King's Champion: Way of the Fist

By H.M. Barone

In the world of Terra, on the continent of Acleron there is unrest. The kingdom of Iskendurun is beset by an unexpected horde of monsters from the north. The kingdom of Glendar is experiencing civil unrest. Two unlikely heroes are forced into the forefront of these events. Two pairs of royal siblings are facing challenges they never dreamed they would. This will be a series of adventures they will never forget. It will alter the course of their future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H.M. Barone
• Release date: Sep 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005884550

H.M. Barone

My name is Heather Barone. I am a single mother of two girls. I have always loved writing, art and photography. I started writing a series nearly ten years ago but it did not completely survive our move, five years ago. After the loss of so much hard work, I decided to write something that was more in tune with my personal beliefs as well as with the adventures I wanted to have. I have always believed that anything a man can do, a woman can do too. That was when I created the characters in my current series.I earn a paycheck at the local ice cream factory, as a janitor. This affords me the free time to write and research for my books. Some of the people I work with may even find bits of themselves scattered in the pages.I am a born again believer in Jesus Christ. I do my best to reflect biblical beliefs in my stories as well. I am not perfect, nor are my characters. I hope you fall in love with them, nonetheless, the same way I have.

Book preview

King’s Champion

Way of the Fist

By: H.M. Barone

Published by Heather M. Barone at Smashwords

Copyright 2020 Heather M. Barone

Chapter One

Where is the little rat? he snarled.

We don't know, my lord. She wasn’t in her room, but we are searching the palace, the elf at his right responsed.

And what of the others? he demanded.

They are awaiting you, in the throne room, Excellency.

Splendid. Let's not keep them waiting, he stated.

Yes, my king.

The two men hustled through the palace. They stepped over bodies of the fallen, headed for the throne room. A petite shadow followed.

The great throne room of the elf king. Its once beautiful halls of polished granite were now filled with smoke and death. Loyal guards lay scattered, sightless eyes stared at the ceiling.

Twelve bound figures lined the southern wall. Nine had their hands tied securely behind their backs, with two guards hovering close by. Two were shackled, with four guards surrounding them. The final figure was bound, arms outstretched, between two pillars on the dais near the thrones.

What have you done, Rene? his mother wept. Her shackles clanked as she buried her face in her hands.

This, Mother, is a coup, he leered. You've sickened me with the way this kingdom is run.

Have you lost your mind? his father bellowed, struggling against his bonds.

No, Father, he snarled. If anyone has lost his mind, it's you. The day you named Tarak your heir instead of your pure-blood son. It was bad enough you brought these bastards into the palace. But then, to do that . . .

I named him heir because he is my first born, and because he is a symbol of change, the king retorted.

What makes you think our people need that kind of change? Rene shot back.

Too long have we secluded ourselves away from the rest of the world, he persisted. We are becoming weak.

Rage burned in Rene's eyes. Weak? Weak?! I'll show you weak!

He strode to the first in line, a young woman with frightened brown eyes. Grabbing a fist-full of her mouse-brown hair, he tugged her head back. Terror swept over her face as he jerked his sword free of its sheath with a metallic ring. He drew it swiftly across her throat and let her fall to the floor.

A howl of rage and sorrow erupted from the king. It was followed by a growl from the man bound to the pillars.

Rene, you coward, he bellowed, feeling the ropes bite his wrists.

A soft snarl escaped Rene, and he thrust his sword into the chest of his next sister. She was dainty with dark hair and eyes. A small noise escaped her as she fell.

The petite figure crept soundlessly around the opposite side of the room. Dim torchlight lengthened shadows. It was agony watching the others' murders. Rene could not be allowed to slay Tarak.

Rene now stood before the king and queen. The blood of his siblings dripped from his blade. Their lifeless bodies lay on the floor behind him.

Mother. Father.

The gods will punish you for this atrocity, the king vowed.

The queen, on her knees, wept and wailed, mourning her slain children.

With two swift strokes, the rulers fell to the floor.

Slowly, Rene made his way onto the dais. He stood in front of Tarak, brandishing his blade. A sad smile dance in his eyes.

And now, my brother, it's your turn, he leered, and leveled his blade at Tarak's chest.

No! The shriek rent the air.

His blade knocked aside. There was a flurry of auburn, blue, and black. Steel glittered and Tarak's left hand was free.

It's about time you showed yourself, little rat, Rene snarled, and lunged.

Kaylin, run away, Tarak cried, struggling to free his right hand.

Not without you, she replied, her twin daggers dancing as she fought.

How touching, Rene sneered. Two half-breeds looking out for each other.

Tarak strained to reach his scimitars. They lay on the floor just out of reach.

Kaylin was driven back. Rene now wielded both his swords. Despite her size and speed, he clearly had the advantage. She bled profusely from several wounds on her arms and abdomen.

An opening. She batted aside the long sword with her right blade. Her left foot slid forward. She spun and brought her dagger down on the other rope. Tarak was free.

Pain tore through her body as Rene's sword plunged into her belly. Her eyes widened with surprise. She dropped to her knees. The blade slid free with a sickening sucking sound.

Kaylin, Tarak cried, catching her before she hit the marble floor.

Run, my prince, she managed, save yourself.

How touching, Rene snarled, and brought his blade down.

Tarak swept it aside, lifted Kaylin, and touched the gem in the pommel of his left-handed blade. With that, they were gone. Rene howled his rage at losing his prey.

Find them, he bellowed.

His soldiers fled the throne room, dispersing throughout the palace. They searched for the two escaped siblings. Rene was left alone with the bodies of his family.

Hold on, Kaylin, Tarak gasped, applying pressure to the wound.

Two dainty hands rested on his. Let me go, my prince. I'll only slow you down.

Furiously he shook his head. No. We aren't far from Drusilla's. I just need to stop the bleeding. She should be able to heal you.

Quickly he shed his shirt. Using one of her daggers, he tore it into strips. Carefully he bound the wound, slowing the blood flow. As gently as possible, he lifted Kaylin off the ground and set out at a steady trot.

Shortly, a cottage came into view. Frantically, he knocked on the door. A candle was lit, and the door opened.

Prince Tarak? To what . . . her voice trailed off. Gods, get her on the table.

No sooner had he crossed the threshold, than the girl slumped against him. He lay her on the table and stepped back.

Drusilla's skilled hands moved over Kaylin's stomach wound. She cleaned it, applied a poultice, and cast a spell. The girl did not move, as she wrapped the wound with fresh bandages.

Is she . . . Tarak ventured.

Unconscious only, she assured him. But you made it just in time. What happened?

Rene staged a coup, Tarak said bitterly. Somehow, Kaylin managed to avoid capture. He killed them, Dru. Murdered all of them. Even Mother and Father. He made me watch. He would have killed me, if . . .

The elven woman placed a gentle hand atop his. Go wash up out back. You can rest here a few hours. I'll give you what supplies I can, then you must be on your way. Rene will be looking for you.

He kissed her cheek. Thank you. I don’t . . .

With that, he made his way to the well behind the cottage. He lowered the bucket and drew it up, full of cool water. Carefully, he washed Kaylin's blood from his chest and arms. He dumped the water and drew a fresh bucket. Cupping his hands, he drank long and deep. At last, he splashed a bit on his face.

Calmer and collected, Tarak returned to the cottage. How is she? he asked, as he closed the door behind him.

She will live, Drusilla answered. But she needs to rest.

He nodded.

Put her over on the spare pallet, Drusilla instructed. She'll rest more comfortably there.

Gently, he lifted the injured girl off the table. A soft groan escaped her, and she stirred slightly, in his arms, but did not rouse. He held her close and carried her as carefully as a newborn. With that, he laid her in the warm straw and covered her with a thick wool blanket. He leaned over and lightly kissed her brow.

Thank you, so much, little one, he murmured. I owe you a debt I shall never be able to repay.

You need to rest yourself, my prince, Drusilla urged. She will be fine.

Yes, I know, he replied.

Here. I've laid out some blankets in front of the hearth, she offered.

Thank you, he murmured, as she guided him onto the make-shift futon. She lay his head in her lap. His eyes closed as she stroked his long raven tresses and hummed softly to him.

Tarak awoke with a start. He sat up and looked around, disoriented. The memories washed over him like a flood, and a new wave of sorrow overtook him.

She is still asleep, my king, came Drusilla's voice from the doorway. I have everything ready for your departure. They have not searched this far yet. If you leave now, you should have nearly a two-day head start.

The woman handed him a chain mail shirt and black silk tunic. Patiently she waited while he put them on. Then she handed him a pack.

He shouldered the pack and drew her close. Lightly he kissed her soft lips, tasting tea and honey on her tongue.

Keep her out of trouble, he implored.

I will do my best, she replied.

No. I'm going with you, insisted a soft voice from the corner.

Kaylin, you can't, he scolded. It's too dangerous. Especially for as gravely wounded as you are. I won’t let you.

She pulled herself to her feet and stood for a moment. Once she regained her balance, she floated forward and dropped to one knee. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor.

Your humble servant begs you take her along, my king, she begged, clenching her fists. Please.

Gently, he hooked his index finger under her chin. He lifted her gaze to meet his. That's enough now, little sister, he said. You already did more for me than I could ever ask. Stay here with Drusilla. Your gift will be of immense help to her.

Kaylin closed her eyes and drew a slow deep breath. Please.

Drusilla placed a light hand on his arm. I don't want to see any harm come to either of you. If Kaylin is certain of her decision, I'll prepare a pack for her as well.

The two awaited Tarak's answer. Kaylin had not risen, only met his gaze with pure devotion in her turquoise orbs. A slow hissing sigh and an elven curse escaped him.

Very well, he said at last. Since you made up your mind. I'll not try to dissuade you. I only question the wisdom of this. Your wound has barely begun to heal.

Your humble servant will not slow you down, my king, she said resolutely.

He opened his mouth to object, then closed it tight. He sighed and shook his head.

Here, Kaylin, Drusilla said, handing the girl a small pack. There are plenty of bandages, herbs for poultices, a few healing salves, and three of my strongest potions.

Kaylin slowly rose and took the pack. How can I ever repay you?

Drusilla placed a gentle hand on the girl's cheek. You already have, little one.

A look of confusion crossed Kaylin's face. Her brow furrowed as she contemplated the elven woman's words.

Come, Kaylin, Tarak announced. It's time we were on our way.

Yes, my king, she replied, and hurried to open the door.

Drusilla caught his wrist as he turned to leave. Be patient with her. I have healed her body, but I cannot heal her mind and heart. No one should endure what Rene put you through. But one as young as Kaylin . . . I cannot say what it has done to her where we cannot see.

Tarak nodded. I understand.

She studied him carefully. Not yet . . . But you will.

With that, she tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him long and deep. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

Ardole protect you, he breathed, invoking the god and creator of Elves, as they disentangled.

And you, King Tarak, she replied, ushering him out the door.

She waved farewell to Kaylin. The girl responded with a labored, sweeping bow.

Come, Kaylin, he said. We should be able to reach Mythendor by sundown.

Yes, my king, she responded.

At that, the two jogged off down the path, and into the forest. The safety of Drusilla's cottage fell away behind them. Silence reined.

We can stop and rest if you need to, Kaylin, Tarak offered.

The young woman shook her head. No. I'll be all right, my king. We must keep moving Rene's men could catch us at any time.

Kaylin, you're in no condition to fight, wounded as you are, he scolded gently.

I can fight well enough to hold them off while you escape. If the need should arise, she assured him.

Tarak stopped dead in his tracks and turned his sapphire gaze on the young woman. A strange fire glowed.

Never again, sister-mine, he said, almost harshly. "I don't ever want to hear you speak like that again. Do you understand me? Your life is no less valuable than mine."

Kaylin blinked in surprise. A mollified expression crossed her face. Forgive me, my king, she replied softly.

He nodded, satisfied with her response. Now, there's a little creek just ahead. We'll stop and take a short rest. You're bleeding through your bandages.

Yes, my king, she answered with the same quiet tone.

The pair reached the creek with little trouble. Kaylin dropped onto a rock at the edge. She eased her sandals off and dipped her feet in the cool water.

Tarak knelt and removed her bandages. A look of startled surprise spread across her face.

Oh no, my king, she protested. There’s no need for you to . . .

That’s enough, now, Kaylin, he chided gently. We are all we have now. If we don’t look out for each other, no one will.

As you will, my king, she said quietly.

There’s a good girl, he praised. Just sit still and I’ll be done in a few minutes.

Yes, my king, she murmured.

Tarak set aside the soiled bandages and took fresh ones from her pack, as well as a small jar of salve. Gently, he applied the salve to the wound. A small squeak escaped her as his touch brushed the gash.

I’m sorry, he offered.

No, it’s all right, my king, she assured him.

Carefully he bound the wounds with the fresh bandages. There. That should take care of it until we reach Mythendor.

Thank you, my king, she replied. Now please, sit and rest yourself for a moment.

He stood and tucked the soiled bandages into an empty side pocket of his pack. I’ll be fine, Kaylin. This rest was for you.

But, my king . . .

He raised his hand, quelling her objections.

As you will, my king, she answered, and collected her sandals.

As carefully as she could, she fastened them and stood. For a moment, her head swam. She stood still to recover.

Are you sure you’re fit to continue? he questioned, placing a gentle hand on her back to steady her.

Yes, my price, she replied. I’ll delay us no further.

Kaylin, we have a two-day lead on Rene’s soldiers, he scolded gently. We have a bit of leeway.

All the same, she said, I’d rather not run that risk.

Tarak said nothing more. He only gave her a gentle smile. At that, they continued.

*

You need me here, Gordon protested. When they come . . .

The older man placed a firm hand on his shoulder. When they come, we will do what we always have. You are the heir to the kingdom. You can muster the armies and route them.

My prince, we must go, instructed a gruff voice at his elbow.

He returned his gaze to the older man. Thad readied your horses. On your way. Ride hard and Melora be with you. He invoked the goddess of travelers.

After another moment, Gordon allowed his man to lead him to their mounts. The two swung into their saddles and thundered out the main gate. The portcullis slammed into place behind them.

They didn’t look back as they raced down the mountain pass. Gordon knew they would reach Debash long before the invaiders reachd Castle Dantilus. All the same, they would need all the time they could garner to prepare to repel the enemy forces.

On their left, the sun marched toward its apex. Near midday, they stopped to briefly rest and water their horses. Once the creatures were sufficiently recovered, they raced off again.

It was well past sundown when they reached the outer walls of Ilithan, on the north shore of Doplar Lake.

What business brings two Titans at this hour? called the guard.

Prince Gordon and his escort require fresh horses and nothing more, Sol bellowed.

In short order, the gate groaned open. The portcullis creaked up. The pair rushed through before it reached the pinnacle. Two guards swung the citadel doors open as they approached.

A groggy stable master stumbled out as they reigned in their mounts. Before he knew what was going on, the pair removed their saddles, packed, and bridles.

Two tired stable boys led out fresh mounts. Wordlessly, Gordon and Sol saddled and bridled them. They swung astride the beasts, wheeled around, and were gone.

If we ride hard and only stop to rest when we must, we should reach the capital by Friday, sunrise, Sol offered.

Gordon shook his head. No. We should make Korinth by this time tomorrow. Debash by midnight Saturday morning.

At that, the pair returned their attention to the long ride ahead. They stopped to rest their mounts only when it was necessary. The steeds were pushed to the edges of their limits, as were their riders.

As Gordon predicted, they reached Korinth near midnight and received a similar greeting. The city was asleep. They were given fresh mounts and spurred on their way.

In the home stretch, the pair coaxed every ounce of speed they could, from their mounts. The beasts were lathered and breathing heavily. Once more, Gordon was right. They entered the northern gates of Debash as the palace clock tower chimed midnight. In short order, they clattered to a halt in the palace courtyard.

Two sleepy stable boys stumbled out to take the horses as Gordon and Sol dismounted. The palace buzzed to life as the pair ascended the steps.

A few paces into the foyer, the pair were greeted by a dainty blonde in a light blue night gown and dark blue dressing robe. She studied them carefully, sighed, and shook her head.

You certainly know how to make an entrance, brother dear, she quipped.

I must speak with Father, he retorted. It’s urgent.

She dismissed his insistence with a wave of her hand. He’s waiting for you in his audience room. He received a message from Commander Lithgar a few days ago. He’s been expecting you.

With a sharp nod, the two headed down the hall to the king’s audience chamber.

Chapter Two

She missed the last step, tripped, and fell on her face in the dust. A soft grunt escaped her. She jumped to her feet.

He chuckled and shook his head. His blond braid bounced wildly across his back.

With a sigh, she brushed the dust from her gi and slapped her hands together to loosen it from her fingerless padded gloves. She shook her head and tapped the remainder of the dust from her crimson bun.

That was graceful, Blythe, he chided. You really stuck the landing too.

Pointedly, she ignored his jibe. Which way do we go, Meithose? West? Or east?

Let’s head for Debash. Perhaps we’ll find something interesting there, he suggested. "It is the capital, after all."

West it is, then, she said as she adjusted her pack again and fell into step beside her companion.

The midsummer sun beat down on the two, filtered by the leaves of the trees shading the trade road. It had been a relatively dry summer, so the dust from the road clung to their soft-soled, black, leather boots.

A shout and an animalistic growl broke the peace. It came from around the bend.

Meithose and Blythe looked at each other.

Let’s go, he ordered, and broke into a run.

The two came upon a caravan. Four covered wagons attacked by twelve orcs. The hideous, leather-skinned creatures slaughtered the guards. The six and a half foot tall creatures attacked their victims with rusted, worn swords. They wore ragged bits of armor, but all touted the same, white snake draped over a cross, symbol.

Blythe dropped her pack and rushed to aid the nearest man. Catching the beast by surprise she threw a round kick that sent it flying into a wagon. It collapsed to the ground. She leapt over and took the creature’s head in her hands, snapping its neck before it recovered.

Meithose raced to the head of the caravan where the teamster was assailed by two creatures. He threw a ridge hand, crushing one of the monster’s windpipe. A palm-thrust to the jaw, stunned the second. Meithose ducked as the beast swung its sword at him. He caught the monster’s wrist and threw the weapon several feet away from him. Snarling, it scrambled to its feet, snatched up the blade, and rushed Meithose. This time as he sidestepped the attack, the blade nicked his arm drawing blood. He kneed the beast in the stomach, then elbowed it in the back. When it fell to the ground, he grabbed its weapon and slit its throat.

He turned his attention to the rest of the wagon train and the guards fighting off the creatures. Five monsters remained, with as many guards. Blythe came up behind the group. She leapt into the air and kicked two in the back. The orcs stumbled forward and fell to the ground. As they sprang to their feet, they turned and snarled at her. They rushed her together.

Blythe threw a straight kick to knock one back while she dealt with the other. As the second attacked her, she threw an outside crescent kick that sent its weapon skittering away. It hurried after the blade. She saw the first orc rush at her again. The second charged. She was caught between the two. As they were about to attack, she flipped backward out of the way. They ran each other through with their rusted blades.

Meithose hurried to aid the five guards battling three orcs. One creature lunged at him with a dilapidated long sword. Meithose sidestepped the attack. Catching the monster’s wrist and elbow, he threw it to the ground, and stabbed it with its own weapon.

Another orc rushed Meithose before he had time to recover. It grazed his right shoulder with its ill-maintained weapon. Meithose cried out, gripping his arm. The creature doubled back and came at his quarry again, hungry for blood. Meithose was quicker and launched an axe kick that disarmed his opponent. The creature dove for the weapon, but Meithose beat him and brought the blade up as the beast fell upon him, impaling it on its sword.

The remaining guards banded together and finished off the last creature.

Meithose found his way to Blythe’s side, as she gathered her pack and shouldered it, clutching his wounded arm. He turned to face the teamster as he approached them.

That was amazing, the bear of a man bellowed. I’ve never seen anyone fight, much less kill, an orc without a weapon. I thank you both for coming to our rescue.

It was nothing, Meithose assured him. Though it seems many of your men did not survive this fight. I’m sorry.

The man looked around as the remaining guards gathered the bodies of the dead. Only one of his wagon drivers and five guards had survived.

Blythe studied the man. He stood well over six feet tall with a barrel chest, barely contained by his leather shirt. His large nose seemed to perfectly fit his deeply tanned face. His long black hair was drawn back from his dark brown eyes with a leather strap. The black pants he wore appeared to be bursting at the seams from his huge legs, and his thick-soled boots looked well-worn. A black wool cape was draped over his shoulders, half hiding a naked great falchion on his left hip.

Look, the man said, extending a hand to Meithose, my name is Maas Zupkas. I have a great deal of important cargo to get to Debash before the tournament next week. Five guards just won’t cut it. Not with all the monster bands roaming the land of late. I’ll pay you each two gold a day, plus food, if you’ll stay on and help protect the wagons.

Blythe’s ears had perked up at the word tournament.

You said there’s a tournament in Debash in a week? Meithose queried.

That I did. It’s the annual tournament. This year’s prize is a thousand gold coin purse, and the title of King’s Champion, Maas replied.

She tugged excitedly at Meithose’s gi.

You have yourself a deal, Maas, he said, shaking Maas’ hand. I’m Meithose Dragonslore. The enthusiastic young lady with me is Blythe Evenstar.

Welcome, Meithose. Blythe, Maas commented, shaking her hand. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to make the other side of the river before it gets dark. You can throw your packs in the back of the last wagon. There should be a healing kit back there you can dress your wounds with.

At that, Maas turned and barked orders to the remaining guards and driver. Meithose tossed his pack into the back of the last wagon. Blythe followed his lead, then took some salve and bandages out of the healing kit. She tended Meithose’s injuries.

I want you up front, Meithose, Maas instructed.

Yes, sir, the youth replied, and hurried up to walk beside the lead wagon.

Blythe was it? he queried. I want you in the back guarding the rear wagon. I’ll have a man on horseback behind that.

Blythe bowed slightly, falling into stride alongside the last of the four wagons.

A handsome young man rode a high-stepping bay mare behind the last wagon. He nodded hello and smiled sweetly at her. He brushed a stray lock of golden-brown hair from his steely blue eyes, then returned his attention to the wagons.

That young lady you’re traveling with is quite a fierce one, Maas commented. Quiet too.

Blythe is an extremely skilled student of Kenchido, Meithose agreed. She is a force to be reckoned with when she gets angry or when she is defending something she is passionate about.

So, the two of you are from that temple up there in the mountains, huh? he persisted.

Yes, Meithose answered. I’ve been there since I was three. Blythe has been there since she was six. Yet somehow, since we began training together, her skills rapidly increased to the point that they almost rival mine. And I am one of the best students of Kenchido to ever leave that temple.

Maas assured him. It’s obvious you have a great deal of skill and power. You would do well to fight in the tournament.

As they traveled, the sound of rushing water reached their ears. The sun descended into the western sky as they reached a large wooden bridge.

It was wide enough for two wagons to cross side by side. The weathered wood creaked and groaned as Maas took the first wagon across. One by one, the others followed. All the while Blythe kept watch. She expected another attack, knowing they were vulnerable. She breathed a sigh of relief when the young man guarding the rear crossed safely.

We’ll set up camp over there on the side of the road, Maas instructed and motioned to an alcove in the trees large enough for their entire entourage. A wandering willow stood a silent sentinel at the back. Small white flowers dotted the grass around the roots.

The drivers followed his lead and parked the wagons in a circle around the perimeter of the camp. With that, everyone set about a task to prepare for the night.

Blythe, how well can you cook? Maas inquired.

Well enough, sir, she replied.

All the necessary provisions are in the back of the wagon where your packs are, Maas explained, then turned to Meithose. Would you help Zander water and feed the horses?

Yes, sir, Meithose replied, and went to aid the young man who was riding rear guard.

Blythe set about looking in the back of the wagon. She took inventory of the food. She found a large bag of barley, several slabs of dried meat, a handful of fresh vegetables, a large wheel of hard cheese, several loaves of crusty bread, and a small half-full barrel of apples. Beside all that, sat a large cooking pot and a few utensils. She took the rice from her pack, a slab of dried meat, a few of the vegetables, and a loaf of bread, placed them in the pot, grabbed a large spoon and headed back to the center of the encampment. She hurried back and took her reed mat off her pack and laid it beside the fire one of the guards was kindling.

After that was done, she placed the food stuffs onto her mat and took the cooking pot down to the river. She dipped it in and filled it half full of water.

Here, the youth helping Meithose with the horses offered. Let me help you.

Blythe dismissed the offer with a flick of her wrist and hefted it to the fire with little effort.

Meithose chuckled.

What’s so funny? Zander inquired indignantly.

Don’t take offense to her. Blythe was forced to take care of herself since she was small, Meithose offered.

What do you mean? he persisted.

Blythe’s father was murdered when she was five. She lived on the streets of Debash for about a year, until our master found her and brought her back to the temple to live and train with us, Meithose explained. She has had to defend herself against men all her life.

Her father was murdered? How? Why? Zander asked.

Meithose shook his head. She never said, and I never asked. If she wanted me to know she would tell me, I’m sure. That is part of her life she obviously does not wish to remember.

The two walked the horses back to a secondary clearing near the road where they staked them out. They allowed enough room for them to graze. They, then, made their way to the fire where Blythe was passing out bowls of stew with rice.

What’s this concoction? Maas demanded. I’ve never seen rice in a stew before.

Just give it a try, Blythe encouraged.

He gave it a skeptical glance then shrugged, picked up a spoon, and took a taste.

Not bad, he muttered. Then sat near the fire and shoveled the food into his mouth.

Blythe offered Meithose a bowl filled with stew. She handed him a second bowl then.

Meithose handed Zander one of the bowls. Here you go. Eat up.

Blythe took the chopsticks out of her hair and ate. She paid little attention to the others around the fire. Her mind was focused on the tournament Maas had mentioned. She knew she would be the only woman to enter. If they would even allow her.

Dark had long since fallen. The hour grew late and the guards, driver, and Maas showed signs of weariness.

Blythe and I will take the first watch, Meithose offered, set down his bowl, and looked at Maas.

The great bear of a man nodded. All right. Zander, you and Lloyd take second. Kyle and Korde can take third.

Yes, sir, the men replied in unison, and went about laying out their bed rolls.

Maas climbed into the back of the wagon he drove. He lay down in the back, falchion in hand, pulled a blanket over himself, and was soon snoring loudly. One by one, the others followed his lead and drifted off to sleep as well.

What do you think Debash will be like? Blythe inquired of Meithose, as she settled against one of the wagon wheels.

How should I know, he replied. You’re the one who used to live there.

Yeah, but that was nearly sixteen years ago. You can’t expect me to remember that far back, she retorted.

Meithose heaved a sigh. You’re thinking about that tournament, aren’t you?

Naturally, she beamed. We should both fight. I’m sure the other entries will be armed men. They’ll provide little challenge for either of us.

Yes, and then we’ll have to fight each other.

I know. Won’t that be fun? Her eyes danced with glee. We haven’t squared off in a real, all-out fight . . . ever, have we?

Once, he replied. Remember, it was close to ten years ago now. I thrashed you soundly. Or have you forgotten that scar near your left ear.

Oh, yeah, she murmured, ruefully rubbing the spot. The scar no longer visible. But we’ve both improved so much. Who knows what the outcome will be?

Come now, Blythe. Do you really think they’re going to make it easy on you if they even let you enter? You’re a woman, remember? This is, whether you like it or not, a man’s world. Most in Iskendurun don’t take kindly to female fighters.

I know, Meithose, but I’ve never let that stop me before. Why start now?

The rest of their watch passed, uneventful, with talk of fighting and the tournament. Meithose roused Zander and Lloyd for their turn. He and Blythe rolled out their reed mats near the fire and pulled their blankets over themselves.

Before Blythe knew it, the sun was rising. Meithose, woke as well. The others, except Kyle and Korde were still fast asleep.

Let’s go into the forest so we won’t wake the others and begin, Meithose offered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Sounds reasonable to me, Blythe replied, stretched luxuriously, and hurried to follow his lead.

The pair headed down near the river and went through their morning workout.

How about a little sparring to really get your blood going? Blythe offered once they finished, her eyes dancing with delight.

Meithose grinned knowingly. You just want to get a sense of what you’ll be up against when we fight in the tournament.

She feigned shock. Who, me? Never.

He heaved an exasperated sigh. Fine. If it will quell that fighting spirit in you for a day or two.

She looked as if she would burst from anticipation.

I swear, Blythe, in all my life I’ve never seen anyone so eager to fight as you. Where do you get it? he remarked, settling comfortably into a fighting stance.

Blythe shrugged. I don’t know. It always felt natural. I may not have always been able to execute the hand to hand form well, but I have always had a desire to fight.

I’m ready whenever you are, Meithose stated.

Blythe dropped into a fighting stance, her knees bent and turned forward, her body turned sideways, right fist a good foot from her chest, and left hand vertically rigid in front of her. Meithose’s stance was similar, only his right hand was rigid against his chest

She tested his guard with a series of round kicks. He easily blocked her with his left hand and retaliated with a combination of punches and kicks of his own. Immediately, they were locked in friendly combat. Meithose was sure to withhold most of his power, not wanting to itp his hand. He maintained a calm and collected composure through the bout, never giving her a hint as to what he would do next. They traded blows, never doing serious harm.

All right, Blythe announced finally, perspiration pouring down her face. I don’t know about you, but a dip in the river is starting to sound pretty good to me.

Meithose shrugged and wiped his brow with the back of his arm. That’s all right, I’m going to pass. If you’d like to, go ahead. Don’t be too long, though, I’m sure Maas will want to get going soon.

That’s if he’s awake. That man sleeps like the dead, she giggled. Didn’t you hear the way he was snoring?

He rolled his eyes. Don’t be too long, he reiterated.

You worry too much, Blythe retorted as she stripped.

She set her clothing, undergarments and all, on a rock near the edge of the river. Carefully she placed her hairpins and chopsticks on top, so as not to lose them. Her long fiery locks tumbled over her shoulders and fell to her buttocks.

Taking a deep breath, she dove into the icy morning water. She came up for air and stifled a squeal. Meticulously, she cleaned the dirt from her dark olive skin and rinsed the dust of the road from her long tresses.

She heard a twig snap behind her at the edge of the woods. Wheeling around she ducked into the water up to her neck. Her eyes scanned the shoreline for anyone approaching. After several minutes, a deer wandered to the shore for a drink. She scurried out of the river and dressed. She pulled her hair into a bun as she darted through the forest to the encampment.

They prepared to leave as she passed the wagons nearest the forest. She rolled up her mat and blanket and fastened them to her pack. She tossed it all into the back of the wagon.

As they trundled onto the trade road, she fell in beside the last wagon. The skies overhead were a brilliant robbin’s egg blue without a cloud in sight. Birds swooped, dipped, and sang, making the travel more pleasant.

Blythe kept her gaze on the forest around them. She knew better than to realx during the calm.

Occasionally, Meithose turned to check on her. She bobbled her head. He nodded.

The days wore on. She tried to remember if she knew what the city looked like. Where would they fight? Who would she fight?

The thoughts swirled through her mind. Her eagerness built. She bounced on the balls of her feet as she walked. Then, she tripped.

Meithose glanced over his shoulder at her and sighed. He knew her mind, and that it would stay until the tournament. He also knew better than to indulge her desire to spar every morning.

It still amazed him. Her grace in combat was unparalleled. Yet, she frequently tripped over stones in the road. He was curious to see how she fared in the city.

*

We should reach Debash by midday tomorrow, Maas told Meithose. It seems that you and your pretty friend frightened off any other would-be raiders. For that I am truly thankful. It has been a pleasant and enlightening six days.

That it has. I’m glad we haven’t had any further problems with monster bands. Though I do wonder what drove those orcs to attack in such an organized fashion, Meithose remarked. I also wonder why there were no Titans’ Guard so close to Castle Zymir.

Blythe, I want you and Zander to take first watch tonight, Maas instructed, turning his attention to the nightly preparations. Lloyd and Meithose will take second watch. Korde and Kyle will take third.

With that, as with every night before, he hunkered down in the back of his wagon and fell fast asleep. One by one, the others drifted off, leaving Blythe and Zander alone.

Blythe sat against a wagon wheel. Zander sat across the fire from her, staring through the flames. He had found it difficult to take his eyes off her through the whole journey. It was even more difficult now that they were alone.

Is there something on my face? Blythe asked him, brushing her cheek.

Huh? he baulked, hearing her voice for the first time on the journey. Oh . . . uh . . . no. There’s nothing on your face. Why?

You have been staring at me since Meithose and I joined.

I’m sorry, Zander murmured. I can’t help it. You’re just so beautiful. Are you sure you aren’t a goddess, or demi-goddess?

Yes, I’m quite sure. Now would you please stop staring at me. It’s making me uncomfortable. I don’t like to be uncomfortable, Blythe explained, almost harshly.

Sorry, he mumbled.

Blythe sang softly to herself. Her song wafted across the fire. He listened until she had finished. The melody was haunting.

That was a beautiful song, though I didn’t understand the words, he complimented.

It was in elven, I think. Meithose used to sing it to me when I first arrived at the temple and was lonely, she found herself telling him.

What is it about? he queried.

I don’t know, to be honest.

My sister used to sing it to me. She said it was High Ancient. That’s all I remember of my childhood, explained Meithose on her left, as he moved to sit beside her for his turn at watch. Get some rest now. Tomorrow is a big day for us.

Chapter Three

It's all right, Kaylin, Tarak said evenly.

Her eyes darted around. All the people. All the animals. All the noise. She felt so overwhelmed. Her hands flew to the hilts of her daggers.

Kaylin, calm down, he coaxed. Forgive me, sister-mine, this is your first time in a large human city.

Tarak, I don't like it here, she protested. You didn't tell me it would be this big and noisy. I can't protect you in a place like this. It smells funny.

He took hold of her left hand and led her through the crowded streets. Don't worry, sister-mine.

But . . . yes, my king, she replied sullenly.

She felt like she could not breath. So many people pressed around her. The clamor was deafening. And the smells were nearly unbearable.

At last, the reached their destination. It was a massive sprawling building at the end of a street. The Adventurers' Warehouse, the black sign over the door proclaimed in gold lettering.

What is this place, my king? she inquired, as they entered the expansive building.

This is a most amazing establishment, sister-mine, he replied. Look around. See if anything strikes your fancy.

And you, my prince? What will you be doing? she questioned.

I'm going to look at the magical items they carry, he explained.

Then, I shall join you, she stated, my king.

He gave a lopsided grin. Suit yourself.

With that, the pair made their way towards the back of the building. Kaylin stared in wide-eyed wonder, as she watched an archer's arrow make the target explode.

By the gods, she breathed.

You really have been sheltered, haven't you, little one, he chuckled, and gently tousled her hair.

It wasn't my fault, she muttered, looking hurt. Father never wanted me to leave the palace grounds. Every time I tried to sneak off, he sent Cayle after me. And the Queen Mother agreed with Father, that it was safer. I've never even seen my real mother.

Tarak stopped and turned to look at her. Kaylin's head drooped and her shoulders slumped. Her lower lip trembled. Her eyes were bright with moisture.

Did Cayle hurt you? he asked, his voice full of concern.

She shook her head. Not badly. It doesn't matter now, anyways. He's dead. Rene’s men murdered him.

Kaylin, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . .

It's all right. You're Prince of the Blood, first born, rightful king. Everyone expected you to go off, see the world. I've heard men speak of your exploits. I . . . her voice trailed off and she shook her head.

Abruptly, she hurried to a nearby counter. It was a glass case. Inside were a dozen pairs of bracers and vambraces, countless bracelets, rings, amulets, and brooches, and half a dozen pairs of gloves and gauntlets. Kaylin stared in wonderment.

Can I help you with somethin', darlin'? asked a sweet voice from behind the counter.

Kaylin looked up and pointed at a pair of vambrace. What are those?

The brunette gave Kaylin a gentle smile. Those are Vambraces of the Guardian. A rare and powerful piece of armor.

How much? Tarak questioned, coming up behind the girl.

A look of surprise and attraction swept over the woman's face. Kaylin rolled her eyes.

Well . . . I suppose I can part with them for fifty thousand gold, she purred.

And these bracers here? Tarak inquired, pointing to a pair beside the vambrace.

I could let the Bracers of Protection go for twenty thousand, she sighed.

Tarak took a coin purse from his pack and dropped it onto the counter. This should cover it, then.

But, my king, Kaylin protested.

He raised his hand and she clamped her mouth shut. She dropped her gaze to the floor and took half a step back.

The woman behind the counter arched a questioning brow. After a moment, she withdrew the items from the case. She placed them carefully in front of Tarak.

My thanks, he murmured, and picked up the bracers.

The cool metal pressed against his skin. Kaylin carefully fastened it for him. She did the same for its mate as well. Once certain they were secure, she picked up her vambraces.

She noted a subtle blue tinge to the metal as she donned them. They were etched with an intricate design. They were lighter than she had expected.

There, Tarak remarked. Now you will be better protected, and you can still dance.

Dance? questioned the woman behind the counter.

Tarak glanced at Kaylin. The girl shrugged.

Have you half a dozen passable fighters? he inquired.

Gaelyn. Bring the boys here, would you? she called across the building.

Seven brusque men strutted over. All carried heavy weapons. Tarak noticed a battleaxe, pair of bastard swords, a falchion, a short spear, a heavy flail, and a great sword.

Is this guy bothering you, Sadirah? Gaelyn growled.

She shook her head. I'd like to see the girl dance.

He gave her a look of confusion. Realization dawned on him and he chuckled gruffly. With a jerk of his head, the surrounded Kaylin.

Don't kill anyone, Tarak cautioned, then stepped back.

A hearty laugh arose. Kaylin's daggers flew from their sheaths in a glittering arc. Another roar of laughter and they set on her.

Gracefully, she sidestepped the first attack, ducked, and came up behind the next two, with blades pressed at their throats. They dropped their weapons in acknowledged defeat. With an arial, she avoided the flail. Using her momentum, she leaned forward and kicked him in the face.

Kaylin spun, as a blade sang past, leaned back, and turned aside opposing blades with daggers crossed over her chest. Something caught the corner of her eye.

Four men advanced on Tarak intensely watching her fight. She slipped a throwing dagger free and let it fly. Kaylin leapt into the air, landed balanced on the great sword's blade, and flipped over the man's head. She landed between Tarak and the three remaining assailants.

Using surprise to her advantage, Kaylin drove a dagger into the closest man's chest. She raised her left arm, blocking a blow with her vambrace. Her second blade slid under her arm and into his chest. Quickly, she adjusted her grip on her daggers, and drew them across the final man's throat.

A murmur of awe arose from all in the area. Kaylin knelt and cleaned her blades with one of the men's tabard. They slid soundlessly into their sheaths as she floated to Tarak's side.

Well done, he praised, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

More of Rene's assassins, she replied. We should go. This city is too dangerous.

Calm yourself, sister-mine, he said softly. We need to stay here a bit longer. I have business to see to.

As you wish, my king, she answered quietly.

That was beautiful, Sadirah breathed. I've never seen anyone dance like that before.

Kaylin gave a slight bow.

Another time, Tarak said, and turned to leave.

Kaylin followed him closely, hands hovering near her dagger hilts.

Tarak took the lead and made his way through the streets. He headed to a tavern with a wooden sign in the shape of a dragon, painted blue, herlading it as The Blue Dragon. He found them a quiet table in the corner.

Kaylin floated over and placed a frosted mug of ale in front of Tarak. She sat across from him with her back to the hearth. She lifted her mug and took a long, slow drink. Her careful aquamarine eyes slowly scanned the room.

What are you looking for? Tarak asked quietly. You killed Rene's most recent assassins. It will be a while before he realizes they're dead and sends more. By then, we should be well protected.

She said nothing, only stared thoughtfully into her mug. Her brow furrowed.

This is a wonderful city, he continued. You should experience what it has to offer.

A dainty blonde, with an ample bosom, brought two plates piled high with steaming food and placed them in front of the siblings. She brushed against Tarak as she approached. He grinned wolfishly as she exposed her cleavage.

Tell me, my beauty, he requested, pulling her into his lap, are there any bathhouses in this city?

Of course there are, handsome, she purred, cuddling closer.

And do they employ handsome young men there? he persisted.

She gave an indignant sigh. Madame Midori employs plenty of handsome young men. She runs the largest and only bathhouse this side of the red-lantern district.

There you go, sister-mine, he announced. You can bathe and find some pleasure.

A soft giggle escaped the blonde as Tarak's hands explored her. Kaylin said nothing, only ate her dinner. She kept her eyes on her plate.

"Can you give us some