“I’m really sorry about that, teacher,” the swordsman replies as he blocks an attack and strikes her in the waist. “Do you want to stop the match?”
“Are you asking if I want to surrender?”
“No, but to take a break until you recover.”
Selenia’s eyes narrow with barely restrained fury as she deflects a clumsy slash. “Do you think your enemies will surrender because you injure them? Would you suggest a break in the middle of a real battle? This match continues until one of us ends up in the infirmary. After all, I doubt you would be so kind if I was threatening Ms. Masterson.”
The headmistress rolls her eyes when she notices the brief hesitation in Delvin’s movements. He recovers his speed and pace quickly, but there is something different about his fresh attacks. The blows switch between stiff and limp-wristed, as if he is distracted by the confused emotions in his heart. Knowing that she has won, Selenia lets the younger warrior swing wide before delivering a crushing hilt strike to the point of his elbow. A yowl of pain erupts from his mouth and he drops his weapon, the arm hanging at his side. The look on Delvin’s face is one of a man who has been snapped out of an unexpected trance. He tries to use his shield to block the incoming kick, but he is too late and takes the hit to his bellybutton. As the crowd disperses, the champion crumples to his knees and lets his head fall into the waiting palm of his mentor.
“It shouldn’t have ended this way, Cunningham,” Selenia states as she sits cross-legged in front of him. She gently rolls her former student onto his back, remembering that he always liked to watch the clouds after a loss. “You had me after the blow to my face. I understand giving me a chance to surrender, which I appreciate even if I reacted poorly. Enemies will do that in the field too. So it wasn’t the offer and rejection that caused you to make a mistake. It was when I mentioned Nyx, which I thought would make you angry.”
“It did make me angry,” Delvin admits with a cough. With a hissing breath, he raises his injured arm to the sky, but cannot hold it there for more than a second. “I wanted to cleave your head in half, which is why I hesitated. This was only a sparring session, so I didn’t want to deliver a fatal or crippling blow. If it was a real fight-”
“You would have won and I would be dead,” the headmistress interrupts, gently tapping his head with the tip of her battered sword. “I’ve known for a while that you could beat me if you put the effort in. Every time we spar, you think you’re going to lose because of my reputation and the fact that I’m the one who taught you how to fight. Well you’ve surpassed me and I wish to Ram that you’d believe that.”
“You don’t know that for a fact.”
“Are you saying I’m wrong?”
“Ye . . . No . . . You can’t know that until I actually win.”
“I’m sitting here with my first broken nose since I established this academy.”
“Do you think you could beat Stephen?”
Selenia chuckles and goes to the fountain to clean her face, a few of the fish bumping into her hands. “I’ve no idea. You’ve told me about him and his abilities, so he sounds very formidable. I would like to think I could win, but I don’t have enough information to give you a confident answer. Besides, Stephen is your test and only you can find a way to kill him.”
“I ran away from him,” Delvin admits while he gingerly sits up. “He’s too strong for me and that’s one of the reasons I abandoned my friends. I’d only be a hindrance in that fight because he could use the threat of my death to weaken the others. Though it isn’t like I’ll find the power to beat him when I return to the plains.”
“Stranger things have happened to you,” the headmistress points out while tapping at her numb nose. She approaches the young man and helps him stand, her powerful grip tight around his fingers. “You’re one of these champions. That means there is more to you than anyone realizes. For all you know, the power to kill this man is hidden within your body. Maybe being on your own will do you some good. Among your friends, you’d have all of their abilities to depend on and you might never grow.”
“I never thought of it that way. Even Luke has surpassed me.”
“I’m guessing you’re still smarter than him, which proves magical abilities aren’t everything.”
A piercing whistle cuts through the air and the students stop their classes to gather on the walkway of the defensive wall. The archers in the corner towers keep their bows ready even when they see the violet banners that depict a salamander being pierced by a black arrow. All of the students whisper about the army that flows out of Visindor Forest and covers the hundred foot wide clearing that surrounds the academy. The midday sun glints off the sea of armor and blades, many of which are put away as the mercenaries prepare to set up camp. Several of the mercenaries attempt to erect tents, but they stop as orders flow through their ranks. A symphony of disgruntled curses can be heard as the tired warriors settle for spending the early summer night on exposed bedrolls. Instead of tents, they drive scented poles into the ground to ward off the swarms of mosquitos that have plagued the army since they entered the forest. With no complicated preparations to keep them occupied, many of the mercenaries wave to the students and some even flex for the cheering crowd.
“Guess I’ll be leaving in the morning,” Delvin says as he calmly scans the army from the front door. He watches as a lone figure limps toward the surrounding warriors, the man heading straight for the only tent that has been erected. “Looks like Kevin is going to greet his wife. Do you think I should wait for him to finish or go there now?”
“I’m thinking I have a broken nose to get fixed,” Selenia replies while scowling at the loud army. She can sense the apprehension in her former student and pats him on the shoulder. “I would take a shower and dress nicely. Best to make a good impression since you’re asking for help and trying to court their daughter. With any luck, Kevin and Tzefira will have used all their fury on each other before you join them. I’ll send a healing patch to your room, so don’t worry about the injured arm.”
Delvin nods as the headmistress walks to the infirmary, the half-elf gathering the fallen sparring equipment as she goes. The young warrior examines the army for signs of his former mercenary group, but there is too much activity to find them. A frown crosses his face when he realizes that he is standing in the open and his friends would have approached him by now. They could be on the other side of the clearing, but something tells him that recruiting the other Frozen Blades will not be as easy as he hoped.
“Nothing is ever simple for a champion,” the warrior mutters. He becomes keenly aware of his smell and takes his shirt off, his thumb rubbing the scar on his abdomen. “A bath will definitely help me think up a plan. Just hope Kevin and Tzefira don’t kill each other before I get over there.”
*****
Shouts and curses erupt from Tzefira’s tent whenever someone is brave enough to open the flap. This only happens when a member of the Salamander Army attempts to let the Mercenary Queen know that Delvin Cunningham has arrived. The brown-haired warrior refuses to go inside until he has been acknowledged, which many believe is born from a sense of arrogance. Others know it is because the Mercenary Prince wants to avoid walking into a fight that could turn violent at any moment. The blade of a dagger has already pierced the side of the blue tent and a chair has been hurled through the entrance. Some of the newer recruits stay nearby due to their fascination with the grizzled, limping warrior that can rile their leader so easily. Though none of them are foolish enough to stand idle, so they do whatever chores they can find around the area and make sure to work as slowly as possible. A female archer decides to try her luck at helping Delvin, so she bravely walks to the front of the tent. Leaving her longbow and quiver behind, the young woman ducks inside and is immediately sent tumbling out along with a table that pins her to the ground. A nearby medic rushes to help the dazed mercenary, giving a sideways glance at the unarmed Delvin.
“I’m not as defenseless as yo
u think,” the champion says with a smile. He gets closer to the tent and gently touches the flap, pausing when he decides that he needs some protection. “Fly to my hand. You know, I don’t think I have to say anything to summon you. Just don’t take long to get here.”
The inside of the tent is a collection of pillows and broken furniture, all of which surround the red-faced warriors. Kevin Masterson grips a broken table leg and keeps an eye on the Elven woman on the other side of a damaged cabinet. The ring of salt and pepper hair around his head is still well-groomed and he is wearing a white tunic that was once pristine. Now the shirt is covered in dirt from the fight and one of the sleeves is torn at the shoulder. His wife and favorite sparring partner remains in her chainmail and steadies her war staff, the blade a few inches from the trampled grass. The elf appears to have only one eye, the other made to blend in with the scars that cover the entire left side of her body. A crimson bandana covers her head, a few tendrils of hair slipping out from under the loose headwear. Neither of them appear to notice Delvin, their attention stuck on whatever started the fight.
“I told you I was allergic to daisies!” Tzefira shouts before she violently sneezes. The force is enough to knock the bandana off her head, the fabric drifting onto an overturned pot. “How could you have forgotten that?”
“It’s been about twenty years, woman!” Kevin replies, matching her volume perfectly. He rubs his aching shoulder, the old injury making his left arm hang low. “Need I remind you that you sent me a pumpkin pie when you damn well know I hate that stuff? Oversized gourds are only good for catapults and feeding to wild beasts.”
“Fine. What about when you called me a witch?”
“I didn’t know the necklace was on and that wasn’t the word I used.”
“That makes it better?”
“You’ve thrown some colorful words my way over these damn things too.”
“I’m allowed since you abandoned me and your daughter.”
“You never told me about her or that you were even alive. How is that not worse than anything I did, woman?”
Delvin clears his throat for attention as his shield spins through the flap and straps itself to his arm. Both of the veteran warriors turn toward him, their eyes still holding enough malice to make his throat go dry. Not knowing what else to do, the young man moves his shield in front of his chest. Sunlight glints off the jewels of a winged stag that is emblazoned on the disc’s face, the crushed gems sending rainbow beams onto the pillows. The mercenaries can be heard going about their business outside, but there is an undertone of tension since nobody knows why the fighting stopped. The sight of a shield flying into the tent has not helped the situation, but none of the warriors have the courage to investigate.
“So . . . How was your journey, Mercenary Queen?” Delvin asks, immediately regretting the anxiety-induced question. He opens his mouth to take it back, but stops when he sees the amused grin on Kevin’s face.
“At least you didn’t call me mom,” Tzefira replies while she puts her weapon on a standing rack. The elf scratches at her scars and reaches into a pouch to get some cream that she smears over her burning neck. “I heard that you still haven’t contacted Nyx and let her know that you arrived at the academy. Is there a reason you’re making my daughter worry?”
“Before he answers that, I have a question,” Kevin interrupts, tossing the table leg aside and claiming the only functional chair in the tent. He stretches his right leg, grimacing at the uncomfortable stiffness. “Which one of us gets to threaten him for a wrong answer? As the father, I think it should be me. Though I’m more than willing to let you step in if you have something that will really make him squirm.”
Tzefira takes a seat among the pillows while rubbing the simple sapphire charm that dangles from her neck. “I think it’s your job. I remember how much fun you used to have threatening people that were a danger to your loved ones. You always had such a beautiful way with words when you wanted to scare someone.”
“Well those were nothing compared to that glare you had,” the old warrior states with a loving grin. “This woman could stop an ogre at twenty pace with that look. Keep that in mind because such power is within our daughter too. Now what do you have to say for yourself, Cunningham?”
Delvin claims a spot between the two warriors, but stays in a crouch in case he has to make a run for the exit. The veterans notice the position and flash him a disapproving look, their muscles tensed in case they have to intercept him. He cannot be sure if they are annoyed about his refusal to contact Nyx or they are insulted by his defensive posture, which he should have known would be obvious. Either way, the warrior is keenly aware that his situation is steadily becoming worse and the only way to save himself is to be honest.
“I’m ashamed and scared,” Delvin admits, surprising his hosts. He crosses his legs, making it harder for him to quickly stand and putting the veterans at ease. “I still feel like I did the right thing leaving your daughter with the others. Yet I feel like I let her down by going on this journey since Stephen Kernaghan is still out there and they may be called to the next temple at any moment. At least that’s where the shame comes from. The fear is that I don’t know if I can handle talking to Nyx again and continue on to Yagervan. It was the same in Nevra Coil. If she had told me to stay, I would have done so because I didn’t want to upset her when she was in a delicate mindset. Trust me when I say that I keep wanting to steal Kevin’s necklace to make contact and find out if her magic has returned. Though if she said no, I’d probably head back to her.”
“Were we ever this mushy?” Tzefira asks, leaning to the side as if looking around Delvin.
“I think we tried it for an hour to make a few people throw up,” Kevin replies with a wide grin. He rubs his eyes and leans forward until his injured hip threatens to lock. “I can understand what you’re saying. Sounds like you’re in trouble no matter what you do. I’ve been telling Nyx that you arrived and were waiting for Tzefira to show up. She asks about you every night, so I’ve kept her calm. Though this is your last chance to talk to her.”
“So I guess we’ll contact her now and then talk business,” the young warrior states, preparing to accept his fate. He picks at an exposed piece of fluff and blushes when the pillow’s seam snaps at his touch. “I still want to travel with my old friends since I can’t do this alone. I’m surprised they haven’t found me yet.”
“Tavris and I had a small disagreement when I pulled him off an assignment,” Tzefira says while removing her eye-patch. Her violet eyes blink away the dissipating magic and wisps of blonde hair appear on her scarred head. “I thought it was too dangerous and he took that as me coddling him. Harsh words were exchanged and he stormed off with the others. That man has a temper that keeps getting him into trouble.”
The champion looks at his enchanted shield, the unexpected problem tempting him to return to his friends. “Do you happen to know where they went? I don’t want to go into the Yagervan Plains alone and they’re the only group besides the other champions that I trust. At least for a journey like the one ahead of me. There’s no telling how my former tribe will react, so having backup would be nice.”
“Last I heard, they were working out of Fort Journeyman.”
“Am I able to travel with you for part of the way?”
“I have a delivery to claim there, so you can come along like I promised,” the elf states while putting more of the ointment on her scars. “I’ve never pulled out of a deal, Mercenary Prince. I refuse to start now even with the young man that is causing all sorts of worry for my daughter. All I ask is that you pull your weight when we’re on the road, which I know you’re fully capable of.”
“Thank you,” Delvin says with an awkward bow at the waist. He grunts due to the motion making his bruised stomach spasm. “I’ll be ready to go in the morning. That is unless I’m given a reason to give up on this journey. I guess now’s the time for me to contact Nyx and see how she’s doing.”
Kevin yawns and scratches his chest, revealing the ruby necklace that he uses to communicate with his daughter. He tucks the jewelry back into his shirt as Tzefira slips hers into a pants pocket. They hide their smiles as the confused champion looks from one to the other and tries to figure out a way to ask for their enchanted jewelry.
“I’m sorry, young man, but it seems the two of us forgot our parts of the Tri-Rune,” Kevin says, earning a choked off giggle from Tzefira. When Delvin turns to the elf, the old warrior takes the opportunity to flash a loving look at his wife. “It’ll take me a while to find it and you’ll be on the road by the time I sift through my mess of an office. I’m sure Tzefira and I would be happy to pass on your friendly message. Emphasis on the friendly part.”
“I’m not sure if this will make things better or worse,” Delvin states while rubbing his stubbled chin. He gets to his feet and sighs, knowing there is no point in arguing with either of the veterans. “Just let her know that I miss her and I’m sorry for making her worry. I’ll come back to her as soon as I can and will cook her as many dinners as she wants.”
“That sounded a little more than friendly,” Tzefira mentions, her fingers tapping the sheathed dagger on her belt. “I’m sure my husband has asked this, but I feel I deserve a turn as well, young man. What are your intentions with my daughter?”
With a glint in his ice blue eyes, Delvin puts his arms behind his back and stands at attention. “I wish to make your daughter happy. So my intentions are to court, marry, and love Nyx for the rest of our lives. At least as soon as she returns my affections instead of belting me every time I compliment her. She also puts me through walls if I’m standing behind her and Sari gets her to say something embarrassing. I think I’m going off topic here, but I think you get the point.”
The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9) Page 4
