IABD 36: Three Contests

Matthias raced down the dirt road, wind whistling past him, pines blurring around him. Ahead, his brother’s arms pumped, tree-trunk like legs churning the ground, runes burning on the backs of his hands as he sprinted.

His immense stride catapulted him forward at terrible speed, yet he ran as an amateur would, arms moving too wildly, legs out of rhythm and breath coming too quickly. 

Bregindoure hadn't ran since he’d been three and it showed.

Matthias threw himself into the contest, the Way of Stone empowering his legs. He fell into a rolling pace as easy as breathing—almost meditative—as his limbs blurred with every fluid movement; he had trained his running form for years under Sur Friya, and those years bore fruit as he gained on his brother with every step.

Bregindoure was sputtering like a kettle boiling over when his younger brother caught up to him.

He grunted, trying to pump his arms and legs faster as Bear’s Head Pond got closer, the people around it pointing at the brothers.

Both Stonebreakers ran as though every great wolf from the Wolfwood were after them, but it was Matthias who pulled ahead of Bregindoure, emerging from the forest path first.

He threw his arms in the air as he rushed toward the pond. “Victory!” he cried. “Victor—”

He suddenly noticed that the body of water was getting alarmingly close.

“Oh shi—”

He screamed, digging his heels into the shore, kicking up rock and soil as he skidded to an abrupt halt at the edge of the pond; water splashed up on him, and his cloak wrapped around him. Bregindoure’s arms windmilled; he almost stumbled straight into the pond, only catching himself by straightening his arms.

All chatter, music and laughter stopped as more than a dozen pairs of eyes turned on the brothers.

Matthias let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “And that’s the first contest won, Breg!”

“Oh, bah!” Bregindoure scoffed. “Two remain, and this one will be the only contest you’ll win!”

“Quite the entrance!” A familiar voice called.

Matthias turned to see Valdor approaching with eyebrows raised and a crooked smile on his face: wearing an expression both amused and bemused.

“You made it!” Valdor stopped at the edge of the pond, hands on his hips. “I think you might have scared off half the ironmaws in the water, though.”

“Sorry, we got excited,” Matthias apologised, stepping away from the water. He gestured to the towering young man beside him. “This is my brother, Bregindoure.”

Valdor craned his neck, looking up, eyes traveling between the two young greatfolk. “By the gods, Bregindoure, it’s nice to meet you, but I can’t believe you’re even taller than your brother. That’s greatfolk for you, I guess.” 

He offered the older brother his hand. “Valdor, by the way.”

Bregindoure took it. “Pleased to meet you too. Matthias has spoken well of you.”

“Well, he doesn’t know me well enough yet, if he’s still speaking well of me,” Valdor snorted. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the gang!”

Valdor gestured for the brothers to follow him to the fire, where the others were gathered. Bregindoure met Birgit—who Matthias had sparred with in the past—as well as Khulan, who’d set aside his shanz to greet the Stonebreakers.

"Hello, I've seen you at the training grounds, but we've never talked before." Khulan extended a delicate hand, one that looked well suited to playing his instrument.

"I wasn't much of a talker, but I'm getting used to it." Matthias offered his own hand.

They shook, but the smaller man flinched. "By Nephyrean's spear! Your hand's like ice!"

"Ah yeah, they've been always that way," Matthias admitted.

Many of the friends were from Barrowgate—born and bred there—but some hailed from different parts of the five realms that made up the High Kingdom of Evalmera. Most were friendly—especially to Matthias—but some eyed the Rune of the Berserker nervously, keeping their distance.

A wiry youth swallowed as he approached Bregindoure. “Name’s Norwal. Didn’t expect you to be so friendly, what with being The Beas-”

He cut himself short, the colour draining from his face.

Valdor glared at him.

Matthias’ jaw tensed, his fists balling.

Khulan—who was just starting to play again—hit a sour note.

All eyes fell on the towering greatfolk, his shadow—seeming like that of a mountain—fell on Norwal. The braids that made up Bregindoure’s moustache drifted in the breeze.

He moved.

Norwal flinched.

And the greatfolk laughed, the sound rolling across Bear’s Head Pond and over the forest.

“Have you met many Beasts?” Bregindoure cocked an eyebrow. “We can be friendly when we’re fed. That’s how the Evalmerans tamed war dogs, wooly rhinos, mammoths and gjulvar. And I’ve been fed recently, so I’m quite friendly, Norwal.” He extended a hand that bore the Rune of Clarity. “Like a great, shaggy dog.”

“And you smell like one too,” Matthias threw in quickly, trying to relieve some of the tension.

Norwal chuckled uneasily. “Sorry for calling you that, didn’t mean any offence. It’s just—”

Valdor said. “Stop talking. You were ahead. Stay ahead.”

“Right,” Norwal coughed. “So, er, want some chestnuts? We’re roasting some over the fire.”

“I’d love some.” Bregindoure smiled down at the skinny youth.

Norwal smiled back.

Matthias let out a sigh of relief: the tension was gone, and it looked like they were going to have a good time. He slapped his cheeks, focusing himself.

There were two more contests for him to win.

###

“You’re going to regret this, little brother.” Bregindoure placed his elbow atop a smooth, flat boulder.

“We’ll see about that,” Matthias settled his own elbow on the boulder, clasping his brother’s hand.

“Clash of giants!” Valdor pumped his fists. “Who wants to bet on who?”

After an hour or so of relaxing with the others, the Stonebreaker brothers had begun their second contest: arm-wrestling. They had chosen a boulder near the pond for a table, rolling up two smaller rocks for chairs.

The others were gathered around, whispering and speculating on who would be the winner.

“Who will come out on top?” Valdor called to his friends. “Matthias the Tiger Slayer, or Bregindoure the Titan? Let us find out today!”

Young warriors and villagers whooped, their earlier reluctance from the Rune of the Berserker long forgotten, replaced by speculation on who was the stronger brother.

“Who do you think will win?” one asked.

“Oh, it’s gotta be Matthias. He defeated Haakon.”

“Yeah, but look at the size of his brother, and he’s two years older.”

“Age doesn’t mean as much if somebody has Life Enforceme-”

Matthias smiled at the whispers reaching his sharp ears: he was confident he was going to win this contest.

Bregindoure might be two years older, many stone heavier, much taller, broader, and had the Rune of the Berserker, but that didn’t mean he had the advantage. The Rune of Clarity gave him a clear mind but only let him call on a portion of the Berserker’s raw power and strength.

He also hadn’t Awoken to Divine Breath, like Matthias had. Since creating the foundation of his Towers, Matthias’ strength had grown from a hill to a mountain, compared to before, and he’d always been strong...if one didn’t compare him to Life Enforcement practitioners.

Bregindoure was going to be in for the surprise of his life.

He nodded to his brother. “You remember the Tale of Tjorn the Small?” he asked.

A strange light entered Bregindoure’s eyes. “I do. Tiny man, but powerful in his Life Enforcement: he outwrestled full blooded giants, mammoths and more. What was the last line of that tale? Muscles mean nothing compared to the strength of spirit?” His eyes drifted as though he was reading the lines from a book in front of him. Likely he had memorised those words from one of his books.

“Exactly,” Matthias laughed evilly. “You’ll find that I’m great in the strength of my spirit. This is your last chance to back out, brother.”

Bregindoure nodded. “I shall decline your offer.”

“Your loss, then.” Matthias focused his mind and his intent on defeating Bregindoure.

“Ready?” Valdor raised a hand.

Both brothers tensed.

“Begin!” Valdor’s hand came down.

“The win is mine!” Matthias snarled, flexing his thick, powerful arm. He called on the Way of Stone, concentrating his life force in the limb and…

…failed to move Bregindoure’s hand a single inch.

His eyes went wide.

It was like trying to rip a tree trunk from the ground.

Matthias strained with all his might.

Bregindoure’s arm did not move.

The others went quiet.

“Finished, little brother?” Bregindoure smiled a cave lion’s smile.

“No, no, no!” Matthias shouted. “Wait, wait, wait, wait—”

“My turn.”

Bregindoure’s arm moved.

Matthias’ hand and arm hit the rock, the force of the motion flipping him off the rock, sending him flying to the ground.

He lay there, his breath hissing like the wheeze of a dying man.

“Never thought much of the Tale of Tjorn the Small.” Bregindoure flexed the hand bearing the Rune of Clarity. “Sometimes, big is best.”

A cheer rose from their audience.

Valdor made a sour face as he passed some copper coins to Birgit.

Matthias groaned as his brother helped him up. “What in the name of all the gods has mother been feeding you?” he complained. “Why isn’t she giving any of it to me?”

Bregindoure laughed. “That’s one-to-one brother. Beware, you could be going into the pond at any moment!”  

“You’re talking about yourself, Breg.” Matthias laughed. “Remember, the contest of skill is left! We shall see who comes out ahead!”

###

The others had worked themselves into a frenzy of excitement. 

Fishing poles and spears were laid down. Khulan’s shanz began a bombastic tune, like it was accompanying a grand duel in the arena of Mervala, the capital of the High Kingdom.

Matthias and Bregindoure had stripped to the waist, holding small, uprooted trees as though they were swords.

“Our final match of the day!” Valdor called. “Matthias the Tiger Slayer against Bregindoure the Titan! Who will triumph? Who will fall? Who will be going into the hungry maw of the Bear’s Head? Place your bets and get ready!”

Matthias watched Bregindoure, meeting his brother’s eyes. For the first time, he would fight his brother—not the twisted nightmare beast in his dreams—his blood sang with excitement.

“Alright, first to knock the other one down twice wins?” Matthias suggested.

“A fine condition.” Bregindoure raised his tree.

“Ready?” Valdor raised his hand.

The Stonebreakers tensed.

“Begin!” Valdor’s hand slashed down.

Matthias concentrated his life force into his legs, charging at his older brother. He swung his tree high, aiming for the face, the wood bending as it cut through the air. 

Bregindoure’s eyes went wide; he tried to parry his brother’s swing while stumbling back. His own tree whooshed as he brought it up, quickly…

…but that did not matter, since Matthias’ swing was a feint.

As Bregindoure’s ‘weapon’ came up, Matthias shifted the angle of his blow, aiming for his brother’s leg just as he had done with Haakon. He hooked the wood behind Bregindoure’s ankle as he stepped back, pulling and focusing his intent on toppling the giant.

Bregindoure cried out in surprise, trying to catch his balance, then slipped in the dirt, and fell on his back.

A cheer erupted from the crowd.

Bregindoure looked up at Matthias, blinking. “What was that?” He leapt to his feet.

“First fall!” Valdor called.

“And last,” Bregindoure growled, steadying himself on his feet, advancing more cautiously now, thrusting his tree trunk toward Matthias.

Unfortunately for him, his lack of training showed, his swings and thrusts were both wild and uncoordinated. He flailed at Matthias, who stayed clear of his reach, watching for his moment, relying on technique.

Bregindoure lunged, but Matthias stepped to the side—just as he’d advised Valdor during their last duel—and swept his tree low, scooping up a round stone and batting it under his brother’s foot. 

The larger greatfolk stepped on the rock. It rolled under his boot, tripping him and sending him stumbling forward. Matthias snapped the stick into the back of his knee, he went down like a felled tree.

“And we have a winner!” Valdor cried.

Bregindoure looked up at the self-appointed referee in shock.

More cheers erupted, more coin followed, passing from hand to hand.

“You fought well.” Matthias offered Bregindoure a hand.

“I fought,” Bregindoure grunted. “But not well. I have a lot of catching up to do if I want to regain my dignity as the oldest—What are you doing?”

Matthias hoisted Bregindoure above his head with ease. “Remember what we bet?” He grinned with evil intent, turning toward the pond as the others whooped, laughed, whistled and howled.

“Now hold on, I can’t-Aaaaaaah!” Bregindoure screamed.

Matthias threw his brother with full force. 

The giant soared—every limb flailing—landing in the middle of the pond with an enormous splash. Matthias doubled over laughing, and the others laughed with him…

…but laughter soon stopped when Bregindoure failed to surface.

With a sharp intake of breath, Matthias ran toward the pond. “By the Ascended! He can’t swim!”

He dove into the water.

Chaos followed.

###

“You know, this was nice, except for the ‘nearly drowning’ part.” Bregindoure chuckled. He sat on a large boulder, his feet kicking in the pond.

“Yes, that part was a bit shit, but the rest was good. You enjoy meeting everyone?” Matthias asked.

“I did. And did you?”

“A lot more than I thought I would,’ Matthias admitted.

It was late in the evening, with sunset only a little while away.

After Matthias had fished Bregindoure from the bear’s maw, they had continued enjoying themselves with Valdor and the others, laughing, eating roasted chestnuts, fishing and sharing old stories. Matthias had gotten to know people he’d trained alongside for years yet had never learned anything about them before. As evening neared, the others had left for home, leaving the brothers behind, waiting for their boots to dry a bit more.

All in all, it had been a very good time.

He enjoyed the company of the enthusiastic Valdor, the nervous Norwal, the curious Birgit and the self-confident Khulan, as well as many of the others. Some were sour, which Matthias took in stride. Some seemed a little too enthusiastic, wanting to cozy up to him, which in turn, took him aback. Some of the girls hovered around him during the evening, which he didn’t quite know how to feel about. Bregindoure received his own share of attention—especially from Birgit—and it was very clear how he’d felt about it.

Bregindoure chuckled. “This was nice,” he said again. “Nice enough that I want to repeat it. I want to meet more people. See more things. Bear’s Head Pond is good and all, but it makes me wonder what a lake looks like. Or the sea!”

“That it does,” Matthias agreed. “Some of the stories the others told of the sights from around the high kingdom makes me want to see them for myself.”

“We should!” Bregindoure said. “One day, you and I will finish our blood duty in the Wolfwood. Then, perhaps we could—”

Something reached Matthias’ ears.

“Wait!” He raised a hand, cocking an ear to the breeze.

“What’s wrong?” His brother asked.

“Shh!” Matthias stood.

Evening was falling fast, with the light of the sun giving way to the stars and the dying fire on the shore.

“I could have sworn I heard the clink of metal,” Matthias’ voice was low. 

“I heard nothing.” Bregindoure slowly rose. “But your senses are a lot sharper than mine.”

Both brothers scanned the pines, which did not seem as friendly and inviting as they had a heartbeat before. Bregindoure reached for the knife at his belt, while Matthias drew his dagger and picked up a large rock from the shore.

He concentrated on his senses.

Then he caught it: a glint among the trees, reflecting the fading sunlight. 

Matthias cocked his arm, gripping the stone and—

“Stop!” a rough voice called from the trees. “You toss that stone and you’ll have crossbow bolts where your eyes used to be!”

“What are you doing?” another voice cried—this one a woman’s. “Do not pick fights that need not be fought!”

Matthias’ jaw hardened. “Show yourselves!”

Were they assassins sent by Eklund?

If so, he would throw them at the earl’s feet.

In pieces.

Or perhaps they were innocent wanderers? But then, if so, why hide in the trees?

“Hurt my brother, and I will rip you to shreds.” Bregindoure showed the Rune of the Berserker on his right hand. “Do you know what this is? Not with a hundred crossbow bolts could you bring me down.”

Silence followed.

“Put the knives down,” the rough voice snarled.

“M-maybe we should calm dow—” a nervous voice stuttered.

“That rock would’ve gone into your head! Quiet!” the first voice snapped.

There were at least three people hidden in the pines.

“Step out of the trees,” Matthias growled back.

No one emerged from the forest.

Matthias and Bregindoure did not move either.

The tension was so thick an axe couldn’t cut it.

Matthias considered what to do. With the Way of Stone, he could harden his flesh and charge into the trees, drawing fire from whoever had the crossbow. Then he could—

“Above!” a fourth voice cried.

Matthias looked up, gasping in surprise.

Slowly descending from the twilight sky, was the black carriage they’d seen on the tiger hunt. Its wheels churned, and the clouds, shaped like horses, flicked their ‘manes’.

“Stand down!” a voice called from inside. “You are not to harm each other!”

###

Author's Note

THE CONVERGENCE OF THE CLIIIIIIIFFS.

Look forward to tomorrow!

Also, have y'all ever watched arm-wrestling? Some of those guys' forearms are bigger than my head...