Gunnlod came storming out of the Great Hall like a thunderous avalanche, the other clan chiefs hurrying to keep up with him. "What happened?" he demanded.

  "He punched the boy," one of the women said, pointing to Skoll. "Right in the face."

  "He insulted me," Skoll replied, standing defiantly with his arms still folded. "In public."

  Gunnlod stared at him, then dropped to his knees beside Narvi. Daphnis stood and backed away, her hands over her face, crying and shaking. Gunnlod checked his son's body to see if he was breathing, then felt his cheek. He stared down at his son's face for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he stood to face Skoll as the other clan chiefs gathered around. Behind them, everyone in the Great Hall had followed them out, and the crowd was pressing close to see what was going on.

  Gunnlod lunged at Skoll, who raised his fists to defend himself, but the other chiefs grabbed Gunnlod's arms to hold him back. "There were witnesses?" asked Palliaq, head of the Merlin Clan.

  "We all saw it," one of the women said. "He were like a wild animal. The poor lad never stood a chance."

  "They were arguing over me," said Daphnis, going to stand beside her father. He put his arms around her and gathered her in for a hug. "Skoll was accosting me. Narvi tried to defend me."

  "For the life of my son I will have yours!" roared Gunnlod. He tried to pull away from the clan chief, but they continued to restrain him.

  "It's clear the death was accidental," said Greip, going to stand beside his son. "Anyone who..."

  "Accidental!" cried Daphnis in fury. "Look how much bigger he is than him. He hit him as if he were trying to drive his fist through a stone wall."

  Gunnlod looked back down at his son, at the bruised and bloody condition of his face, and made another attempt to pull free. The chiefs tightened their grip on him, grunting with the effort. "I'll kill you!" he spat.

  "Anyone who intends harm to my son will have me to answer to, and the entire Hercules clan," said Greip, staring at Gunnlod. "Would you start another clan war? Or perhaps you and I should settle things between us."

  "The law is clear," said Bergelmir, going to stand between the two men. "A life for a life only results in everyone dying. The penalty for murder is exile."

  "Aye, exile," said Agaemon, gently pushing his daughter away from him. A couple of the townswomen came forward to comfort Daphnis. "Skoll must be exiled."

  "Never!" said Greip, pulling the dagger from his belt. Skoll drew his own dagger and the two men stood side to side, glaring at the men facing them. "It was a tragic accident, nothing more," Greip added. "Warriors die in friendly brawls sometimes. We all know this."

  "This was no friendly brawl," said Daphnis, taking a step towards him. Agaemon took her gently by the arm to restrain her.

  "Aye," one of the women said. "He meant to kill the lad."

  "I did not!" Skoll replied. "I only meant to punish the insult."

  "That may be," said Bergelmir. "I think we all believe you, but even so, to strike a young lad with such force as to kill him with a single blow cannot be allowed to pass. There must be punishment, as a deterrence to others, and the death of the son of a clan chief can only be punished by exile."

  "Exile, aye," said Agaemon. "Skoll will be sent into the wilderness, outside the territory of the six clans."

  'Not so long as I live," said Greip, brandishing his dagger at him. "Who wishes to be the first to die on my blade?"

  "Greip," said Palliaq softly. "Look around you. You are surrounded by the finest warriors of the other five clans. Your warriors are renowned for their courage and their ferocity, but can even they stand against such odds? If you defy the law, then they will all die and so will you."

  "Not before we take a high toll of those who attack us," Greip promised grimly.

  Other warriors of the Hercules clan were gathering behind him as he spoke. There were nine of them, but they were faced by over forty warriors of the other five clans, some carrying spears, others fitting large rocks to their slings.

  The townspeople drew back warily, but Bergelmir went to stand between the two groups of warriors. "There will be no more bloodshed here." He turned to face Greip. "Is this really how you want to meet your end?" he asked, his voice soft and reasonable. "You agreed to the law. Let it be carried out."

  Greip glared at him, but then he looked at all the warriors arrayed against him, some of whom were already whirling large rocks around their heads in their slings. A heated debate seemed to go on in his head, but then he relaxed and put his dagger back in its sheath. "I have other sons," he said.

  "Father!" cried Skoll in shock.

  Greip spun around to face him. "You have brought shame upon me and my clan," he said. "You are exiled from the six clans. You will go out into the wilderness and never be seen by any civilised man again." He reached out to grab hold of Skoll's trophy necklace.

  "So be it," said Skoll, taking the necklace from around his neck and throwing it to the ground. "I will make a new trophy necklace from the fingers of my enemies." He glared at Gunnlod. "I will leave this city, but I will not go into exile. I will hunt you down and kill you one at a time."

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "You know the law," said Bergelmir, though. "An exile has no protection under the law. Anyone can kill you and it not be a crime. If you remain in the territory of the six tribes, you will be hunted like a wild animal and you will be shown no mercy."

  "There will indeed be no mercy," said Skoll.

  He gave his father a look of fury and betrayal. Then he spun on his heel and strode defiantly to the city gates. The warriors of the six tribes, now gathered to form a single army, followed behind him. They stopped at the gates, but Skoll kept on walking, wading into the endless field of yellowing grass that stretched towards the hills on the horizon. He didn't look back once.

  ☆☆☆

  Tarvos stirred on his bed and put a hand on his head. It was throbbing in rhythm with the beating of his heart. He forced his eyes open and everything was blurry. Gradually the small hut they'd placed him in came into focus and he saw his father sitting in a wicker chair at the foot of his bed, looking grim.

  "I guess I lost," he mumbled, lying back to rest his head on the pillow. "But I had to fight him. Not to rise to a challenge would have been a great shame on me. I thought I gave a good account of myself, though. I got a couple of good blows in. Enough to satisfy the family honour, I think."

  His father remained silent. Tarvos opened his eyes again and lifted himself up onto his elbows to look at him. "Is everything alright?" he asked. His father looked at him. He still remained silent but there was a look of sorrow and guilt in his eyes that made Tarvos sit upright on the edge of his bed. "What is it?" he asked. "What happened?"

  "Narvi is dead," said Gunnlod. He stared down at his feet as if he was ashamed.

  Tarvos stared. "What?" he said. "What do you mean, dead? What does that mean?"

  "It means he's dead," said Gunnlod, raising his voice angrily. "He no longer breathes. His heart no longer beats. He is dead."

  Tarvos could only stare at him as his mind struggled to process the information. I'm still half senseless, he told himself. I'm still suffering from that blow to my head. I'm not hearing him right. The look on his father's face was enough to convince him that he'd heard right, though. Narvi was dead. The brother that he loved and that he would have given his life for was dead. His friend, his companion for the last eighteen years was dead. The shock almost made him lose his senses again.

  "How did it happen?" he asked. His mouth was dry. He could barely speak. "Was it an accident? Was he climbing the fences again? I knew he'd fall and break his head open one day." He tried to stand, but a sudden wave of light-headedness came over him and he was forced to sit again. His stomach was shivering as if a family of welkies had made their nest in there.

  "It was Skoll," said Gunnlod. "He hit him. Such a blow that the boy was likely dead before he hit the ground." His hands closed into fists and he rested his head between them. "While I was feasting in the Great Hall and guzzling ale, that sack of shit was murdering my son."

  Tarvos stared harder, his eyes widening. "Skoll?" His father didn't respond. It was as if the burden of delivering the news had drained him of all his remaining strength. He looked as if he were retreating into himself so that he could be with his younger son again, if only in his memories.

  "But... But Skoll won the fight," said Tarvos. "Why would he do that to Narvi? He had nothing left to prove."

  Gunnlod remained silent. He'd engaged with the real world as much as he wanted to for the time being and now he just wanted to escape from it for a while. Tarvos made another attempt to stand, this time successfully, and tottered his way unsteadily to the door.

  Daphnis was outside, her eyes red from crying. "He tried to defend me," she said, staring at him. "There were people all around. Skoll couldn't have done anything with so many people around, but he still came to defend me."

  "Skoll tried to hurt you?" Tarvos put his hands on her shoulders. He wasn't sure if he was comforting her or supporting himself.

  "Narvi tried to protect me by attracting attention to himself. He succeeded, too well. I shouldn't have let him. I should have driven Skoll away by myself. He couldn't have done anything with so many people around. I could have just told him to go away."

  Tarvos stared around at the city as if Skoll would be there, standing nearby. Townspeople hurried past, averting their eyes as if afraid that his fury might fall upon them. "Where is he?" Tarvos demanded.

  "He was sent into exile," Daphnis told him. "His trophy necklace was stripped from him in front of the whole city and he was sent away."

  "Where is Narvi?" asked Tarvos. "Where did they place his body?"

  "In there."

  Daphnis pointed to a hut standing close to the inner perimeter fence. A pair of Robin Hood clansman were standing guard by the door. Tarvos ran over to it, the guards stood aside for him, and he threw the door open.

  ☆☆☆

  Daphnis waited outside for him, but it was half an hour before Tarvos emerged again, looking years older than he had just that morning.

  "I thought you might be mistaken," he said as Daphnis took his hands in hers. "I thought he might just be senseless. I've heard of that happening. They thought someone was dead and he was just senseless." Daphnis said nothing. There was nothing she could say.

  "He's cold," Tarvos added. "His hands are cold. His cheeks are cold. He's dead, Daphnis. He's really dead."

  "I'm sorry," said Daphnis. "I'm so sorry."

  "I'll kill him," said Tarvos, his face going hard. His eyes blazed like chips of ice.

  "Tarvi, no!" gasped Daphnis in shock.

  "He can't have gone far," Tarvos added. "I'll find him wherever he is and I'll kill him."

  "No you will not," said Gunnlod. The sound of Tarvos's voice had brought him out of the hut and he was striding over to join them. "I want him dead as much as you do. I would have killed him there and then if they hadn't held me back. He's out there now, though. Out in the wilderness."

  "I don't care!"

  "I will not lose both sons on the same day. Think what it was like for me. I had to watch him walk away. If I had the strength to do that, so do you. Chances are he's dead already. One man alone out there, a rex might have gotten him, or a pride of groths. One man alone doesn't last long out there. You know that."

  Tarvos nodded reluctantly. "I wanted to kill him myself," he said. "I wanted him to be looking into my eyes as I drove the knife into his heart."

  "You may still get the chance," Gunnlod told him. "His one chance is to join an outlaw tribe. Maybe our village will be the next one they raid. If it is, we can kill him then. Together."

  "He'd be mad to attack our village after what he's done. He'll persuade them to attack another village."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. He swore revenge for his exile. He said he'd come after us."

  Tarvos stared at him, but then he nodded. "Let him come," he said. "We'll be waiting."

  "Aye lad," said Gunnlod, nodding soberly. "We'll be waiting. Come on now. You should still be resting. Go back to your hut and return to your bed. You may think you're better, but I've seen men collapse hours after seemingly recovering from a blow to the head."

  "I will rest," Tarvos replied, "but I'll do it in there, with Narvi. I'll keep him company while he makes his way to the spirit world."

  "And I'll sit with you, if I may," his father replied. Tarvos nodded silently.

  Gunnlod turned to Daphnis. "You don't have to wait with us, though," he said. "Not if you're feeling..." He paused, as if suddenly rethinking his choice of words. "Grief stricken. You'll probably prefer to be with your own clan family."

  "Aye, I will," the young woman replied. She took Tarvos's hand again and gave it a squeeze. "I'll be with you in spirit, though, until the day when we can be together in body, forever."

  "And I with you," Tarvos replied, squeezing back. Then he turned and went back into the hut, his father following behind him.