The Dragon Prince's Consort

Thirty-Eight

With a crash that rocked the mountain, Tias's mock halberd came down on Valen's carbon-fiber pole and shook his arms until they went numb from the shock. It jarred Valen's eyes open and he stared dumbfounded at his brother's sweating, struggling face. Tias pushed as if he could force the blunted blade through the training-pole's shaft by willpower alone, but Valen's arms might as well have been made of rock for all they moved. 

Gritting his teeth Valen snarled and pushed back, shoving with all his might, and the halberd slipped. Valen threw it off and slid to the side, letting Tias fall forward under his own weight. Tias grunted in surprise, flailing for balance, and Valen planted his foot in his brother's hip and shoved hard. With a yell Tias toppled to the lower floor and landed hard on his shoulder, briefly grimacing in pain. "Dirty trick!" hissed the First Prince, "cheat!"

"You'd know," Valen hopped down from the platform. "Get up, we're not finished!"

Tias rolled to his feet, favoring the shoulder he'd landed on. "You want a fair fight? Then stop running from me!"

"All right," Valen took the fortress stance. "If you insist."

"I should've strangled you as a newborn," Tias reached for his weapon. "I'll have to settle for crushing your skull!" Exploding into motion Tias thwacked the halberd's haft into Valen's stomach, driving the air from his lungs with a choking guck! and forcing him bent. Tias spun the halberd around his head and struck the left side of Valen's face with the blade's flat side. Valen reeled, colliding with the raised platform's foundation and for a sickening second his vision dimmed. Tias hit him again, from the opposite side, and Valen tasted blood. "It should've been you," Tias hissed, striking a third time, and Valen went to his knees. "You should've died, you ugly little freak! I hate you! I fucking hate you!"

Valen curled into a ball as his brother rained savage blows down upon him, wrapping his arms around his head and trying to fold himself in half. I lost, again. With each new crack Valen gasped and yowled as fresh pain fired live rounds in his flesh. I lost, I lost! Above him, beyond the hateful roars of his brother, Valen heard Fang screaming his name and a commotion among the Wardens. Someone shouted "Catch her!" and Valen unspooled his wounded body enough to look. Fang had broken away from the railing and was sprinting for the ladder that led down from the elevated running track to the training floor, four Wardens close behind but not enough to grab her. No! Fang, no!

Tias paused in beating Valen long enough to turn and look. "Eyah, here comes your whore now!" Between his fast-swelling eyes Valen spotted his training pole just inches from him, if he uncurled and reached for it. Valen began to crawl, dragging himself on his belly, praying he would reach it before Tias saw. His vision was slowly darkening, tinged with red as a split brow bled freely into his eye, his own blood burning him. His hand shook as he clawed his way along the canvas mats until he touched the carbon-fiber pole's rough-textured body; he screamed as the halberd crunched on his wrist. Valen rolled to his back holding his wrist to his chest as tears leaked between his bloating eyelids, obscuring Tias in a reddish veil. "Hngh, you thought you were smart, did you? Yield, and maybe I won't beat you to death."

Valen lay on his back, choking and gasping at the glass shard in his wrist. No! I won't yield! I'm not done!

Tias stood back, leaning on his halberd. "Did you hear me, Runt? I said yield! I won, you lost."

"No!" Valen swung his knees up almost to his nose, then flung himself forward and punched his toe-claws into the canvas. Tucking his useless hand inside his tunic and his chin to his chest Valen pushed off of the mat, driving his horned head into his brother's stomach where a Drass's skin was thinner. Tias's air blew out in a whoof! and he stumbled back a step, his eyes wide with shock. While he gasped for air Valen swung round and kicked his pole into the air, snatching it with his good hand. "I do not yield!"