by B. K. Boes
When Moloch struck and the prince barely blocked, wincing at the strength it took to hold back Moloch’s sword, Moloch knew it was time. He pretended to stumble, giving the prince the chance to commence in a new onslaught.
Moloch held up his sword overhead, meeting the prince’s overhanded swing. As they stood face to face, swords locked, Moloch whispered, “Now, Zuria. A knee to my side. I’ll fall, and you strike.”
The prince looked uncertain for a moment, but then he grunted and slammed his knee into Moloch’s side. The way he did it, releasing the pressure of pushing against Moloch’s sword at just the right moment, Moloch didn’t have to pretend to topple to the ground. He did go down harder than he would have otherwise, failing to break his fall with his arm. His head bounced off the dirt floor of the arena as Prince
Zuria dealt the final blow, a strike to his thigh with the flat of the blade.
The princess stood and clapped, which had the prince beaming. Both men took a bow and clapped each other on the back. The crowd applauded, and they made their way out of the arena.
But the announcer stopped Moloch. “Uh, Lord Moloch? You’re signed up for the seventh duel as well.”
Moloch blinked a few times. “What? I didn’t sign up for the seventh duel. I only signed up for one.”
“I was with him,” Prince Zuria said.
“It’s all right,” Moloch said. “Get to your betrothed and enjoy your victory. I’ll work this out.”
The prince nodded reluctantly and walked away toward the stone platform.
The announcer held up the scroll for Moloch to see. “No, sire. I’m sorry, but your name is on here twice. Once with the Prince, and once—”
“—with Lord Rutis,” came Waen’s voice from behind Moloch. His brother wrapped his arm around Moloch’s shoulder and stood next to him. “A real brute of a man, I hear.”
“Let me see that,” Moloch said. He took the scroll from the announcer, and sure enough, his signature was scrawled across both the number six slot and the number seven. He gave the scroll back to the announcer and shrugged Waen off. “You bastard.”
“Can you give us a moment, sir? My brother is nervous and needs a little encouragement,” Waen said to the announcer, who promptly backed away.
Moloch narrowed his eyes at his brother. “I’m going to make a fool of myself out there!”
Waen laughed bitterly. “Oh, it’ll be worse than that, brother. If you make a fool of yourself, you’ll make a fool of the prince. I bet Lord Rutis will be able to put you down in seconds. Word has it he’s quite good with the sword, almost as good as he is with an axe. I thought it interesting that an Ergonian nobleman made a hobby out of our weapon of choice. Can you imagine how embarrassed your best friend will be when the man he spent half an hour dueling can’t last a minute with an Ergonian hobbyist?”
Moloch could feel the heat creep up his neck. “You’d embarrass the prince just to get to me?”
“He’ll survive,” Waen said.
“And what if I reveal what you’ve done?”
“Then you’ll look pathetic. I’ll deny it, and it will look like you saw who you were up against and tried to make a way out of it.” Waen leaned in and grinned. “At least, that’s the story I’ll be telling.” He placed his hands on Moloch’s shoulders in a brotherly way. “We’re twins, Moloch. Right now, I’m wishing you luck. What could possibly motivate me to do something so farfetched?”
Moloch shoved him away, but he only laughed.
“Uh, Lord Moloch?” the announcer said from behind him. “Lord Rutis is ready.”
Moloch turned and blanched at the monster of a man waiting by the entrance to the arena. Rutis was several hands taller than Moloch, and twice the weight in muscle. Moloch swallowed, his throat dry as he walked up to the entrance. He was tired from the previous show with the prince, but Waen was right; he couldn’t bow out or cry foul. Not if he wanted to keep his dignity.
If I draw the duel out, then at least my loss to him won’t embarrass the prince.
The announcer’s voice boomed and the crowd quieted to hear. “Presenting once again, Lord Moloch Sarrem of Eikon, son of our esteemed General Nibal Sarrem!” Moloch walked out into the arena. A slightly confused applause sounded. The prince was halfway to sitting when the announcement started, and Moloch flinched when Zuria stood straight again at the mention of his name.
I know, he thought. This wasn’t the plan.
“And,” the announcer continued, “Lord Rutis Tovan of Pytar, cousin to Princess Naova of Ergon, nephew to King Gonnoss.”
What are they feeding these mountain men?
Rutis unsheathed his sword and raised it in the air as he walked onto the arena floor. He seemed very popular among the Ergonians as applause erupted from where they had congregated in the stands.
I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t accidentally kill me. Didn’t some baron die in a duel like this once?
Moloch’s heartbeat thrummed a little harder in his chest. Blood drained from his face, and he could only imagine how pale he must look.
Moloch thought he felt the ground rumble a little as Rutis stomped his feet into a wide stance.
No. That’s just my imagination. Calm down. Ergonians hardly ever use the sword. He’s big, but I’m quick. And smarter. Probably.
Rutis set his jaw and stared down at Moloch. Facing him now, Moloch could see his first impression of the man was accurate. There were few who could rival his pure muscled breadth. The short sword looked like a toy in his hand.
It’s a good thing we’re not going hand-to-hand. He would crush me in half a second. Moloch licked his lips and took a deep breath. All I have to do is dance a little. Draw the battle out.
“At the ready!” the announcer shouted. “And… go!”
Moloch blocked out everything but Rutis and himself. The Ergonian drew in a breath and then let out a cry that rattled Moloch’s bones. In two quick strides, he was upon Moloch, sword swinging. Moloch blocked, but as his opponent’s blade connected with his own, the power of the blow nearly knocked Moloch to the ground.
Damn the Other.
Moloch moved quickly, lightly, backing away from Rutis. The beast of a man barreled forward again, but this time, Moloch didn’t try to block. Instead he dodged the blow. Again and again, Rutis attacked with force.
I’m keeping pace. Just barely. This mountain man puts a lot of effort into his hobbies.
Moloch parried, blocking again with his own short sword. He had chosen the best weapon of the lot, but part of him wondered if it could stand up to continuous powerful blows.
Keep moving. Wear him out a little. Maybe I’ll be able to deal a winning blow. If I can get him to slow down.
He didn’t know how long they’d been dancing on the arena floor, their song a clangor of steel upon steel, but he knew he couldn’t last much longer. His arms ached with the effort of repelling Rutis’ powerful attacks.
But then, his opponent’s swings became a little less intense. Gradually, he slowed, until he stepped back, chest heaving, and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He narrowed his eyes a little at Moloch and glanced at the platform where the royalty watched. He took a deep breath and shook his head, looking back at Moloch.
He’s getting worn down. Moloch wiped his own sweat out of his eyes. But so am I. If I don’t do it now, I won’t be able to do it at all.
It was time. For the sake of the prince’s pride and his own, he was going to try to win this thing. Everyone could see how Rutis could fight. A win for Moloch would be an even greater win for the prince. Moloch raised his sword once more.
This time it was Moloch who attacked. He dealt blow after blow, and though Rutis was holding, he wasn’t quite as robust as he’d been at the start. Moloch’s arms burned, but he kept going. And then, as Moloch used his speed to his advantage, Rutis made a mistake. The bigger man lunged forward, a bit clumsy. But Moloch ducked under the swing, stepped into Rutis’ charge, and barreled into the torso of the Ergon
ian, blade ready. Rutis tripped over Moloch, but as he fell and as Moloch turned and rolled out of the way, Moloch’s blade connected hard with Rutis’ back.
Moloch landed on his arm with a hard thud and felt a bone crack. But even as pain pierced him, relief flooded his senses. Rutis had landed face first on the ground. He rolled over and sat up. At first, Moloch thought he might be angry. He began to back away, fearing some kind of brutish retaliation. But then Rutis’ determined glare vanished and was replaced with a wide smile. The giant of a man laughed and raised his hand in the air.
“He dealt the winning blow!” Rutis said. “I surrender!”
Moloch’s brow furrowed at the joy in the man’s voice, and he flinched as Rutis got to his feet, took two long strides, and offered his hand to Moloch.
“Took you long enough,” Rutis said, his voice low.
Moloch took Rutis’ hand, grimacing as he stood, trying not to cry out at the pain in his arm. “Long enough to what?” he asked.
Rutis laughed again as he put a hand to his lower back where Moloch’s sword had hit. “It was a good strike,” he said. “And a good show. Some Ergonians would like to see this marriage fall through. Embarrasing the prince would help that cause.” He winked. “Not me though. From what I’ve heard, my cousin will be happy with your prince.”
Moloch couldn’t help but laugh. “You let me win?”
The big man shrugged. “I figured out something was off about halfway through. I remembered seeing that brother of yours whispering with the officiant, exchanging coin and whatnot. After the look on your face when your name was called, well,” he shrugged, “I just put two and two together.
Moloch glanced up at the platform. The prince was on his feet, clapping with enthusiasm and a wide smile. He turned back to Rutis. “I owe you, friend.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he laughed and gave Moloch a pat on the back that nearly knocked him off his feet.
Moloch searched the crowd for Waen as he exited the arena floor, but all he saw was his brother’s back as he angrily left the stands.
That evening, there was a feast and celebration in the Great Hall of the palace. Moloch was given a seat of honor at the prince’s table, along with the princess and Lady Junia Nondrum. As dinner turned to dancing, Prince Zuria and his bride-to-be joined in the twirling and elegant steps of those on the dance floor. Moloch stayed at the table, his arm wrapped in a sling. There would be no dancing for him.
Lady Junia stayed behind as well, and once her cousin and the prince left the table, she turned her attention to Moloch. “They seem a good match,” she said, nodding toward the couple.
“They do,” Moloch said. An awkward silence followed.
Lady Junia took a sip of her ambrosia as she studied Moloch. “That last duel of yours was interesting.”
“My opponent was… challenging. But I suppose the Sustainer was on my side.”
“Rutis is a good man and a better fighter. But he is good-natured,” Lady Junia said. “I think you won him over as a friend.”
Moloch raised his cup. “Then I drink to him,” he said. “No one wants a man like that as an enemy.” He took a drink, as did the Lady Junia, who raised her glass in the same fashion. The alcohol had begun to make Moloch feel a little looser, more relaxed. A question left his lips before he could consider its appropriateness. “What of you, Lady Junia? Do you have a ‘good match’ on the horizon?”
She laughed and raised an eyebrow. “A bold question,” she said. “For whom do you ask?”
Moloch felt his cheeks go hot as he realized how forward he had been. “I didn’t mean to overstep,” he said.
Lady Junia waved a hand indifferently. “You may have for some, but not for me. To answer your question, my father would love me to have a suitable match lined up, but no. I don’t currently have any suitors I’m interested in. Unfortunately, my preferences may not hold sway for much longer. My father isn’t a patient man.” Her smile faded for a moment.
“You don’t sound excited about your prospects,” Moloch said.
“A marriage meant for political power isn’t my idea of love or happiness.” Junia shrugged. “But I suppose it’s the responsibility of my station.”
“Can there not be both power and happiness?” Moloch gestured toward the royal couple, who were flitting across the dance floor together. “They seem as though they could be very happy.”
Junia smiled. “My cousin is a lucky woman.”
“Perhaps we both could be so lucky, as well,” Moloch said.
“With me?” Junia asked, a wicked grin forming. “You do move fast.”
“With anyone,” Moloch countered, and then returned her grin with a lighthearted playfulness. “Maybe with you.”
“Now, Lord Sarrem, you are your father’s son.”
Moloch stiffened. “And what is it exactly that you mean?”
“Only that the Duke of Eunoya has a reputation among the ladies. Charming, but to a fault.” Junia narrowed her eyes. “It makes me a bit nervous that you of all men are the prince’s chaperone. Nervous for my cousin, that is. She’s naïve, but I’m not.”
Moloch glanced at Zuria and Naova. She was playing the shy and proper lady, he the gentleman. They were dancing slower now, his hand placed on her back, hers on his shoulder. They whispered to each other, exchanging smiles and perhaps hope for their future together.
He spoke quietly. “I am nothing like my father in those regards.”
“You wouldn’t have taken me to bed, then, if I’d offered?”
“You’ve read into my words something that isn’t there,” Moloch said. “I find you beautiful. More than that. You’re bold, which I happen to find attractive. Am I not allowed to see what’s in front of me? Am I not allowed to seek your favor? That is all I was interested in, Lady Nondrum.”
Junia blushed. “Surely you cannot fault me for assuming—”
“Assuming what? The worst?” Moloch lowered his voice further. “My father is an excellent man. A war hero. A brilliant general. An admirable leader. But he’s a terrible husband, and sometimes a terrible father. I’m actually quite close to my mother, and she deserves better. And that’s what my wife will get. Something better.” He took a breath, surprised by his own passion. He thought of the numerous times he’d found his mother either mourning her marriage or infuriated by it. She tried to keep it to herself, but Moloch knew. Especially before his father had pitted brother against brother. Moloch had worked with his mother in the herb garden, learning how to heal physical wounds. He’d found inner wounds to be a lot harder to fix.
“I apologize.” Lady Junia’s head fell as her brow knit together. “I assumed too much.”
Moloch sighed. Her assumption about him may have been slightly off, but she was right about his father. Moloch silently cursed his father’s infamous infidelity. It had done enough damage, and now it was impacting his own reputation. He studied Lady Junia for a moment and decided he didn’t want her to pull back. She fascinated him, and he wanted to know her better.
Moloch lightened his voice and leaned toward her. “You do remember the part where I said I find you attractive?”
Her head snapped up, eyes wide.
Moloch laughed. “Well, I do. In the most respectful way.”
She pursed her lips then let them relax into a smile. “You tease me, Lord Sarrem.”
“Maybe a little,” Moloch said. “Please, call me Moloch in casual company.”
She shifted in her seat and leaned against the back of her chair. “Likewise. You may call me by my given name as well.”
“I’d like that very much.” Moloch said.
They continued to chat, but in the back of Moloch’s mind he wondered exactly how different he really was from his father. He’d never taken a woman to bed. He was only sixteen, but he knew his brother had done so already.
Waen and I… are we really that different from our father? Have I just not had the opportunity to give in to those base desires? He cl
osed his eyes for a moment. Would I have taken Junia to bed if she’d offered?
The answer sat like a rock in his stomach. He believed everything he’d said about his mother, about his future wife. Yet it wasn’t hard to imagine pressing his lips against Junia’s. Or the feel of her warm, smooth skin.
Her father is looking for a match. A powerful man for a son-in-law. A man with connections.
Moloch set his eyes on Zuria’s back. The prince’s favor, his father’s challenge, and the power of the position just outside his grasp could change Moloch’s prospects considerably. There was more at stake than simply showing his father and brother that he could do something great. He looked at Junia, and he felt a pull toward her. A desire to know her.
What if I find her to be the woman I want? What if I find anyone to be the woman I want? What do I have to offer now? A lot of possibility and no guarantees.
His resolve to gain the dukeship hardened. A new thought crossed his mind. It was something he wanted, not just to show his brother and father he was worthy. But because he wanted it. This wasn’t only a competition with Waen. This was a battle for his future.
And he would be damned if he didn’t win.
Chapter Ten
Imrah
Dakkan Household
The City of Sydor, Adikea
3rd Cycle of Chenack
986 Post Schism
Every soft breath of the baby boy sleeping next to Imrah was like a knife to her chest. The flame from a single candle cast a soft light over him. An urge rose within her to caress his little cheek, to study his button nose or play with his soft curls. She had done those things with Anakai, and now she was paying for it. When she closed her eyes, Anakai was there, being led away, turning his head from her. Her son was gone. This baby… he wasn’t hers. He was theirs.
That was hard to remember when she opened her eyes again. The baby was there, only fourteen days old, and he needed her. And though she tried very hard not to, part of her ached to hold him. Her body, still sore from delivery, craved the comfort of holding the child it had worked so hard to bring into the world.