to kill them now, it’d be safer… he reckoned,
But no, I am not a monster. I won’t condemn anyone just yet. I must not be that kind of leader.
____The lord of the castle was sequestered away in his tower never to be seen again, and all through the keep Tyros’ banners fell. New ones would be raised in their place, bearing no recognizable heraldry of ages past—only the new sign of the Red General. An old war was about to resurface, and yet nothing would ever be the same again. And so, with naught but the best of intentions, the Kyrien Valkyrie laid the first stone on the path to war.
.
