The Silver Crown

1.

It was as I realized that I was surrounded, that I regretted stealing the knife. And even then, despite the knowledge that the five people in front of me were attired similarly with blue sashes that marked them as members of the Market Kings, the largest and deadliest gang in Kings City, I still wanted the knife and I still wanted the trouble.

It had called to me, riding on the hip of a foxy brown haired girl. I know fine steel when I see it, and although the hilt wasn't fancy, it was a quality blade. So I had nicked it off the girl in spite of her blue sash. My pride and my talents often get me in trouble.

I knew I shouldn't be trifling with Market Kings, but when the only seeming reason for one's existence is lost, toying with doom becomes an appealing pastime. The Market Kings had the largest assembly of street kids, and I mean street kids that are handy with a blade, so if I really wanted to visit Lord Abrax in the realm of the dead, the Market Kings were one of the quickest, not to mention the most exciting, ways to do so. And I was just spoiling for a fight with no care of the consequences.

I smiled nicely at the five people in front of me and took a step back. I knew a wall was behind me because I felt the rough stones scratch my back through my threadbare shirt. "I'm sure we can talk about this," I suggested cordially. I stretched my fingers, clenching my fists and then straightening them over and over.

"Give me back my knife, and we won't kill you," the brown haired girl said. Her eyes narrowed threateningly.

I bit my lip and tilted my head to the side, making a show of considering her offer. "I really like your knife, but in the interest of saving my ears from your pitiful threats, you can have it back," I said.

The girl cocked her head at me, not trusting a word out of my mouth. Smart. Before she could comprehend what was happening, I had the stolen knife in my left hand and lunged forward to slam the hilt into the side of her jaw. She dropped like a rock. Before she could hit the ground, I was already on to the next target. I took him down easily with a slice on the arm, which he mistakenly flung out to protect himself with, and then got close enough to knock him out too.

"Hey!"

I spun around to find another boy a couple paces away. He was taller than the first one, his curly blonde hair frizzy in the hot, wet air. I set off after him, stalking through the alley.

This boy gave the impression of being more experienced. He swung at me, knives in both hands, keeping his feet wide and balanced. But I was quicker than a snake. I seized his wrist with my other hand and twisted it. He grunted and gritted his teeth, refusing to let go of his weapon, but I knew from experience that the pain was only bearable for so long. He tried to cut me with his other knife but I was behind him enough that he couldn't reach me.

Finally he swore and dropped his knife. I let go of his wrist. I raised a foot and kicked him just above his left knee. He groaned and collapsed.

I rubbed my forearm across my forehead to wipe away the sweat that was gathering there and felt two arms wrap around me from behind. The kid wrestled my arms away from my body and held them behind me. Another boy soon joined him and they each took an arm, dragging me backwards toward the end of the alley.

I struggled, swearing under my breath but by the time I had deduced how to escape, the boy I'd kicked had stood again, although rather stiffly. I smirked.

Stepping forward, he picked the offending knife up off the ground and flipped it up, catching it by the hilt. Then he tucked it into the blue sash tied around his waist. I barely had time to notice exactly where he put it before I felt a fist slam into my stomach. I bent over gasping and heaving, but the two Market Kings holding my arms wrenched me back up again.

"Just for that kick, I am going t' beat you before I kill you," the blonde boy said.

This time his fist caught me across the jaw and whipped my head around. I turned to look him in the eye, my blue ones meeting his brown ones, and spit blood onto the ground in front of him.

"Your mistake," I said, and struck like lightning. I threw my weight to one side and hooked a leg around one of my captor's ankles, throwing him to the ground and freeing an arm. I swung that arm around to punch the boy holding my right arm in the stomach. When he bent over, I kneed him in the face and broke his nose. Pulling a spare knife from its sheath – I always had at least three extra knives – I swung at the blonde boy and cut his forearm to the bone. Biting back a yell, he lunged for me and I buried my knife in this stomach.

He looked at me in complete shock for a long moment, his arm draped over my shoulder in an embrace. I pulled my knife out of him and he collapsed. I wiped it on his stained brown shirt, grabbed the knife he had taken from me out of his sash, and walked away.