Empire of Ashes

Chapter LXXXV - Warmer

Last chapter of 2018 lads! Happy New Year :)

The lawn upon which the fates of our countries would be decided was disappointingly ordinary. The grass was sparse and yellowing in patches where the sun had scorched it. It was fifteen paces by fifteen paces and surrounded by a covered trellis which the royal guards had sealed off. The spectators would watch from the walkways above.

On the east side, where the dawn light had yet to reach, someone had placed three chairs for the queen and the princes. I was surprised that he would let the boys watch. He must have been truly certain that he would win.

My eyes went straight to the refreshments laid out beside the chairs. There was a tray of honeycakes, a fruit platter, a waterskin and two jugs. One would have apple juice for the children, and the other would be full of the king's favourite vintage. That was the ideal target for the Saccharine — if he was going to drink anything, it would be the wine he was so fond of.

The king walked into the middle of the lawn and tested the footing with one boot. It looked firm enough. There was not enough dew to soak the parched ground. It was the height of summer, after all: less than a moon after Solstice, when the sun was at its hottest.

He had his back to me, and I found myself edging forwards, wondering if I could bury Saqui's knife into his spine. My fingers tingled at my sides. It would be suicide, of course, but it was so tempting. Before I could make a decision either way, he turned around and the chance was lost.

"Warm up with me, Lyra," the king said.

"You're going to give me a sword?" I asked flatly.

"Why not?" he laughed, and why not indeed. I wouldn't be able to scratch him, let alone deal a mortal blow.

Saqui's stare was burning a hole in my back. I breathed out steadily, trying to keep myself in check. "As you wish."

He snapped his fingers at the closest pair of guards, and they handed over their blades without hesitation. One of them he kept, but the second was offered to me hilt-first. Slowly, cautiously, I took it. Not just a practice sword — it was sharp. The temptation to do something stupid worsened a thousand times.

I settled into the fighting stance Anlai had taught me. Side facing, legs bent, sword crossways.

The king didn't bother. His sword tip was nearly touching the dirt. If it was meant to invite an attack ... well, it worked. I darted forwards and slashed at his ribs. His sword whipped upwards faster than I could follow, and he slapped the blow away with enough force to jar my wrist. Before I could even think about bringing my sword back to bear, he twisted his arm and did ... something.

The next thing I knew, my sword was on the ground and my hand was throbbing.

Gods. I wasn't just out of my depth — I was out of my bloody plane of existence. And there was the king, his sword loose in his hand, looking ... bored. He didn't even seem to notice my surprise.

"Well, pick it up," he said. "Unless you've had enough?"

I rubbed my knuckles ruefully and stared at him. The skin wasn't broken, but it would leave a nasty welt. I glanced backwards and found Saqui watching me steadily. He flicked his eyes in the direction of the waterskin, and I understood. Distract him.

"I don't give up," I told him.

And I bent down to pick up my sword. The second my hand closed around the hilt, I brought it flashing upwards in a long, sweeping arc. The blow was turned before it got close to flesh, and his counter attack bruised my left shoulder. But now the king was smiling.