The Proving
As Bjørn and his brothers sat at their large wooden table eating a hardy breakfast there was the smell freshly cooked meat hanging in the air. The four boys could hardly contain their excitement as they jested about the upcoming combat ritual. Cjørn was eighteen and the oldest of the four, who had long braided brown hair and a stubbly beard to match, recounted when he was apart of it two years prior “The rush is unlike any other, fighting along side your clan this will be a taste of what raiding will be like for you!” his deep voice tinged with excitement. Hjørn who tuned his lute replied, “Didn’t your side nearly lose?” Hjørn was fifteen with brown hair like his older brother, but it was trimmed and well kept. Smiling next to him was Pjørn quickly responded “They still won, just not as well as they could have” Pjørn, was thirteen years old and, had hair as blonde as wheat that draped down to his back. Cjørn chuckled at his brethren’s remarks “Having a good leader is what makes a difference, Bjørn will be fine as long as he has a good leader.” Just then Their father Halvur stood behind Bjørn “Do not try to be the hero son, go in follow orders and yield when you must. No need to draw any unnecessary attention.” Bjørn nodded to his father “I know, be a good soldier, fight with honor and courage” Halvur cracked a warm smile “That’s my boy”
After they finished their meal, the family left their home and headed towards the ceremonial battle grounds. Hjørn and Pjørn swung wooden swords at each other running around the other three falling behind and running beyond them during their travel. Halvur walked on the left of Bjørn, Cjørn on the right, “You have trained hard for this son, but mind who is watching. No matter the outcome we will celebrate your right of passage” Halvur said giving his son a hug “best of luck” he whispered in Bjørns ear before calling over Hjørn and Pjørn. “Come now boys, lets take our seats.” As the two boys and their father walked away Cjørn looked at his brother and said, “Don’t hold back” Bjørn looked puzzled at his brother and replied, “Father said-” Cjørn cut him off “I know what our father said, but this is where you prove your worth, show them your value. Just do what you feel is right and do not gold back” He then slapped Bjørn on the back before running off and calling back “You’re a Halvurson, remember that”
Bjørn sat with those words for a minute, he knew what his brother meant but was unsure what to do. Should he listen to his father and be a good soldier or should he live up to the name of his father and be the warrior he was born to be. He understood that all sixteen-year-olds had to participate, but did any carry the burden he did? Just as he finished his thought, he heard the horns sound; it was time for the proving. He ran towards the arena, it was a massive round, wooden structure that had the flag of the storm clan across the top of it. As Bjørn approached it he noticed a group of teens around his age and moved towards them, an elder of the clan was pointing and moving each child into two groups. As the Elder sorted the youth Bjørn found himself on team two. The elder woman spoke to the young ones “Look across from you, these are your brothers, sisters, friends, this is your clan. Fight fairly and with honour.” Just as she finished her sentence the son of the Chieftain, Jakob Svinulfson, a young human with deep brown hair and eyes to match said, “All but that one, its almost unfair to have a half breed on your team” he pointed at Bjørn. A hush fell over the group and Bjørn simply replied “We will see what happens.” Jakob had eyes as green as a viper’s skin and hair as black as night. He was muscular and tall for his age, there were times his strength made an ice troll seem weak, he was a force to reckon with and Bjørn knew it.
As the two teams split on either side Jakob’s sister Merrill Svinulfsdottir who was paired onto Bjørns team strode next to him, she had pale white skin and red hair like fire “Ignore him, his ego is thicker than his head is” Bjørn looked at her with confusion “shouldn’t you be on Jakob's team?” he questioned “that’s not up to me” she replied “well regardless you shouldn’t be speaking to me, we both know how your father felt about us speaking before” he said to her sternly “I don’t know why stubborn men think they can control who I speak to” she joked, punching him in the arm. Bjørn smiled at her “lets just focus on getting through this.” He said as they walked through the arches of the arena.
The light beamed down onto the two groups as the drums played in a slow ceremonial manner, the ground was muddy from the night before and it smelled of rain still. The stands had filled with members of the storm clan and thunderous applause roared as they took their positions along the far ends of the battlefield. In the middle of the arena were fourteen shields laid out, along the walls the young warriors grabbed their wooden weapons which consisted of axes, swords, staffs, and hammers. Chieftain Svinulf War-Tooth began to rise, and a hush fell over the crowd as the drums beat hard three times before it was silent. “Today is a special day” boomed Svinulf’s voice “today we witness the culmination of our clans training, and we will see the future of our clan.” The crowd cheered once again as Bjørn looked around he could see his family sitting in the stands, he nodded to his father and his father nodded back. “You all know the rules” the Chieftain continued, “Once the horns sound both teams will meet in the middle, and we shall see how you manage battle but make no mistake; you will be hurt, and we will not stop until one team yields or can no longer continue. This is a taste of war.” The drums began to beat heavily again as the competitors leaned forward ready to run, Bjørn could feel his heart beating and as he sized up the other side his eyes met Jakob’s and the two stared each other down. Bjørn felt Merrill’s hand on his shoulder as she prepared to take off. “BEGIN” the Chieftain hollered as the loud horns sounded off.
Bjørn dashed forward, everything was silent as if he had gone deaf; the only sound he could hear was the drums beating. As he neared the shields at the centre he glanced back and saw he was a good forty feet ahead of his team. When he reached the middle, he stood ready with his wooden sword in one hand and wooden axe in the other. As the first two people from the other team reached for their shields that lay on the ground, Bjørn swung his sword at their hands and chopped down with his axe on the other. Each hit connected, the sound of bones cracking against the rigid wood sent a chill through his spine. He felt the others reach him, in a matter of moments the two teams were now on top of each other scrambling to grab a shield, Bjørn holstered his hatchet and snatched up a shield for himself. Both sides slammed into each other, the sound of the steel shields clashing echoed “tighten the line!” Jakobs voice shouted from behind the seven warriors in front of him, clearly, Jakob had taken on the roll of leader for his team. Bjørns head turned around to see who would lead his side, to his surprise it was not Merrill, it was the blacksmith’s son. He was an average size lad with a mop of brown curls on his head, but his arms were like tree trunks from carrying on his father’s work. Bjørn was shocked to see him leading, he had always been so timid in the past, perhaps there was more to him than Bjørn had considered. The boy looked unsure and worried he cautiously called out “Brace… or hold the line?” as if it were a question. Merrill who had found her place next to Bjørn said “Well there goes our chances” he remained quiet focusing on timing when he would bash at their opponents. “Pull and Push!” Jakobs voice shouted and suddenly the line gave way for a moment causing Bjørns team to stumble forward before the other team slammed into them once again, forcing an opening allowing Jakob to slip through. He quickly ran towards the blacksmith’s son zigging and zagging before striking at the boy hard twice and running back around to his side. The boy clambered to his feet as blood poured out of his nose, he moved towards the shield wall. “We need to yield!” he yelled out in a congested voice. Bjørn looked to the stands he could see his family cheering except for Cjørn, as if they could tell what the other was thinking they nodded and Bjørn turned his attention back to the fight. “Take my shield!” Bjørn said “We will win this day!” he shouted out to his allies “follow me and you shall taste victory!” The blacksmiths son took hold of the shield as Bjørn stepped back to survey the situation. “Give them nothing!” he called out “stand your ground like the warriors you are!”
Halvur looked on in shock, his son was taking command of the shield wall. He had not felt such pride before, but that soon faded as he saw the grimace on the face of Svinulf.
The battle raged on and as shields clashed, Jakob and Bjørn shouted orders to the shield wall. Jakob’s team had started to open slightly and strike at whoever may fall through. Bjørns mind raced as he tried to look for an opening, he moved back up to the wall and ordered the two fighters in front of him to part and let one of their opponents through. They nodded to Bjørn and waited for him to give the command, as the opposition readied to lunge forward again Bjørn shouted “Now!” As the two warriors parted one of the opposing members stumbled forward with their shield up, the wall closed quickly trapping him with Bjørn. Before the young warrior could even realise what happened Bjørn began his assault on the boy powerfully striking against the shield until it dropped, three strikes with the wooden sword sent the boy reeling he felt himself backing up until he met the back of Merrill who was ready for him. She parted the wall as Bjørn shoved the beaten warrior back into the other fray of the wall.
Once again Bjørn found Jakob staring him down from behind the wall of warriors, the boys paced back and forth sizing each other up measuring each others’ movements. Bjørn hollered out to his comrades “drop back and take the battle to them! The group ran back and spread out as they found their places Jakob yelled “Charge!” and suddenly the fight went from a battle of minds to a war.
As both sides collided once more there was shouting from the stands over the beating of the drums. A full brawl had now broken out as individuals now sparred in the chaos of the fight. Bjørn held his sword in his right hand using his left to push and grapple when he could. He moved from opponent to opponent quickly getting in what hits he could, he searched for Jakob in the never-ending movements of battle if he could beat him the rest would fall quickly or better yield. Two challengers met Bjørn in the rush of things, he was fast, but fighting two at once was a bit trickier. For every strike he made they landed two more. The weapons hurt a great deal more than when he and his brothers sparred, he dropped to one knee as he desperately tried to defend himself, a third joined the assault and it only got worse; soon he knew he would lose consciousness. Without warning a wooden hatchet rocketed above Bjørns head, breaking the first attackers’ nose with a loud crunch. A pair of legs were now standing in front of Bjørn, and he could no longer feel the impacts from before. As he rose to his feet wiping the blood from his mouth, he saw Merrill holding her own against the remaining two warriors who had been wailing on him only moments ago. He quickly rejoined the fight with her and the two fought side by side unleashing hell with their weapons. Merrill moved with such grace and determination, her weapons flowed as if they were extensions of herself; beating into her opponents the way the ocean waves beat against the stones on the shore, steadily and furiously. Bjørn’s speed was blinding, his one-on-one opponent could no longer touch him. Each opportunity that presented itself he would strike powerfully into his attacker. Fighting side by side they were unstoppable. As both opponents lost their focus and footing Merrill and Bjørn grabbed one head each and cracked them against the other rendering both unconscious. Bjørn stopped for a moment to thank Merrill for rescuing him “Thanks, this almost went the other way.” She smiled and put her hand to his cheek wiping the remainder of the fresh blood from the side of his face “Just don’t make a habit of it.”
The pair hesitated for a moment this was the first time they felt they had truly seen one another. The pair had become fast friends as children and spent most winters playing or training together. They stared into each others’ eyes for a second almost forgetting what was happening around them. Almost. A loud thud rang through Bjørn’s ears as Merrill’s big green eyes closed and she fell towards him. He caught her as she fell and quietly uttered “Merrill? Are you okay?” As he laid her down carefully, he saw the weapon that had struck her was a wooden Warhammer, his eyes followed the direction it came from and there standing forty feet from him was Jakob standing next to a weapons rack with one space empty.
A hush had fallen over the arena, even the drums had ceased beating. The fighting had come to a standstill as all eyes were on Merrill who laid on the ground motionless. “Say something please” Bjørns voice was shaking as he tried to get a sign out of the young Ulfen maiden. Svinulf had risen from his seat at what he had witnessed even he was motionless now seeing his only daughter struck down by his son. Bjørn shook Merrill’s body to no avail, he could feel his heart beginning to race again the way it had when this first started. Jakob began to laugh “oh she’s fine, what did she think as going to happen after helping you” Bjørn heard every word and felt them cut like knives as he continued to try and get a response out of her. “You’re inferior to us” Jakob continued, “sure the half of you that is of the storm clan is legendary. However, the only thing you have in common with your family is your last name. Nobody is coming to help you Bjørn, yield now and accept the shame that you have brought to us all by even being here. Do this and I may let you walk out of here.” Merrill’s eyes fluttered and opened finally as she reached to hold the back of her head where Bjørns hand cradled her, she winced in pain and looked at Bjørn “thanks for catching me.” Bjørn so happy to see her speaking quietly whispered, “Just don’t make a habit out of it.” As Bjørn helped her up to her feet the crowd cheered as if they had finally stopped holding their breath. Jakob looking as smug as ever said “guess I’ll need to throw the next one harder” as the words left his lips, he once again stared into Bjørns eyes, but this time something was different. The half elf no longer looked unsure, no longer looked confused, he looked angry. Bjørns already blue eyes were glowing like the lightning from the night before. Bjørn bent down to pick up the shield Merrill had dropped and started towards Jakob, sword in hand. Jakob immediately began grabbing throwable weapons trying to beat him back, throwing one after the other. Bjørn blocked the first three with his shield, each weapon clanging off the front of it as he swung with mighty force. Twenty-Five feet away now Jakob continued his assault throwing so hard the shield began to bend at each weapon rebounding off it, at ten feet away Bjørn dropped the shield and brought his wooden sword up ready to strike. Jakob drew his wooden sword as well as a small cold iron dagger hidden in his boot, Bjørn did not let this phase him as the two warriors now clashed. Their swords locked and Jakob took a swipe at Bjørn with the dagger, Bjørns reflexes were keen though. He jerked back unlocking the swords, Jakob pressed on swinging and missing three times with the sword. Bjørn timed the attacks and as the third swing missed, Bjørn made his move slashing at the sword hand of his rival. Jakob dropped the sword instantly as he felt the wood bludgeon him, Bjørn followed up by quickly kicking Jakob square in the chest and forcing a ten-foot gap between them. The youth who had been fighting now had formed a large circle around the two warriors, not wanting to miss a moment of what was happening they joined the crowd in shouting.
The two warriors circled each other now, waiting for the other to make the first move. Jakob made small jerks in his movements trying to shake Bjørn who had remained stoic in his demeanor, not letting his eyes leave his opponent. Jakob lunged twice at Bjørn who dodged quickly, not even raising his weapon. “Come on!” Screamed Jakob “lets give these people a show” lunged at Bjørn once again this time managing to make a deep cut near his eye. “You have no honor” Bjørn shot back at the boy angerly. He swung his sword once at Jakob missing. Quickly swinging again, he shouted, “I am faster” His sword landed a strike on Jakobs leg “I am smarter” Bjørn whirled around striking the dagger out of Jakobs other hand. “I am a Halvurson” he said resting the tip of the wooden weapon at the base of Jakobs chin. “you’ll never be one of us” Jakob snarled
Bjørn threw down his weapon and raised his fists “I don’t need to be.” Jakob seized the moment ramming into Bjørns stomach punching at his kidneys as Bjørn reigned down punches and elbows on the boys back. Bjørn slipped backwards landing in the wet mud, Jakob scrambled to get on top of him throwing punch after punch each connecting with Bjørns head. Bjørns legs kicked hard trying to gain leverage until he was able force one against Jakobs chest and push him back. Bjørn rolled back to his feet quickly getting back into trading blows with Jakob. The pair were evenly matched, this was a test of will and perseverance. As they brought down punch after punch, Bjørn missed once lunging forward, Jakob capitalised putting Bjørn into a headlock and squeezing tightly. Bjørn could no longer feel air moving from his lungs as he tried desperately to free himself, he tried pulling Jakobs arms, but they were too big to get his hands around. Bjørn began lunging back and forth trying to knock Jakob off balance, finally he had enough momentum built up he was able to jump back hard enough to send them both down with a heavy thud. Jakob had been pinned between Bjørn and the ground, the wind knocked out of him. As the two gasped for air Jakobs hand felt the handle of his long slim dagger in the mud. He quickly pulled it up to Bjørn’s chest who was laying on top of him, both of Bjørns hands clasped around it trying with all his might to keep it away from his heart. He could feel the tip of the blade press into his skin as Jakobs other hand wrapped around the daggers hilt. Time was running out and Bjørn knew this was going to be his only chance, he pulled the dagger slightly higher up to, he could feel the knife slicing up into his skin. Bjørn turned his head away and then suddenly let go.
The crowd gasped as a small spray of blood shot out and Bjørns arms fell to his sides. Halvur and his sons stood up speechless, Halvur’s heart felt heavy as a lump formed in his throat. Jakob let go of the knife as well, gasping shocked that it was over. Or so he thought, Bjørns right arm raised and using all his strength punched the top of the dagger through his shoulder and right into Jakobs adjacent shoulder. Bjørn ripped himself up from his competitor the knife continuing to slice up Jakobs left side. As Bjørn pulled the knife out of his shoulder there was another spray of blood that soaked Jakob, who was clutching at his arm like a wounded animal. Bjørn climbed on top of the boy, threw the knife to the side and with his right hand still working proceeded to strike Jakob hard across the face, each hit sent Bjørn face first into the mud; he would then pull himself back up and strike again this went on for several hits until he looked at the bloody and beaten Jakob Svinulfson. His face was swollen and bleeding, but he was breathing.
As Bjørn rose from the ground he noticed the arena was quiet again. He looked toward where Svinulf War-Tooth sat, his grizzled face was hard to read especially at this distance. Svinulf rose slowly from his seat surveying the battlefield, his eyes darting back to the blade which laid in the mud. With a deep breath he called out “We have a winner!” his voice thundering across the arena. The crowd remained silent, real weapons had not been permitted in The Proving; for them to have witnessed this carnage during the ritual was shocking. Merrill staggered over towards Bjørn; she still held the back of her head where the hammer had struck her. As she reached Bjørn his voice was a whisper “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone that far” she grabbed his right hand which had already begun to bruise and raised it into the air letting out a war cry. The circle of warriors who surrounded them began to holler into the air as well, until the whole arena was full of screaming Ulfen warriors.
As Bjørn looked around in disbelief he noticed only two men remained silent, his father Halvur and Svinulf. He understood why War-tooth did not join in, but for a father to not cheer for his son after such a victory he could not get his head around. Halvur looked toward Svinulf who was already staring at him. They both knew this could not stand. The only question was how long they had.