A quick thrust which he almost couldn’t deflect in time reminded Jaymin to keep his attention on what he was doing. He began to focus on his offense, battering at Erik’s defense with harder and faster blows. Step by step, he forced his friend to retreat before his onslaught. Suddenly, Erik’s heel caught against a large root as he tried to dodge a slash from Jaymin’s stick. He stumbled and fell flat on his back. Before he could roll out of the way or scramble to his feet again, Jaymin was on top of him, with one knee on Erik’s chest and the other pinning down his left arm, one hand forcing his sword arm back, and the other holding the edge of his own stick against Erik’s throat.
“Oof,” Erik sighed, letting his muscles go limp and his head fall back onto the hard ground. “All right, I surrender. Now get off of me.”
Jaymin clambered to his feet and extended a hand to help his friend up. “Well fought.”
“You too.” They saluted each other with their sticks and Jaymin reclaimed his cloak from the branch where he had left it hanging. As he was putting it back on, they heard the sound of a child’s angry cry ringing through the trees. The boys exchanged a quick, startled glance; and then, as one, they cautiously hurried toward the sound, which had come from the direction of the pond. At a gesture from Erik, Jaymin slowed and followed his friend from one tree to another, always pausing to peer out from behind a trunk before proceeding.
When they were almost to the pond they stopped behind one final tree, and Erik gripped Jaymin’s arm to keep him from going any further. Jaymin peered out and saw that two small girls stood nearby, glaring defiantly at a pair of Malornian soldiers. Privates, apparently, since their uniform jackets were plain red with no colored stripes on the sleeves. The older of the girls held an armload of sticks and twigs. The younger one, who was beginning to cry, had apparently just had hers snatched from her by one of the soldiers.
“Awfully nice of you to share your firewood with us,” the man was chuckling sarcastically as his partner wrenched the other girl’s sticks out of her hands as well. “Saves us the time of gathering our own, and we appreciate your support of the Malornian troops.” The other soldier slapped him on the back with his free hand and the two of them roared with laughter.
The older girl’s face was red with anger. “Give them back, you big bullies,” she demanded. “How dare you take our firewood?”
“Give them back!” the soldier mimicked her. “If you knew what was good for you, little girl, you’d be afraid to talk to us like that. Do you know what we could easily do to you if we chose?”
That was enough for Jaymin. He clenched his fists angrily around the stick he still held and turned to Erik. “Come on.”
Erik shook his head firmly. “It’s too dangerous.”
“There are only two of them,” protested Jaymin. “We can take them.”
“That’s not the point. We don’t want them to see your face, remember?”
Jaymin scowled. “They’re mistreating helpless Alasian citizens. You can sit here and do nothing if you want to, but I’m going to go help.”
Erik grabbed his arm again as he was about to march around the tree and teach the soldiers a lesson. “Fine. You wait here and I’ll go take care of them. Just don’t let them see you.”
Jaymin relented. “All right.” As long as someone was going to do it. “Have fun.” He knew Erik would.
His friend grinned, leaned his stick against the tree, and slipped out into the open empty handed.
The girls shrieked and scrambled out of the way as the soldier who had been mocking them suddenly pitched forward onto his face, landing on top of his stolen firewood in the mud. His partner dropped his own armload of wood and whirled around, whipping his sword out of its sheath. Jaymin had not expected him to react quite that quickly, but Erik was quicker. His foot flew up and hit the man hard in the stomach, knocking him backward against the trunk of a tree. He gasped and gagged, almost dropping his sword as he doubled over and struggled to breathe. Erik danced aside; and now the first soldier had regained his feet and was coming for him, his face and the front of his uniform muddy, but his sword, too, at the ready. Calmly, Erik waited until the man was almost upon him; then with a quick, unexpected twist, he slipped to the side and somehow propelled his enemy forward into the mud again – only now the sword was in Erik’s hand.
The soldier’s filthy face was twisted with fury as he scrambled to his feet, even muddier than before. “Give that back, you stupid boy!” he exclaimed. “How dare you take my blade?”
Erik drew back his arm and flung the sword high over the pond. A startled flock of birds took flight from the far end, their shrieking covering the splash it made as it landed far out in the water.
“Are you afraid to face a boy without a weapon?” Erik scoffed, careful to keep one eye on each of the Malornians. The other was on his feet, keeping his own eyes on the fight, but still doubled over, trying to get his wind back. The muddy one gave a roar of fury and charged, reaching out to grab Erik, who slipped effortlessly out of the way again. He seized the man’s arm as his enemy went by, leaning back on his heels and using the soldier’s own momentum to spin him in a circle, which ended as he slammed full into a tree and crashed to the ground in a motionless heap.
The second soldier clutched his sword, baring his teeth like a wild beast. “You’ll pay for this, you little brat,” he gasped, still struggling for breath, and swore menacingly.
“You shouldn’t use words like that,” Erik admonished sternly. “Is that how you Malornians talk in front of children? My, what a bad example you set.”
The soldier advanced slowly in a half-crouch, his sword extended. “You little coward, hold still and let me get at you,” he snarled.
Erik laughed. “Coward? You’re twice my size and three times my weight, and you have a weapon and I don’t. Who’s the coward here?”
With a sudden lunge, the man tried to seize him, but Erik slipped deftly aside once more, and the next instant the man was falling flat on his face as his partner had, his sword in Erik’s nimble hand. His head impacted with a large rock and he lay still.
“Idiot,” muttered Erik under his breath. “You should have learned from the other one’s mistake.” He glanced around. The two little girls were standing wide-eyed under a tree, clutching each other. Nearby, their firewood lay where the men had dropped it.
Erik stuck the sword into his own belt, stepped forward, and gave a courtly bow. “These are yours, I believe.” He gathered up the sticks and handed them to the staring girls, who snatched them from him without a word and then turned and fled back toward the town.
“You certainly have a way with the ladies,” teased Jaymin, stepping out from behind his tree. “I just hope they won’t go telling everyone in town what happened. You might start to get an interesting reputation.” He bent over one soldier and then the other, checking to see if they were breathing. “Well done.”
“Thanks.” Erik drew the sword and held it out, hilt first. “What shall we do with them? Should I cut their throats? Or do you want to?”
Jaymin hesitated, thinking of his parents and the many people in the palace who had probably been murdered while they slept. “Yes, I want to, but no, we’re not going to. That may be the way they do things, but we’re better than that.” He straightened up. “Help me drag them further into the trees so no one sees them lying here.”
They pulled the two unconscious soldiers into the forest one by one, leaving them sprawled full length on the cold dirt. Erik held out the sword again. “What about this? Do you think we should take it back with us, just in case?”
Jaymin hesitated. They had no weapons, and they might need one sometime. But two ragged boys with a Malornian blade would attract far too much attention. That could very well lead to more trouble in the long run, he reflected, than not having a weapon at all.
“We could hide it somewhere,” Erik suggested, reading his mind. “We can always come back for it later.” They found a spot for the sw
ord between two large tree roots and hastily covered it over with rocks.
The sun was setting as they hurried back toward the town. Though they said no more about what had happened, Jaymin couldn’t help picturing how angry those soldiers would be when they woke up. True, they hadn’t seen him, but as the two friends made their way through the narrow streets of Drall, Jaymin wondered what they would do if they ever came across Erik again.
Ana was waiting for them, huddled in her tattered cloak by the fire, when they arrived at her house. There was a newly-opened bottle in her hand, and an empty one beside her. Several more full ones stood in the corner. “There y’ be,” she mumbled, looking up blearily from her stool in the dim light. “Y’ should’ve come back shooner. Yer uncle wash here lookin’ for you.”
“He was?” Jaymin brightened. At last Sir Edmend had returned, but they had missed him. “How long ago did he come? What did he say? Will he be back?”
Ana shrugged and took a swig from her bottle. With her other hand, she fumbled around in her pocket and finally fished out a folded scrap of parchment, which she handed to Jaymin. The reek of alcohol on her breath hit him like a wave as he reached close enough to take it from her. Hastily, he stepped back out of range before opening it. Erik leaned close to read it over his shoulder as he held the note up to what little light was left trickling through the open doorway.
J-
I’m sorry I missed you. Please meet me tomorrow by the fountain in the town square. I will try to be there about midafternoon. There is much to tell.
-E
Chapter 5
“Good morning, class. Today I need to talk to you about an important issue,” Miss Arrin announced, as soon as all the students had filed into the classroom and taken their seats the next morning. “Authority. Who can tell us what an authority is?”
That seemed like a rather abrupt way to start the school day, Jaymin thought, a little surprised. But then, this was only his second day in a real school. Maybe it was normal to begin like this.
A girl in the front put her hand in the air, an action which Jaymin had already learned meant she wanted permission to speak. “Someone who is in charge?”
The teacher nodded. “That’s a good definition, Tarrie. Someone in authority is someone who is in charge of a certain situation or group of people. Now, how should we act toward those in authority?”
There was a moment’s silence. Jaymin wondered where she was going with this.
“We’re supposed to listen to what they say and obey them,” someone suggested tentatively.
“Sometimes, yes.” Miss Arrin nodded. “For example, in school, teachers are in authority. If none of you listened to what I said or obeyed me, our class wouldn’t function very well, would it?”
A few students tittered politely. Miss Arrin went on, “But do you think that is always the best thing to do? Or do you think there are times when obeying authority may not be a good idea?”
She paused to let the class think about this. Jaymin saw her glance quickly out the window, almost as though she were afraid someone might be out there listening. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, and those in the back had to lean forward to hear. “Class, it’s important to realize that those in authority are not always right. Sometimes people don’t really belong in authority, but they end up there anyway. When selfish or greedy people are in charge, they might make decisions or give instructions that are not best for those under them – or for anyone else except themselves. When that happens, going along with what they do or say may be the easiest route, but that doesn’t make it right.”
She paused again, and looked around the room, meeting the gaze of every child there.
“If you only learn one thing from me this year, let it be this. Always stand firm for what you know is right. Always. No matter what other people say; no matter what those in authority may try to make you do.”
Her voice held such passion that the class held its collective breath as she spoke. There was a feeling as though a great truth had just been imparted, and they were all silent as it sank in.
Jaymin gazed at the teacher with new respect. He wasn’t sure if the other students knew what she was actually talking about, but he did, and he felt a rush of thankfulness that she was a part of his kingdom, and in the position of a teacher as well.
“Remember,” Miss Arrin concluded quietly, “it may be wise to go along for a while, or at least to give the appearance of respect to those in charge. But that’s not the same as submitting. Never submit to authority if you know it’s wrong.”
A sudden loud rap on the door made everyone jump, except for the teacher, who seemed to be expecting it. Her pleased expression suggested that this was perfect timing. “And now, class,” she said loudly, “we have a special visitor this morning.” She stepped to the door and pulled it open.
In swept a tall man with dark hair and a haughty curl to his lip. Except for a wine-red cloak, he was dressed all in black. He must be an official representative of Malorn, Jaymin thought.
Glancing scornfully around at the bare little room and the ragged children in it, the man strode to the front of the classroom and sat down on Miss Arrin’s rickety wooden table as though it had been placed there solely for his convenience. The superior look on his face suggested that he deserved far better surroundings but was choosing to honor them with his presence here for a while.
Miss Arrin stood to one side, her face carefully expressionless, watching him quietly with her hands clasped behind her back. Finally the man spoke, his proud Malornian accent tinting his words.
“I am Inspector Helmen of the Malornian Educational Reform Committee for Alasian Schools. I serve his Royal Highness Prince Korram of Malorn, and am his representative in the educational system of this, the land of his glorious conquest.” His tone was cold and self-important as he recited this formal introduction. “Good day, children.”
He paused, waiting for a response, but there was none. A tense silence filled the room. Jaymin clenched his teeth, scowling. Behind him, he heard someone mutter under his breath, “It would be a better day if you Malornians were gone.” Glancing covertly around, Jaymin saw fear on some of his classmates’ faces, anger on most.
Inspector Helmen did not seem pleased by the lack of response. “In Malornian schools,” he said stiffly, “children are taught to be respectful to adults.” He turned coldly to Miss Arrin. “I suggest you speak to your class about how they ought to behave toward those in authority.”
He swept his gaze over the students again. “You all know that your little kingdom is being ruled by Malorn now. I realize this may not be easy for you to accept, but if you cooperate fully, things will go much better for you.” He smiled coldly, and his expression made Jaymin think of a predator surrounded by more prey than it could eat. “Many improvements are being made and will continue to be made here; and believe me, you will come to appreciate them in due time. You should already have begun, for example, to study Malornian history and literature. From time to time, Malornian representatives will visit your school to test you on what you have learned, or to teach special lessons on our magnificent culture, laws, and various other aspects of Malornian life. You will be expected, of course, to learn all you can, and do your part to become good little Malornian citizens. In a year or two some of you may be required to leave school and serve in Malornian farms or mines or other industries we will be developing nearby, or even move to Malorn to work for us there. In a few years some of you boys will be drafted into the Malornian army.”
Jaymin was dumbfounded. So this was what their enemies were planning for his people! He closed his eyes for a moment in helpless disbelief and fury. A few weeks ago, it would have taken only a word from him, and a dozen guards would have stood ready to run this man through with their swords. But now Jaymin was powerless – powerless, while this conceited imposter with his condescending words and his educational reform plans could do what he liked in Jaymin’s beloved kingdom.
>
“Does anyone have any questions about the new system?” Inspector Helmen asked in his cold, formal tone.
“Don’t even think about it,” Erik hissed to Jaymin, who was just drawing breath to speak. Jaymin was angry enough to ignore Erik, but before he had a chance to say anything, a girl whose name he remembered to be Cella rose to her feet.
“I do.”
He could see that her hands were shaking, but she clasped them firmly behind her back and went on. “I want to know what gives you the right to change things like this.”
Everyone turned to stare at her. Several students gasped at her audacity. The inspector seemed taken aback, but anger quickly covered the surprise on his face. Before he could respond, however, Cella hurried on, defiance in her voice.
“We were doing fine before you and your people came barging in where you don’t belong. Our school was doing fine. Now you think you have the right to just come in and change our lives however you like and call it an improvement.”
Inspector Helmen was on his feet now, his face red with fury. He moved forward, approaching Cella with slow, deliberate steps. The predator was cornering its chosen prey. The class watched in trepidation as he wove his way between their long tables and benches, stalking toward her. “You,” he ground out, “do not realize what you are saying.”
“I-I realize exactly what I’m saying.” Her voice shook a little, but she remained on her feet, meeting the inspector’s gaze unflinchingly. “My father was a soldier, and we haven’t heard from him since the Invasion, so I know he – he probably died trying to stop you people. So I’m not afraid to say what I think about you Malornians invading our kingdom.”
“Your pitiful kingdom,” the inspector snapped wrathfully, “has serious problems –”
“Problems that you caused!” Cella retorted. She seemed to feel that as long as she was going to get in trouble anyway, she might as well say everything she wanted to say.
Prince of Alasia (Annals of Alasia Book 1) Page 6
