Divided

by Rae Brooks

  The horses, all black, with their green stirrups and saddles, were surrounding an older woman who looked more than a little frightened. Calis frowned. “Really, Althion? Why?” Calis hissed. His fists clenched in response. An old lady—really—why did they feel the need to be such bloody monsters?

  “What did you say?” Aitken asked him. He had nearly forgotten that the boy was standing at his side, doubtlessly because of the very people he was trying to avoid.

  “Ah, nothing,” Calis answered.

  They must be here often, as every time he came to Dark District, or nearly every, there was a noble about making trouble for the commoners. The old lady—well, not old, her hair was only beginning to gray, and her face still held a little bit of youth—but she was too old to be picked up for the pleasures for which noblemen were known for picking up women. “Hey there, little lady,” one of the men said as the horses circled her.

  There were a lot of men, too, more than any Ukar would have taken for a typical stroll. Calis had a distinctive feeling that he knew what this might be about. “Wow, there is a lot of them,” the boy said.

  “Yeah,” Calis said sourly. “There are.”

  Finally, one of the men reached down and yanked the woman by the arm, bringing her up onto his horse. “You wouldn’t happen to have a daughter that we could go visit?” She choked an incoherent reply. “We’re a bunch of very bored men, and we were hoping someone here could entertain us,” the man added cheerfully.

  The woman shrieked in protest and when she tried to get off the horse, the man let her fall without much resistance. When she landed with a hard thud, the group of them laughed. Calis counted seven of them.

  One of the men got off his horse, handing the reins to his nearest friend. Calis recognized this one as the eldest Ukar boy. His name was Althion, and he’d never been anything but cold and fake to Calis. The blond doubted he’d be recognized, but he was not wanting to take that chance right now.

  “Well, I’m alright with older women. How old are you, sweet cakes?” Althion asked, and he grabbed her when she tried to run.

  Her eyes were darting about the market, and Calis could see the other commoners staring in horror. A few of them looked conflicted, but most of them looked as though they weren’t even considering helping the poor woman. “Leave me alone!” she said.

  One of the other men had hopped down, and Althion tossed her into him. “What do you think, Jermaian?” he asked his friend. “She isn’t too bad for someone with gray in her hair.”

  “Not too bad, but I would like to know if she had a daughter,” his friend replied. Calis felt anger welling in his mind, and he wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to remain where he was for very much longer.

  Were the nobles really this pathetic? He had never considered them good people, but the more he came to Dark District, the less faith he had in any of them. Althion slammed the woman back against one of the stalls and ran his tongue over the side of her face. She let out a shocked scream and clawed at his face.

  When the fingernails caught his cheek, he growled and slapped her to the ground with a decisive click. She groaned and tried to move, but he caught her by the hair and picked her back up again. “No one is going to help you? Oh, you poor lady,” he said with mock sympathy.

  “Please, please,” she begged, “I don’t have anything. I’ll do anything—just don’t hurt me!”

  All of the men let out an amused laugh and shook their heads. Althion glanced back to the men who had yet to dismount and grinned. “Hear that, men? She said she’ll do anything!” This prompted more laughter.

  Calis moved to step into sight when he noticed that Aitken was already in front of him. “Hey you jerks! Why don’t you leave that poor lady alone?” he shouted in a voice that trembled with fear.

  The men glanced over to him, and one of the others hopped off the horse with an amused grin. “Oh—are you the Phantom Blade we’ve been hearing about? That’s odd. I thought you were taller—not much, but a little,” the man said.

  Aitken seemed to realize that he’d made a mistake as the man approached him, and Calis, once again found his body reacting only to have it interrupted. “You’re a bunch of pathetic belligerents,” the voice snapped at all of them from a few paces away.

  To Calis’s relief and dismay, the very person that he’d expected to see stood before them with both of his swords drawn. He looked far more serious than he usually looked, probably due to the amount of men that he would be fighting. Calis deeply wished that he’d brought a sword—or a weapon at all—with him. “There you are,” Althion said with a snort, “we were thinking you’d be too cowardly to show.”

  “No,” the vigilante said, “seven of your men is equal to about half of me, so I don’t see any reason to be afraid.” Despite the words, Calis could tell that the masked boy was not nearly as relaxed as he usually was.

  Another man jumped off his horse as Althion walked towards his opponent with a shark-like gleam in his eyes. “Tareth Tsrali tells us that he’d pay good money to have you bound and gagged at his front door, Phantom,” he said.

  A spasm shot through Calis at the threat, or perhaps that was from the idea of the boy who he thought might be behind that mask bound and gagged. “Does he?” the vigilante responded hotly. “Well, by all means, try.”

  One of the men, not Althion, charged him suddenly. The man had a large, broad sword, and he swung it at an even cut across the boy’s chest. The masked fighter’s lithe form allowed him to get out of the way before the sword reached its mark, and then he dashed forward, parrying the large sword with one of his own, and slicing the man across the face with the other.

  They didn’t wait, though, as they shouldn’t if they wanted to have any chance at all. One of the other men that had dismounted took that moment to swing his own short sword at the phantom. With another quick twisting of his body, the boy caught the sword with another parry and then swung his second sword to catch the man across the stomach in a vertical line.

  The one whose face he’d slashed had recovered though, and this time, instead of going over his head with another slash, the man swung at the vigilante’s feet. Responding appropriately, the boy jumped up and used the hilt of his sword to bash into the man’s chin. Then, he wrestled the large sword from his first opponent’s hands and slammed it into the chest of his third opponent.

  He was able to release that sword, and it clattered to the ground, causing the man to cry out in pain as the sword sliced into his boots. With another movement, the vigilante swung his sword around to catch Althion across the shoulder. This time, two of the men attacked at once. As one attempted to stab him from the front, the phantom sliced downwards so that his sword caught the other man’s in a stalemate.

  Again, he was forced to enlist the aid of his other shortsword when another of the men slashed at him from the side. Once again, the swords met with a clanking sound. While the phantom’s attention was focused on the two men who had already attacked, Althion took that moment to thrust his blade towards the boy’s stomach.

  Much to his own chagrin, Calis heard himself breathe a pained gasp. When he saw the young man fling both swords aside so that the blow missed, except for a rather nasty cut across his side, Calis immediately began looking for a weapon that he could use to help the young hero. Althion didn’t waste any time taking another strike, and another of the men cut the boy directly across the back as he parried Althion’s blows.

  Managing to throw Althion back into one of the stalls with a particularly well-placed thrust, the vigilante turned quickly to catch another strike from the man behind him, and he swiftly redirected the blow so that the two swords slammed into one of the other men. Calis couldn’t help the awe that struck him as he watched the fight—this boy was not just some commoner—Calis wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone fight with such prowess before. The graceful movements were causing more bizarre panic to leak into Calis’s system, however.

  He glared at the bla
cksmith that he’d found a little ways away. “Give me a sword!” he demanded.

  For a moment, the man stared at him, and then he glanced back to the fight where the phantom had just dodged another of the many strikes. “Why?” the blacksmith finally asked Calis.

  Calis thought of leaping across the stand and strangling the man right there, but he didn’t. “I want to help him!” he said. “Why aren’t you?”

  “I-I can’t wield a blade very well, and I can’t just… these swords are hard to make! I can’t just give you one!”

  “What?!” Calis snarled. “He needs help!”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but this is coin. I need all the coin I can get!”

  “You worthless, lowlife coward,” Calis spat and turned back to see the vigilante jump out of the way of one blade, only to run right into another. Then, Althion dashed forward and caught the boy’s rightmost sword. As one of the others swung a sword and caught the very same side that Althion had struck before, the boy let out a shocked whimper and allowed Althion to wrench the sword from his hand.

  It clattered to the ground a little ways away, and behind the mask, Calis could see the young man’s eyes widen as one of the men thrust their sword forward, directly at his chest. As his sword had been occupied by another blow from Althion, the phantom threw his free hand up to slow the sword, slicing through his hand unforgivingly, and then stopping just short of his chest. The hilt of the sword pushed his middle finger back, and Calis could hear the snap of that same finger.

  To his credit, the phantom pretended as though it had never happened, flung the man’s sword to the side, and—wresting his sword free from Althion—stabbed down into the man’s leg. The soldier let out a yelp, and before Althion could move to counter, the vigilante slammed his fist into Althion’s face.

  The noble went staggering backwards and eventually crashed into another stall. A woman let out a shocked cry as her wares went spilling out into the street. “Ah, sorry,” the young vigilante said as he glanced at her.

  The woman shook her head, as if terrified that she had made a sound. The vigilante twisted his body and caught another of the soldiers with the back of his hilt. The man crashed to the ground with little resistance. The fight had only three men left standing, not counting the vigilante, but by the way the masked boy staggered back a little, Calis didn’t think he’d be able to win.

  His hands were twitching, as though he wanted to reach for something that he knew he couldn’t. He took panting, shocked breaths, and Calis glanced about in a panic, still thinking of killing the blacksmith. One of the remaining men slammed his fist into the phantom’s back and yanked the boy into a restrained position.

  As one of the men stepped forward, the phantom actually managed to fling his legs up high enough off the ground so that, even from the restrained position, he was able to knock the man down. Unfortunately, he still couldn’t manage to get free of the larger man’s grip—as the man certainly wasn’t one of the usual untrained imbeciles who could be found here—no, this had been a deliberate trap for the Phantom Blade.

  With one final glare at the blacksmith, Calis lunged forward and grabbed one of the nearest swords from its perch and darted into the fray. He would never have successfully managed if the shopkeeper hadn’t been so distracted by the fight. With a bleeding nose and an amused laugh, Althion stepped up to the vigilante. “Even if I do give you to Tareth, you worthless scoundrel, I am going to be the one who finds out who you are.”

  Calis advanced past the surrounding men, who all seemed assured in their victory—or the ones who were still conscious enough to understand did. Just as Althion tried to reach for his target, Calis yanked the helmet on the noble’s head downwards and slammed the hilt of the stolen blade into it. Althion’s ears would be ringing for cycles. Then, Calis jerked forward and slammed his fist into the face of the man holding the vigilante. Once he was freed, the vigilante sprung and slammed the last man’s head into the wall of one of the buildings.

  As the man fell, Althion got back to his feet, and Calis forgot all about being recognized for who he was. Althion looked too angry to care, anyway. “Perhaps you should run home to your father, little boy. I wouldn’t mention your seven men couldn’t best one. He’d surely disown you—if he hasn’t already.” The anger in Calis’s voice made it shake.

  For a moment, Althion looked as though he might be smart enough to recognize Calis, but he had apparently been glaring past the prince and at his horse. He then bolted past the phantom and Calis to mount his horse, give his men the slightest of warnings, and then set off at a gallop down the street.

  The other men were not quick to follow, but they were well aware of the situation. Even though most of them would certainly be sore in the morning, they all managed to get up and onto their horses before they could be humiliated further. Calis turned to watch the horses trot off, wishing fervently that he could chase each of them down and put a blade in their throats. He took a few steps towards the short sword that lay on the ground and picked it up. He used his own tunic to remove the blood from it before he extended the blade to the vigilante.

  The boy reacted a little more violently than Calis had expected, and for a moment, he seemed to think that Calis was going to use the blade against him. When he realized that Calis meant him no harm, he took the blade warily. Calis noticed the way the boy flinched when the blade’s hilt moved against his finger, and he also noticed that the shaken fighter had a hand drawn over his side. The phantom sheathed the sword Calis had handed to him and let out a weak breath. “Are you alright?” Calis asked, finally.

  When the boy glanced up at him through his mask, Calis saw all the confirmation that he needed. On the other side of the black, leather mask that blocked the boy’s face were two piercingly blue eyes. “Yes, I… thank you for your help,” he said with a quick bow.

  “It wasn’t any trouble,” Calis answered. Then, with a glare towards the blacksmith, he threw the sword that he’d stolen back to the ashamed man.

  Calis’s blue-eyed acquaintance moved to the woman who had been assaulted first. “Ma’am,” he said gently, “are you alright?”

  “I… yes,” she sputtered. “Thank you, you…” She threw her arms around the vigilante without warning. The boy blinked for a few moments and offered a return hug before he eased his way out of the grip.

  With a quick smile, he bowed to her. “You ought to go see a healer, ma’am. I can see a few bruises. And, as for you,” the boy said with a quick glance at Aitken. The child had been relatively inactive until now, but now, he shifted. “Wait until you’re a little older before pulling things like that—you could have gotten hurt, or worse—at least have a plan next time.”

  “But, I… she… oh, fine,” he said, sticking out his tongue and then running off down one of the alleyways. People were beginning to move into the streets, and most of them were trying to get a better look at the boy in the mask.

  Calis spoke to him gingerly. “I think you ought to see a healer,” he said. “For all your bravado, seven on one is not a battle I would ever want to fight.”

  The blue eyes stared at Calis for a moment, and then the vigilante looked away with a sort of shrug. “I’ll be alright,” he said.

  Calis jerked forward, grabbing the boy’s wrist before he had a chance to back away. With a quick motion, he removed the brown glove covering the injury to reveal the bloody hand and swollen, disjointed finger. “You’re hurt,” Calis said, with a plea in his voice.

  The vigilante yanked his hand back, glaring blatantly at Calis, then. A glare that looked remarkably like Kilik’s, as well. “I will take care of it,” he said.

  “You fight very gracefully with a sword, my friend. I’m quite sure that I’ve never seen anyone fight with so much skill,” Calis said. He could hardly bother to care that he likely sounded smitten.

  The sight of those blue eyes had brought back to him his anger about marriage in full. He got the strange impression that they held more for him th
an the hope of an interesting experience in Dark District. By the way Calis’s heart sped up, he could feel the unfortunate truth dawning on him.

  Kilik was appealing to him, and in more ways than one—in the way that he walked, the way he talked, the way he fought, as there was almost no denying that Kilik stood before him now. Yes, and that was why he was so unhappy at the premise of being forced into marriage.

  He stamped that inappropriate thought out of his mind. As currently, Kilik, or the Phantom Blade, didn’t look like he trusted Calis as far as he could throw him—with his injured finger. “Thank you…” Calis could see the very slight flush underneath the mask.

  “You’re bleeding,” Calis said. But this time, when he tried to get close enough to his masked companion, the boy leapt away and glared at him—looking very similar to a boxed-in cat. “For such a brave hero, you certainly are skittish.”

  The wet look of the side of the vigilante’s uniform had Calis worried, though, to say the least. Perhaps he should let the boy handle his affairs how he usually did, but if his past behavior was any indication—Kilik didn’t put much stock in attending to himself.

  “Forgive me, I’m wearing a mask—I’m just used to people… trying to…”

  At that moment, he glanced around and seemed to realize that the people were advancing on him. “Don’t run off,” Calis said. “No one will take the mask off… just let me help you to a healer—you’re hurt.”

  The boy took a step back, and Calis could tell that this was a prelude to his eventual darting off down the alleyway. “I thank you very much, and… I…”

  “Everyone else here may be willing to extort you for your kindness, but I will not. You fail to realize that you are one of the people in this district and that you need protection as much as any of these people do,” Calis said with a hot snap in his voice. Everyone was staring at them, and there was a shift in the air when he spoke—as if he’d said something that none of them had understood until then. “You’re not listening to me, are you?”