by P. D. Kalnay
I’ve mentioned my temper before, and my tendency to say things I shouldn’t, but I don’t think I was out of line. I knocked his hand away from Ivy’s head with a quick jab.
“Why don’t you keep your hands to yourself, Prince Douche Bag,” I said.
That stopped the laugher cold. The look of terror Ivy directed my way screamed stop louder than any words could have. I wasn’t in the mood to listen.
“Did you just strike me?” Prince Duzalain asked softly. He had an extra fifty pounds of muscle on me, but we were eye to eye.
“Yes,” I said, still seething. “If you touch her again, I’ll do more than that.”
“Jack, you mustn’t,” Ivy said.
The Prince looked me up and down. I saw the wheels turning.
“You must be the chosen mate for our little pet,” he said. “I can only imagine the offspring you and this green runt will produce.”
Mr. Ryan taught me that the first step to any engagement is assessing the enemy and the conditions of the battlefield. The second step is deciding if you should fight at all. I skipped over those steps.
“You have a filthy mouth,” I said. “Why don’t you shut it?”
We were developing an audience, having unintentionally provided entertainment for the others waiting nearby.
“Perhaps you wish to make me,” the Prince said. He rested a hand lightly on the sword at his side. It looked remarkably similar to the one I carried.
He glanced at my side; I’d unconsciously put a hand on my own sword. That was the point I realised things might be getting out of control.
“Princess Ivangelain, Prince Jakalain, the Court will be ready to see you soon,” a new voice behind me said.
“Sir Andriel,” Ivy said. I heard a measure of relief in her voice. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you Princess,” Sir Andriel said.
I turned halfway around to examine the newcomer without losing sight of Prince Duzalain. The tall knight was old. Even being new to these people, and this world, I could tell that he was older than old. Sir Andriel was Petrathen and the only person I’d seen so far with wrinkles or any visible signs of age. He wore long black robes that were the only clothes in the room as plain as mine. A stylised version of the tree on Gran’s basement door stood embroidered in silver thread on his left breast.
“You’re interrupting our entertainment old man,” Prince Duzalain said.
“Before you cut this boy down for sport,” Sir Andriel said, “you may want to remember how important and necessary these two are to your father. Unless, you were hoping to take the boy’s place?”
“That’s disgusting,” Prince Duzalain said. “Me stranded on a rock with the runt, my bits would turn green and fall off!”
This brought a new and boisterous round of laughter.
“However, the boy did touch me, and I’ll require satisfaction. He seems eager enough. We can fight to first blood if that’s not too much excitement for your old bones. Besides, it’s not as if he needs to be entirely whole to serve his purpose. Everyone, clear a circle.”
The people in the room moved back to form a wide empty circle. It appeared fights with the school bully followed the same format everywhere.
Prince Duzalain stood on the far side with his cronies, making a show of removing his heavy cloak. Ivy stared at the floor, shaking uncontrollably, and the Sir Andriel was examining me.
“Have you ever used that?” he asked, indicating the library sword.
“Not this one,” I said. “I’ve used practice blades.”
“How much training have you had?”
“All of last summer and most of this one,” I answered honestly.
The look the old knight gave me didn’t make me feel better about the situation.
“It might be wiser to apologise and beg mercy. Duzalain is a rotten boy, but he’ll likely be satisfied with that. It may be better to have wounded pride than wounds.”
It was clear Sir Andriel was trying to do me a kindness and that he’d never take his own advice. Thinking about the way Ivy had reacted to Duzalain, and the abuse she’d obviously suffered at his hands, decided me. The worst-case scenario was getting my butt handed to me. The best case… getting back at a guy who’d hurt my friend. I decided to take my chances.
“Be careful, Jack,” Ivy whispered, as I walked to the centre of the circle.
Chapter 16 – Ties That Bind
I felt less than confident, but my opponent looked to have enough confidence for the both of us. We stopped five paces apart, just as Mr. Ryan and I always did, and drew our swords. The blades were identical in every way. Excited murmuring came from the crowd, and one of the Prince’s cronies called out from behind him.
“Duzalain, it looks like the boy has a Marielain blade too!”
“It will come down to skill alone then,” Duzalain called back, laughing.
To that point, I’d neglected all the advice and training Mr. Ryan had given me. I decided to smarten up. Duzalain and I had matching weapons, and equal reach, but he looked to be a lot stronger than me. I hoped I was faster. Out of habit, I gave the salute Mr. Ryan and I always began our matches with and moved to the ready position. Duzalain wasted no time feeling me out for strengths and weaknesses. He attacked straight on with a showy technique that Mr. Ryan said was almost never appropriate. Duzalain was so fast and so strong that I almost lost the duel in that first engagement. Luckily, I did know the counter for his showboating, and I circled back unscathed. In the first three touches of our blades, I realised I was outmatched. Duzalain was no Mr. Ryan, but he was far better than me. He was also faster.
It soon became clear that Duzalain knew it, and after trying for a quick, crushing victory, he changed his mind and decided to have a bit fun at my expense. Using everything I’d learned, I could barely manage to parry his attacks as I fought what felt like an endless retreat. Mr. Ryan had taught me that a fighting retreat is a workable strategy, so I parried, circled, and hoped Duzalain would make a mistake.
I don’t know if the room was silent or filled with shouting. My world had shrunk to two men and two swords. Dozens of times, in the minutes our fight lasted, Duzalain passed up opportunities to end the contest. Only a swordsman would have noted the slightly slower, or off-centre strikes that allowed me to escape and continue. His overconfidence finally gave me the opening I’d been waiting for. Duzalain committed too much weight to his front foot, and I stepped inside his guard, lunging forward with my sword. It was weak attack and far too risky for a fight to the death because it left me wide open. However, in a duel to first blood it was enough. The tip of my blade nicked Duzalain on his cheek as he tried to back away. I’d only scored a shallow cut, maybe an inch long, but it bled nicely. I stepped back and lowered my sword, thinking the fight was over.
Duzalain wasn’t finished.
His expression changed from one of vague indifference to pure rage. He attacked me with a fury he’d not shown till then. My arms, already sore from wielding the heavy blade, felt like rubber as he struck relentlessly. Then my sword was gone—sliding across the polished floor—an unreachable distance away. No sign of sanity remained in my opponent’s eyes as he unhesitatingly drove his sword into my chest.
A fire burned in my heart as the tip of his blade met the centre of my chest. It felt as though I’d swallowed a hot ember which had lodged, burning merrily away, inside me. Ivy told me later that she saw a blinding flash of light, but I didn’t see that. For me, time slowed to a crawl. Duzalain’s shining sword crumbled to dust as it met my flesh. He finished, pressed up against me, uselessly pushing the bladeless hilt against my chest. He’d become like a mad dog, unable to stop. The image of Ivy huddled in fear flashed before my eyes, and my anger returned. Although the library sword was lost, Mr. Ryan had taught me to fight without weapons too. The punch I landed on Duzalain’s cheek was unprecedented. It came with a powerful gust of wind that picked the bigger man up and threw him across the wide circle. He slid the last ten f
eet before coming to a stop, in a heap.
New audience members looked down at the unconscious prince. Everyone in the room took a knee at the sight of the newcomers. I figured it would be prudent to do the same. The tall Petrathen man in the middle stepped over Duzalain, crossed the circle, and stopped in front of me.
“Your name?” he asked.
“Jakalain Moonborn Talantial,” I said.
“You may rise.”
I stood and looked at the man who was obviously the king. He looked like an older version of Duzalain and vaguely resembled my father. It irked me to realise that I bore a resemblance to these people.
“You may all rise.”
No one spoke as the room took to their feet. Then the king looked back across the circle.
“I believe we can dispense with the testing at this point, yes?”
“I’ve seen enough,” an older Winathen woman said.
“More than enough,” agreed the Florathen man beside her.
The king looked back at me.
“You’ve shown yourself to be of greater value than expected,” he said. “We could find you a more suitable match?”
It took me a minute to understand what he was saying. Ivy stood next to Sir Andriel, head bowed. Around the circle, several young women were giving me speculative looks. I’m not particularly good looking, so that was a first for me. All of them looked like Victoria Secret models in cosplay costumes. They all looked cruel and calculating too.
“I’ll stick with Ivy, I mean Ivangelain thanks,” I said. I didn’t remember agreeing to any of it, but I needed time to get all the missing information. One thing was certain; the only way I could protect Ivy was by staying close to her. Playing along seemed the best plan.
“Very well.” The king shrugged indifferently. “Girl, come here.”
Ivy walked over to join us. So did the old Winathen woman.
“Take her hand,” the king said.
Ivy and I clasped hands. Her hand trembled slightly, and I gave her the best smile I could manage. The woman wrapped a short length of leafy vine around our wrists before looking me in the eye.
“Do you accept the bond of this woman’s heart?” she asked.
This was definitely on the list of things I hadn’t been told. I looked to Ivy, but I didn’t know what she was trying to say with her eyes.
“Yes,” I said. It was a fifty-fifty bet.
“Do you accept the bond of this man’s heart?” the woman asked Ivy.
“Yes,” Ivy said, without the slightest hesitation.
The vine tightened up like a boa constrictor around our wrists. It hurt, but not as much as when the thorns sprouted and dug in.
“This is normal,” Ivy whispered.
Normal?
A few painful seconds later, the vine sank into the flesh of our wrists leaving us with matching vine tattoos. Think the fairy version of every barbwire tattoo you’ve ever seen.
“It is done,” the woman said.
She and the king turned away as though we didn’t exist, and the room returned to its original hubbub. I rubbed my wrist and looked Ivy in the eye.
“You’re telling me everything when we get home.”
“I promise,” she said, peering at her matching tattoo.
“This is yours,” Sir Andriel said. He handed me the library sword hilt-first.
“Thanks.” I slid it back into the scabbard.
“Only seven of those were forged,” Sir Andriel continued. “Six remain now, I suppose. I asked for the privilege of sending you back.”
“I don’t imagine anyone fought you for the honour,” Ivy said.
“No, but there’s no accounting for taste.”
Sir Andriel and Ivy were obviously old acquaintances, and I walked a few steps behind to give them a chance to talk on the way back to the travelling circle. I had a lot to think about anyway. My first visit to Ivy’s world had been action-packed and not at all informative. The old knight didn’t speak to me until we were all the way back, standing once again on the circle.
“You fought well,” he said.
“I was lucky.”
“Agreed, and foolish to have fought. Duzalain has spent twenty seasons training under the finest swordsmen.” Sir Andriel smiled and gave me a wink. “The finest swordsmen in this world at any rate. Keep practising lad.”
The old man drew his sword and gave me Mr. Ryan’s salute. His sword matched the library blade too. Then the wind rushed in my ears again. Ivy reached up and pulled my head down as the golden light appeared. My second kiss was even better than the first. It was interrupted by loud coughing. Ivy and I pulled apart. We were back in the root-filled room under Glastonbury Manor. Gran and Mr. Ryan were waiting for us.
“Looks like you had quite the trip,” Mr. Ryan said, looking between us.
“Did everything go smoothly?” Gran asked Ivy.
“Not everything,” Ivy said.
“How did you get that slice in your tie?” Mr. Ryan asked me.
I looked at my chest, and sure enough, my tie had a long clean slice where Duzalain’s sword cut my robes in the first world. Ivy and I shared a look.
“Why don’t we sit and have tea?” Gran said. It wasn’t a suggestion, and we went upstairs to the sitting room.
It was late, but as far as I could tell, Ms. Mopat never slept. She had tea and cookies ready as if by magic. Ivy and I sat together on the little sofa, and Gran and Mr. Ryan each took one of the wingback chairs across the coffee table. Gran took only a single sip of her tea before turning her cool blue eyes on Ivy.
“Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened,” she said.
Ivy squirmed under her gaze, but I wasn’t judging. Who wouldn’t?
“We travelled safely to First World and the Talantial Palace,” Ivy began. “While we were waiting to see the Court, we met Prince Duzalain.”
“Who is?” Mr. Ryan asked.
“The First Prince of Talantial,” Ivy said.
I wanted to ask what First Prince meant, but I was certain it would get Ivy in hot water, so I decided to leave it until later.
“It’s possible,” Ivy went on hesitantly, “that he is no longer First Prince.”
“Because?” Gran prompted.
“He lost a public duel to Jack, and brought dishonour to his house, and–”
“You were there less than two hours, and you fought a duel?” Gran cut her off. The blue eyes were on me now. “I know you can be thick sometimes, and spirits know you’ve your father’s temper, but…”
It was the first time I’d ever seen my grandmother at a loss for words.
“It’s possible he gets the temper from both sides of the family,” Mr. Ryan said. “How did you win a duel against a First Prince? He’d have to be significantly better than you to qualify for the rank.”
“He was,” I said. “But also arrogant, and I was lucky. He toyed with me. I retreated and watched for a mistake.”
Mr. Ryan nodded. “And he made one?”
“Yes, I got in a bit of a cheap shot, but it nicked him and drew first blood.”
“And that was it?” Mr. Ryan asked.
“No. He went crazy after that and beat me down,” I looked at the table top, embarrassed. “He disarmed me pretty easily.”
“You fought an opponent far out of your league,” Mr. Ryan said. “With no plan or forethought, I’d guess. That rarely goes well. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”
“He did try,” I said, fingering the slit in my tie. “Things got crazy after that.”
“That is when things got crazy?” Gran said at the same time the Mr. Ryan asked, “How so?”
“His sword kind of disintegrated when it hit my chest. It still hurt a lot,” I said. “I swear I have no idea what happened. Then I punched him, and he flew across the room. It was like my fist had a mini-hurricane inside of it. I’m not sure how else to explain.”
The silence from Gran and Mr. Ryan was deafening.
“I wonder,�
�� Mr. Ryan said.
“What?” I asked when he didn’t continue.
“I was just wondering who made his sword. I suppose there’s no easy way to find out,” Mr. Ryan continued.
“Marielain Blackhammer,” Ivy said. “He’d tell every person he met.”
Gran and Mr. Ryan shared a glance that looked full of secrets.
“It was identical this one.” I pointed my thumb at the library sword, leaning against the back of the sofa. “Same as Sir Andriel’s sword. He said there are only six now.”
Gran and Mr. Ryan were staring at me like they’d never seen me before.
“A coincidence?” Mr. Ryan asked.
“You know it isn’t,” Gran said.
“What are you two talking about?” I asked.
“We’re asking the questions, young man,” Gran said. “What happened after that, did the binding ceremony go off without a hitch?”
“The creepy king offered me my pick of the creepy girls,” I said. “I told him I was sticking with Ivy.”
“You should use people’s names properly,” Gran said. “They have greater meaning in the First World.”
Mr. Ryan nodded his agreement.
“He didn’t give it, and I didn’t ask. Then we did the vine thing, and Sir Andriel sent us home.”
“What vine thing?” Gran asked.
I pushed back my sleeve and showed them my new tattoo. It looked the same as it had in the First World and I rubbed it with my thumb. I looked back up at the sound of my grandmother crushing her teacup to dust in a clenched fist. She looked really, really pissed-off. That ended the conversation, and Ivy and I were ordered to bed like little children.
Chapter 17 – Hammer and Sword
I woke when Ivy crawled into bed next to me, just after midnight. I’d wrapped my arms around her before I realised it wasn’t a dream. I’ll admit that I may have had a few dreams about Ivy. She snuggled in close, and I stayed silent, too afraid to say anything in case it was a dream, and I inadvertently woke myself.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Ivy whispered.
I was still half asleep and what came out was, “Did you want another kiss?”
