Chapter 24: Keen

Svenya / Maerwynn

"Rian, you should not have challenged him," I sighed.

We sat on the floor of a cell with our backs to the wall, side by side. Through the bars, in the dim torchlight, I could make out a bellows around a pit glowing with red coals. That familiar sight caused me more disquiet than anything else in that miserable place. My face was naked save for the scars and they seemed to tingle every time the coals caught my eye. Trying to calm myself, I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, but even then I could smell the smoke with an underlying scent of burnt flesh. I was trying to keep my voice level and speak to Rian in order to distract myself from the memories and emotions that were vying for my attention with painful alacrity.

"If I can beat him in armed combat he will be obliged to release us," Rian stated with a simple certainty that broke my heart, "we can leave with your mother and Murchad. I will escort you back to Herfirien and from there we will return to Denerim."

After a long, measured breath I reasoned, "He is twice as large as you and you are accustomed to fighting with armor. Though you are decent with a blade he has had more experience."

"Ser Grey trained me well," was all he replied, no emotion coloring his voice. He seemed to feel that statement alone was reason enough for confidence.

I shook my head, my façade of calm was fraying at the edges and my frustration began to fill the cracks, "Even if you should win, Rian, he will not honor the terms of the duel. He has not learned to be honorable, he learned to be ruthless. Please, let me argue him out of this!"

"Svenya," Rian answered gently, as if he were speaking to a small child, "do you honestly believe he will let me back out now? As narrow as the chance is, if I do not try then we will have no chance at all."

My heart twinged in my chest. I had convinced myself that Rian had been naïve and merely assumed he could overcome my brother's brutality with a display of chivalry. In reality, I had been the one delusional, believing I could convince my oldest brother to release us and leave us alive. Everything depended on Rian now and he seemed completely at peace with this.

"Are you prepared to kill him?" I opened my eyes, leveling my head to look to my side and directly into his eyes. He bowed his head slightly, looking down into his hands.

"Rian?"

"I hope it will not come to that."

"No!" I growled, grabbing his shoulder to make him look at me, "You must be ready to kill him. He is merciless and will not hesitate to strike you down. Rian, promise me that if the opening presents itself you will kill him. There is no safety in a hope that does not exist."

He did not become angry or sound disgusted when he spoke, he maintained the level of calm that all his other words had contained since we had been imprisoned, "You are telling me to kill your brother."

"The world will be poorer for the loss of you than for the loss of him," I ground out, feeling the frustration wring tears from my eyes that flowed freely down my face, "I may share blood with him, but you are dearer to me. If he kills you…Oh Maker…" I was slowly shattering before his eyes and it was devastating me. It meant I had to verbally butcher his innocence but, damn it, I wanted him alive more than I wanted him pure. My lineage had managed to taint every good and beautiful thing that the Maker had offered me, but I was choosing to destroy something inherent in Rian's spirit that made him better than most of the men in my family, excluding my Uncle Trian. I had often wondered if my Uncle Trian had been much the same way, with a trusting loving spirit, believing in the goodness of humanity. Now I was asking Rian to give it up and compromise it in order that he might survive.

"Do you realize what you are asking?"

I sighed as one of the memories I had been holding at bay engulfed my senses and it was as if I saw it all again, "When I was no more than ten winters, Fendril was around fourteen. He was already imitating father's habits and would take out his wrath on anything smaller than him, me included. Father had acquired a mabari pup and brought him home, stating that a man planning to govern an arling should learn how to govern an animal. He gave the pup to my oldest brother, and Fendril planned to make him a fierce war dog, one capable of ripping out men's throats on command. To do this, he put the dog through grueling training, often pitting it against animals and creatures larger than the pup. The dog managed to survive, but was constantly being beaten, my brother reasoning that it would make it stronger. If the mabari did not perform to expectation Fendril withheld food, saying that if it became hungry enough then it would be far more vicious. The dog did not progress as quickly as he wished and he often stated that it was a stupid animal and did not have the famed intelligence that mabari were supposed to possess."

"That poor creature," Rian whispered to himself.

"I felt much the same way," I confided, "and I would often sneak it food. Over time I developed a connection with the animal and affectionately called it Keen, since I thought he was very bright, as well as sharp of tooth. I taught him small tricks and he always appeared happy to see me."

"One day, Fendril brought the dog hunting and it managed to corner a bear, helping the hunters to make the kill. Fendril was strutting and bragging, but when they returned, Keen came running and leapt into my arms, licking my face and gamboling about my feet like a puppy and ignored Fendril's commands when he called Keen to heel. The hunters laughed at Fendril since he could not truly control his dog, since in reality the dog had imprinted on me and not him since I had been kind to it."

"Fendril was humiliated and began to beat poor Keen, the beast yowling in pain and cowering from the blows. I threw myself at my brother, clinging to his arm to force him to stay his hand for fear he would seriously injure my friend. My brother then turned his wrath on me, striking me across the face with the back of his hand. At that moment, Keen turned and attacked Fendril with bared teeth, sinking them into his arm and side, causing him to fall back. One of the hunters managed to subdue Keen before he could do more damage and help Fendril to his feet. My brother was not satisfied however," I swallowed down the lump that had been steadily growing in my throat as I recalled the rest, "and he pulled a club made of oak and beat Keen to death for daring to turn on him while another of the hunters held me back so I could not interfere. When my friend lay dead and still on the ground my brother turned to me and with a pointed finger stated that fate awaited any creature stupid enough to desire my regard."

"Svenya, I…" Rian started to speak but I placed a hand to his lips.

"He will not let you live if you beat him and I could not bear to lose you to his wrath, Rian. Do not underestimate him. If he had been raised in a different house with different parents, he might have been a better man, but he still chose this path. He has hardened himself and purged any pity he could have possessed for others."

I had not expected it, but Rian suddenly leaned into me with a kiss. The lips were tender, but insistent, and his hand gently wiped a tear from my cheek. The kiss was only momentary and Rian leaned back to look warmly into my eyes, his hand gliding back to rest at the nape of my neck. The eyes gazing into mine seemed suddenly so wise, "Svenya…it will be well, whatever happens, I promise."

"Do not swear and eat it," I whispered brokenly.

He gave a half smile and released me before settling on taking my hand and lacing his fingers through mine, "I love you…"

"You hardly know me, Rian." I argued, but it was his turn to shush me.

"I have witnessed both your courage and your compassion. You have survived things that would have destroyed most people or would have turned them into monsters like your brother. Withstanding all of that has made you who you are now."

I opened my mouth to argue again, but he stopped me firmly, "Let me finish. I am not going to presume on your affections or fool myself into believing that you feel the same so soon, but when this is over and we have time, I would like the honor of courting you properly, as a lady of your quality deserves. Please think on this."

My emotions were reeling. I had not anticipated the depth of Rian's emotions or the confusion they would cause me. It had not even entered my consideration and there was a pang when I realized that I could not reconcile what I felt for him. At one point he had reminded me of my late husband and it inspired me to save him and the other knights he travelled with, but he was not my husband and what I felt for him was different than what I had felt for Collin, though no less deep. All of it just served to tear at me and further fray my taxed emotions.

As if reading my mind, Rian comforted me, "I am sorry that you are forced to endure all of this."

"What other choice do I have? I must endure or surrender. Endurance is far more palatable meal than surrender."

At that point a guard entered with a loud bang of a door and addressed us both, "Arlson Fendril Crewe has sent me to inform you that, as the challenged party, he has the option of choosing the means of battle. He invokes the trial of shields."

"The trial of shields?" Rian inquired, turning to me.

"It is an old tradition of the Avvar people," I explained, "It was originally used when a man wished to challenge an established chieftain. The combatants forego armor and are each allowed three wooden bucklers. They fight using short swords and whenever a buckler is splintered they must discard it and take up another buckler. When the bucklers are exhausted, then the combatant must continue on without it. The first man disarmed of his weapon loses."

"Then it is not to the death?"

I shrugged, "In most cases, death is a foregone conclusion. A disarmed opponent is usually dead. A chieftain would never suffer a potential usurper to live."

"Arlson Crewe sent me to inform you of this as a courtesy. He will abide by the terms of the challenge. If he loses, you and the Lady Maerwynn will be released. It has been sworn and witnessed." The guard informed us of this with stiff aspect, "The contest will convene shortly before sundown. In the meantime you are encouraged to rest."

"Thank my brother for his hospitality," I answered sardonically, nodding to the straw thrown into the corner of the cell for our rest and which was probably infested with fleas.

"You are afforded more lavish accommodations than many of his previous guests." The guard answered as he left the dungeon with a loud crash of the iron and oak door. His footsteps echoed wetly against the damp stones.

After that, the hours passed slowly, much of it spent in silent contemplation. Rian seemed at peace and refused to speak further on it. It pleased him to sit beside me and hold my hand. Seeing no purpose in arguing or trespass on something I could not change, I would occasionally hum or sing softly. At one point I dozed off with my head resting on his shoulder.

The guards came to fetch us and escort us to my brother's personal training ground. It was a field adjoining the estate grounds that had been cleared and was covered over by soft dirt to form a ring. Fendril waited for us with an arrogant smirk on his face, making a sweeping gesture to the three bucklers that would be Rian's defense, lying on the ground. They were made from green ash wood and appeared rickety, easy to splinter with a heavy blow. Fendril's shields, on the other hand, were made from cured wood, able to withstand more punishment before splintering. He was stacking the deck in his favor even before the contest began.

What is more, my brother was wielding a long sword of steel, while Rian was given a short sword of iron that was rusting at the hilt, "I see that you cannot bear to partake of a fair fight, Fendril."

"Little sister, you wound me," he chuckled darkly, "it states within the tenets of chivalry that the challenged party is permitted to choose the weapons."

"Yes, but they are supposed to be equal weapons. To do less is dishonorable."

He laughed outright, "If your knight is as valiant and righteous as he professes, then he is already at an advantage. I am merely providing a handicap that evens the odds. Surely you would not wish your knight to have an unfair advantage."

Rian placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "Be at peace, Svenya. I will meet your brother on his terms."

"Ah, such a brave knight," Fendril crooned condescendingly, "a lady of your standing could ask for no better. Do not think that I have overlooked you, my dear. In the event you should become bored, I have invited guests to watch the sport with you."

The guards brought forward Mother and Murchad, ushering them to some wooden stools at the edge of the field. They both looked tired and worried, reflecting what I myself was feeling. Meeting Rian's eyes, he nodded, implying that I should join them and vacate the chosen field of battle. The callow young man that I had met in the tavern in Redcliffe was different now and the change was troubling.

Rian picked up the first buckler, taking a moment to take the heft of its weight as he swung it on his arm. The sword whistled through the air a moment and he picked up some dirt in his hand to dry the sweat and improve his ability to grip the hilt. He looked small in his tunic and breeches, facing my brother in an ornate leather jerkin, also an unfair advantage.

Fendril had begun to pace as Rian adjusted his shield and weapon, seeming impatient and uneasy in the face of his opponent's calm demeanor. The man with all the advantages was baffled by my knight, as was I. He could not control everything, regardless of his power and that was what irked him. To cover his discomfort, Fendril taunted Rian, "Come, knight, or has your courage deserted you?"

At that moment, something settled in Rian's demeanor. He no longer appraised the field or his opponent, and the straightening of his shoulders communicated that his course was set, there was no turning back. With an enigmatic half-smile, Rian answered, "Come, coward! Let us dance!"

"…Things are changing. Be wary, though, those that you care for also have choices to make, choices that you cannot change. All that is certain is that things will move forward." The words of the elven woman I met in the Fade seemed to suddenly echo in my ears as the scene was laid before me, like a story being told by a master storyteller and I was the audience.

With Rian's words, Fendril charged forward without a second breath or pause, swinging his sword like a reaper bringing in the grain with a scything motion. It whistled thinly, just barely missing Rian's arm, but it caught the shield with an unforgiving bite and the wood cracked instantly. With the first buckler broken, Fendril withdrew slightly so that Rian could replace it with another. It only showed how lopsided the battle was between a long sword and a short sword. In order for Rian to make a blow, he had to get close to his opponent, while Fendril could carve pieces off from a less personal distance.

My Mother shook her head and muttered, "I had hoped that he would grow beyond his blindness, but he has doomed himself."

"What are you speaking of, Mother?" Murchad whispered, and I was barely paying attention since my concern was focussed on the action before me.

"Your Father's mother, the Arlessa Carys, intoned a curse against him and any of his line who would follow his example. I had hoped no child of my body would be touched by the curse, but your brothers have chosen their paths, just as you have done so." She said the words mournfully and with resignation.

"Let the curse fall," I spat, "let it strike me down as well, if only that Rian might be safe."

"Hush, you know not what you say," Mother looked stricken at my words.

My weary eyes turned to her then, "If not for me, then he would not be here. If not for me, he would be safe."

"A man chooses his path, Mae," my Mother chided, "who is to say what would have been if the world had moved differently?"

Before I could respond further, another sickening crack brought my attention back to the field and I inwardly cursed myself. Rian's second buckler was broken, but it had taken longer than the first one. He was taking Fendril's measure, just as he had taken the heft of his shield and sword before the beginning of the fight. Fendril, on the other hand, was basking in his ill-gotten glory, his step resembling a bullying rooster.

"That is two strikes in my favor, knight!"

When Rian remained silent as he retrieved the third buckler from the ground, Fendril continued to crow, "Enjoy the air, knight. The next few breaths will be your last."

Rian leveled his shoulders again, and nodded his head, indicating he was ready to continue. Again, Fendril charged forward as he had done twice before, with a whistling slice, but Rian was not there. He moved to the side, and as Fendril barreled past, he made a blow to his buckler, all the harder with Fendril's momentum pushing the buckler forward into Rian's short sword. The shield snapped at the edge, splintering the wood slightly and making it forfeit. Fendril had lost his first buckler.

Fendril howled in his fury at being clipped, throwing the damaged shield aside violently and grabbing up the next. His mouth curled in a sneer, "Lucky blow! Even the sun shines on a mabari's ass occasionally. It will not happen again, whelp!"

The next swing was wild, and also missed its mark, but Rian could not get a clean blow at Fendril's shield either. Fendril kicked out with his heel and struck Rian in the knee, causing him to stagger back as Fendril attempted a low sweep with his blade, but Rian rolled out of the way. He limped back and braced himself for Fendril coming around for another charge. This time Rian met Fendril's buckler with a sweep of his own. Both bucklers splintered with the force of the blow. What is more, Rian appeared to have injured his wrist and he winced painfully, cradling it against his chest, taking deep breaths to regain his focus. Fendril was on his last buckler, but Rian had none.

"Ha!" Fendril cried, "You have no armor, no shield and only a short sword to defend against a long sword. You will be dead before you can get close enough to make a final blow."

At that moment, Rian sprang forward from a near crouch, rolling like a boulder at my brother. One second Fendril was on his feet and the next his sword had flown far to his right as he lay on his back in the dirt. Rian had won by right since Fendril was disarmed. He pressed his sword to Fendril's throat a moment.

"Do it!" Fendril snapped up at his vanquisher, though fear danced on the edge of the voice. He wanted his life, but he was too proud to beg for it or he feared what Father would do to him when his loss was discovered.

"You deserve to die," acquiesced Rian, looking down at him, "but I am allowing you to live. We will take our leave of you. The Maker has afforded you an opportunity to choose another path. Be wise!"

With that, Rian turned on his heel and walked toward us. I ran to meet him and threw myself into his arms, holding him tightly, relishing the feel of him alive, mostly unscathed.

What a fool I was to ignore the advice I myself had given only hours before!

Fendril staggered to his feet after a moment and ran at us, a dagger in hand that I had not seen. It must have been concealed in his boot or in a sheath under his tunic. His eyes were glowing with rage he charged forward with a howl that no longer sounded human, but resembled the keening of a dying animal. As he bore down on us, Rian pushed me to the side with his good arm, leaving his injured, undefended arm open and the dagger found a home in my Red Knight's flesh. Rian gave a wet gasp and fell to the side as Fendril withdrew the weapon and turned its bloody blade toward me.

"I will carve the other side of your face and no man will ever look on you again," he cackled, near mad with bloodlust.

There was a cry from the ground as Rian awkwardly reached up with his short sword and used it to hamstring Fendril from behind, causing him to crash to the dirt with a surprised groan. Rian dragged himself forward as the blood flowed down his chest, coloring him scarlet, and managed to get high enough on his knees to make a final blow through Fendril's back, pinning him to the ground with a last burst of strength before crumpling beside him.

Crawling forward while Fendril made the last sickening gurgles as his spirit left him, I pulled Rian into my arms as he was gasping, "Svenya…love…I am…sorry."

"Hush, we have to get a healer. I will not let him take you from me! That bastard will not have this!"

"Please," he pleaded, his words becoming weak whispers, "do not…waste this time…with…angry words."

"Rian, don't…" was all I could manage as my tears were flowing, mingling with his blood.

"I had…what I wished…most," he confided, the sound of his breathing had a sickening whistle with each breath; "For a moment…I was the knight…you needed me…to be."

I leaned in and kissed him then, soft feathery kisses for fear of hurting him further and no words would come to my lips.

"I love you!" were the words he breathed against my lips before his gaze found a light in the distance and the eyes of my Red Knight lost all focus.

There was a shrieking wail rising, and it was a few moments before I realized that the sound was emanating from my own chest. I gripped him to me and would not allow my Mother or Murchad to pull me away from him. As my choking sobs died down I finally heard what the others had been trying to tell me, there were approaching horse hooves.

I looked up in time to see my Father approach on the back of a dappled gray mare. He dismounted and approached with slow, deliberate steps, his yellow eyes taking in the situation at his feet as I gazed up at him, numb with loss. He paced around me and the two corpses, stopping long enough to nudge his son's face with the toe of his boot to, I assume, confirm that it was actually Fendril.

"Well, daughter," he allowed, looking down at me with the same calculating and hungry look he had always worn, "this is a sorry sight!"

"May the Veil take you!" I cursed as I spat on his boot.

He merely tutted at this before turning and calling over his shoulder to the assembled guards who had watched everything as men entranced while the tragedy unfolded, "Bring her to my study. Build a pyre for my good-for-nothing son and burn him. Leave the other body there for the wolves!"