Page 22 of Lord of Fire and Ice

“Never mind, Katla,” Albrikt said. “He’s as gutless as his father.”

“Why are you trying to anger me?” Brandr asked through clenched teeth.

“To see if it is still possible. Or did they put an iron ring around your ballocks as well?” Albrikt shook his head, curled his lip at Brandr, and spat in the dirt. “You pathetic excuse for a half man.”

The roar that spewed from Brandr’s throat made everyone jump back a pace. He lunged toward Albrikt, tackling his midsection and sending both of them clattering across the long table in a flurry of flailing arms and legs. Brandr pounded Albrikt, landing several punches that would leave marks on Gormson’s ribs. Albrikt returned the blows, sending a ringing cuff that blacked Brandr’s eye.

When they separated enough to rise to their feet, Albrikt drew his dirk.

Katla sucked in a sharp breath. “Stop! This is still my table, and we will have order here.”

“Your thrall attacked me,” Gormson said, swiping the blood that gushed from the broken skin on his brow. “I have a right to demand his blood.”

“So you do,” Katla said, tight-lipped. “But he was provoked, and he’s unarmed.”

Albrikt straightened and shoved the dirk back into its sheath at his waist. “You’re right. Never let it be said the son of Gorm fought an unfair fight. Call it a moment’s truce while this waste of skin finds a weapon suited to him.”

Katla turned to Finn. “He was armed when you enthralled him, I assume.”

“I was,” Brandr answered for him. “A broadsword in a shoulder baldric, and a dagger.”

“Then fetch his weapons, and be quick,” Katla said. “We’ll move this dispute outside.”

Residents of the longhouse spilled into the inky night, bearing torches and forming a circle.

Brandr followed Katla out. The set of her shoulders was rigid and high. She was obviously furious, but she reined in her emotions with admirable control.

He wondered if she was angry with him or with Albrikt. Both, if the scowl she shot in each of their directions was any measure.

“This is my home. My word is second only to the Law, and these are the rules for this holmgang,” she announced in a ringing tone. “This fight is for first blood only.”

“He struck me,” Albrikt said. “I have a right to a kill.”

“Not if you still wish me to consider your suit,” Katla said. “Son of Ulf, if you kill Albrikt Gormson, you will be dealt with according to the Law.”

Even though the penalty for a thrall who killed a freeman was horrific, Brandr was tempted. “Gormson still gets to court you. What do I get if I don’t kill him?”

“If you prove you can show restraint, you’ll be allowed to go armed hereafter,” Katla said. “Do we have an accord?”

Gormson growled his consent.

Brandr nodded. “We have an accord.”

Finn came loping up, bearing Brandr’s weapons. He handed the baldric to him and stepped back into the ring around the combatants.

Brandr drew his sword and made a few practice cuts in the air, testing the blade for weight and balance, in case Finn had ill-used it. He ran his thumb along the edge. A bead of red welled up on the pad of his thumb. Brandr gave a satisfied grunt. Then he settled into a fighting stance and bared his teeth at Gormson in a wolfish grin.

“Now we’re even,” Gormson said, determination glinting in his pale eyes. “Though some might still call this an unfair fight, thrall.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Brandr nodded in satisfaction as he circled Gormson, looking for an opening in the Stordman’s defenses.

“You know a woman’s word is worthless once the holmgang begins, don’t you?” Gormson hissed. “If I gut you from balls to breastbone in one stroke, that still counts as first blood, doesn’t it?”

“That’s how I see it.” Brandr feinted left and then struck from the right.

Gormson parried the blow with ease. “Now we have an accord.”

Albrikt was older than Brandr, but he was still a warrior in his fighting prime, with a wealth of experience to aid him. Brandr, however, was blessed with the nimbleness and strength of his younger years and a soul still smarting from Gormson’s insults.