Volume IIX: Steel and Snow
The crowd started murmuring and all eyes were now focused on Hjalti. Most had heard the word before, but only a handful knew its meaning. All were silent as a man in shining golden armor came forward as well. It was the prince. It was Parren. He wasn't killed in the whole ordeal, unfortunately. For a minute, Hjalti had hoped the prince had perished when he didn't see him during the battle, but alas.
The Prince frowned his eyebrows as his eyes met with the strange knight. "You, a Dragonborn? Don't let me laugh," he said mockingly. "Who are you really? Are you working with the dragon? Are you the one who kidnapped my sister?"
"No, I…" Hjalti tried to defend himself while several emotions and thoughts in his head were fighting each other for his attention. His attempts were in vain while Parren demanded that he should remove his helmet. Hjalti swallowed. If he'd do that, he knew either Parren or Igor would certainly recognize him. They sure would, probably both. He said: "I… I can't. I have this nasty scar on my face, you see, and…"
Then one of his colleagues, who knew him by another name, teased him: "Come on, Tiber, show us your face." A second one commented: "Yeah! Show us the face of the mighty Dragonborn!"
Suddenly they were all cheering now: "Tiber! Tiber! Tiber!" It was clear they weren't helpful, so Hjalti looked hopeful to Igor instead. His old friend. His last hope. Would he get support from him? But no, Igor of course didn't know who this strange man was, and so he was also wondering why the Dragonborn wouldn't remove his helmet. Hjalti knew this, and now he regretted the choice he didn't seek out Igor at nights in the camp. If he would have revealed who he was now, then perhaps Igor could have protected him now!
While Hjalti was taking his time evaluating his options, Parren ran out of patience, sooner rather than later, and he ordered a few knights to seize Hjalti. Before the latter could do something about it, they grabbed him from behind and brought him down. He tried to fight back, but he was too tired from the recent fight, and the guards were with too many. And now, brought down on his knees, one soldier finally pulled the helmet from his head and his face became visible from all to see. With big, scared eyes he looked around, and then at the prince. He saw the expression of Parren change. He saw it in his eyes: Parren knew.
"You…!" the prince said and he immediately drew his sword to hold the tip at Hjalti's chin. Igor on the other hand was taken by full surprise by the reveal and just mumbled: "Hjalti?"
Parren gritted his teeth: "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now!" It took him the greatest effort to constrain himself from running the blade through Hjalti's throat at the instance, but he managed to succeed. After all, to the others, this Dragonborn was now the hero.
This allowed Hjalti to try to defend himself by calling forth different excuses. He said he didn't do anything wrong. That it was Dram, the escaped prisoner. The Dark Elf had taken him hostage, Hjalti said. That he returned to do his duty by saving the princess. "I wouldn't even dare to think about leaving you!" Hjalti also exclaimed, but it all didn't work.
Finally, Igor had found his courage to address the prince as well: "Your grace, the king, your father, would certainly like to see Hjalti. At the very least, we can imprison him and bring him to court after we have found and returned Princess Juelli."
"Igor, Igor, tsk, tsk, tsk," Parren shook his head and walked closer to the Nord, now focusing his attention on him, "Always coming to the rescue of Hjalti. What do I have to make of that? You tell me."
"Make of that what you will. But what if the Dragon is right?" Igor argued, "Hjalti was a hero in Alcaire. He still is a hero. And a Dragonborn. If you think you can kill him, you are a fool!"
This comment turned Parren's face white-hot with anger as he looked back and forth to Igor and Hjalti, unable to decide who to kill first, while in the meantime the dragon was still lying there in the background. Naturally, Parren was furious that Igor was speaking up against him and even calling him names, but he was all the more frantically mad that the Nord was right.
It was true. He couldn't kill Hjalti. He was indeed popular, and Parren was no fool. He knew that if he killed Hjalti in front of all them, they would certainly get upset. Maybe turn against him! No, he couldn't have that.
Then, very suddenly, Hjalti opened his mouth and came with a suggestion: "I propose we have a duel," he said to the prince, "If I win, you let me go. If I lose, you can kill me."
"Ha, you can't be serious," Parren laughed, "You can barely stand, let alone hold a sword."
"So, nothing to be afraid of then," Hjalti responded calmly. He even shrugged, although that was barely visible due to the guards still holding his shoulders. Like he was going to run away if they didn't.
Hjalti was wounded, yes. He had definitely bruised a few ribs. Some could even be broken! And his legs felt like they were going to fall off any minute, especially now that his knees were pushed into the cold snow. However, the idea alone of having the chance to draw blades with Parren and put him in his place gave Hjalti enough joy to forget all of his pains. Instead, it put a smile on his face.
Parren frowned for a few seconds while studying Hjalti and looking around the group. He recognized Hjalti's skill and seeing him smile made the prince uneasy. But then again, the others would call him a coward should he back away now. So, he then ordered the guards to let Hjalti go, saying: "Alright, if you want to die so badly, here is your chance."
As soon as Hjalti was allowed to get up, and even before the guards were finished handing the boy back his sword, Parren swung his towards Hjalti. In an attempt to dodge it, Hjalti fell back. Parren laughed as a soft thud was heard when Hjalti hit the snow again.
The prince struck his sword downwards in a next attack, but Hjalti quickly crawled backwards and kicked him in the shinbone. Although Parren was armed from head to toe in royal steel armor and his matching shining boots protected his leg from the kick, it was enough force to push the leg right from under him, making him fall over. Hjalti then quickly used his own sword to block Parren's as the latter fell forward towards his face. Then Hjalti used the pommel of his sword to hit the prince straight in the jaw. That felt really good to Hjalti.
It pushed Parren away, and he fell to the side. Hjalti took the pause to crawl back up by using his sword to lean on. For a fracture of a second he got to look at his surroundings. Everyone was watching in complete silence, for they were all too scared to show any emotion. And even the eye of the motionless dragon was peeping at them. But the one the Dragon called Dovahkiin didn't notice it. No, Hjalti was so focused on Parren, he had almost forgotten they were in the mountains.
Then he saw Igor, who was holding his breath as well as the rest of the audience. For a moment, the Breton and the Nord crosseed eyes, and the Nord gave him a small and careful smile. Hjalti nodded. A cloud of vapor left his lungs as he breathed out in ease, although a sharp stabbing pain ran through his chest quickly after, reminding him of his fresh wounds and the battle that wasn't finished yet. He needed to stay focused, and he needed to end this fight quickly.
Parren, however, was no stranger to sword fights. He wasn't that good, but he was definitely above average. As a nobleman, he was trained by his father, King Tharlon, who in turn learned it from his father, a Sea-Giant from the Sea of Ghosts. The king's eldest son was also said to be a half-giant like his father. Legions would fall before his mighty hammer! Or so the legends song in Alcairian taverns were sung. Luckily for Hjalti, Parren didn't have any of this giant's blood flowing through his veins, but his sword strikes were still powerful and well timed and his steel clashed several times with Hjalti's blade in the second round. The latter came drawing in with skillful moves, but he failed to get past Parren's guard; the fight was far from over.
Whereas he had taken Parren by surprise after the first attack, Hjalti wasn't so lucky now. Parren learned from his mistake and was more focused now. And slowly, the roles turned again, and Parren became the aggressor. He swung his sword to break Hjalti's defense, and each time the attacks became more powerful. Hjalti's arms became sour and his sword too heavy. He was losing it, and Parren knew and grew confident again.
If only Parren would have lifted a finger in the fight against the dragon, this would have turned out completely different. Then he was tired and beaten as well and the fight would have been fairer, Hjalti thought. But this was not the time nor the place to complain about righteousness, not while the fight was still hot. The boy could hardly keep up his defense and his mind was occupied enough by trying not to get hit by the furious strikes.
But then he remembered something. A trick Dram taught him in the last few years, which would work perfectly in this situation. And with that in mind, he threw his blade aside. Astonished by the sudden move, Parren stood there for a second with an open mouth before he laughed: "Already giving up? Don't think I'll show you mercy, though." he said, and as he did, he rushed in with his sword to strike. But right on that moment, Hjalti moved aside, while at the same time he reached with one hand behind his back. In one fluid and single movement, he reached for his dagger, as the sword of the enemy came swirling only an inch away from his chest. Hjalti lashed out.
Parren screamed it out in pain as the dagger cut in a quick and precise strike in one of the few places where the body of the prince was not protected by his impressive armor. It was at his elbow cavity where the cut was made, and it forced Parren to drop his sword. That was all he could do. More time to react, the prince didn't have, for Hjalti was not done yet. He followed up his attack by tightening the knuckles of his free hand and gave the prince a back-fist on the ear, making him fall down further away from his sword.
The fight was over for the prince, but not for Hjalti, who moved in on him with the dagger as he crawled away in full shame. He groveled towards the guards who were standing guard around the two combatants and screamed for them to intervene: "Guards!" Help me! Arrest Hjalti! Kill him," he yelled, but nobody answered his call. Hjalti kicked him in the stomach and then turned him around and sat on top of him. Hands were moved around in the air in a pathetic attempt from the prince to guard himself against the dagger.
"I yield! Stop! That's an order!" the prince yelled, but Hjalti only laughed while lifting the blade into the air. He had the final one, he thought, and he pushed the weapon down towards the face of Parren. The prince closed his eyes. The final moment was there. Until it wasn't. The dagger had stopped. The prince opened his eyes again and saw a hand was holding Hjalti's wrist. It was a hand belonging to Sir Krest: "That is quite enough out of you," the Knight-Commander said.
No! No! He was so close! Hjalti tried to squirm out of the tight grip, but Sir Krest unarmed the boy and pulled him off Parren. The latter erected himself with the help of some of the knights standing close while sounds of protests were made. But with the duel ended and Parren restored in status, there wasn't much they could do.
"Knights! Arrest Hjalti!" Parren commanded, and the exhausted Hjalti was quickly drawn to the ground. Again. The prince would have definitely killed him back then and there, was it not for Byrzokka suddenly showing up. His appearance was as convenient as Sir Krest's intervention.
"Well, this is certainly an interesting performance," the mercenary leader said with loud but serene voice. He managed to pull all the attention towards himself, "But, this one is afraid he has to interrupt the show."
His fine and expensive clothes were as clean and fresh as before they started the journey a few days ago, and it was clear he had done nothing in the fight. Except for healing a few people or putting others out of their misery, as he phrased it himself later.
"Back off. This is official business," Parren warned Byrzokka, and he held his sword up in the air again, albeit now with his left arm. He pointed it towards the Breton-Khajiit, "Stay out of it, unless you want to be arrested as well," Parren added, but Byrzokka didn't seem to be impressed in the slightest.
"Ha, this one would like to see you try," he laughed, "But I digress. This Hjalti… Tiber… Dragonborn… -whatever you may call him-, he works for Byrzokka, no? And so, if you have any quarrel with him, you have a quarrel with this one. Byrzokka is involved, whether you like it or. With all due respect to your highness, of course."
What happened next was something Hjalti still thought about years later. It happened all so fast, he often thought he had dreamed it. That was not a surprising thought, for at the moment he was so tired he could indeed have been delusional, but there was no question that it was real, however unlikely and absurd it may have been. It happened after those words, when Parren thought about an answer and ordered the knights to attack Byrzokka, the area became filled with a colorful mist, spreading all around the soldiers with the mercenary-leader at its center who was holding his staff. When it stopped, Hjalti saw everybody but him and his captain in a deep sleep.
He looked bewildered to this mysterious mage, who said: "Ugh, Byrzokka has no time for this. Come on, we still need to find the princess," the Furless one sighed as he laid his hands on Hjalti's back, pushing him gently forward. Hjalti was too stunned to protest and obeyed, only realizing a few moments later that Byrzokka guided him towards the dragon. The man now put his hands on its scales, and they started to glow. Wounds were closed, and life returned into the eyes of the beast.
"Can you fly us out of here, my friend?" he asked the dragon. It seemed like stupid question, but not much later, Hjalti was invited to climb on its back. And while it all felt like a lucid dream, he was conscious enough to suddenly yell: "Wait, we need to take Igor with us! I can't leave him behind with Parren!" and without waiting for approval, he ran back to the bunch of slumbering men. As Hjalti grabbed the heavy arms of the big Nord, he took a moment to look around. It was an almost tranquil atmosphere with them all laying there very peacefully. Only looking at it was almost enchanting.
That was when he saw Parren in the snow, completely helpless. And so easy to kill now. Several scenarios crossed his mind in how he wanted to do it, but Byrzokka pulled him back from his thoughts to reality. He was standing in front of Hjalti now and held Igor's legs: "You'll have a time for that later," he said to Hjalti like if he was reading his mind.
Hjalti didn't say anything, but he didn't agree with Byrzokka. How much time would it take to just quickly draw a dagger over his throat, really? Still, he didn't do it. Not because Byrzokka said so, but because he wanted to do it honorably. And as they pulled Igor on the dragon's back together, and after the dragon took off and they were in the clouds again, Hjalti started to plot his future. He knew there would be another chance to kill Parren indeed. They would meet again. And this time, there would be no Sir Krest to intervene. No one would come to the rescue of the prince then. All would see him fail, and all would see the might of Hjalti. He smiled.
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