Briorn was in the arena, on the inner floor of the lowest ring, it was a large place, full of expensive stone and people shouting for blood before he even stepped in, beside him were Hrafn and Dagny.
The cripple wore an imposing armor, and was holding the ram-horned helmet, Dagny, on the other hand, came far too lightly for someone about to enter a battle, she wore no shield, did not even wear a decent weapon. She carried only a bunch of pouches strapped to her body.
"Are you sure this is going to work, boy?" Dagny asked.
"I'm not," Hrafn replied. "But all you have to do is run to the other side, do the job and leave the arena, after that the rest will no longer be your problem."
He then turned his face to Briorn with that disgusting crooked smile, clearly ready to say something nasty. "Don't start, legs," Briorn warned first.
"Legs?" Dagny asked, frowning.
"He likes to focus on what there is extra of," Hrafn replied. "That's why he never talks about the siz—" he was saying, but stopped halfway, wary.
Briorn broke into a wide smile, the chances in which he managed to make the bastard swallow his own tongue were rare, and that almost already paid for the risk of the battle. The rest of the payment came in the form of the promised gold and, of course, the shitty face of the Hird instructor when he decided to show up there. The man had spent nearly half an hour talking about agreements, orders and consequences, but Briorn could not care less.
A decent man helped a friend dip his biscuit, even if he had to risk his own neck, that was Briron's philosophy. "Hakon, right?" he asked.
"Yes."
Briorn nodded slowly, like one accepting a sacred responsibility. "You know, cripple..." He paused just to stretch out the mockery. "You're actually a nice guy. You give me good food, good coin."
He scratched his head with an air half embarrassed, like an idiot happy to have earned permission for something dirty. "You even gave me the chance to beat up a noble." His smile grew. "I always dreamed of beating up a noble."
"It's a fair dream," Dagny said, raising her thumb.
Hrafn opened his mouth again, probably to ruin the beauty of the moment with some clever answer, but gave up for the second time. That left Briorn even more satisfied, ee was even willing to provoke a little more, if the great stone passage in front of them had not begun to open at that instant.
The light of the arena came in like a slap. "Well," Hrafn said, placing the iron mace over his shoulder and shifting the weight of the armor from one foot to the other.
"Try not to die, boy," Dagny added. Then pulled a dagger from her waist and opened several holes in the pouches strapped to her own body.
Briorn saw that and felt the joy rise. "Let's fuck them up!." And as soon as his voice fell, the three of them began to run.
That was another part of the cripple's plan, Hrafn was a fellow full of plans, full of little calculations and worries about details that Briorn would never waste time chewing over. In his view, it was easier to go in and beat the shit out of those noble bastards until one side stopped moving. But Hrafn had been insistent in his own petty machinations, and Dagny had accepted, so Briorn accepted too.
When his feet touched the higher floor, he saw three figures emerging from the opposite entrance. The noise of the crowd invaded his ears right after, thousands of voices yelling with feet stomping. Brirn liked the glory of too many people looking at him, that seemed right to him.
He even thought of slowing his step and blowing kisses to some pretty little face in the stands, maybe a middle finger to someone who looked smug. But Hrafn would end up complaining afterward, and Briorn was making a sincere effort to cooperate.
The cripple ran ahead of everyone, even with the heavier armor. Briorn did not like admitting that kind of thing, but going around getting married, killing beasts in the darkness and making pacts with wooden things apparently had made Hrafn pretty strong.
The other three figures on the other side were not running, they merely advanced with slowness. The arrogant calm of those who already thought themselves victorious. When Briorn, Hrafn and Dagny reached the middle of the arena, the enemies had barely crossed a third of their part.
He studied the three while he ran, the one in the middle could only be Hakon, because he had the face of a spoiled girl and a whore's smile, and he wore an armor far too fresh, as if the whole fucking thing had come out of a children's book. The spear seemed even worse, all worked over as if it had been pulled out of a fairy's ass.
The other two were older, and carried short sword and shield. The three had the same face of people who deserved to get punched, with noses in the air, crooked smiles and puffed-up chests. Briorn decided to break everything right at the start and leave the rest to the cripple, who certainly already had some damned plan.
He pulled all the air around him into his chest, his next step struck the ground and cracked the arena floor, and the next was much worse, bathed to the limit with megin. The tremor rose through his whole body when he connected with the ground, and the stone below answered. The floor split beneath his feet and hurled him forward, launching him in a low flight toward the one he judged to be Hakon.
The three voroirs ahead laughed, they were probably thinking too much. That was the problem with people, Briorn thought, they thought too much. When he was a few meters from them, Hakon pointed the spear with a pretty smile, clearly satisfied to receive a target flying with chest wide open.
Poor thing.
Briorn was talented where he truly cared: violence and brutality, and in the instant before the impact, the ground beneath the three changed, some parts gave way, others rose, with the stone betraying all of their balance. The two older ones reacted quickly, but Hakon lost his bearings for too long.
Briorn landed safely right in front of him crouched, and already turning his body, a sweep came low and heavy, launched at the iron thigh of the armor. There was a crash of metal against metal and then Hakon went flying to the side, hitting one of the allies before beginning to bounce through the stone like a rag doll.
The crowd roared and Briorn smiled with all his teeth.
The other two turned to him at once, which was great, because he would not have much time to make noise, since he was using everything he had right at the start. The first one's sword came down fast, Briorn answered with a precise punch to the side of the blade, feeling the impact rise all the way to his shoulder. The second came swift, trying to cut low, but Briorn stepped back half a step and leaned backward, using his short height to his advantage. He danced between the two with an angry agility, dodging, knocking away and sending heavy sweeps to throw the enemy off balance.
Always keeping his eyes on the corner where Hakon was still trying to figure out where he had ended up. It was good that he stayed on the ground a little longer, to give Dagny enough time.
The common warrior passed between them and the fallen noble, running with everything she had. The sound of her breathing echoed dry, her eyes fixed ahead. The torn pouches kept spilling small seeds as she advanced.
"I surrender!" she shouted. And kept running toward the exit on the other side of the arena.