A Cliff-top Duel
III
Lessons of Restraint
(Shard V)
(Shard V)
“Look at you.” The voice was familiar and made Ghelta’s eyes well up with tears. “I leave for war, and I come home to find you in prison.” The shadow neared the flickering candlelight and was revealed to be Ylethus. He towered over the gravel-voiced man and the other two who held her aloft.
Ghelta lowered her face from her father in shame, she refused to make contact with his sky-blue eyes that took her in. The two men grasping onto each of her arms lifted her over the oubliette and held her above the floor. Her legs couldn’t hold her up, so they continued to strain to keep her standing.
“You look like shit.” Ylethus ran one of his hands through Ghelta’s matted and filth-clogged hair. He let his hand linger on her cheek and turned his gaze from her to the man who held the keys. “You couldn’t have put her in a proper cell, with proper food? The gods old and new, you treated her like an animal.” He turned back to Ghelta and let his hand fall. He looked her from head to toe, examining the stains on her flesh and the shackles still on her wrists and ankles.
Ghelta could see the muscles in Ylethus’ jaw tighten which made his beard quiver for a moment. She always knew this would lead to him exploding in anger over something. She lowered her eyes and prepared herself for the rage that would soon wash over her.
Ylethus turned and stomped toward the gravel-voiced man and without so much as a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed the man by the neck with his left hand and slammed him against a nearby stone wall. The man struggled against the mighty fingers of the giant, but he his panicked clawing was in vain. He was lifted from the ground like a straw doll, and the air was being crushed from his neck with only a slight shift of Ylethus’ tremendous weight.
“You think I wouldn’t notice that she was raped?” Ylethus leaned into the key-master’s face. He tightened two of his fingers which made the man’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. “Was it you that did the deed?” Ylethus quickly flicked over his shoulder with his right hand and liberated one of his jhulken-blades. He swung it back over his shoulder and pointed the curved blade at the two men holding Ghelta. He turned away to stare rage at the men. “Or was it you two?”
The two men let go of Ghelta’s arms in a panic, letting her fall to the stone floor in a heap. She looked from Ylethus to the key-master, and then to the two men on either side of her. She looked down at her legs beneath her, seeing that the tattered shirt she wore barely made it to her waist. She could see long stains of blood and grime trailing around her inner thighs up to her crotch.
“It matters not. You dare treat my daughter in such a way. You dare exploit her innocence in this place.” Ylethus’ voice was building into a howl as he began to froth between his teeth. His eyes were wide with murderous intent. “You dare do such a thing to a girl.” He took two sharp breaths and squeezed harder on the key-master’s neck until his body went limp. “You dare do this to my girl!”
Ghelta teetered back and forth while sitting on the cold and damp floor. She looked up at Ylethus and then to another shadow that emerged behind him. It took a few moments for her eyes to focus, but as the figure neared, she could make out the familiar shape of Grandmaster Toulam in the flickering light of some nearby candles.
Toulam pulled his hood from his face and leaned down to Ghelta. He steadied himself with his metal staff and placed one of his withered hands on her head. He leaned further down and placed his hand on her thigh and pulled her leg to the side. He looked back up into her eyes and patted her cheek lightly like he used to do when she was younger.
“Don’t kill him, Ylethus. He’s done no wrong.” Toulam got back up to his height with some groans and snaps from his aged body. He gave shuffling steps towards to the side and looked up at the rage-filled warrior. “Ghelta’s virtue wasn’t taken. She was merely visited by Celanna, the goddess in blood. I think this is her first bleeding and it won’t be her last.” He gave a chortle and shuffled a few more steps to the side.
Ylethus released his grip on the key-master and let his body slump to the ground. He lowered his blade ever-so-slightly and turned to look at the aged oracle. From his side, the key-master sucked in two breaths and choked himself back to consciousness.
“You’re certain. I don’t want to let these scoundrels live if there is any doubt. I’ll kill the entire prison-guard retinue if I need to.” He looked at Toulam who smiled and nodded. He lifted his blade over his shoulder and sheathed it once more. He lowered his head slightly and made his way with just two striding steps to Ghelta.
“Grab her, my friend. Bring her home where she belongs. I’ll give her a once over, get her cleaned up, and give her some exilirs to restore her health.” The Grandmaster lifted his hood over his head once more, covering up the scraggly white hair that adorned his leathery head. “I’ll have Vhoggli fetch some clean clothes and a hot bath for her. It’s about time that little bastard got off his rump and did something of value.” Toulam cackled and tottered off into the darkness.
Ylethus looked to the old oracle as he wandered off and then back to Ghelta. She looked up at him with tears streaming down her face and a faint smile. He reached down and with only the strength in his arms, he snapped the chains around her wrists and ankles. He lifted her gingerly in his hands and draped her over his shoulder. He looked up and noticed her bare bottom and with a faint-hearted chuckle he pulled his cape of station from his shoulders and draped it over her. She snatched up the edge and tucked it around herself.
“I swear, by the old gods and the new, you’ll be the death of me, girl.” He began to walk away from the two stunned prison-keepers and over the wheezing body of the key-master. “If you don’t cause me to murder the whole world before that.” He continued off down the darkened hallway and towards a metal door ahead.
“You should put me back in that hole.” Ghelta’s voice was faint and parched. She felt the warmth coming up from Ylethus’ leather armor and could feel the hairs of his beard tickling her toes. She looked back to the candlelit section of the hall and the prison she was confined to. “I murdered three people in cold blood. I deserve to be punished.”
“You didn’t murder three people, you guilt-ridden slob.” Ylethus shifted her on his shoulder and tightened the grip he had on her side. “Well-” He paused for a moment of contemplation. “You did kill that fat one. That was stupid, but thankfully she was an orphan from the Vollti tribe. No one will miss her, but I had to pay quite a large wergeldt for her life to the broden-mother. The dumb and squirrelly one survived, although his eyes will never be straight again.” Ylethus laughed heartily which caused Ghelta to jump up and down on his shoulder. “As for that conniving little shit, Aesothel, he’s still alive.”
“I tried to eat his soul.” Ghelta slumped against Ylethus’ back as the words escaped her lips.
“Yeah, something like that. I don’t know what in Gehemol you did, but you’re not allowed to do that anymore. I’ve talked with Toulam and he’s going to do some rituals to stop that kind of fucked up shit from happening ever again.” Ylethus lifted one of his hands and threw the metal doors open before him. Evening’s light filtered in from outside, as well as the first breaths of fresh air Ghelta, had in what felt like a small eternity. “That pecker-head was the chieftain’s son, you know.”
“I gathered as much from his bad attitude, poor choice in clothes, and the fact he pissed himself when I almost killed him.”
“Well, the chieftain doesn’t take kindly to people using unholy powers on his children. Even if they are ball-less little twits. That’s why you were thrown in the oubliette.” Ylethus continued into the open air beyond the prison. He passed into courtyard that was surrounded by other metal doors that led to other criminals trapped behind bars in one form or another. “Aesothel is alive, but he’ll end up with a care-giver for the rest of that miserable life. Whatever you did turned his hair white, made him blind in one eye, caused him to walk with a limp, and apparently his health is dismal.”
“Like I said, papa, I tried to eat his soul.” Ghelta lifted one of her hands over Ylethus’ shoulder and began to fiddle with the hilt of his jhulken-blade. “I don’t want to go back to the broden.”
“You won’t. The broden-mother is scared shit-less of you; thinks you’re some spawn of blood-haired devil or some-such. The chieftain doesn’t want you anywhere near his children, especially Aethel, his oldest.” Ylethus gave a belabored sigh and pushed open a large metal gate that serves as the entrance to the prison. “I’m never letting you out of my sight, again. I made a mistake in leaving you with the broden. You’re not just some child to be shuffled off onto caregivers. You’re my kid. You’re my responsibility. From now on, your place is at my side, no matter what.”
Ghelta felt the tears welling up her eyes again. She was surprised her body hadn’t run out of them after all these days. She began to sob openly for the first time in presence of her father.
“I got your klaive back from the broden-mother. It’s waiting for you at home.” Ylethus patted Ghelta’s backside in hopes to stop her tears. “Don’t ever let someone take that blade from you again, you hear?” He lifted Ghelta up and held her in front of him for a moment as he walked. “Next time someone disrespects you like that, don’t use any of that strange magick shit to try and eat their soul. You take your blade that I gave you, and you slit their gods-damned throat.” He smiled at her and lifted her to his other shoulder. “No one disrespects the daughter of the Vhollen. Warriors don’t suffer cowards and bullies to live. Remember that.”
“I will, papa.” Ghelta reached around Ylethus’ neck and embraced him. She felt his beard flow over her like a warm blanket. The braids of coarse hair soaked up her tears.
“—And this is why it’s important to always measure your strength with restraint. Honor doesn’t come from a warrior blindly showing power over others, but rather the temperance a warrior has with their heart.” Ylethus flourished his great sword in several figure-eight swivels at his sides. He was growing tired and lifted his hand from his hilt. “Quell!”
Ghelta immediately stopped her barrage of quick attacks with her klaive and lowered her blade. She stepped back and gathered what air she could in hard puffs. The old man wasn’t as proficient with large swords as he was with his favored jhulken-blades. He endured the swordplay because it allowed her to perfect her strikes with her klaive.
Ylethus struck the tip of his sword into the stone of the cliff-side and leaned down on the guard while he caught his breath. He lifted his right arm out to his side and flexed his fingers while stretching out the strained muscles with some flowing movements. He looked over to Ghelta and lifted his bushy brow up in a dance.
“Tolesh’s brilliant fuck, girl, I told you before we left the barracks to wear your damned armor!” Ylethus rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders. “What in Gehemol is wrong with you?”
“I’m wearing my armor, what are you talking about?” Ghelta tossed the hilt of her klaive from her left hand to her right hand and back. She looked down at herself and then back to Ylethus. She gripped her blade in her left hand and pointed to the fur-trimmed shoulder plates with her right hand. She leaned forward and swiveled her head to the sides. “I’m wearing it, ghah!”
Ylethus lifted himself from his blade and brought it up to slap the flat of his immense sword on Ghelta’s exposed midriff. He then let the tip of the blade trail down her hip and slap the exposed flesh of her thighs. His eyebrows continued their slow dance on his face.
“There is armor for these parts. They’re also the parts of your body an enemy will take full advantage of.” He leveled his sword at her and swung it from side to side while stepping toward her. “Maybe you want to get disemboweled or have the artery in your thighs severed to bleed out in mere moments.”
Ghelta reacted by stepping backward and then lunging into a back-flip from the oncoming blade. Once her feet were secure on the ground, she began to flick her klaive at the edge of Ylethus’ sword, making light contacts playfully. She looked to his eyes and shook her head.
“They limit my movement. It’s only leather armor anyway. Someone with a big enough weapon could penetrate it just as easily as my flesh.” She exposed her stomach at the tip of Ylethus’ swinging blade and then pulled back at the last second. “I’m better being quicker. I’m not a lumbering hulk like you.”
“This lumbering hulk has disemboweled his fair share of stupid idiots that didn’t wear all of their damned armor.” Ylethus lunged forward and lifted his sword into a high swing. “Besides that fact, I’m your Vhollen, you little git. When I command you to wear the armor I paid for you to wear, you will bloody-well wear the damn thing. Got it?”
Ghelta ducked under the blade and squatted on the ground like a gargoyle. She stuck her tongue out for a brief moment and then managed to parry another attack.
“Fine. Next time I’ll wear the damned armor you paid for me to damn-well wear.” She jumped into the air and grabbed the tip of Ylethus’ sword with her free hand, pushing it down and striking at the old warrior’s face with her klaive.
Ylethus dodged the attack by pivoting his head. “Okay, now that you realize you’re a dolt who won't live very long on the battlefield.” He paused and lifted his blade back up into a guarding stance. “Let’s move on to the next lesson.”
Ghelta lowered her face from her father in shame, she refused to make contact with his sky-blue eyes that took her in. The two men grasping onto each of her arms lifted her over the oubliette and held her above the floor. Her legs couldn’t hold her up, so they continued to strain to keep her standing.
“You look like shit.” Ylethus ran one of his hands through Ghelta’s matted and filth-clogged hair. He let his hand linger on her cheek and turned his gaze from her to the man who held the keys. “You couldn’t have put her in a proper cell, with proper food? The gods old and new, you treated her like an animal.” He turned back to Ghelta and let his hand fall. He looked her from head to toe, examining the stains on her flesh and the shackles still on her wrists and ankles.
Ghelta could see the muscles in Ylethus’ jaw tighten which made his beard quiver for a moment. She always knew this would lead to him exploding in anger over something. She lowered her eyes and prepared herself for the rage that would soon wash over her.
Ylethus turned and stomped toward the gravel-voiced man and without so much as a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed the man by the neck with his left hand and slammed him against a nearby stone wall. The man struggled against the mighty fingers of the giant, but he his panicked clawing was in vain. He was lifted from the ground like a straw doll, and the air was being crushed from his neck with only a slight shift of Ylethus’ tremendous weight.
“You think I wouldn’t notice that she was raped?” Ylethus leaned into the key-master’s face. He tightened two of his fingers which made the man’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. “Was it you that did the deed?” Ylethus quickly flicked over his shoulder with his right hand and liberated one of his jhulken-blades. He swung it back over his shoulder and pointed the curved blade at the two men holding Ghelta. He turned away to stare rage at the men. “Or was it you two?”
The two men let go of Ghelta’s arms in a panic, letting her fall to the stone floor in a heap. She looked from Ylethus to the key-master, and then to the two men on either side of her. She looked down at her legs beneath her, seeing that the tattered shirt she wore barely made it to her waist. She could see long stains of blood and grime trailing around her inner thighs up to her crotch.
“It matters not. You dare treat my daughter in such a way. You dare exploit her innocence in this place.” Ylethus’ voice was building into a howl as he began to froth between his teeth. His eyes were wide with murderous intent. “You dare do such a thing to a girl.” He took two sharp breaths and squeezed harder on the key-master’s neck until his body went limp. “You dare do this to my girl!”
Ghelta teetered back and forth while sitting on the cold and damp floor. She looked up at Ylethus and then to another shadow that emerged behind him. It took a few moments for her eyes to focus, but as the figure neared, she could make out the familiar shape of Grandmaster Toulam in the flickering light of some nearby candles.
Toulam pulled his hood from his face and leaned down to Ghelta. He steadied himself with his metal staff and placed one of his withered hands on her head. He leaned further down and placed his hand on her thigh and pulled her leg to the side. He looked back up into her eyes and patted her cheek lightly like he used to do when she was younger.
“Don’t kill him, Ylethus. He’s done no wrong.” Toulam got back up to his height with some groans and snaps from his aged body. He gave shuffling steps towards to the side and looked up at the rage-filled warrior. “Ghelta’s virtue wasn’t taken. She was merely visited by Celanna, the goddess in blood. I think this is her first bleeding and it won’t be her last.” He gave a chortle and shuffled a few more steps to the side.
Ylethus released his grip on the key-master and let his body slump to the ground. He lowered his blade ever-so-slightly and turned to look at the aged oracle. From his side, the key-master sucked in two breaths and choked himself back to consciousness.
“You’re certain. I don’t want to let these scoundrels live if there is any doubt. I’ll kill the entire prison-guard retinue if I need to.” He looked at Toulam who smiled and nodded. He lifted his blade over his shoulder and sheathed it once more. He lowered his head slightly and made his way with just two striding steps to Ghelta.
“Grab her, my friend. Bring her home where she belongs. I’ll give her a once over, get her cleaned up, and give her some exilirs to restore her health.” The Grandmaster lifted his hood over his head once more, covering up the scraggly white hair that adorned his leathery head. “I’ll have Vhoggli fetch some clean clothes and a hot bath for her. It’s about time that little bastard got off his rump and did something of value.” Toulam cackled and tottered off into the darkness.
Ylethus looked to the old oracle as he wandered off and then back to Ghelta. She looked up at him with tears streaming down her face and a faint smile. He reached down and with only the strength in his arms, he snapped the chains around her wrists and ankles. He lifted her gingerly in his hands and draped her over his shoulder. He looked up and noticed her bare bottom and with a faint-hearted chuckle he pulled his cape of station from his shoulders and draped it over her. She snatched up the edge and tucked it around herself.
“I swear, by the old gods and the new, you’ll be the death of me, girl.” He began to walk away from the two stunned prison-keepers and over the wheezing body of the key-master. “If you don’t cause me to murder the whole world before that.” He continued off down the darkened hallway and towards a metal door ahead.
“You should put me back in that hole.” Ghelta’s voice was faint and parched. She felt the warmth coming up from Ylethus’ leather armor and could feel the hairs of his beard tickling her toes. She looked back to the candlelit section of the hall and the prison she was confined to. “I murdered three people in cold blood. I deserve to be punished.”
“You didn’t murder three people, you guilt-ridden slob.” Ylethus shifted her on his shoulder and tightened the grip he had on her side. “Well-” He paused for a moment of contemplation. “You did kill that fat one. That was stupid, but thankfully she was an orphan from the Vollti tribe. No one will miss her, but I had to pay quite a large wergeldt for her life to the broden-mother. The dumb and squirrelly one survived, although his eyes will never be straight again.” Ylethus laughed heartily which caused Ghelta to jump up and down on his shoulder. “As for that conniving little shit, Aesothel, he’s still alive.”
“I tried to eat his soul.” Ghelta slumped against Ylethus’ back as the words escaped her lips.
“Yeah, something like that. I don’t know what in Gehemol you did, but you’re not allowed to do that anymore. I’ve talked with Toulam and he’s going to do some rituals to stop that kind of fucked up shit from happening ever again.” Ylethus lifted one of his hands and threw the metal doors open before him. Evening’s light filtered in from outside, as well as the first breaths of fresh air Ghelta, had in what felt like a small eternity. “That pecker-head was the chieftain’s son, you know.”
“I gathered as much from his bad attitude, poor choice in clothes, and the fact he pissed himself when I almost killed him.”
“Well, the chieftain doesn’t take kindly to people using unholy powers on his children. Even if they are ball-less little twits. That’s why you were thrown in the oubliette.” Ylethus continued into the open air beyond the prison. He passed into courtyard that was surrounded by other metal doors that led to other criminals trapped behind bars in one form or another. “Aesothel is alive, but he’ll end up with a care-giver for the rest of that miserable life. Whatever you did turned his hair white, made him blind in one eye, caused him to walk with a limp, and apparently his health is dismal.”
“Like I said, papa, I tried to eat his soul.” Ghelta lifted one of her hands over Ylethus’ shoulder and began to fiddle with the hilt of his jhulken-blade. “I don’t want to go back to the broden.”
“You won’t. The broden-mother is scared shit-less of you; thinks you’re some spawn of blood-haired devil or some-such. The chieftain doesn’t want you anywhere near his children, especially Aethel, his oldest.” Ylethus gave a belabored sigh and pushed open a large metal gate that serves as the entrance to the prison. “I’m never letting you out of my sight, again. I made a mistake in leaving you with the broden. You’re not just some child to be shuffled off onto caregivers. You’re my kid. You’re my responsibility. From now on, your place is at my side, no matter what.”
Ghelta felt the tears welling up her eyes again. She was surprised her body hadn’t run out of them after all these days. She began to sob openly for the first time in presence of her father.
“I got your klaive back from the broden-mother. It’s waiting for you at home.” Ylethus patted Ghelta’s backside in hopes to stop her tears. “Don’t ever let someone take that blade from you again, you hear?” He lifted Ghelta up and held her in front of him for a moment as he walked. “Next time someone disrespects you like that, don’t use any of that strange magick shit to try and eat their soul. You take your blade that I gave you, and you slit their gods-damned throat.” He smiled at her and lifted her to his other shoulder. “No one disrespects the daughter of the Vhollen. Warriors don’t suffer cowards and bullies to live. Remember that.”
“I will, papa.” Ghelta reached around Ylethus’ neck and embraced him. She felt his beard flow over her like a warm blanket. The braids of coarse hair soaked up her tears.
* * *
“—And this is why it’s important to always measure your strength with restraint. Honor doesn’t come from a warrior blindly showing power over others, but rather the temperance a warrior has with their heart.” Ylethus flourished his great sword in several figure-eight swivels at his sides. He was growing tired and lifted his hand from his hilt. “Quell!”
Ghelta immediately stopped her barrage of quick attacks with her klaive and lowered her blade. She stepped back and gathered what air she could in hard puffs. The old man wasn’t as proficient with large swords as he was with his favored jhulken-blades. He endured the swordplay because it allowed her to perfect her strikes with her klaive.
Ylethus struck the tip of his sword into the stone of the cliff-side and leaned down on the guard while he caught his breath. He lifted his right arm out to his side and flexed his fingers while stretching out the strained muscles with some flowing movements. He looked over to Ghelta and lifted his bushy brow up in a dance.
“Tolesh’s brilliant fuck, girl, I told you before we left the barracks to wear your damned armor!” Ylethus rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders. “What in Gehemol is wrong with you?”
“I’m wearing my armor, what are you talking about?” Ghelta tossed the hilt of her klaive from her left hand to her right hand and back. She looked down at herself and then back to Ylethus. She gripped her blade in her left hand and pointed to the fur-trimmed shoulder plates with her right hand. She leaned forward and swiveled her head to the sides. “I’m wearing it, ghah!”
Ylethus lifted himself from his blade and brought it up to slap the flat of his immense sword on Ghelta’s exposed midriff. He then let the tip of the blade trail down her hip and slap the exposed flesh of her thighs. His eyebrows continued their slow dance on his face.
“There is armor for these parts. They’re also the parts of your body an enemy will take full advantage of.” He leveled his sword at her and swung it from side to side while stepping toward her. “Maybe you want to get disemboweled or have the artery in your thighs severed to bleed out in mere moments.”
Ghelta reacted by stepping backward and then lunging into a back-flip from the oncoming blade. Once her feet were secure on the ground, she began to flick her klaive at the edge of Ylethus’ sword, making light contacts playfully. She looked to his eyes and shook her head.
“They limit my movement. It’s only leather armor anyway. Someone with a big enough weapon could penetrate it just as easily as my flesh.” She exposed her stomach at the tip of Ylethus’ swinging blade and then pulled back at the last second. “I’m better being quicker. I’m not a lumbering hulk like you.”
“This lumbering hulk has disemboweled his fair share of stupid idiots that didn’t wear all of their damned armor.” Ylethus lunged forward and lifted his sword into a high swing. “Besides that fact, I’m your Vhollen, you little git. When I command you to wear the armor I paid for you to wear, you will bloody-well wear the damn thing. Got it?”
Ghelta ducked under the blade and squatted on the ground like a gargoyle. She stuck her tongue out for a brief moment and then managed to parry another attack.
“Fine. Next time I’ll wear the damned armor you paid for me to damn-well wear.” She jumped into the air and grabbed the tip of Ylethus’ sword with her free hand, pushing it down and striking at the old warrior’s face with her klaive.
Ylethus dodged the attack by pivoting his head. “Okay, now that you realize you’re a dolt who won't live very long on the battlefield.” He paused and lifted his blade back up into a guarding stance. “Let’s move on to the next lesson.”
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