Date: Tue, 13 Nov 2018 22:41:13 -0500
From: Purple Jubliee <purplejubilee17@gmail.com>
Subject: After Earth Went Dark: Chapter 12

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After Earth Went Dark: Chapter 12

       "Hello, Tyr." Alexander did not turn to look at him. "Won't you sit
down?" He motioned to the chair across from him. His voice was deeper than
Adrian's but had a similar slick quality to it.
	Walking around the couch slowly, Tyr positioned the chair so that
the back of it was up against the wall before he sat. Alexander chuckled at
this.
	"You are a rare breed, aren't you?" He sipped at a glass of red
wine. "May I offer you a drink?"
	Tyr shook his head.
	"Suit yourself. Do you have a more conversational name than `Tyr',
perhaps?" Alexander's face was entirely unreadable.
	"None that I care to use." Tyr answered quietly.
	"Soft spoken as well. That's an uncommon virtue among warriors."
Alexander set down his glass. "I hope that you're finding your
accommodations to your liking."
	Tyr nodded. "We are quite comfortable."
	Alexander offered a humorless smile. "Ah yes, and it is a very
pleasant looking family you have there, even if it is not by blood. Some
would say that the family you choose is an even stronger bond." He looked
away and grimaced distastefully. "Even blood can betray."
	Tyr did not respond to this, but an idea of the situation began to
form in his mind. "Why am I here?"
	"You are the Royal Champion." The sincerity of the reverence in his
voice was questionable at best. "My champion. I thought it was time we met
face to face."
	"There's more to it than that." Tyr asserted without breaking eye
contact.
	Alexander's face hardened for a moment but then he smiled. "Very
perceptive." He abruptly changed the subject. "What did you do before the
flare, Tyr? You could not have been much more than a child."
	Taking his time to calculate a response, Tyr eventually spoke
again. "Much the same as I do now." The conversation felt not unlike a game
of chess. Each of Alexander's questions was carefully crafted, and Tyr made
sure to do the same.
	"Very interesting." His tone suggested the opposite. "I was a
farmer. Like my father and his father and so on. I was probably not much
older than you are now. Everyone was terrified when the flare came, but
ours is an old family and our roots run deep. We've weathered even the most
powerful storms." Alexander paused to pick up his glass and drain its
contents. An attendant with a decanter quickly refilled it for him.
	"My father and I held this town together after the flare with the
fruits of our labor. When he died, I inherited the responsibility. People
thought that I was crazy when I first proposed to hold a tournament in one
of our fields. Not even my own family believed in the idea." He smiled at
the memory. "There were twelve contestants that summer. The prize was a
wagon load of corn. Seems hardly fitting anymore, but those were different
times."
	Tyr shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He could tell that this was
more than the second glass of the red wine that Alexander had consumed.
	"That winter was hard. Men of the town begged for another
tournament and a chance to ensure their families stayed fed. So, the winter
tournament was born. Every season it has grown since then, drawing
competitors, spectators, and their families from all over the north east
and beyond. Through it all, I have had only one thing in mind; keeping the
family strong."
	The pause this time was so long that Tyr nearly thought that he had
finished. Eventually however, with a deep breath, Alexander continued;
seemingly changing the subject once more.
	"Do you know what kills a tree Tyr? One that avoids the axe and
whose roots are too deep and too strong for the elements to rip out?" He
let his rhetorical hang in the air for a moment. "It's rot. Decay and
disease from the inside can eventually bring down even the oldest and
strongest trees in any forest."
	Alexander's metaphor confirmed Tyr's suspicions and a sense of
danger began to form in his gut. Not immediate perhaps, but a feeling of
foreboding.
	"My brother has grown into an ambitious young man." Alexander
began. "As I was at his age. You have no doubt noticed this in the time you
have spent with him."
	Tyr nodded his agreement.
	"His ambition and mine however are now at odds, and he has recently
come to see me as an obstacle. This presents a problem for me that I think
you may be able to help with."
	Already Tyr was shaking his head. "I will not be an assassin." He
put more venom into his voice than he had intended.
	Alexander laughed heartily. "No, no. Although that would solve many
of my issues. Despite what my brother wishes for me, I do not want him
dead. Adrian is useful still, and though he may have forgotten it, is still
a member of my family. No, I had a different use for you."
	Tyr settled back in after his outburst. "I'm listening."
	"We have had thousands of fighters come through from near and
far. Many of them have been highly skilled. Veterans, martial artists, body
builders, I have seen all of them. You outpace them all. Your skill
combined with your relative youth have the more suspicious folk whispering
that you really are the incarnation of your namesake." An amused smile
tugged at Alexander's mouth. "I have no doubt that you'll win the
Tournament. I will prevent Adrian from his flights of fancy that were on
display today, and you will be able to proceed uninhibited. Regardless of
your victory, provided you survive, I am prepared to offer you and your
family a place here. A position of status that will keep you all well
looked after for as long as you desire to stay. I am offering you the
position of head of my personal guard, coordinating all of my security. If
anyone can keep my brother's ambition in check, it is you."
	Alexander sat back and sipped from his wine glass slowly. He did
not pressure Tyr for a response but seemed content to wait.
	Nearly from the moment their conversation had started, Tyr had
guessed that, as Rob had suggested, the brothers were having
disagreements. This however, was not what he had expected to come out of
the exchange and so he was unprepared to make a response.
	"Why?" He eventually asked. "Why would I get involved in your
family dispute?"
	Alexander nodded. "A fair question." He considered his
answer. "Adrian is useful, but he does not have the temperament to
lead. You have talked to him, and you saw the spectacle he put on
today. The Tournament has never been without bloodshed, but I have always
done my best to ensure that most of the fighters go home to their
families. If we killed off all the fighters that participated, then we
would soon run out of fighters. Adrian seems to either not understand this
or not care. Running the Tournament his way would result either in the end
of the Tournament entirely, or more likely I fear, forced conscription."
	Tyr scowled at this. "The event today was already little more than
forced conscription, was it not?"
	With a distasteful grimace, Alexander shook his head. "Not
entirely. The men you fought were criminals, given a choice between serving
their punishment and fighting. It was not something I was in favor of, but
I was advised against forbidding it. Keeping order in this new world is a
perpetual balancing act."
	Looking off into space in thought, Tyr took his time before
speaking again. "I would have to consider it." He told Alexander firmly. "I
can't give you an answer tonight."
	Nodding, Alexander sipped again from his glass. "I did not expect
you to. Take your time. Come to me before the end of the Tournament and we
will discuss it further. I would ask that you not share our conversation
with my brother or any of his agents however."
	Tyr nodded his agreement. "Fair enough."
	"Now then," Alexander stood carefully from his seat. "I have kept
you long enough. Get some rest and think on my offer. I look forward to
your performances in the coming days."
	They shook hands and Tyr noted that Alexander's grip was much
firmer and more confident than Adrian's. It was apparent that he was, as he
claimed, a man of the earth. That alone earned him some respect in Tyr's
eyes.
	The two made their farewells and one of the attendants escorted Tyr
back to the ground-floor suite. The hallways were dimmed now, and Tyr
realized that it was later than he had thought. He had an unfamiliar
feeling as he decided that Elliot had probably drifted off to sleep
already. It was something like disappointment.

	Tyr was right of course. Elliot had tried his best to stay awake
when Tyr was called away but lying in bed in the dark had eventually caught
up with him and he had drifted off. When he awoke again, Tyr was gone. His
mother informed him that he had gone to prepare for the events of the
day. This allayed Elliot's fears that Tyr had never returned the previous
night.
	The two events Tyr was scheduled for that day went over without any
surprises, much to Elliot's relief. The first was a simple duel for ranking
in the Tournament. Tyr won it easily and advanced to the next round. His
injured arm barely seemed to slow him down at all as his now infamous dual
axes brought down the much larger man in less than a minute from the blast
of the horn.
	The second event of the day was a brawl with no weapons
allowed. The last man standing would claim the prize. Sixteen competitors
faced off from the far ends of the arena and when the horn sounded, some
rushed in while others tussled with the closest fighter. Tyr at first
seemed content to stroll leisurely around the outside. Most of the time
when fighters saw him coming they would quickly find someone else to
engage. On the rare occasion that someone challenged him, Tyr employed
stunningly quick techniques of deflection and lightning-fast jabs that
dispatched them with ease.
	As the competition dwindled however, Tyr adopted a different
strategy. Moving quickly to the center, Elliot saw his fighting style
change from the reserved and practical motions he had been using to a much
more flashy and animated technique. This one was characterized by whirling
high kicks and seemingly exaggerated motions. Elliot realized with some
amusement that Tyr was playing to the crowd.
	With a kick to the back of the knee and a swift palm strike to the
temple, the last fighter slumped to the ground, unconscious. Tyr stood in
the center of a circle of bodies, many of them groaning in discomfort with
a few still out cold. His breaths came quickly, and he swiped a strand of
hair from his face as he waited for the thunderous cheers to
die. Attendants helped some men off the field and carried others as Adrian
gave his customary congratulatory speech. Elliot realized that he used very
similar words every time, but the crowd never seemed to notice. They
cheered and chanted Tyr's name, and Elliot was happy to see his friend
getting the recognition he deserved.
	That evening, Elliot helped Tyr change his bandage. It was not so
much that Tyr needed his help, but more that Elliot wanted to be
nearby. Tyr took the opportunity to teach Elliot about keeping an injury
clean even after it seemed to be healing well. Elliot learned how to
properly tie the bandage so that it was tight without inhibiting
circulation.
	Rather than go out, the four of them ordered room service that
evening, something that Elliot had not even known existed. Someone in the
tent-city was setting off fireworks. It was not nearly as impressive of a
display as the opening night, but it was a nice show as they sat in their
little garden to eat. Elliot and Kara let their feet dangle in the shallow
pool as they ate.
       It was getting difficult to hide his affection for Tyr
sometimes. Elliot worried that his mother might catch on to his
feelings. He didn't know what she would do if she knew, or especially if
she knew that Tyr felt the same way about him. So, he did his best to keep
it a secret, but every once in a while, he would catch himself sitting just
a little too close or staring just a little too long.
       Tyr shared his bed that night at Elliot's request. Despite Elliot's
growing curiosity at the physical connection that was building between
them, even he was content to just let Tyr hold him as he drifted away. The
feeling of a single strong hand gently brushing the hair out of his face
brought him a profound sense of peace and comfort, and sent him quickly to
sleep.

	The Tournament progressed in much the same way for the next few
days. Tyr would easily win his ranked progressions, and perform flawlessly
in the other events. The two of them had occasional intimate encounters at
night, but still Tyr restrained himself, looking only to give Elliot a
release when he needed it.
       There was a historical reenactment of a Greek battle, and another of
a Roman one. The only time Elliot felt the same fear that he had before was
during a planned live weapons round with three men against three large
bears. Tyr was fast for sure, but Elliot didn't know if he could be faster
than a bear.
	One of the men met an unfortunate and gruesome end quite quickly
and Elliot had to look away. Mercifully, (as Elliot later learned) the
man's screams were silenced by one of Tyr's throwing knives. Tyr dispatched
one of the animals early on, and Elliot had to feel a bit sorry for
them. They hadn't chosen to fight at all.
       The other surviving man carried a large sword that he used to keep
the beast at bay. The third bear was otherwise occupied with its recent
kill. Tyr looked to the platform where the brothers sat with an expression
of indecision. Elliot felt like he could almost read Tyr's thoughts. He had
killed one bear, and the second man was in the process of slaying
another. The third bear was currently no threat, so there was, in his mind,
no reason to kill it.
       "The battle does not end until only man or beast remains!" Adrian
declared from his perch.
       Elliot scowled at him, even though he knew Adrian couldn't see him
and wouldn't care if he could. With a sigh that was almost visible for
where Elliot sat, Tyr whirled and sent his axes flying one right after the
other at the distracted animal. It was a quick end for the creature, and
Elliot was thankful for that much. It was more than could be said for the
last remaining bear, who with nearly a dozen cuts, finally went
down. Elliot knew that the other man was not to blame and that he could not
be expected to be as efficient as Tyr, but he still felt a sense of sick
justice to see that the man was bleeding from a cut across his chest where
the claws had raked him. Looking down at the three massive furry shapes and
the mangled corpse of the dead man, Elliot decided he did not care much for
this Tournament anymore.
       There was one more event for that day. It was Tyr's ranked match but
this one had a twist to it. Not the sort of twist that Adrian had created
before, but a planed one that was a well-established Tournament tradition
for the fighters that were skilled enough to make it halfway. For this
battle, the opposing fighter would choose the weapon that their enemy would
fight with.
       This excited Elliot more than it worried him. He was interested to
see Tyr's abilities with weapons other than his usual arsenal. Tyr's
opponent chose a massive great-sword, obviously hoping that Tyr's lean
frame was built for speed rather than strength. Tyr put that theory to bed
quickly as he came from his gate whirling the large two-handed weapon in
much the same way that the Bone-Crusher had on that first day. Tyr had been
merciful to his opponent and chosen a simple sword and shield combination.
       At the sound of the horn, Tyr changed the game however. With a
powerful swing, he hurled the large sword away and it spun through the air
to land in the sand some distance off. At first it almost looked like an
accident, but as Tyr made no attempt to retrieve the weapon it became
apparent that it had been deliberate.
       Surprised by this, his opponent paused his advance, but only for a
moment. He picked up speed, aiming to take advantage of his now unarmed
foe. The man slowed as he closed the distance though, choosing to remain
cautious around the well-known Royal Champion.
       His first swing was an almost lazy swipe, testing the waters. Tyr
stood his ground and evaded by calmly leaning out of the way. The man
followed it up with a quicker backstroke that forced Tyr to take a step
backward. Pressing his advantage, the man began to take stabs and slashed
more quickly. Tyr dodged all of them nimbly but was forced to give ground
against the onslaught.
	Elliot knew Tyr well enough to be certain that he had a plan of
some kind. As the man pushed him closer and closer to the walls of the
arena however, Elliot had to wonder what that plan might be. Almost as soon
as he had the though, Tyr changed direction. The man, expecting Tyr to step
backward, was already in the process of stepping forward when Tyr came to
him suddenly.
	Tyr grabbed ahold of the man's shield and wrenched his left arm to
the right, forcing him to turn in a circle quickly to stay on balance, and
keeping his sword arm in poor striking position. Very quickly, the man grew
tired of this game and tried to whirl around the other direction for a
surprise strike. Tyr changed his grip on the man's shield and wrenched it
even harder while he caught the wrist of the man's sword arm.
	The man cried out in pain as his left arm was twisted
uncomfortably. He pulled it free from the shield and Tyr immediately
captured it and spun away before the man could retaliate. The other fighter
was angry now and he advanced on Tyr, raining blows down on the stolen
shield. Tyr was done giving ground now however and thrust the shield back
up against one of the downward strokes, causing the sword to nearly bounce
from the man's hand. Taking advantage, Tyr smashed the shield hard into the
man's chest, forcing him back a few steps. Tyr followed though and repeated
the tactic. Armed only with a wooden shield, he beat his opponent back
easily. The crowd realized that Tyr had never been in any danger of losing
the fight. He had been toying with the man like a cat with its dinner.
	Tyr's opponent quickly came to the same realization as he was
forced to give up all of the ground he had made and then some in a matter
of seconds. With a powerful bash from the shield, the man fell backward
into the sand. He tossed his sword aside and threw up his hands, drawing a
chorus of boos and jeering from the crowd. Tyr dropped the shield and
offered to help the man up, but he ignored it and stomped off the field
followed by laughter and mockery.
	Tyr was declared the winner and earned a fair bit of silver at the
closing ceremonies for his impressive display. He cleared out his tribute
box once again. There was now a sizable pile of letters and gifts stashed
back in the suite that had yet to be opened.
	"I'm hungry." Elliot announced to the group as Tyr emerged from the
vault. It was getting late already and none of them except for Tyr had
gotten a chance to eat. Tyr had eaten a light meal before the closing
ceremonies.
	"I'll bring these back to the suite." Tyr said, hefting his armload
of tribute. He handed off some money to each of them. "Get some food, I
will meet you back there when you're finished."
	Tyr ripped open a few of the letters as he walked back. They were
mostly more of the same. Letters expressing affection and offering
favors. He had noted as the Tournament went on that a surprising number of
the letters came from men as well, a bit under half. Some of them walked
the line between admiration and infatuation, offering to buy a drink or
challenging him to an arm wrestle. Others made their intentions very
clear. These were usually much more graphic than the similar letters he
received from women. He made sure to dispose of those types quickly.
	He spent a while leafing through letters and gifts. Even though he
could usually predict what they were going to say at this point, he still
felt a sense of obligation to at least skim through them. As he tossed a
particularly descriptive letter into the fireplace he realized that it had
been several hours since he had left Elliot and his family to return to the
suite. It should not have taken them that long to get food.
	His instincts kicked in immediately. When something was not right,
in his experience that meant that something had gone wrong. It was a sense
of intuition that had served him well in the past. Quickly, he stood and
belted on two of his knives. He cursed himself for letting his guard down
and made for the door.
	As he reached for the handle, there was a rapid knock on the door
that caused him to flinch slightly. Looking through the hole, he saw one of
the hotel attendants standing outside. He threw the door open, startling
the man outside.
	"Yes?" His tone made it clear that he was in no mood to chat.
	"Apologies sir." The man inclined his head. "Mr. Jackson would like
to see you upstairs."
	Tyr shook his head. "Not now. I've got to find..."
	"It's... quite urgent, sir." The man cut him off awkwardly.
	Immediately Tyr had a sinking feeling in his gut. Years of
experience told him that two unexpected events were seldom
unconnected. There was something afoot now. And he needed to get to the
bottom of it.
	Without a word, he nodded and allowed the attendant to lead him to
the stairs once again.