Red bone's Arc

Chapter 6 of 12

Grok swung first. The club cut the air where Red bone's head had been. Red bone stepped aside and felt his legs drag. His first fight had drained him. His arms burned. The kneeling warriors watched from the snow, and he knew what they looked for. A fearless chief who led from the front. If they saw him stagger, saw his breath come ragged, they would rise and walk back to their camp. No one kneels to a man who is only tired. So Red bone did not let them see it. He straightened his back. He kept his axe high as if it weighed nothing. The club came again, low and fast. He did not block it. A block would show how little strength he had left. Instead he ducked and let it pass over him, then stood tall again, calm, like a man with all night to spare. Grok roared and charged. Red bone held his ground before the great timber hall, hides and banners stiff with frost at his back. He would not retreat toward it. Retreat was fear, and fear would lose him the clan. The red hound darted in and bit the ogre's heel. Grok kicked at her. The armored bear rose and slammed its weight into Grok's side. The ogre stumbled. That was the opening. Red bone forced his dead arms to lift. He drove his shoulder into Grok's chest, the same trick that had felled the chief. But Grok was twice the chief's size. The ogre barely moved. Red bone's boots slid on the ice. For one breath, his guard dropped and his exhaustion showed plain on his face. The warriors saw it. A murmur passed through them. One man set a hand on the snow to rise. Red bone could not win by strength now. He had none left. So he laughed. Loud and easy, as if the fight amused him. "Is this all your master left behind?" he called to Grok. He wiped blood from his mouth and grinned at the ogre. "A big arm and no wit." Grok bellowed and swung wild. The wild swing was the mistake Red bone needed. He let it pass, then hooked his axe behind the ogre's knee and pulled. Grok crashed down into the red snow. Red bone set his boot on the thick neck and raised his axe. His arms shook, but the warriors saw only the grin. "Yield," Red bone said. "Guard his name alive, not dead." Grok looked up. His red eyes searched Red bone's face and found no fear there. Slowly, the ogre opened his hand and let the club fall. "I follow the one with no fear," he said. The warriors rose, but only to kneel again, deeper this time. They had their chief. Red bone lowered his axe and let his shaking arms hang at last. Three clans now stood behind him. Three chieftains remained.