by P. S. Power
Mikail grimaced.
“Even for a Prince, dead is dead. If you think that a simple attack will remove Anders Brolly, I have to suggest you pay attention for a while first and go carefully there? On the good side, this man is clearly no bully, for all he mentioned your death. If you’d come for me like that, even if it had worked, you would be dead right now. Again, Prince or not. Baret couldn’t tell who you were, because of that mask.”
There was an actual glare, and the man stiffened, as if figuring his harsh words were going to be met with violence, or possibly Lassa throwing a fit. Like a little Princess. He even started to do that.
“I’ll have you-”
Anders held up his hand, his right one, held in a fist. Ready to make Lassa explode.
“Prince Lassa, you have your orders and a valuable lesson here today. I suggest you merely prepare to do better, in the future? To simply be a better person?” He still sounded angry and as if he intended violence. At least to himself.
The prince stood up then, his face sneering.
“Fine. I’ll thrash you with my hands. If you kill me for doing that, you’ll hang, even if you are higher in the rankings than I am! Argh!”
Anders shifted to the right and back, as the boy tried to tackle him. It was a clumsy move, but one that nearly worked, being so unexpected. His counter was to simply grab the outspread arm, the right one and then the neck of the flying boy, and pivot in place. He nearly went down anyway, himself, but only staggered and let Lassa land on his face, after letting him go.
Then he had to dance back, as it was tried, a little harder and faster, once again. This time there was no counter to the move, just him dodging out of the way. Mikail drew his sword again, followed by Baret. The older man seemed wide eyed and scared.
“Prince... Lassa... I must ask you to reconsider. Prince Anders does outrank you. If we must kill, we will have to remove you, given that. I beg you, leave off!”
The child didn’t. Anders smiled and waved at the men.
“This, it seems, is about to be his first lesson, if I can manage it. Don’t harm him, please? I was set to see to his instruction. I would have rather done it the easy way.” He managed the words well enough, and struck Lassa on the side of the head, with an open palm. Turned the movement at the last moment, knocking him to the ground.
A thing that happened six times, inside a minute. It wasn’t a totally one-sided fight, with Lassa managing to come at him and even do some damage, several times. His nose stung, and blood covered his front from several of the blows, when Prince Lassa finally managed to grab him, sending them both to the hard stones below.
Anders rolled him over, using leverage and some of the tricks he’d learned to fight, if ever unarmed on the battlefield, and lamented not having brought his stick with him that day. Then he hit hard and fast, for about twenty seconds.
Prince Lassa, his attacker, didn’t lose consciousness, as much as curl into a ball and start crying. It was a loud and pitiful affair. Baret moved in to pull Anders off.
“No? Get up, Lassa. This fight isn’t over. Take your feet and keep going. You can cry, but you can’t stop fighting. If you do that, in a real fight, not here playing with me, then you’ll die. Rise and strike me down, if you can. Don’t stop fighting until you can’t go on any longer.” He sounded cold again.
Mean and as if he were planning something bad.
Farad felt baffled. Anders sounded old, but it wasn’t strictly that part of himself who was speaking. The boy inside felt rage, but was actually holding that back, fairly well. His fists were raised, ready to keep going.
Mikail moved in then, and leaned over, patting the Prince on the shoulder, as he lay, moaning.
“You heard him. Rise and keep going. He isn’t wrong, Prince Lassa. Every warrior learns this lesson, at some point. The battle has been joined... You must not leave off, until you have no ability to fight. Do it.” Then, seeming as if his own life were about to be over, he moved back. Gesturing at someone else, who had come through the gates, to move back. It was a commanding movement. One that had half a dozen people moving. Anders noticed the bodies there, standing back, without seeing who it was, exactly.
Lassa tightened, then roared and attacked again. Poorly. What skill he’d been using, which wasn’t really below what Anders had himself for unarmed combat, was greatly diminished. Part of that was simply exhaustion, of course. Fighting was always hard. It hurt and if you weren’t used to that fact, it sapped the strength from you. Your very will could fail.
Anders was used to it, from regular training and from the war, where things had been so much worse that this game of the moment almost seemed like a prank, instead of an actual attempt on his life.
The other prince was cast down, in a different fashion each time. Then, when he was on the ground, crying, calling for aid, Anders spoke, each time.
“Rise. Don’t give in. Don’t let pain stop you from your task. This is harsh, but you have learned to be soft and spoiled. That is, perhaps, as any might do if they’re raised to such comforts. You will not have those any longer. Now, fight. Use your skills. You have clearly been trained for such things. You ache. Your body cries for relief, but it will not come. Now is the time you must make yourself move. Keep going! You can do this. Do not fail. Do not let yourself give in.”
He had to sound crazed, and it wasn’t a lesson that he’d needed to learn himself. Even Farad hadn’t, really. He’d been an old man for too long, and lived in pain for decades. Anders, the boy, simply didn’t know how to give in. Even without magic, he would have fought to the death, before letting another person triumph over him. At least when it counted.
Prince Lassa was simply used to the world doing things for him. For things to be easy and simple. Now he was, perhaps for the first time in his life, being asked to do more than that. To actually persevere when doing so meant something.
In the end, the boy failed.
Only when Anders had rendered him unconscious, however.
When he looked up, blood still pouring from his nose, staining the stone at his feet, Lassa doing that as well, in even greater measure, he noticed who was watching him.
Prince Naveed stared, with Depak behind him, his face in a scowl. Next to him were three of the Sulanas, and of course, the Sula himself.
Anders, injured or not, smiled and bowed.
“Sorry about getting the stones out here bloody. We’ll clean this up, directly. Prince Lassa heard that his life was going to change, and objected, slightly. It won’t be a problem now, I’m certain.” He shook his head then, his nose throbbing, as he did it. “Well, that isn’t true, of course. It won’t be a problem for any of you, from now on, I meant to say. Well, perhaps for Depak Sona and his apprentices? I was going to ask Lissa to see to his education in magic?”
The Sula looked at his son, his own child, and turned away.
“Such brutality, here...”
Mikail cleared his throat, seeming strained.
“It was light, Sula Darian. Prince Lassa, wearing a mask and armed with knife and sword attempted to assassinate Prince Anders. Then, after being given some rather good advice, Prince Lassa decided to take his chances unarmed, since Prince Anders wouldn’t be allowed the right to self-defense, not as far as killing, in that case. You saw much of the rest. It wasn’t even done to humble the would-be killer. Just a real lesson, that Prince Lassa had brought about, all on his own. Harsh, but it is similar to things all guards must face in their first days of training.”
Darian, seeming upset, heaved a sigh.
“I... See. I think. This is real? You witnessed all of this?” That was spoken to Baret, directly.
“I did, Father. Mikail is being far too kind, in order to protect Lassa. I nearly killed him myself, before his mask came off. Now... I have to recommend we hang him. That or beheading? He attempted to kill a Prince of our land. It was an honest happening, well witnessed. There is only one punishment for such a thing.”
Th
ere was a grim nod, from the Sula, and one of the women started to cry, rather openly. She wasn’t old, really, seeming to be about four decades, if that, in age. Still, she spoke, her voice quivering.
It also wasn’t Endeara.
“It must be done. Lassa... My child... He has... There is no other way.”
Anders shrugged, and then shook his head, his nose still leaking. He rolled his eyes, then spoke a few spells, first to fix the swelling and blood flow, healing the torn flesh, carefully, and then repairing the small scars left, inside. When that was done, he cleaned himself, and his clothing, stripping them of blood. The stones as well, leaving a small ball of red liquid hovering in the air, at almost eye level.
Then he added Lassa to that. Not healing his bruises but stopping the bleeding and cleaning his rather nicely made outfit. It was red and blue in color, which was festive, even if the mask didn’t match it perfectly.
“Excuse me, Sula Darian? I was asked to see to his education, was I not? I don’t want to tell you, any of you, how to live your lives, but I can’t do that task very well if the student is dead. It’s a special privileges, but would I be allowed to beg for his life, do you think?”
Everyone stopped to stare at him, with Depak seeming suddenly considering, rather than upset with him. The Sula didn’t even breathe for a moment, then, slowly, nodded.
“We can only do this one time, Prince Anders. Such a thing, attempting to kill one of my heirs, is punishable by death. Are you certain that Prince Lassa is worthy of such consideration? If you do this, you will, almost certainly, be removed from even the top fifty, in the next position chart.” The man seemed almost angry. Sad at the same time.
The other women looked scared, as did Mikail.
Anders smiled.
“A small price to pay, in exchange for a life. Still, I have no clue if Lassa is willing to try. If he is... Well, then it might be worth it. If not, I should probably leave off. What say you, Prince Lassa?”
The boy, sitting up, but alone, tried to stand. It was clearly painful.
“I... Don’t want to die. I’ll do as you say, Prince Anders.”
That got a nod, from Depak Sona.
“See to that then, Anders. You have three weeks to make something of him. Otherwise, you lose your position here totally, and Lassa will lose his life. Do you understand?”
Anders smiled, sadly.
“I do. If he fails, I must kill him and then leave this land in shame, for all eternity.” Otherwise, it would be Depak telling Sula Darian what to do. That couldn’t be allowed, so he took it the only way he could see it working.
Everyone there, including Lassa, seemed to agree that it sounded correct.
Chapter eight
Five people followed Anders back to his room, after the Sula took his leave. The poor man was clearly angry. Also frightened. That one had required looking into his very thoughts to understand, for Anders. It wasn’t that he felt that promoting Anders had been a mistake, either, which would have been what came to his own mind first, if he’d been thinking about it, instead of being mildly disturbed by what Prince Lassa had done.
As they moved away, it was clear that the Sula, the leader of a large and powerful land, thought that Depak Sona was simply going to order Anders to kill Lassa. Thereby removing from consideration an unwanted and unruly mess of a man. People had died in the past, due to such things coming from Depak. Even princes and princesses had died or vanished. Not all of them were in the top ten, either.
Another prince having tried to openly slay Anders was worth a death. That Anders had acted honorably, even gently, if in a strange fashion, wasn’t missed by the man. When he’d threatened to remove his rank, casting him down, the Prince had held his head high and spoken of it being a fair price. A thing that the Sula had, very nearly cried over, at the time.
Then, Depak Sona had given an order for Lassa to be killed.
That part, the idea that the Prince was so rotten that he couldn’t fix himself in time, not in the mind of anyone there, except for Anders, was amazing, of course.
Inside his chamber, with Prince Naveed, Depak Sona and Prince Baret watching Lassa as if he might try to run, or fight again, Anders cleared his throat.
“So, you want part of the palace rebuilt? That’s pretty major. We... Honestly, let’s get with the others and see what the Sula wants done that way? It should be good practice, really, and everyone will need things to do, to keep busy.” He glanced at Baret when he spoke, which had Prince Naveed staring for a moment, seeming impressed.
“Ah. I see the true danger now, of having Anders Brolly here. It isn’t simply that he’s impressive in his own person, or has taught others magic. Simply being around him is making everyone else great as well! You two were out discussing plans to renovate the palace? The old wing?”
Baret, still dressed like a guard, snorted.
“No, brother. Prince Anders was out in town, in the central market, healing people. For free. He created a small building for it, in no more than mere moments, then aided person after person. Then, when given payment, he shared the food. Not only with myself and our guard, but strangers, if they had need. He even tried to hide his name, so no one would know it was him doing it. I don’t think it’s even a clever plan to gain favor, Naveed. He was simply being a good person.” He glared at Lassa and shook his head. “Who you tried to murder, because you wanted to avoid lessons? If you’d come for me like that, you wouldn’t be alive right now. And I’m the brother who actually likes you, Lassa, so keep that in mind. Well, maybe Prince Anders likes you as well? Even if he was cruel in his thrashing of you. That was well done, wasn’t it, Naveed? Skillful.”
The Heir took a deep breath.
“Oh, it was, truly. Not because I long to see you beaten, either, little brother. Prince Anders is the Great One of Istlan. He has fought armies and won. I don’t know what you thought you were going to accomplish there, earlier, but I was shocked to find you alive and merely being tossed to the ground like that.”
Lassa made a face then.
“What could he do? He was quick with a deflection of my knife, and pushed me a bit. True, that’s a lot to bring out that fast, but I didn’t give him time to do more than that. He doused me with water. So did you...” There was a narrowing of eyes then, as if the boy planned to fight.
Depak Sona laughed, then he pointed to the left.
“Anders. Destroy that wall. Now.”
It exploded, instantly. The stone was heavy and thick and took ten blasts to get through, but, knowing he could fix it later, he did as he was asked. That wasn’t the end. Stones were flung at him, and he had to melt them, in the air. That was difficult on a level that Anders had never tried to manage before, in fact. Panting and struggling, he then had to shape the things into perfect squares, and struggle with Depak, to put them back into a wall, as the other man did everything in his power to stop him.
In the end, laughing, they were both sucking air in like they were about to die.
Baret was standing with his mouth open, as was Lassa. Naveed seemed better in control of himself.
“That is what it means to be a Great One, brothers. In part. I suggest you both speak to sister Salina, about what is required of that type of person, soon. Know this though...” The man, his brown eyes clear and a bit sad, managed to seem rather commanding just then. “I have spent my entire life, pressing myself to learn magic, on a level that almost no one else here has. If I’d been forced to fight Anders, I would be dead. Both of you as well. Perhaps the Great One would survive.”
Prince Lassa, who looked a lot like his brothers, now that they were side by side, having only a slightly longer face than the others, made a dismissive gesture.
“If he’s so powerful, why isn’t he the heir, instead of you?”
Anders spoke then, the whole situation becoming embarrassing.
“Because the strongest isn’t always the best to rule. For that we need wisdom and compassion, in equal measure
to strength. None of which is important right now. I’ve giving up my place here, so that you can have another chance. You agreed to do it, so, let’s start?”
That got more narrowed eyes, as if the man just couldn’t help himself. His face was still rather battered and Depak looked ready to kick him in a sensitive place, to get his attention. Indeed, his foot actually started to leave the ground when Lassa spoke.
“Fine. I suppose I have to be your slave now or pleasure you with my mouth, my life forfeit if I don’t? You northers are all perverted that way, aren’t you? Your Ambassador was caught doing that with one of the serving men, some months back. The Sula had to bribe people not to speak of it. To prevent a war. You’re from there, so you must do the same things, right?”
Depak seemed ready to kill him for the words and Naveed stiffened, and seemed nearly as upset. Baret shrugged, as if he didn’t care at all.
Anders grinned.
“Not at all. We don’t hold such in the shame you do here, though, that’s true. I won’t require such services from you. You won’t have time for anything that pleasant or fun. From now on, for the next weeks, you’ll sit your evenings in meditation and contemplation and your mornings learning. I won’t threaten you. You heard what I have to do if you fail. The only thing there is Lassa...” He smiled then. Meaning it. “You won’t fail. Not in this. No one is truly asking you to do anything you can’t. So, now, we’re going to meditate. Baret, Prince Naveed, will you join us? I’d invite you, Depak Sona, but I need to send you with gold and jewels, to beg Princess Lissa to help teach Lassa magic. By the way, Lassa... If you annoy her too much...” He’d just said he wasn’t going to threaten the man, so he looked away. “Then you are a fool. She’s a capable teacher of topics that you should be learning, even if your life didn’t depend on seeming like a good person, from now on. Here, if you will aid us, please, Depak Sona? I have a chest of gold.” Anders had two and a half chests left, so got one of the full ones, which mainly had rings and necklaces in it, made from found materials, opened it to show Lassa he was actually paying for the lessons, out of his own pocket, and passed the thing to Depak, who picked the thing up, grunted, set it down and then called out a small spell, so it would float after him.
