Lyra learns the cost of war in a single, life-altering afternoon. Her homeland has been invaded by an ambitious new king, and she has lost everything -- her farm, her family and her will to live. Enslaved and shackled, she is marched off to serve Te...
This is the last chapter before the epilogue (we are so close). I've screenshotted the map of where y'all come from because I think it's pretty cool. Hello world :)
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Look at you all! So far away!! Anyway on with the actual story I guess.
The Iyrak melee was not much like the warlord melee. For one, it was much more light-hearted — more of a performance and display of skill than cutthroat competition. When we arrived halfway through the morning, the competitors were joking around at the arena's edge. There was horseplay and sarcastic boasting and not a drop of anger to go around.
Fendur seemed to know all of them. He fell into their ranks and made loud conversation while Glyn buckled his pauldron into place. Bevan hung back a little, sharpening his sword, which was a pointless exercise when he wasn't supposed to draw blood.
I had just handed the kitten to Melia when my eyes were drawn to the far side of the arena, where Kiare was arriving with her brother in tow. Just behind them, two men were in earnest conversation. Lothar, who was smirking, and Peiler, who was swigging from a hip flask. They led neighbouring corps, I now knew. Neve had given me a lesson on Sierra's geography while the others had been attending to the dawn milking.
"Peiler," I told my wife. It was a warning and a curse. She whirled to scowl at him — an expression holding enough rage to make a thunderstorm cower.
"He's wearing armour," Sami murmured. "Why is he wearing armour?"
He was indeed wearing metal plate over furs, and he had a helmet tucked under his arm. I swore under my breath, my hand creeping towards my knife hilt, for all the good it would do.
"Peiler," she called, letting her voice boom across the arena. "Come here, you miserable insect."
He and Lothar exchanged an extraordinarily smug look, and then he stood up and came wandering towards us at a leisurely pace. I stilled my hand. It would only amuse him, and he looked amused enough already. The closer he drew, the tighter my muscles coiled, and I felt Sami doing the same beside me.
"Ah, Ragnyr, Valkyr..." Peiler said, stopping within arm's reach of us. Somehow, he managed to make the honorifics sound like insults, and my temper was already wearing thin. "Can I help you?"
"Yes, you can," I told him sharply. "You can start by wiping the smirk off your face and bowing your overinflated head."
The smirk fell away entirely of its own accord, because he and I had not been properly acquainted yet, and I reckoned he had mistaken my sullen silence in the last melee for meekness. He did lower his head, albeit only fractionally. "My apologies, Valkyr."
Sami allowed herself a smile. "Much better. I will keep this brief, for both our sakes. Are you or are you not taking part in the melee?"
"I am. Thank you for noticing," Peiler said, the words as slimy as warm butter.
