Return to Kinthaldith

A novel by Meredith Skye

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The sound of blade against sheath warned Risser, and he remembered that Darrish had kept a knife in his boot. Quickly, Risser turned and met Darrish as he got up and lunged forward, impaling himself on Risser's outstretched sword. The sword went through his heart, and Risser stared at his friend's face, drawn in surprise and horror.

Risser caught Darrish by the shoulder and helped his body to the ground. He was dead. Risser felt a sudden surge of grief and knelt by him. "How are you such a greedy, heartless fool?" he said. Risser hadn't wanted this. Why hadn't Risser ever seen through him all these years? Darrish was fun--a great drinking partner but a terrible friend. Lady Tireth had always despised Darrish; perhaps she was not such an old fool as he had thought.

Risser pulled his blade out and walked towards the others, his sword still dripping blood. "So, who else wants to challenge me?" he asked. Lord Stellan looked furious. Darish's younger brother Ferrell stared at Risser in shock. Lord Harttan looked curious, and Risser suspected he was already writing a poem about this.

Immediately, Lord Stellanthorrin turned and headed for one of the exits. The man was a good swordsman but aging. Perhaps he didn't trust himself against Risser--afraid of losing his kingdom. But Stellan was also fighting a war with the Terresheld and couldn't afford another war.

Risser approached the remaining two: Lord Harttan, who looked like an observer as usual, and Ferrell, who looked quite pale. "I claim Yannishannor for my own," said Risser, "Do you dispute it? If so, fight me."

Ferrell looked terrified. He was a terrible swordsman, and Risser knew it. He made no response.

"I'll make you this offer. You can run Yannishannor as an earl under my authority if you'll swear fealty to me," said Risser, knowing that it was still unlikely that he would even make it home alive. Ferrell looked over at Lord Harttan as though for help, but Harttan gave him no encouragement either way. "Otherwise, we'll settle it now," said Risser.

"All right, I agree," said Ferrell, unhappy at this turn of events but too frightened to argue.

"You'll act as witness?" Risser asked Lord Harttan.

Harttan nodded. "I will." News was his specialty in the form of ballads, songs, and plays. Risser trusted Harttan would be truthful about the event.

"Kneel," said Risser said to Ferrell.

Reluctantly, Ferrell knelt and repeated the oath of fealty after Risser. Risser touched the sword to each of his shoulders and let him rise. "Report to me at the Hasson in one month, or I shall consider our kingdoms at war," said Risser.

Ferrell said nothing but met his gaze sullenly.

Risser's mind was clearing some, and he realized that they had to get out of the building before more guards arrived. Then he remembered Jesh and turned to try to find him.

Jesh had come down the ramp and stood behind them a little way off, observing. He looked ghostly with his pale face--and exhausted. Still, there was now a hint of hope in his eyes again.

Quickly, Risser went over to him. He found the key in his satchel and unlocked the chain from Jesh's hands. He felt he should apologize but didn't know what to say; nothing seemed adequate.

He grabbed a cloak that had fallen from one of the guards and threw it around Jesh's shoulder. "Come on," said Risser. When Jesh hesitated, still somewhat dazed from his condition, Risser took his arm and ran, pulling Jesh with him.

Out in the corridor, Risser ran towards their room. Soon, he heard voices coming toward him. He found a door and pulled Jesh into it. They hid briefly as maybe five or six men ran past. Once they were gone, Risser hurried back out and down the hall. They didn't have much time, and he wanted to get their stuff back--if they were to have a chance of surviving and making it back to the Hasson.