Luminous

105 - Sibling Rivalry

Dawn broke over the Sands, bathing Hyacinth in gold. Zier woke to find a gargantuan purple-black spider with gleaming eyes hanging over him. He reared in fright, then discovered it was a mosaic pattern on the ceiling.

Storing the embarrassing moment away to take to his grave, Zier flipped over and smiled at the pleasant sight that awaited him. Arinel lay asleep on the hay mattress she shared with Agnes, so close by her golden tresses spilled onto his mattress. He could steal a kiss if he strained a little, but she looked so adorable asleep.

Zier craned his neck around. Behind him, Christopher slept as if training for the coffin—face up, hands joined over his chest. Whereas on the mattress next to Father and Mother's bed, Meya tossed and turned, blankets strewn about her, Coris's pillow in her arms.

Oh no.

Zier rose on his elbows. Perhaps Coris was a lump somewhere among those blanket folds. No, even Bonebags wasn't that thin. What if he sleepwalked himself down a well? Coris never woke before dawn cracked—

Something tapped his head. Zier whipped around, then gawked at his attacker. Coris stood fully dressed, wooden sword in each hand. He motioned at the door, then tiptoed off.

"Lexi? What—"

"Shh!" hissed Coris. Tousing his bedhead, Zier groaned as he rose. He snagged his boots then edged out the door, yawning in earnest. Coris was already striding down the hallway. Zier stumbled barefoot to his side,

"Where are we—"

"Shh!"

"So what if someone hears?"

"You know where the troops train?"

"Not wherever in the Lake you're going. Gimme those—"

Zier swiped the practice swords from Coris, slipped one down his collar and scratched his back as he led Coris down another hallway. They emerged to a closed courtyard paved with soft earth, empty but for them.

At their roots, the Hadrians were blacksmiths. Coris often had Zier test modified weapons from the castle smithy or new techniques while he observed. Perhaps Coris was figuring out counters for the Hyacinth Sword, or combat tactics in desert terrain.

Zier slipped a gambeson over his nightshirt and swung his sword, warming his muscles,

"So, who's the lucky meat?" He joked as he worked through his routine. Coris was silent for a moment, then replied brusquely,

"Me."

Zier froze, but he didn't have much time for shock. A battle cry echoed from behind. Zier whirled around to find Coris sprinting towards him, sword raised. As his jaw dropped in astonishment, Zier instinctively selected the guard to counter Coris based on his stance (or lack thereof). He parried the swipe with one arm. Coris staggered sideways, righted himself, then came charging back with a roar.

"Brother, wait—!" Zier parried him again. Again. And again. Coris wiped sweat and dust from his flushed cheeks, storming in with a vengeance.

"Lexi, what's the point!?" Zier cried in exasperation as he deflected another pitiful swing, sending Coris flying. As his brother struggled to sit up, Zier cast his sword aside.

"Look, if you don't tell me what you're trying to achieve, I don't know how to help." He grunted as he pulled Coris to his feet, "If you just want to vent, you'd do better hacking at a tree. If you want to learn swordplay, we drill the guards into your muscles and then we can start sparring."

"I want to be stronger," panted Coris as he bent double, hands on his knees, "Thicker. Wider. Taller. Like you."

His voice strangled, he gestured feebly at Zier's impressive physique, then hung his head and panted some more.