After cleaning up, Relam dressed in tunic, pants, and leather jerkin, belting his sword around his waist. The solid weight of it was reassuring, balanced by the dagger hanging from his other hip. Taking a deep breath, Relam opened his door and stepped into the main room.
His mother and father were seated in the dining alcove, both smiling broadly. On the table in front of them was one of the most extravagant breakfasts Relam had ever seen. Sausages, bacon, fruit, flat cakes, rolls, eggs – in short, every breakfast food he had ever seen, plus a few more.
“All for us?” Relam asked, half-joking.
His father laughed as he filled his plate. “If you’re up to it. Might not want to eat too much though, you’ll have to be quick on your feet.”
Relam nodded agreement. “Yes, I will. Any last-minute advice?”
His father shook his head. “No, and I won’t tell you what you’re about to face either. You’ll find out soon enough, son.”
Relam snorted and filled his plate with bacon, eggs and fruit. His appetite turned out to be rather less than it normally was though, and his plate was still mostly full when he pushed back from the table.
“I’m off,” he announced, shifting his sword belt slightly.
His mother stood as well and embraced him gently. “You’ll do fine,” she whispered confidently. Then, she stepped back and looked him over. “Every inch the warrior,” she proclaimed, before sitting once more.
“Good luck, son,” the king added. “May your blade never fail you.”
“Nor you, yours,” Relam replied, finishing the farewell of warriors.
He left his parents sitting there, still smiling confidently at him, and began the long walk to Tar Agath’s training center.
The young prince navigated the palace corridors automatically, turning left at the tapestry of Gareb the First’s exploits, then a right where that hallway dead-ended into another. Through an inconspicuous door that led to the servant’s corridors and then down a narrow flight of stairs, jumping the second to last one, which was unstable and rotting.
At last, Relam entered the main entry hall of the palace. On all sides were wide, graceful staircases winding upwards and massive portals opening into gilded and spacious rooms. His boots rang on the polished stone floors, his reflection rippling and gliding with him as he moved. Then he was outside the palace and descending the worn stone steps, nodding stiffly to the guards that flanked the entrance to the palace. The plaza below was nearly empty, for much of the city had yet to rise and begin the day’s work.
Relam then turned left, onto the River Road, which ran parallel to the northern branch of the Furnier from the point where it joined the sea. To the left stood manor after manor, beautiful estates surrounded by carefully kept lawns and gardens. To the right was a row of towering shop houses, narrow but solid and stable. The ground floors were stores, the upper floors rented dwellings for the store owners and other families.
Then, after that first stretch of shop houses, came the Citadel. Dark and imposing, it loomed over all else. The Citadel was built entirely of gray stone, from the gatehouse all the way to the tallest towers. Dozens of guards were on constant patrol, on the walls, on the roofs of the towers, and a full squadron at the entrance. The leader of the squadron was talking quietly with a hooded man. Relam frowned at this but moved on, not letting the strange sight distract him from his goal.
Finally, just a little ways past the end of the Citadel, he reached Tar Agath’s training facility. The double doors were sealed, blocking his way. Leaning against the frame was Cevet.
“Not allowed in yet,” he said by way of greeting. “Master Agath told me to tell the rest of you that when you arrive.”
Relam nodded silently and took up a position opposite Cevet, leaning against the stone wall, one foot tucked up underneath him. “Did he say anything else?” he asked.
Cevet shook his head. “No. Just said we were to wait out here until he gave the word.”
They stood there in silence for a few minutes, neither having much to say and both being preoccupied with what was to come. Relam was trying to divine the reason behind Master Agath forcing them to wait. Normally, the doors would be open starting at dawn and they could enter whenever they arrived. Was he testing their patience this morning? Or had he set up something related to the trials in the central courtyard and did not want any early arrivals to have an unfair advantage?
“If this is a test of our patience, I can’t wait to see Garenes fail,” Cevet remarked casually, breaking in on Relam’s thoughts.
The prince nodded distractedly. “He’s not good at waiting. Or listening to instructions, for that matter.”
“He listens only to himself,” Cevet agreed, kicking at a paving stone with the toe of his boot. “Some would call it being individual.”
“But those who know better call it arrogance,” Relam said, grinning.
“Or self-centeredness or some other thing,” Cevet agreed. “You should have thrashed him when he attacked you. At the very least gotten him into some kind of trouble.”
Relam shook his head stubbornly. “I told you before. I’m not that kind of prince. I fight my own battles. I don’t rely on rank or who my parents are to win the day. I rely on my skills, be it diplomacy or more aggressive action.”
“While I admire that, someone needs to take Garenes to task. He is entirely-”
“Someone forget to open the gate?”
Cevet and Relam both jumped as Sebast spoke. The prince turned and saw the arrogant lordling ambling up with his usual crew of Delan, Jatt, and Knet. Jatt, as usual, looked vaguely confused, as though he wasn’t entirely sure he was in the right place. Knet appeared nervous, but Delan was openly sneering at Relam, confident and cocky as always. Even though he was never brave enough to take the lead himself.
“Master Agath has asked us to wait until he summons us,” Cevet explained calmly.
Sebast’s attention swung to the smaller cadet now. “Oh? Did he say why?”
“He said we were to wait,” Cevet repeated. “No more.”
“Huh. That’s no way to treat the sons of great lords,” Sebast muttered, glaring at the gates.
“Easy,” Knet warned, looking around anxiously. “He could be listening. And he’s the one who determines who moves on and who doesn’t. If we don’t pass the trials today, we will have to wait a full year before we can try again. And then we’d be a year behind and it’s so hard to catch up-”
“Tar would have to be a fool to fail me,” Sebast proclaimed. “Now, let’s see about getting this started.”
The lordling marched up to the gate and rapped politely. “Master Agath?”
There was no reply.
Sebast rapped again, harder. Still nothing. The lordling pursed his lips and tried a third time.
The doors remained silent and unmoving.
“I think that means we wait, as instructed,” Relam observed drily.
Cevet snorted with laughter, and Jatt chuckled witlessly. Sebast glared at them briefly, then returned his attention to the gate. He beat on it heavily, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Master Agath? Can you let us in? The gate is locked.”
“Well obviously it’s locked,” Relam muttered. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be banging on it now would you? Honestly, Sebast, stop and think a moment.”
“Watch yourself, princeling,” Delan warned, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Or what?” Relam shot back, aware that he was starting to lose his temper.
“Calm down, both of you,” Knet hissed urgently. “This is no time to be fighting amongst ourselves! If Master Agath were here he’d-”
“Oh, he’s here. Probably taking in everything we’re doing and saying,” Cevet said, glancing at Sebast. The lordling was still doing his best to batter down the gate. Cevet shook his head and sat down, back to the wall, closing his eyes.
“Let us in! Do you hear me? I demand that you open this gate!” Sebast was screeching.
Cevet opened the eye closer to the prince and winked, smiling smugly. Then he closed both eyes again and sighed heavily. “Meditating?” Relam asked curiously.
“Hardly. Meditation usually requires a quiet environment,” Cevet replied, tilting his head towards Garenes.
“True,” Relam agreed, looking up and down the street. “Master Agath actually did tell you to wait, though?”
“You doubt me?”
“No. But I wondered if you might be part of the test.”
“How so?”
Relam thought for a moment. “Well, since you were the first to arrive, Master Agath might have told you to stay out here and make us wait while all the time we’re supposed to be finding another way in.”
“Interesting theory,” Cevet said, eyes still closed. “But that is all it is, a theory. I told you everything I know, everything Master Agath told me. We wait.”
“Or we find another way in,” Sebast snarled, giving the door a final kick. “Jatt, give me a boost.”
“Boost? What kind of boost?” Jatt asked, looking around for a clue.
“He means give him a lift scaling the wall,” Delan explained, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, I can do that,” Jatt said confidently. “Climb on up, Sebast.”
Sebast jumped up onto Jatt’s back, scrambling around until he was precariously perched on Jatt’s shoulders. Garenes then reached out for the top of the wall, his fingers reaching to just below the edge.
“Get closer, idiot!” Sebast snarled.
Jatt lurched closer to the wall obediently, causing Sebast to sway precariously and curse the bigger cadet soundly. Jatt absorbed the curses without comment, maneuvering so his back was supported by the wall.
Sebast reached up again, and his fingers closed over the top of the wall. “Ha!” he shouted triumphantly. As he began to haul himself up, there was a rattling noise from behind the gate. Jatt twisted around curiously to see what the noise was, forgetting that Sebast was still on his shoulders. Garenes lost his footing and quite suddenly found himself hanging on to the wall with only the tips of his fingers.
“Jatt! Curse you, get back here!” he shouted.
The rattling ceased and Relam distinctly heard a bolt being drawn back. He stood slowly, dusting himself off, and stood facing the gate calmly, hands clasped in front of him. Cevet followed his example. Jatt stood where he was, watching the gate, while Knet and Delan ran to where Sebast was dangling and began trying to get him down.
Then, two things happened, almost simultaneously. First, the gate opened and Master Agath stepped out of the archway. The sword master was dressed simply in tunic and pants, his sword at his hip, his expression the picture of serenity as he surveyed the cadets. Then, Sebast let out a terrified yell as he lost his grip on the wall and plummeted earthward. It was not too far to fall, but he landed awkwardly, careening into Knet and Delan so that the three fell in a heap on the road, Sebast groaning and winded.
Relam and Cevet turned away to hide grins. As far as they were concerned, the trials were off to an excellent start.
Chapter 6
Master Agath paused to survey the three downed cadets, eying them dispassionately. The lordlings quickly got to their feet and stood at attention, Knet practically shaking from nervousness.
“Good morning,” the sword master said quietly.
Relam exchanged a glance with Cevet. This was unusual to say the least. Normally, Agath was loud, energetic, and commanding. This morning, he seemed almost . . . emotionless. Tranquil.
“Come with me. All of you.”
Master Agath turned sharply and led the way back through the gate. Relam quickly followed, along with the other cadets. The moment they were inside, Tar Agath shut and locked the gate again.
“The trials begin now,” the sword master said ominously. “Be warned. These tests are designed to push you to your absolute limits, see what you are capable of. They are not for the faint of heart.” He looked around the group, somehow managing never to meet anyone’s eyes directly.
“Relam. Sebast. Stay here. The rest of you, into the assembly hall. I will come for you when it is your time.”
The other four cadets trooped off towards the assembly hall, with many a backward glance. Master Agath waited until the door had closed, then turned to Relam and Sebast. “Practice swords, now.”
The two cadets quickly retrieved wooden practice blades from the rack leaning against the outer wall of the barracks. “Scared, princeling?” Sebast sneered.
“Not hardly,” Relam muttered in reply. “You won’t win any bouts today.”
Sebast scowled and followed Relam back to where Tar Agath was waiting. The sword master looked them up and down critically. Relam met the dispassionate gaze confidently and calmly. He did not look to see what Sebast was doing.
“You will fight three practice bouts against each other,” Agath explained. “You are familiar with this drill, yes?”
“Yes,” Relam replied immediately.
“Good. This will serve as an excellent warmup for what lies ahead. Begin.”
For a moment, Relam and Sebast just stood there, surprised by the sudden start. Then, Sebast whipped his practice sword around with a roar and attacked. Relam ducked and backed away, cursing his slow reflexes. There was no opportunity to win this fight in a few blows like his father had taught him, not while Sebast held the momentum. He would have to best the other cadet with skill, not tricks.
Relam gave ground quickly, parrying Sebast’s attacks with his own sword. Their wooden practice weapons cracked loudly with each impact, and sometimes splinters flew from the blades. Relam hardly felt these though, focused as he was on his adversary.
As he retreated, Relam watched Sebast. The lordling was letting instinct and frustration take over as his best attacks were foiled. He was starting to overcommit, leaning forward as he attacked to deliver more power.
A little more, Relam thought to himself as he parried the latest blow. Sebast struck again, a side cut this time, and the young prince made his move.
Instead of parrying with his blade, Relam deflected Sebast’s sword. As a result, Sebast, expecting to be stopped by Relam’s sword, kept moving. As the prince had suspected, the lordling had overcommitted. He stumbled off balance, and Relam casually flicked the point of his practice weapon up to Sebast’s collarbone.
“Win goes to Relam,” Tar Agath announced. “Take a minute. Then we will begin again.”
Sebast glared at Relam and stepped back, sticking the practice sword point first in the ground and wiping his brow. Relam stayed where he was, breathing evenly, holding his sword so that the tip was slightly up and ready. He would not be caught unaware by a sudden start again.
The allotted minute passed. Relam still stood ready, waiting for the second match to begin. Sebast had picked his sword up again and was waiting too, staring intently at Relam. Another minute passed, and Master Agath did not speak or give any signal that the match was started.
After two minutes had passed with no activity at all, the sword master sighed. “You might like to GET ON WITH IT!”
Galvanized into action, Relam and Sebast sprang forward, locking their swords and shoving at each other. This was no contest of skill, for a moment, but a test of strength, exploring the opponent’s reserves, seeing how much he had left. Relam, sensing he had the edge, took a half pace forward, driving Sebast back. The lordling disengaged with a quick twist and spun away, quickly putting distance between them.
Sebast stood there, waiting, his breath coming in short gasps. Relam was winded too, but he did not show it, maintaining an outward appearance of total control. He raised his sword in front of him, staring Sebast down.
The lordling actually took a half pace back and Relam smiled to himself. Now was the time to strike, and use what his father had taught hi
m.
Relam yelled aloud and charged forward, baring his teeth as Sebast flinched away. To his credit, the lordling stood his ground even as Relam bore down on him. The prince held his sword out to the right as he ran, then as he drew nearer to Sebast leaped forward with a thrust.
Sebast went to deflect Relam’s blade but it was already gone. As soon as he had landed, Relam had spun and struck from the other direction. Sebast blocked Relam’s blade with the hilt of his own practice sword. Then, Relam, still spinning, hooked his right leg around Sebast’s ankle.
The lording fell in a heap, his practice sword skittering away. Relam quickly rested his practice sword on Sebast’s collarbone, ending the bout. Sebast glared up at Relam.
“I believe that’s two to none,” the prince whispered fiercely. “Better hope you win this last one, Garenes.”
Sebast spat at Relam and knocked his practice sword to one side. Then, in the blink of an eye, he drew his real sword, a gleaming, glittering blade, double edged with a silver chased hilt.
Relam stumbled back, cursing as Sebast attacked. The prince dodged the first two wild blows, then parried the third with his wooden sword. Sebast’s blade bit deep into the wood and stuck there. As he withdrew, the practice sword was wrenched from Relam’s grasp. He quickly drew his own blade and took up a defensive stance. Before Sebast could strike again though, a tall figure interposed himself between the two cadets. Master Agath raised his own sword and blocked Sebast’s blow with a screech of steel on steel. He and Sebast locked blades, then, with a contemptuous flick the master disarmed Garenes, sending his sword skittering across the ground.
“Enough,” he snarled. “I wish I could say I am surprised, Sebast. That was a cowardly and foolish thing to do.”
“Out of my way!” Sebast shouted.
Master Agath stepped back a pace and leveled his sword at Sebast. “That’s enough, Garenes. Stand down.”
“But-”
“That’s an order, cadet!”
As Relam watched, Sebast covered his anger expertly and made a small bow towards master Agath. “I apologize, Master Agath, I thought the third bout had started.”
The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1) Page 7
