Page 104 of Faeling
“I am half-fae,” Ravenna admitted, “but have never been loyal to the faelands.”
“You would make us kneel to a halfling? Afae?” Grogar spat.
“Yes,” Vallek growled. “You will kneel before my mate, your queen.”
Grogar shook his head. “I will not. I challenge for the right to be chieftain.”
A few kin shouted their support, bringing a smug grin to Grogar’s face.
Vallek exchanged looks with Eydis over his faeling’s head. So this was to be his game. Grogar wasn’t the only young paladin looking to reap the reward of Vallek’s work, but he seemed to be the bravest. Or stupidest.
At least, until three more stepped forward, all throwing their names out in challenge.
Even one of the eastern tribesmen, a representative from the Iron-Chests, stepped forward. “The eastern clans recognize no king. We won’t be forced to kneel to a faeling queen, either.”
And another handful of orcs stepped forward, declaring much the same.
Vallek counted a dozen challengers. Not bad. He honestly expected more.
“Very well,” Vallek declared, his answering smile all teeth.
He moved to begin unbuttoning his fine tunic, but Ravenna’s nails dug into his forearm. “Vallek…” she murmured, her pulse visibly beating at her throat.
“Stay here,” he whispered. “This won’t take long.”
She met his bravado with lips thinned in concern. Vallek kissed her forehead, sliding his arms out of the tunic and robes. Laying them across the throne, he hefted Hormhím from its place beside the great seat.
“I accept your challenge,” Vallek proclaimed as he descended the dais steps. “All of them. And when I win, all of you—every single one—will kneel and pledge your fealty. To me, and to my faeling queen.”
With a wave from Vallek, a guard strode across the basilica to offer Grogar his axe. The crowd pushed back toward the great red limestone columns, creating an oval of cleared space for the challenge. The other eleven upstarts gathered behind Grogar,some of them beginning to look anxious now that the protection of the crowd had fallen away.
When another guard offered Vallek his axe, he declined.
Grogar’s brow twitched, and Vallek smiled viciously. He didn’t need a fresh axe to defeat this whelp, he could do it with one blade ground nearly to the poll.
Vallek had defeated his share of challenges in his time, most of them in the early years of his reign. It’d been some years now since the last, but these weren’t unexpected. Like all the rest, he would win.
He’d won against Mordis for the sake of his sisters.
He’d defeated all the later challengers for the sake of the kingdom he wished to build.
Today, he would win for his mate.
Mattias stepped forward to ensure they were both ready—and that the rules of the challenge would be kept. No other weapon. No outside help. The life of the defeated was decided by the victor.
His beast howling inside him, Vallek charged.
Their axes met in a spark of ringing metal, reflected in Grogar’s glare. The whelp had lost his bluster, the seriousness of his challenge finally seeming to dawn on him. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face as he put his weight and strength behind throwing off Vallek’s attack.
Vallek snorted, thrashing his tusks at Grogar’s face. The younger orc snarled, rage contorting his face.
Finally, Vallek decided to stop playing with him.
Adding more of his brute strength, he nearly bent Grogar backwards. The other orc’s legs shook with the effort of not falling to his knees beneath the onslaught of weight. Lips peeledback in a grimace of exertion, Grogar roared before jerking backwards, out from under Vallek and Hormhím.
He danced backward, trying to get some space to launch his own attack, but Vallek was there, bringing Hormhím down with a force that nearly cracked the handle of Grogar’s axe. He just caught Hormhím with the toe of his blade, arms shaking like mountain aspens in a gale.
With a heave, Vallek freed Hormhím, wheeling the axe behind him in an arc before battering Grogar’s middle with the blunt head of the handle. The younger orc sputtered, the air knocked out of him as he stumbled backwards. Another blow from Hormhím’s blade sent Grogar’s axe spinning out of his hand, onlookers scattering out of the way.
