Excerpt From "Fires of Belenus"

 

The warrior strutted with the authority of a young rooster, naked except for his plaid cape and the belted scabbard that held his sword. He wore the belt high around his chest with the sword on his right side. His legs, arms and torso were covered with blue tattoos of serpents and he had caked his hair white with a lime wash. If he had been drunk before, he did not show it now. Bryn’s hopes sank. His eyes moved down the figure of the lean and well-muscled prince. His penis and testicles were large and relaxed. They swayed flaccidly as he paraded into the center of the room. Bryn desperately searched the crowd for Alicia. Finally, he caught sight of her amidst a group of young women. Dismayed, he saw they were enjoying Wascla’s exhibition. He felt his own equipment shrink with gnawing, persistent fear and he was glad to be wearing his braca. Bryn felt clammy and sick as beads of cold sweat dripped down his forehead.

The sensation of someone tugging at his shirt brought him back. Cei had returned with the potion and his father was removing his shirt to rub the potion into his body. Everyone winced at the pungent odor released when Cei opened the vial.

 

 “Ugh, what is this foul smelling concoction?” Bryn asked.

 

“How would I know? Maighread makes it, not I. She would never reveal the secret of one of her potions to a man. All though I have gathered the herb borage for her to make it. Also, I have seen her mix in a little horse urine and flax oil. Unfortunately it smells a lot better than it tastes.”

 

“Ugh,” Bryn protested. “I am not going to drink this vile potion.”

 

“Well, suit yourself, but if you want a chance in this contest, I would urge you to drink it.”

 

Athair, Eoan, and Cei moved in closer. Athair pulled Bryn’s arms back. Eoan tipped his head and Cei poured the remainder of the mixture down his throat. Bryn quivered and thrashed like a fish out of water, making disgusting sounds and gagging convulsively.

The shock of the foul brew slowly dissipated and Bryn finally stood erect, without aid.

 

The potion on his body gave a pleasant burning sensation and helped distract his mind from fear. His senses seemed more acute. He heard the individual conversations of people sitting in the crowd and saw details of people standing in the shadows. Even more amazing, he was not ill. He had been certain the potion would have him retching on the floor in front of the crowd; instead, it settled his stomach. Best of all, he was calmer and more at ease.

 

Seeing that Wascla had returned, Mogh started pushing the crowd back while Ogar marked off a large circular area on the floor with a thick white rope. Ogar was to judge the match.

 

Bryn watched as Wascla turned his back and began a series of ceremonial motions. Though he felt better with the potion, his confidence was fading. He just hoped it would end quickly and his wounds would not be too deep. To make things worse, he was feeling foolish because he had gotten into this trouble over his beloved Alicia, who seemed more interested in his opponent, and was not at his side.

 

Finished with the potion, Athair wiped the excess oil off his hands and turned to Eoan to receive the sword he had retrieved from the wagon. Bryn took the sword in his hands and looked at his father.

 

“This is a new dueling sword I created. It is not much to look at, but I think it may give you the edge.” Athair smiled. Bryn returned a blank look, not catching the pun. Athair continued, “It is extremely light, with no frills, jewels, or embellishments. The blade is a bit thicker than the usual sword, but this is because it is also narrower. The thickness gives it strength, but overall, there is about one third less material and weight than a normal sword. It is a fine grade of iron and, trust me, it is as sharp as they come. This will make you even quicker and should the contest last a long time it will help your endurance.”

 

Bryn took the sword and held it out at arm’s length, studying the blade. Then he started to warm up with parries and thrusts. After a few moments, he looked at his father. For the first time Bryn felt a glimmer of hope. “I like it!”