The Clan Hakon Series

5. Chapter 4

I spied the hulking warrior loping toward the training fields, his oversized war hammer gripped in both hands. Even from this distance, the heavy stride of his gait, the hunch of his shoulders, the whiteness of his knuckles on the hammer haft, gave me a clear indication he was in no mood to receive the order I was about to give. Brant was dangerous at the best of times. Now, he was like a bull kept too long in a small corral next to a herd of cows. It wouldn’t be wise to get in his way. I could tell he was on his way to take out his frustrations on a few of his sparring partners.

Still, my unpleasant task couldn’t be avoided any longer. I would have to give the order, and he would have to follow it. That was the way of the clan, and Brant would respect that. And his sparring partners would probably thank me for saving them from today’s beating.

“Brant,” I called, drawing his attention as I approached. “Let’s take a walk.” I beckoned him away from his destination.

Rolling his eyes, he grunted. “Where am I going this time?” Tossing the huge war hammer over one of his shoulders, he fell into step beside me. “I’m in no mood for your games, Torben.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“Where are you sending me? Out with it.”

“What makes you think I’m sending you anywhere. I could simply want to talk about the weather or maybe, uh, new fishing techniques, offshore. Perhaps I merely want some advice concerning the…uh…marriage bed. Yeah, that could be it. You are certainly the most accomplished conqueror of the clan in that area.”

Brant paused. I took a few steps before spinning toward him. He stared at me, brow lowered. Brant and I had been friends our whole lives. I knew him better than I knew myself. Still, at that moment, I couldn’t gauge his expression. Then his face brightened and he chuckled, a rumbling sound like rough stones tumbling down a rocky incline. “I’m sure I could give you a few pointers. And I’m sure you need all the help you can get. I’d be doing Allete a favor, come to think of it. Poor girl. She’s plucked out of the hands of those puny, pasty English lordlings, only to be stuck with the likes of you. Unfair, that is,” he said as he continued walking.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man’s trademark smirk as he teased me, a sight that has been growing ever rarer over the past weeks. “Yes, well, we can’t all have as many notches on our bedpost as the mighty Brant of Clan Hakon.”

He clapped me on the shoulder. “Maybe your bedpost isn’t quite long enough,” he roared, quite amused at his own joke. I couldn’t help but chuckle myself.

“Maybe, maybe.” I held up my hands in surrender as I walked, the village retreating behind us in the distance. “But I couldn’t help but notice that’s a mighty big war hammer you have there, Brant.”

“That’s what the lasses say!” He let out another deep belly laugh. We came to a clearing, a field not far from the river.

“I’m sure they do. But I’ve always heard a man who carries a weapon too big for him to wield into battle is compensating for shortcomings in other areas. Maybe that’s why you insist on fighting with a giant hammer, instead of a more reasonable sword or mace.”

Brant spluttered. “Too big? Too big! Too big for me to wield? I’ll show you how to properly wield a weapon this large!” He bellowed and leaped at a giant boulder, swinging his hammer down from overhead in a two-handed grip, striking the great stone squarely on its face. There was a tremendous c***k as the boulder split down the middle and the two halves fell away from each other. “Let’s see your puny little longsword do that, Jarl.”

I nodded. “Impressive, very impressive,” I said, surveying the damage. “But sometimes, my overeager captain, pure strength isn’t enough to get the job done.” My longsword hissed as I drew it from its scabbard. I leaped at a nearby hazel tree, then began severing its branches. My sword arm was a blur while I surgically removed the limbs, leaving it nothing but a smooth, pointy obelisk in a matter of seconds. Pausing, I c****d an eyebrow at my second in command. “Occasionally, finesse is required. It’s the same in the bedroom…so I hear. Some men apparently never master the finer points of subtly required to properly please the fairer s*x. But I’m sure that’s not the case with you, mighty Brant of Clan Hakon.”

Brant stroked his beard, admiring the bare tree and ignoring my comment. “All this talk of weapons,” he said, starting forward again. “I think it distracts from the bigger picture.”

“What’s that?” I asked, taking a few quick steps to catch up.

“That real men fight bare-handed!” In the blink of an eye, Brant dropped his war hammer and lunged at me, his shoulder connecting with my stomach. Letting out an ‘oomph,’ I fell backward. I dropped my sword and rolled, bringing my knees into Brant’s midsection and kicking my legs upward as hard as I could. The hefty man somersaulted over me, his eyes wide. I hadn’t expected his attack, but he hadn’t expected me to react so quickly. He landed in a somersault and came up in a crouch, a surprisingly agile maneuver for a man of Brant’s size.

“Ah, see,” I said. “Better to be nimble in bed. That way, you can best react to your woman’s changing needs.”

Brant wore a wolfish grin as he began to circle me, and I matched his movements. “Better to be strong. That way, no matter what she needs, you will always find yourself adequate.” Roaring, he charged. I mirrored his actions. We met with a force of thunder, the sound of thickly muscled bodies slapping against one another. I tried to go low and take Brant out at the knees. He anticipated the attack, flinging his legs out behind him and dropping his center of gravity as he wrapped his bulky arms around my head and neck. No surprise there. A strike at the knees was always my first go-to maneuver when fighting the bigger man. I’d have been disappointed if he didn’t expect it.

Quickly, I twisted away, my head popping out of his grip. I jumped on him, trying to get behind him to clasp my arms and legs together so as to control his back. I was only partially successful. I’d gotten my hands together, but not my legs. He jumped up and came crashing down, landing on the only soft spot around—me. I grunted as the breath was forced from my lungs. Still, I didn’t release my grip. We rolled around on the ground, both trying and failing to pin the other.

This went on for the better part of an hour, a flurry feints, throws, sweeps, headlocks, and suplexes. As we grappled, I couldn’t help but be transported back to my childhood. How many times had Brant and I squared off like this as children? Fighting, struggling, proving ourselves to one another, and becoming stronger and fiercer young men in the process? Hundreds, no doubt. Maybe thousands. And how long had it been since our last wrestling match? How long since we enjoyed the pure thrill of single, unarmed combat without the constant, never-ending drive by our former—now deceased—crazed jarl to raid and pillage defenseless, unsuspecting villages. Far too long.

As the match went on, my limbs began to feel like lead. Both of our movements were coming slower and with less enthusiasm. I didn’t know how many more times I could escape the huge man’s attempts to pin me. I hoped he didn’t have a reserve of energy he was holding on to for one final, frenzied attack. If so, he’d probably best me this time. Not that it would be surprising. We never kept a tally, but I was sure he beat me as often as I beat him. Brant and I continued to struggle. Just when I was about to yield, Brant tumbled off me and onto his back. “Enough,” he said, gasping for air. “I yield.”

I followed suit, rolling to my own back and staring at the sky. As I sucked in much-needed oxygen, neither of us spoke for a long time. My clothes and hair were soaked with sweat. I continued to gaze up at the bright blue sky, watching the billowy clouds roll along above me. Soon, my breathing became even again. I could hear Brant’s doing the same, half expecting to hear the man snoring in a few more minutes. Instead, he spoke.

“You never did answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Where are you sending me?”

Laughing, I rose to a sitting position. “I’m sending you to King Albric. He already knows you, and he will trust you because of who you are to me.”

Brant grunted and sat up, peering through narrowed eyes. “Why?” he asked. “And please don’t give me the political excuse. What’s the real reason you’re sending me?”

“You always were too perceptive for your own good,” I muttered. “You need something productive to do. This wrestling match was a welcome distraction. But that distraction will only last so long. I can see the longing in your eyes. You want to go after Dayna. I get that. I do. But if we make any rash decisions now, we could end up losing the whole clan. Cathal and Calder are both dangerous enemies. We have to respect them. Not to mention, according to Allete, Calder has a dark witch at his beck and call.”

“Rash decisions?” he snapped. “It’s been two weeks since she’s been gone. I’m fairly sure I haven’t made any rash decisions. I feel like we’re wasting time. Who knows what those evil pricks could be doing to her?” he said. I watched as the anger slowly drained from his face. Despair took its place.

“The faster we gather allies to help, the faster we can get her back.”

“And how am I supposed to get to England? We have no boats. And horseback is too slow.”

“Give me a day to get that worked out. Meanwhile, gather your supplies and make ready. That’s an order, Brant, from your jarl. As your friend, I sympathize with your situation. As your king, I have to consider the whole situation, not just what you need.”

“I know. But that doesn’t make it any less of a burr in my arse.”

I took his arm in a respectful clasp, one only warriors had the right to give, and patted him on the shoulder. “Hang in there a little longer. We will get Dayna back.”

He merely grunted in response.

“C’mon, let’s get back to the clan before they send out a search party.” I stood and extended an arm, helping Brant to his feet. We retrieved our weapons, then began slowly marching to the village.