Haakon Bloodreaver's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The two warbands drank under one banner now, but their camp was a sprawl of tents on open ash. Haakon Bloodreaver walked its edge at dawn and saw the truth. A chief with no walls was a chief who could be left behind. When he spoke, men listened only as long as he stood before them. He needed a seat that stayed when he was gone. Hilde Bloodrune found him staring across the wasteland. She planted her spear in the dirt. "They obey your blood oath," she said. "But a warband follows a place too. Give them a hall, and your word outlives the fire." Haakon knew the place already. A day's march east stood a fortress of black stone, crowned with jagged ramparts and pyramids of skulls. A dead champion's keep, abandoned since his fall. "Then we take it," Haakon said. But the keep was not empty. Torgar The Fallen held it. He was a champion in red and gold plate, an axe as long as a man across his back. Haakon had heard the name. Torgar had killed three chiefs who came to bend the knee. He answered the march with laughter from the gate. "You bind enemies with your own blood," Torgar called down. "I heard. Bleed for me, boy, and I might let you live as my dog." Haakon did not answer with words. He climbed the black steps alone. Behind him, Durgan Skulltaker moved to follow, his massive arms bare, runes red on his skin. Haakon raised one hand. "Mine," he said. Durgan stopped and grinned, teeth wide. Torgar swung first. The great axe tore a chunk from the stone where Haakon had stood. Haakon rolled beneath it and drove his blade into the gap behind Torgar's knee. The champion roared. He backhanded Haakon into the gate. Ribs cracked. Haakon spat blood and stood. Torgar lifted the axe for the killing blow. Haakon stepped inside the swing, too close for the long weapon. He rammed his blade up under the champion's jaw. Torgar shook, dropped his axe, and fell. Haakon set his boot on the dead champion's chest and cut the head free. He held it high over the ramparts. The warbands below did not cheer at once. They watched. Then Hrothgar Bloodmark, a horned rider with a braided beard, struck his axe against his shield. Durgan joined him. The whole host followed until the black stone shook. Haakon carried the skull inside and set it at the foot of the bone throne in the keep's heart. He sat. The seat was his now, and the walls were his, and every chief in the wasteland would know where to find him. But a hall draws eyes. That night Hilde stood at his side and read the sky. "You have a throne," she said. "Now the ones who feared to face a wandering warlord will come for the one who sits still."