by Jordan Rivet
“Yes. Is okay. You get most, and you try harder each time. Good!”
The dull thud of her hits and the tap of boots on the stone floor filled the hall. The other students must have sensed Berg’s mood, because they kept their noise to a minimum. Finally, after what Dara thought was a perfectly ordinary series of compound attacks, Berg removed his mask and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his heavy glove.
“This is it, Dara. You are a serious athlete. You know the way.” Despite his words, Berg grimaced, his face reddening. “That young fool is too arrogant. He should be like you.” He clenched the strap of his mask in his fist and shook it. “I am wasting my time. He does not see it.”
Dara stepped out of the way as Berg hurled the mask to the floor. It bounced away from him and rolled between two young duelists practicing parries. They edged over to a strip closer to the wall.
“Um, who’s arrogant, Coach?” Dara asked.
“If he could see you train,” Berg ranted. “Or duel! He does not know how much danger he would be in from a swordswoman like you. Too foolish . . .” Berg lowered his eyebrows and studied Dara.
She shifted under his gaze, her sturdy training boots squeaking on the floor. Berg worked with a few pupils privately in the grand homes of the nobility on the lower slopes of King’s Peak. Sword masters were in high demand—if your pockets were deep enough. Berg didn’t usually talk about his private students, though, and Dara and the others figured training nobles was just a vanity project. Most of the young lords wouldn’t stand a chance in a real tourney. Berg continued to stare at Dara without really seeing her.
“Should I join the others, Coach?” she asked.
He started. “No, not yet. Dara, you must help me. I cannot abide this young fool anymore. You will come with me next time. Show him what it is like to duel a real athlete.”
“Coach, I’ve got to stick to my training schedule. Can you take someone who isn’t entered in the Cup? I’m sure half of them would be able to beat this fellow.” She gestured to the other students working through their usual drills. She was a pro, or at least on the verge of becoming one. She didn’t have time to teach lessons to some spoiled noble.
“No, he is very good. This is the problem. He is too confident because he is good, but he does not respect the danger. He must learn.”
“What danger?” Dara asked. “The worst that could happen is he gets bruised up in some parlor match in Lower King’s. That’ll teach him.” The mountain was safe, peaceful. No one had fought with true sharpened swords since the reign of the First Good King.
“No, there is true danger for this young fool,” Berg said. He looked around at the two dozen students. Kel and Oat were nearest to them. They kept slowing their footwork to glance over. Kel’s curiosity burned like a Fire Lantern through the wire mesh of his mask. Oat tapped him on the head with his blade to draw his attention back to the drill.
Berg drew Dara away from them toward the corner where the gear trunks lined two walls.
“You must not speak of what I will say. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Coach.”
“The student is Prince Sivarrion.”
Dara blinked. “You want me to duel the prince?”
“He does not respect the blade. If a swordsman ever tries to attack him, he will believe he can win. He will try to fight. But he must learn to fear. He will never be the Fourth King if he falls to his own pride.”
“But people don’t get assassinated in Vertigon, Coach. It’s not like the Lands Below here. And if he’s already good—”
“You see, this is his problem. He believes he is too good. And the mountain has more dangers than you know.” Berg took Dara’s blade from her. It was quality steel, flexible, with a rounded tip. During a match, the tip would be rubbed with charcoal to mark the hits on her opponent’s jacket. Berg rubbed a hand across the battered guard, the metal cup that protected the duelist’s hand. It was a plain design, lacking any ornate etchings or inlays. “Tell me why we fight to ten, Dara.”
“That’s just the rule for tourneys,” Dara said. “Makes an interesting bout for the spectators that won’t end too quickly.”
“It is more than that,” Berg said. “Tell me the target area for a duel.”
“Anywhere that can bleed scores a point, even the hand.” Hand touches were Kel’s specialty. The dominant hand was always the closest target on your opponent. Dara could do them too, but she was better at dependable shots to the shoulder after clearing her opponent’s blade with a clean parry. Her style was all about careful precision.
“Yes, of course. Anywhere that can bleed. Prince Sivarrion believes he can win with a single fatal hit if ever he is attacked. He must see that ten hits to the hand, the arm, the toe, will bleed enough to put him in grave danger. And he must see that the fatal shot is not as easy as he thinks against a superior opponent.”
“But I’m sure you’ve taught him all this,” Dara said. “Why do you need me?”
“He does not listen,” Berg said. “He thinks he listens. But he does not understand. I am not so fast as I once was. You are the one to show him.”
Dara didn’t want a distraction this close to the Cup, and she already struggled to get enough time for practice when her parents needed her in their shop. It worried her that this prince was frustrating enough to send Berg into a rage. But she couldn’t refuse her coach. He had trained her for years, and she hated letting him down. Reluctantly, she agreed.
“Okay, Coach. I’ll duel him. But would it be okay if I have an extra private lesson in exchange for missing practice?”
“This will be a good lesson for you too, young Dara,” Berg said. “It will be worth one practice. Meet me by Fell Bridge at dawn in two days.”
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Also by Jordan Rivet
Fantasy
STEEL AND FIRE
Duel of Fire
King of Mist
Dance of Steel
City of Wind
Night of Flame
THE FIRE QUEEN’S APPRENTICE
The Watermight Thief
The Thunderbird Queen
The Dragonfly Oath
EMPIRE OF TALENTS
The Spy in the Silver Palace
An Imposter with a Crown
A Traitor at the Stone Court
Science Fiction
BUNKER SERIES
Wake Me After the Apocalypse
Meet Me at World’s End
THE SEABOUND CHRONICLES
Seabound
Seaswept
Seafled
Burnt Sea: A Seabound Prequel
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