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After Earth Went Dark: Chapter 12
"Hello, Tyr." Alexander did not turn to look at him. "Won't you sit down?" He motioned to the chair across from him. His voice was deeper than Adrian's but had a similar slick quality to it.
Walking around the couch slowly, Tyr positioned the chair so that the back of it was up against the wall before he sat. Alexander chuckled at this.
"You are a rare breed, aren't you?" He sipped at a glass of red wine. "May I offer you a drink?"
Tyr shook his head.
"Suit yourself. Do you have a more conversational name than `Tyr', perhaps?" Alexander's face was entirely unreadable.
"None that I care to use." Tyr answered quietly.
"Soft spoken as well. That's an uncommon virtue among warriors." Alexander set down his glass. "I hope that you're finding your accommodations to your liking."
Tyr nodded. "We are quite comfortable."
Alexander offered a humorless smile. "Ah yes, and it is a very pleasant looking family you have there, even if it is not by blood. Some would say that the family you choose is an even stronger bond." He looked away and grimaced distastefully. "Even blood can betray."
Tyr did not respond to this, but an idea of the situation began to form in his mind. "Why am I here?"
"You are the Royal Champion." The sincerity of the reverence in his voice was questionable at best. "My champion. I thought it was time we met face to face."
"There's more to it than that." Tyr asserted without breaking eye contact.
Alexander's face hardened for a moment but then he smiled. "Very perceptive." He abruptly changed the subject. "What did you do before the flare, Tyr? You could not have been much more than a child."
Taking his time to calculate a response, Tyr eventually spoke again. "Much the same as I do now." The conversation felt not unlike a game of chess. Each of Alexander's questions was carefully crafted, and Tyr made sure to do the same.
"Very interesting." His tone suggested the opposite. "I was a farmer. Like my father and his father and so on. I was probably not much older than you are now. Everyone was terrified when the flare came, but ours is an old family and our roots run deep. We've weathered even the most powerful storms." Alexander paused to pick up his glass and drain its contents. An attendant with a decanter quickly refilled it for him.
"My father and I held this town together after the flare with the fruits of our labor. When he died, I inherited the responsibility. People thought that I was crazy when I first proposed to hold a tournament in one of our fields. Not even my own family believed in the idea." He smiled at the memory. "There were twelve contestants that summer. The prize was a wagon load of corn. Seems hardly fitting anymore, but those were different times."
Tyr shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He could tell that this was more than the second glass of the red wine that Alexander had consumed.
"That winter was hard. Men of the town begged for another tournament and a chance to ensure their families stayed fed. So, the winter tournament was born. Every season it has grown since then, drawing competitors, spectators, and their families from all over the north east and beyond. Through it all, I have had only one thing in mind; keeping the family strong."
The pause this time was so long that Tyr nearly thought that he had finished. Eventually however, with a deep breath, Alexander continued; seemingly changing the subject once more.
"Do you know what kills a tree Tyr? One that avoids the axe and whose roots are too deep and too strong for the elements to rip out?" He let his rhetorical hang in the air for a moment. "It's rot. Decay and disease from the inside can eventually bring down even the oldest and strongest trees in any forest."
Alexander's metaphor confirmed Tyr's suspicions and a sense of danger began to form in his gut. Not immediate perhaps, but a feeling of foreboding.
"My brother has grown into an ambitious young man." Alexander began. "As I was at his age. You have no doubt noticed this in the time you have spent with him."
Tyr nodded his agreement.
"His ambition and mine however are now at odds, and he has recently come to see me as an obstacle. This presents a problem for me that I think you may be able to help with."
Already Tyr was shaking his head. "I will not be an assassin." He put more venom into his voice than he had intended.
Alexander laughed heartily. "No, no. Although that would solve many of my issues. Despite what my brother wishes for me, I do not want him dead. Adrian is useful still, and though he may have forgotten it, is still a member of my family. No, I had a different use for you."
Tyr settled back in after his outburst. "I'm listening."
"We have had thousands of fighters come through from near and far. Many of them have been highly skilled. Veterans, martial artists, body builders, I have seen all of them. You outpace them all. Your skill combined with your relative youth have the more suspicious folk whispering that you really are the incarnation of your namesake." An amused smile tugged at Alexander's mouth. "I have no doubt that you'll win the Tournament. I will prevent Adrian from his flights of fancy that were on display today, and you will be able to proceed uninhibited. Regardless of your victory, provided you survive, I am prepared to offer you and your family a place here. A position of status that will keep you all well looked after for as long as you desire to stay. I am offering you the position of head of my personal guard, coordinating all of my security. If anyone can keep my brother's ambition in check, it is you."
Alexander sat back and sipped from his wine glass slowly. He did not pressure Tyr for a response but seemed content to wait.
Nearly from the moment their conversation had started, Tyr had guessed that, as Rob had suggested, the brothers were having disagreements. This however, was not what he had expected to come out of the exchange and so he was unprepared to make a response.
"Why?" He eventually asked. "Why would I get involved in your family dispute?"
Alexander nodded. "A fair question." He considered his answer. "Adrian is useful, but he does not have the temperament to lead. You have talked to him, and you saw the spectacle he put on today. The Tournament has never been without bloodshed, but I have always done my best to ensure that most of the fighters go home to their families. If we killed off all the fighters that participated, then we would soon run out of fighters. Adrian seems to either not understand this or not care. Running the Tournament his way would result either in the end of the Tournament entirely, or more likely I fear, forced conscription."
Tyr scowled at this. "The event today was already little more than forced conscription, was it not?"
With a distasteful grimace, Alexander shook his head. "Not entirely. The men you fought were criminals, given a choice between serving their punishment and fighting. It was not something I was in favor of, but I was advised against forbidding it. Keeping order in this new world is a perpetual balancing act."
Looking off into space in thought, Tyr took his time before speaking again. "I would have to consider it." He told Alexander firmly. "I can't give you an answer tonight."
Nodding, Alexander sipped again from his glass. "I did not expect you to. Take your time. Come to me before the end of the Tournament and we will discuss it further. I would ask that you not share our conversation with my brother or any of his agents however."
Tyr nodded his agreement. "Fair enough."
"Now then," Alexander stood carefully from his seat. "I have kept you long enough. Get some rest and think on my offer. I look forward to your performances in the coming days."
They shook hands and Tyr noted that Alexander's grip was much firmer and more confident than Adrian's. It was apparent that he was, as he claimed, a man of the earth. That alone earned him some respect in Tyr's eyes.
The two made their farewells and one of the attendants escorted Tyr back to the ground-floor suite. The hallways were dimmed now, and Tyr realized that it was later than he had thought. He had an unfamiliar feeling as he decided that Elliot had probably drifted off to sleep already. It was something like disappointment.
Tyr was right of course. Elliot had tried his best to stay awake when Tyr was called away but lying in bed in the dark had eventually caught up with him and he had drifted off. When he awoke again, Tyr was gone. His mother informed him that he had gone to prepare for the events of the day. This allayed Elliot's fears that Tyr had never returned the previous night.
The two events Tyr was scheduled for that day went over without any surprises, much to Elliot's relief. The first was a simple duel for ranking in the Tournament. Tyr won it easily and advanced to the next round. His injured arm barely seemed to slow him down at all as his now infamous dual axes brought down the much larger man in less than a minute from the blast of the horn.
The second event of the day was a brawl with no weapons allowed. The last man standing would claim the prize. Sixteen competitors faced off from the far ends of the arena and when the horn sounded, some rushed in while others tussled with the closest fighter. Tyr at first seemed content to stroll leisurely around the outside. Most of the time when fighters saw him coming they would quickly find someone else to engage. On the rare occasion that someone challenged him, Tyr employed stunningly quick techniques of deflection and lightning-fast jabs that dispatched them with ease.
As the competition dwindled however, Tyr adopted a different strategy. Moving quickly to the center, Elliot saw his fighting style change from the reserved and practical motions he had been using to a much more flashy and animated technique. This one was characterized by whirling high kicks and seemingly exaggerated motions. Elliot realized with some amusement that Tyr was playing to the crowd.
With a kick to the back of the knee and a swift palm strike to the temple, the last fighter slumped to the ground, unconscious. Tyr stood in the center of a circle of bodies, many of them groaning in discomfort with a few still out cold. His breaths came quickly, and he swiped a strand of hair from his face as he waited for the thunderous cheers to die. Attendants helped some men off the field and carried others as Adrian gave his customary congratulatory speech. Elliot realized that he used very similar words every time, but the crowd never seemed to notice. They cheered and chanted Tyr's name, and Elliot was happy to see his friend getting the recognition he deserved.
That evening, Elliot helped Tyr change his bandage. It was not so much that Tyr needed his help, but more that Elliot wanted to be nearby. Tyr took the opportunity to teach Elliot about keeping an injury clean even after it seemed to be healing well. Elliot learned how to properly tie the bandage so that it was tight without inhibiting circulation.
Rather than go out, the four of them ordered room service that evening, something that Elliot had not even known existed. Someone in the tent-city was setting off fireworks. It was not nearly as impressive of a display as the opening night, but it was a nice show as they sat in their little garden to eat. Elliot and Kara let their feet dangle in the shallow pool as they ate.
It was getting difficult to hide his affection for Tyr sometimes. Elliot worried that his mother might catch on to his feelings. He didn't know what she would do if she knew, or especially if she knew that Tyr felt the same way about him. So, he did his best to keep it a secret, but every once in a while, he would catch himself sitting just a little too close or staring just a little too long.
Tyr shared his bed that night at Elliot's request. Despite Elliot's growing curiosity at the physical connection that was building between them, even he was content to just let Tyr hold him as he drifted away. The feeling of a single strong hand gently brushing the hair out of his face brought him a profound sense of peace and comfort, and sent him quickly to sleep.
The Tournament progressed in much the same way for the next few days. Tyr would easily win his ranked progressions, and perform flawlessly in the other events. The two of them had occasional intimate encounters at night, but still Tyr restrained himself, looking only to give Elliot a release when he needed it.
There was a historical reenactment of a Greek battle, and another of a Roman one. The only time Elliot felt the same fear that he had before was during a planned live weapons round with three men against three large bears. Tyr was fast for sure, but Elliot didn't know if he could be faster than a bear.
One of the men met an unfortunate and gruesome end quite quickly and Elliot had to look away. Mercifully, (as Elliot later learned) the man's screams were silenced by one of Tyr's throwing knives. Tyr dispatched one of the animals early on, and Elliot had to feel a bit sorry for them. They hadn't chosen to fight at all.
The other surviving man carried a large sword that he used to keep the beast at bay. The third bear was otherwise occupied with its recent kill. Tyr looked to the platform where the brothers sat with an expression of indecision. Elliot felt like he could almost read Tyr's thoughts. He had killed one bear, and the second man was in the process of slaying another. The third bear was currently no threat, so there was, in his mind, no reason to kill it.
"The battle does not end until only man or beast remains!" Adrian declared from his perch.
Elliot scowled at him, even though he knew Adrian couldn't see him and wouldn't care if he could. With a sigh that was almost visible for where Elliot sat, Tyr whirled and sent his axes flying one right after the other at the distracted animal. It was a quick end for the creature, and Elliot was thankful for that much. It was more than could be said for the last remaining bear, who with nearly a dozen cuts, finally went down. Elliot knew that the other man was not to blame and that he could not be expected to be as efficient as Tyr, but he still felt a sense of sick justice to see that the man was bleeding from a cut across his chest where the claws had raked him. Looking down at the three massive furry shapes and the mangled corpse of the dead man, Elliot decided he did not care much for this Tournament anymore.
There was one more event for that day. It was Tyr's ranked match but this one had a twist to it. Not the sort of twist that Adrian had created before, but a planed one that was a well-established Tournament tradition for the fighters that were skilled enough to make it halfway. For this battle, the opposing fighter would choose the weapon that their enemy would fight with.
This excited Elliot more than it worried him. He was interested to see Tyr's abilities with weapons other than his usual arsenal. Tyr's opponent chose a massive great-sword, obviously hoping that Tyr's lean frame was built for speed rather than strength. Tyr put that theory to bed quickly as he came from his gate whirling the large two-handed weapon in much the same way that the Bone-Crusher had on that first day. Tyr had been merciful to his opponent and chosen a simple sword and shield combination.
At the sound of the horn, Tyr changed the game however. With a powerful swing, he hurled the large sword away and it spun through the air to land in the sand some distance off. At first it almost looked like an accident, but as Tyr made no attempt to retrieve the weapon it became apparent that it had been deliberate.
Surprised by this, his opponent paused his advance, but only for a moment. He picked up speed, aiming to take advantage of his now unarmed foe. The man slowed as he closed the distance though, choosing to remain cautious around the well-known Royal Champion.
His first swing was an almost lazy swipe, testing the waters. Tyr stood his ground and evaded by calmly leaning out of the way. The man followed it up with a quicker backstroke that forced Tyr to take a step backward. Pressing his advantage, the man began to take stabs and slashed more quickly. Tyr dodged all of them nimbly but was forced to give ground against the onslaught.
Elliot knew Tyr well enough to be certain that he had a plan of some kind. As the man pushed him closer and closer to the walls of the arena however, Elliot had to wonder what that plan might be. Almost as soon as he had the though, Tyr changed direction. The man, expecting Tyr to step backward, was already in the process of stepping forward when Tyr came to him suddenly.
Tyr grabbed ahold of the man's shield and wrenched his left arm to the right, forcing him to turn in a circle quickly to stay on balance, and keeping his sword arm in poor striking position. Very quickly, the man grew tired of this game and tried to whirl around the other direction for a surprise strike. Tyr changed his grip on the man's shield and wrenched it even harder while he caught the wrist of the man's sword arm.
The man cried out in pain as his left arm was twisted uncomfortably. He pulled it free from the shield and Tyr immediately captured it and spun away before the man could retaliate. The other fighter was angry now and he advanced on Tyr, raining blows down on the stolen shield. Tyr was done giving ground now however and thrust the shield back up against one of the downward strokes, causing the sword to nearly bounce from the man's hand. Taking advantage, Tyr smashed the shield hard into the man's chest, forcing him back a few steps. Tyr followed though and repeated the tactic. Armed only with a wooden shield, he beat his opponent back easily. The crowd realized that Tyr had never been in any danger of losing the fight. He had been toying with the man like a cat with its dinner.
Tyr's opponent quickly came to the same realization as he was forced to give up all of the ground he had made and then some in a matter of seconds. With a powerful bash from the shield, the man fell backward into the sand. He tossed his sword aside and threw up his hands, drawing a chorus of boos and jeering from the crowd. Tyr dropped the shield and offered to help the man up, but he ignored it and stomped off the field followed by laughter and mockery.
Tyr was declared the winner and earned a fair bit of silver at the closing ceremonies for his impressive display. He cleared out his tribute box once again. There was now a sizable pile of letters and gifts stashed back in the suite that had yet to be opened.
"I'm hungry." Elliot announced to the group as Tyr emerged from the vault. It was getting late already and none of them except for Tyr had gotten a chance to eat. Tyr had eaten a light meal before the closing ceremonies.
"I'll bring these back to the suite." Tyr said, hefting his armload of tribute. He handed off some money to each of them. "Get some food, I will meet you back there when you're finished."
Tyr ripped open a few of the letters as he walked back. They were mostly more of the same. Letters expressing affection and offering favors. He had noted as the Tournament went on that a surprising number of the letters came from men as well, a bit under half. Some of them walked the line between admiration and infatuation, offering to buy a drink or challenging him to an arm wrestle. Others made their intentions very clear. These were usually much more graphic than the similar letters he received from women. He made sure to dispose of those types quickly.
He spent a while leafing through letters and gifts. Even though he could usually predict what they were going to say at this point, he still felt a sense of obligation to at least skim through them. As he tossed a particularly descriptive letter into the fireplace he realized that it had been several hours since he had left Elliot and his family to return to the suite. It should not have taken them that long to get food.
His instincts kicked in immediately. When something was not right, in his experience that meant that something had gone wrong. It was a sense of intuition that had served him well in the past. Quickly, he stood and belted on two of his knives. He cursed himself for letting his guard down and made for the door.
As he reached for the handle, there was a rapid knock on the door that caused him to flinch slightly. Looking through the hole, he saw one of the hotel attendants standing outside. He threw the door open, startling the man outside.
"Yes?" His tone made it clear that he was in no mood to chat.
"Apologies sir." The man inclined his head. "Mr. Jackson would like to see you upstairs."
Tyr shook his head. "Not now. I've got to find..."
"It's... quite urgent, sir." The man cut him off awkwardly.
Immediately Tyr had a sinking feeling in his gut. Years of experience told him that two unexpected events were seldom unconnected. There was something afoot now. And he needed to get to the bottom of it.
Without a word, he nodded and allowed the attendant to lead him to the stairs once again.