Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

Chapter 58: ' Steel Clangour '

POV: Leobald Tallhart;

Allied camp, Bear Island.

About five hours after a body was returned to sender...

"You're not seriously going to fight a duel! Tell me this is just a strategy to catch the bastards off guard..." Said a worried Uncle to a nephew.

Leobald was shocked by the situation he found on the battlefield. Gerion had remained to defend the harbor and ships with over 1,000 men, while the General of the Second Legion together with Lord Jorah Mormont had taken the remaining 2,000 troops, mainly consisting of Tallhart and Dustin forces, and rushed towards the appointed point.

In the naval battle against the 20 Iron Fleet longships and the second battle in the harbor, the Allied forces had suffered some 220 losses and nearly a hundred casualties.

When Leobald arrived, he expected to face a fierce battle with the remaining enemy forces. However, this was not the case, the thing that shocked him most was not the almost two thousand enemy bodies scattered across the camp, but the remaining 2,000 enemy forces.

Lord Drumm moved the camp to a more lateral position about 400 feet from the only viable wooded path. He had positioned himself with his back to the wall of a massive rock face...

The enemy was trapped with no way out. It took him only a minute to realize that victory was at hand.

Then his nephew arrived and explained the situation and the truce agreement they had made with the enemy.

"No Uncle, no tricks. Of course, we will carefully monitor that Lord Drumm does not take advantage of the situation to attempt some surprise attack, but I doubt that will happen." Duncan said, turning his gaze on both Leobald and Jorah Mormont.

"TOO RISKY!

I will not allow you to continue this madness, I will take command from here on out!" Leobald.

Jorah remained in a religious silence, not wanting to intervene in that discussion that was more familiar than strategic. He owed much to both individuals in front of him and would step aside until spoken to.

"Uncle...I don't want to play the authority card...

I know you are doing this for my sake, but I am acting in the interests of my House and the North.

Even in this position and with twice the numbers of the enemy, we could not avoid hundreds more deaths in our ranks.

The solution to saving those lives is this one and there is no other.

Have faith in me, I can win." Duncan.

Leobald was silent for a few seconds, racking his brains for an alternative, but he couldn't find one.

That damned crazy nephew of his was right.

"But you don't have to be the one to fight!

Let someone else represent our forces... I..." Leobald stopped his words.

Over the past two years, the man, who had always had little talent for fighting, had practiced a great deal in the art of the spear and hand-to-hand combat. He had abandoned the way of the sword altogether.

Galladon Sand had even instructed him more than once, but the improvements were slow and minimal.

He knew he did not stand a chance against Denys Drumm...

At that point, a third voice intruded into the conversation.

"Lord Duncan, you have defended my Island and protected my family and people by taking on the burden and responsibility that I should have carried myself.

Leave it to me to face Lord Denys." Said Jorah with a resolute and determined look. Everyone could tell that Lord Jorah was ready to fight, every part of the man's body craved bloodlust. He was ready at any moment to unsheathe his sword of Valyria and charge at the enemy.

"Lord Jorah...

I do not doubt that you are a worthy warrior.

Your fame and fighting spirit say much about you, my lord.

But I must be honest with you...

you're no match for Denys Drumm. You would lose the fight at least two out of three times... The risk is too great, my lord.

I met Lord Drumm about three hours ago, I assure you my Lord that I am good at evaluating warriors.

Denys Drumm's reputation is also well deserved...

He is not an opponent you can easily defeat, my lord.

That being said, even if I were on the same level as him, there is another 'monster' more dangerous than Denys that I would have to face should you perish in that fight." Said Duncan looking for an understanding with the ''betrothed''.

For a moment Jorah didn't understand who the boy was referring to...

Then a flash of lightning turned on his head.

'He knows! He knows about me and Barbrey...

How?...

'The news shouldn't be out of Barrowton. ' Thought Jorah.

'My Lords, I have already given my word.

We cannot back out.

Trust me, tomorrow morning I will face Lord Drumm and close the chapter of this Ironborn military campaign."

Jorah stepped forward, approaching the two members of House Tallhart.

For a moment Leobald hoped that the Mormont man would not give up at his nephew's words.

Then Jorah said:

"Then, at least allow me to contribute in another way."

End POV.

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POV: Denys Drumm;

Mid-camp, Bear Island.

About three hours earlier...

Two ironborn men dragged a naked corpse to the feet of an eleven-year-old boy.

The body was bruised, full of cuts, with multiple fractures and an almost unrecognizable face. Even the teeth had been pulled out...

Duncan could also deduce the cause of death - Maester Louis had been drowned.

"I don't think Maester Louis believed in the faith of the Drawed God... "Said the boy to the man in full armor in front of him less than ten feet away. Two Northmen picked up the body and dragged it to the rear.

Twenty-two men in total were present at that point in the camp just a few feet outside the archers' enemy range.

Ten armed men escorted both factions and the two leaders.

"It is precisely because he did not believe in our faith that he was baptized in water and salt.

Maester Louis will now be reborn in the depths of the abyss." Replied the man nearly six and a half feet tall, with a steely gaze, a shaggy, unkempt beard accentuated on his chin, short brown and grey hair, numerous scars on his face, and a massive body.

Denys was not disappointed by the figure in front of him.

Although the boy was almost half his size, he still expressed a sense of confidence and assurance in his every movement.

He recognized the look of a warrior in those green eyes with silvery tones.

When the two Northmen reached a distance of thirty feet from their General, Bloody Snow replied.

"Thank you, Lord Drumm, for taking the weight of this burden off our shoulders.

It would have been difficult to explain to the citadel, 'why Maester Louis is no longer with us.'

I don't much appreciate spies...

I just hope he didn't disgrace us too much during the early negotiations." Lord Drumm was pleasantly surprised by the boy's words.

' He knew he would never go back...

He made us do the dirty work thus keeping his hands clean. Ahahahahaha!

I like him more and more... ' Thought Drumm.

'You're welcome, Bloody Snow.

I've always despised cowards and I've never been able to stand men who hide behind a title...

The poor guy probably repeated the words 'Maester of the Citadel' at least twenty times... Ahahaha.

I'm afraid I have to admit that the slimy eunuch was scared shitless and pissed off before we laid a finger on him." Denys replied, smiling.

"I beg your pardon, my lord, for the stench and whatever another unworthy spectacle maester Louis has shown you..." Bloody Snow.

"No offense, Bloody Snow...

Are we done with the pleasantries?" Denys the Bloodthirsty.

"Of course, Lord Denys.

Let us move on to more relevant matters.

If it is all right with you, my lord, I propose that the duel take place tomorrow morning, one hour after first light.

I'm a little tired.

I would like to rest a bit before facing you, but if you wish to have that advantage, I am willing to advance the fight." Bloody Snow.

"Ahahah! No, no. Tomorrow after dawn will do just fine.

I would never allow it to be said, that Denys Drumm only won because of his better physical condition.

I want you to be at your best, boy." Denys.

"Well, my lord. Tomorrow it is then.

Any rules about weapons?" Bloody Snow.

"None...

Tomorrow I shall come here with my armor, my sword, my ax, and a few hidden blades.

Tool up as you see fit." Denys.

"Alright then.

Tomorrow I too will fight with a bastard sword and bring only another pair of short daggers. I'll wear the armor you see now." Bloody Snow.

"A little light, don't you think?" Denys asked with a mischievous smile.

"It is, but it makes for easier movement.

I also think a tempered steel plate isn't much use against your slashes." Bloody Snow returned the smile.

"Ahahahahah!

I can't wait for tomorrow, Bloody Snow.

I hope you can handle at least a minute of fighting...

Please don't let me down." Denys.

"I will, my lord, I promise.

Might I bestow some advice on you?" Bloody Snow.

"Please, my lord." Denys.

"I believe your scouts have informed you that within the hour my uncle and his 2,000 men will arrive here.

I would suggest you move your forces from that position and let my emissaries inform Lord Leobald and Lord Jorah of the facts.

I believe the air is charged with tension at the moment..." Bloody Snow.

"... I will take your advice, I have no problem moving to the camp.

Any other requests?" Denys.

"... mmm Actually there is one.

Although I admit it's a bit brazen and inappropriate." Bloody Snow.

"Ahahaha!

Ask away boy, I may be ruthless, but I always try to grant one last request to those condemned to death." Denys.

"Would you grant me the honor of being able to see and examine your sword, my lord?

Is that the legendary 'Red Rain'?" Bloody Snow asked, pointing a finger at the Admiral's belt.

Denys was stunned by the request for a couple of seconds.

This was the first time that someone had dared to ask him such a request...

Denys himself, only touched the blade for the first time at the age of twelve, after he returned from his first raid.

Then Denys pulled the blade from its sheath with a snap. The men of the North and Iron Islands reacted promptly by gripping the hilts of their weapons.

Bloody Snow raised a hand, signaling that there was no need to intervene.

The dark red blade, a veteran of a hundred battles and soaked in the blood of thousands of men, shone and gleamed in its splendor even though the sun was still half-covered by clouds.

Then Denys held out the hilt to his future opponent...

"You paid the price of iron, Bloody Snow," Denys said in a respectful and serious tone. The boy took a couple of steps forward and carefully grasped the blade, making a small bowing gesture.

Bloody Snow held the bastard blade with both hands on the hilt, looked at it, and examined it in silence for a good minute.

The boy seemed to be mesmerized by the rippling features of the blade.

Denys allowed the young man to feel what he had felt almost 25 years ago. He even seemed to see himself back in time.

Then handing the blade back to its owner, Bloody Snow said:

"A beautiful blade, my lord.

Now I understand why you choose to fight to wield an ax and a bastard blade at the same time.

I have never wielded a blade so light and well balanced." Denys calmly grasped the hilt and sheathed the sword in its dark leather scabbard.

Then breaking that moment of quiet, he said:

"I am glad you have thoroughly scrutinized the blade that will end your glory.

Fear not boy, nothing cuts better than the steel of Valyria.

The slash that will take your life will be clean and precise, you will not suffer too much..." Bloody Snow didn't react in the slightest after hearing those words.

Then after a few moments, in a tone that expressed certainty of the facts, he restated:

"Wield those blows with all your skill and bring as much honor and glory as you can to your House, my lord...

For from tomorrow until the end of time, that blade will belong to House Tallhart." Bloody Snow.

"... Bold words, boy.

Tomorrow I'll cut them from your life too." Denys the Bloodthirsty.

"No...

You will try, Lord Denys."

End POV.

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POV: A Concerned Lady;

Allied Camp, Bear Island.

Some fourteen hours after two commanders concluded their negotiations...

Dacey hadn't slept that night.

The girl was anxious after her mother had informed her of the duel that was to take place in less than an hour.

At first, when her mother and cousin had informed her of the duel, the girl was amazed and fascinated by the unfolding of events.

Her bear, she had challenged a fearsome warrior, Danys The BloodyThirsty, to a duel. Even she knew the fame of this man from the Iron Islands.

Ten years ago, Denys and ten other ships of House Drumm raided the southern coast of the island, bringing death and destruction to House Mormont.

A blitz attack that brought suffering to hundreds of innocent people. Denys had managed to strike and escape before his Uncle Jeor and his men could respond.

That was just one of the dozens of successful raids that created Denys Drumm's dreaded reputation.

Even the ships of House Redwine tried their best to avoid a direct confrontation with the dreaded ''Red Foam'', the longship of which he was the captain.

Will Bloody Snow be able to win?

Will he be injured during the clash?

What if he loses his life?

Can I intervene during the fight if he's in trouble?!

Why? Why risk so much?

Is he doing this because I called him a coward a few days ago?

No! Why would he care what I think?!?! What a fool I am!!! These and hundreds of other similar thoughts plagued poor Dacey throughout the night.

"That's it, I've decided.

I'm going to talk to him!!!" Said Dacey as she emerged from her tent inside the cave.

The girl was more resolute than ever. She knew where to go to find her target.

About five minutes later...

"Please, my lady." Said one of the Guardians guarding the entrance to the tent.

"...Tha...Thank you, Ser!" Dacey entered.

"Good morning, my lady!" Said a boy in armor in an awkward tone.

"Good morning Blo...

Lord Duncan!" Replied an equally awkward girl.

The two stood staring at each other for a few seconds of awkward absolute silence...

"I..." "How..." Said the two at the same time, interrupting each other.

"Ladies first!" Duncan.

"...I...emm..." Dacey's brain and mouth froze at the figure in front of her.

Only now did Dacey notice those gorgeous hypnotic eyes of a color she had never seen before.

That almost silver shiny hair, the smooth skin on that charming, well-proportioned face.

She felt so stupid and blind for not noticing those features before.

"Yes, my Lady?..." And she hadn't even realized that she had been stunned like a fool for at least ten seconds...

"THAT'S ME...

I...emm

I wanted to wish you luck, my lord!" Said Dacey, uttering the last sentence with a rapidity equal to the final warnings of pharmaceutical advertisements.

"...Tha...Thank you, my lady." Said the unarmed and helpless boy.

'What a figure!!! I looked like a crazy horse!!!

Damn me!!! Say something sensible Dacey!!! ' Thought the twelve-year-old urgently.

'My lord... I came to tell you...

Yes, I wanted to tell you to tighten your grip on the sword handle and not to turn your side too much when you receive a blow to your left!!!" Dacey said with a slightly slower rate of speech than before.

The girl spat out the only sensible words she could come up with at that moment.

"...

Yes, my lady...

Thank you for your advice...

I will try to be careful." Bloody Snow.

' FOOL! WHAT YOU'RE LOOKING AT COULD SLICE YOU UP IN YOUR SLEEP! A WARRIOR WHO'S TAKEN OUT OVER FIFTY IRONBORN ON THE FIELD IN FRONT OF YOUR EYES! AND THE ONLY THING YOU CAN SAY TO HIM IS SOME BASIC FENCING ADVICE?!!!! ARRGHH!!!' Shrieked a voice inside Dacey's head.

The girl, struck by a state of pure panic and embarrassment, fled the tent without even saying goodbye...

End POV.

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POV: Duncan;

Battlefield Centre, Bear Island.

About an hour after an embarrassing maiden escaped...

Now I no longer had the time to try and translate and analyze the bizarre turn of events of an hour ago...

I had to regain my full concentration on my target in front of me.

I was less than 30 feet away from that mass of hardened steel that exuded a murderous aura perceptible from a kilometer away.

A big, bright, roaring green [9] rose less than a foot high from Denys' exposed head.

From the neck down, every inch of Danys' body was covered, but he had chosen to fight without a helmet.

A choice I respected within myself. There was no risk of a stray arrow or dart; I was at least a foot and an inch shorter than him. He would probably use that supposed weak spot as bait for his hook.

I also noticed that his armor was much shinier and more reflective than the day before. The sun was not yet high and shone brightly on many parts of that mirror of steel...

'Sly and lawful move...' I thought to myself, praising and respecting the man.

I had a little surprise of my own...

A surprise that even I didn't expect to have until 8 hours ago.

At my side, instead of my freshly forged bastard sword of Damascus, was Longclaw...

A sword, which ever since I saw the first season of a certain TV show, I had always dreamed of wielding.

After Lord Jorah accepted the fact that he could not take part in the duel, he offered me his family sword on loan.

Even in this fight, House Tallhart and House Mormont would fight alongside each other.

Before giving myself six hours of restful rest, I had spent three whole hours familiarizing myself with the blade.

Three magical hours...

It was as if the sword knew what movements I wanted to make, and adjusted itself accordingly with its weight. The sound of the blade's edge cutting through the air was almost non-existent.

Now I understood the basic magic swords of the Forgotten Realms world better...

Longclaw could be classified as a [+1] or even [+2] blade. It was no match for any other non-Valyrian blade on this continent...

Now that I had wielded not one but two of the best swords in Westeros and Essos, I kept thinking of a famous phrase from one of my favorite director's films.

[If you want to compare a Hanzo sword, you have to compare it with every other sword created... that is, not created by Hattori Hanz].

It was true.

Even though I considered my victory a very likely event, I did not make the grave mistake of underestimating my opponent.

This was by far the most dangerous fight I had ever taken part in.

I had practiced thousands of times with Syggha, Will, and Master Leng. All level [9] warriors.

Although I had defeated each of them in training on more than one occasion over the previous six months, they were not to the death.

This was a factor I took into serious consideration.

The level wasn't everything...

Dozens of other factors could influence the course of events.

Assuming that a challenge took place on neutral ground and that both challengers were in good mental and physical condition,

elements such as difference in statistics, quality of weapons and armor, knowledge of enemy skills, different fighting styles, and the luck factor, could drastically change the balance of the scales.

I was not currently able to use Zick's technique.

If I had used one of the eleven maneuvers of the [Gate Closure], I could have suffered a serious injury.

I would have needed at least another 24 hours of absolute rest to decrease the stress accumulated in my ligaments and muscles.

However, if needed, I could still use two or three more maneuvers for up to 20-30 seconds before reaching a point of no return.

I would have to fight mainly with the basic style that I had been training and toughening up every day.

According to Zick, my body still needed at least 3 or 4 years of training to be able to practice the maneuvers for more than half an hour a day...

Still, I was confident in my abilities despite this handicap.

Over two thousand ironborn men were arranged in a slightly haphazard manner in six rows less than a hundred feet from Denys. Behind me, at a similar distance, were more than three thousand.

Admiral Gerion Lannister, along with 200 other Lannister and Northern men, had also arrived to watch the clash.

Denys noticed the ivory pommel in the shape of a bear's head on my sword.

"Is that Longclaw?" Denys asked. I nodded in response.

"Well...

This duel will remain in the history books for thousands of years.

I couldn't ask for better." Denys said, bursting with excitement and desire.

"ON MY CHALLENGE! IN A FEW MOMENTS A DUEL WILL TAKE PLACE BETWEEN THE TWO LEADERS OF THESE ENEMY FACTIONS.

THE TERMS OF VICTORY AND DEFEAT HAVE ALREADY BEEN ANNOUNCED.

ON THE HONOUR OF MY HOUSE AND ON THE FAITH OF THE ANCIENT GODS IN WHICH I BELIEVE, I, DUNCAN OF HOUSE TALLHART, SWEAR HERE BEFORE YOU ALL THAT IN THE EVENT OF MY DEMISE AND DEFEAT, THE ALLIED ARMIES OF THE NORTH WILL HONOUR THE TERMS OF OUR AGREEMENT.

MAY GODS AND MEN CURSE AND PUNISH ANY WHO FAIL TO KEEP THIS PROMISE." A respectful silence hung in the air after I spoke those words.

I took two steps back, leaving Denys to his own devices.

"I, DENYS OF HOUSE DRUMM, ADMIRAL AND LEADER OF THIS FLEET, ACCEPT YOUR CHALLENGE.

IN THE EVENT OF MY DEFEAT, THE MEN OF HOUSE DRUMM WILL RESPECT AND ACCEPT THEIR FATE. I SWEAR IT ON THE HONOUR OF MY HOUSE AND THE DROWNED GOD.

MAY THE DROWNED GOD AND THE MEN WHO WORSHIP HIM PUNISH AND CURSE FOR ALL ETERNITY ANYONE WHO TARNISHES OR DISHONORS THIS OATH." Denys returned to his position after a few seconds.

Denys' words thundered with sincerity and absolute will in his intent.

Many ironmen nodded and muttered the word [Aye] in acceptance.

Denys and I stood facing each other.

He first drew Red Rain, brandishing it with his right hand, and grabbed his ax with his left.

In response, I donned my helmet and drew Longclaw, wielding it with both hands.

We both approached our target at a moderate but sure pace.

Roars of encouragement and excitement erupted everywhere.

Denys set off with Valyria's first slash of steel from above, while I responded with a firm cross parry.

"SCKHIIIIIIIIIINNNGGG" A thunderous, tuneful, harmonious, and disruptive clangor swept through the air as if a visible sound wave had erupted...