“I don’t like this,” Thel objected, not moving. “You don’t need to prove anything else to anyone.”
But Ernth backed Hungry up a few paces as instructed. “Just do what he says, Thel. Korram can defeat Rampus without our help.” Not that he planned to just sit and watch. The moment something went wrong or it looked as though the regent might be winning, he would dart in and save his friend’s life. But they had better let Korram get started so they could finish this before any more of Rampus’s men showed up.
Reluctantly, Thel and Togan both backed their horses out of the way. The three of them watched as the combatants turned to face each other directly.
Rampus tightened his shield straps and raised his sword. Korram, his left arm still hanging limp and shieldless, gripped his spear in his right hand.
This is not an even fight.
Chapter 25
Korram stared at the man who wanted him dead, had always wanted him dead so he could rule Malorn himself. It was time to stop him, to show his enemy he had met his match. Rampus killed Father; I’m sure of it. But he won’t kill me. I’m ready for him.
The regent spurred his horse forward, closing the distance between them.
I wonder how good a warrior he is. Korram realized he had never actually seen Rampus fight before. Did he practice regularly? Did he practice at all?
The regent’s sword flashed out. Korram ducked and struck out with his spear in Offense Two, but his spear clanged against his enemy’s shield. Korram dodged in his saddle as the sword swept toward him, and then ducked again, lifting his spear in a one-handed defensive blocking move. The sword whistled back in the other direction.
He does practice. The thought came at the same moment as I really need a shield. His arm, still throbbing painfully, hung limp and useless. If only I’d asked Sergeant Sanjik to train us to fight without shields.
Korram’s Offense Two hit the regent’s shield again, and then he had to fling himself backward, almost flat on his back on Clinja, to avoid the next blow. Rising into position once more, he feinted high left, switching to low right at the last moment. It nearly worked, but the regent jerked his shield over just in time and the spear’s head scraped past its lower rim. Then Clinja jumped aside, saving Korram from another sweeping blow. He struck out again, but once again the regent’s shield took the force of his attack.
This isn’t working.
The sound of horses approaching at a canter intruded faintly into his awareness, but Rampus had stepped up his offense, and Korram had no time to look. It took all his concentration to keep dodging, to parry with the shaft of his spear, to make sure Clinja carried him out of danger every time Rampus’s blade came streaking toward him. If enemies were approaching, Ernth and the others would have to take care of them.
I need a different strategy. Without a shield, it was taking too much time and energy to dodge every blow, and Rampus was striking at him just too fast. He would never get in any successful attacks of his own this way.
Switching tactics, Korram ducked another sweeping sword thrust, swerved Clinja to the right, and made as though to strike directly at Rampus’s face. Once again the shield came up to block him, but this time Rampus made the mistake – not that he had much other choice – of raising it high enough to cover his eyes. Once again Korram changed angles at the last moment. Swinging the spear around with all his might in a one-handed Offense Six, he slammed its shaft against the knuckles of his enemy’s right hand.
Rampus swore, his face contorted with pain as the shield slipped aside. He didn’t drop his sword, but his fingers curled more loosely around the hilt now.
Korram was dimly aware of the clanging of weapons nearby, but he couldn’t allow himself to focus on anything but Rampus. One more blow to his fingers and I can make him drop his weapon.
But Rampus didn’t give him the opportunity. He kept his sword hand back, out of the way, and focused on defense, whipping his shield around wherever Korram tried to strike at him. The regent knew how much was at stake right now, and he was just as determined to win as Korram. One perfect sword thrust and he could be mostly-legal ruler of Malorn for life. One missed opportunity and all his carefully laid plans would be for nothing.
Maybe Thel was right and single combat had been a mistake. Korram was no longer quite as confident that he could win, and fear was starting to grow along with his frustration. I still need a better strategy.
I was right! The thought sprang to Ernth’s mind the moment he heard the approaching horses. That soldier he had seen with Rampus before must have gone off to fetch more of the regent’s men. It had probably been easy to find and talk to them once Dorralon had called for a stop to the fighting.
Now Ernth could hear several people cantering through the trees. Most likely there were just enough soldiers to help that cowardly regent get safely to wherever he had hoped to run away and hide. But probably not many more than that, or they would be too conspicuous to their enemies. More of them would be coming if they knew we were here.
Ernth couldn’t tell yet how many there were, but he guessed that he and Thel and Togan would be outnumbered. We’ll have the advantage if we can take them by surprise, though. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Korram was still holding his own against the regent, Ernth gestured to the other two to follow him. They headed generally toward the approaching soldiers but parallel to their path, pausing behind an especially wide-trunked tree. When the soldier in front had drawn even with Ernth, he dug his heels into Hungry’s sides, thrusting out his spear as she leaped forward.
The man never saw him coming, never even had a chance. Ernth tugged his spear free feeling faintly guilty, just as the next soldier raised his sword and charged at him with an angry oath. Ernth caught the blow on his shield, and then Thel and Togan were there on either side of him, engaging two more of the approaching riders.
How many were there altogether? Ernth was too busy striking out and blocking blows to check. It would be bad for Korram if there were any more; they were bound to go rushing to Rampus’s defense.
Ernth nearly didn’t dodge the next blow in time. He flung himself backward to avoid a sword-slash across the chest, his shield in the wrong place, his spear thrusting uselessly at the air. The tip of an enemy blade sliced through his sleeve as Hungry snorted and jigged to one side. His heart pounding at the close call, Ernth thrust out again, mentally chiding himself for losing focus. If I don’t defeat this man, it won’t matter what else is happening.
His opponent dodged too, backing his horse away a step. Ernth grinned. Perfect.
The spear was just long enough to bridge the distance between them if he leaned forward a little. His second try with Offense Two worked.
Ernth darted a quick glance around as the man slumped over his horse’s neck. Thel and Togan were still battling their own opponents, though both of them seemed to be doing all right at the moment. But when Ernth turned to glance over his shoulder, he saw the hindquarters and red-clothed back of one more horse and rider disappearing between the trees.
No! Ernth spun Hungry around and sped after them, back toward the stream where he had left Korram and Rampus dueling.
To his surprise, he caught sight of his friend leaping off of Clinja’s back directly at the regent. An unusual strategy. Rampus yelled in surprise and maybe pain as well; and for an instant the two of them struggled together, teetering. Then they both tumbled from the regent’s horse onto the forest floor by the bank of the stream.
The soldier Ernth had been pursuing drew his sword and pulled his feet out of the stirrups, obviously preparing to jump down and end the prince’s life. Korram was facing the other way and didn’t see him, not that he could have done much anyway as he wrestled with Rampus on the ground.
He’s going to kill him. “Hey!” shouted Ernth, trying to distract the man. “Over here!” He kicked Hungry and the horse put on a burst of speed. But the man, ignoring him, was already sliding to the ground by the two combata
nts.
Now’s your chance. Save Korram’s life and fulfill your debt! In desperation, Ernth drew back his arm and threw his spear, exactly as he had scoffed at Korram for doing with the snowcat. But his panic and Hungry’s gait threw off his aim. The projectile barely grazed the man’s shoulder, eliciting a yell of pain but no serious injury. However, it did distract him enough to allow Ernth to draw up beside him and leap off of Hungry’s back before the fellow could touch Korram.
But the soldier had his sword extended and ready, and Ernth nearly impaled himself on it mid-leap. He managed to twist aside in midair, and he felt a searing pain along his ribs as his deerskin tunic ripped in a different place. Somehow, oddly, he found time to think it’s a good thing I’m not wearing my snowcat jacket even as he landed painfully on his right knee and elbow on the cold ground.
I don’t have a weapon and he does was his next thought. “Yeeaah!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, jumping to his feet and bellowing right in the man’s face. Shoving and scrambling, he did his best to knock his adversary over and pin him down, straining to seize his sword arm before the man could slash off his head. “Yeeaah! Yeeaah! Yeeaah!”
The man lost his balance and fell backward beneath the onslaught. Struggling under Ernth’s weight, he jerked his shield around and slammed its rim into the side of his face. Ernth’s next yell turned into a “Yeeow!” But then he managed to grab hold of his opponent’s arm just below the elbow and pin it to the ground, shield and all.
Ernth heard Korram cry out in what sounded like a cross between frustration and determination. He didn’t dare turn to see if his friend was all right, but even so, his distraction nearly cost him his head when the man swung his sword. Fortunately, his enemy’s injured shoulder threw off his aim.
I can’t let him beat me. I can’t let him get away. Otherwise the man would kill Korram for certain and Ernth would have failed.
After a moment’s desperate struggle, he finally managed to pin down his opponent's sword arm as well. But now they were at an impasse. Neither of them could use a weapon or shield at the moment. Ernth needed his spear; he knew of no other way to kill his enemy or force him to give up. But even if it had been lying close enough to grab, he couldn’t let go of the man’s arms to reach for it.
Risking a quick glance over at Korram, he saw his friend raise his spear and bring the shaft down on Rampus’s knuckles with a solid thump. The regent, flat on his back with Korram kneeling on his chest and arm, dropped his sword with a cry of pain. Laughing in triumph, Korram knocked it aside and brought the tip of his spear up to his enemy’s throat.
“Well, what will it be, Rampus? Shall I kill you, or are you going to surrender?”
Rampus growled in wordless rage. But when he started to struggle, Korram pricked him lightly with the sharp steel and the struggling stopped.
“Decide right now,” Korram warned. “I’m in no mood to waste any more time over you.”
“I surrender,” Rampus hissed, hatred in his eyes.
“Order that soldier to surrender too,” Korram commanded, glancing over to where Ernth and his opponent had both paused in their struggle to watch.
“Surrender,” Rampus called, angry but resigned.
The man hesitated, glanced up at Ernth, and let his sword fall from his hand. “I surrender too.”
Ernth lunged and snatched up the sword and his spear, one in each hand. Jumping to his feet, he backed away and pointed both weapons at the man. “Go sit over there by that tree and don’t try anything, or you and Rampus will both die.”
With a quick glance at the regent for his approval, the man did as he was told. Ernth peered around to see if anyone else was about to attack them, but though he could hear the sounds of Thel and Togan fighting their opponents among the trees, there was no immediate danger nearby.
“Ernth, help me tie him up,” Korram called, not moving from his position at Rampus’s throat.
Ernth cast about for something to use. Finally, he gripped his spear in one hand, tucked the sword into his other armpit, and untied the long belt he wore over his tunic. Keeping a watchful eye on the man by the tree, he helped Korram tie Rampus’s wrists tightly behind him. Next, Korram pulled off his own belt, and Ernth used it to bind the soldier too.
Thel came cantering up just as they finished, followed by Togan, both looking exhausted and blood-splattered. “You did it!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Korram, you won!” She slid off her horse and threw her arms around him before turning to Ernth. “So, did you save his life?”
“Of course I did,” Ernth informed her smugly. “I stopped that man when he was about to kill Korram, and now he can become king and make everything fair for our people.” He prodded the regent’s bound form with his toe. “And because of me, Rampus will be taken back to Sazellia, put on trial, and executed.” He felt very successful, not only for what he had achieved, but also for using those Lowlander terms that he had learned so recently.
“Because of all of you,” Korram corrected, his glance taking in Thel and Togan as well. “Come on, let’s bring the prisoners over to the main clearing and go find everyone else. The battle’s over, and I want to let the two generals and Prince Jaymin know that I’m still alive and Rampus has surrendered.” He grinned. “After that, we have a lot of celebrating to do!”
Rising to his feet, Korram slipped out of the circle of firelight and trudged toward the edge of the clearing. He needed to be alone, to sort out his conflicting emotions in private. In front of his army, he had to be strong. But he didn’t feel strong inside anymore. Not since he had finally been able to just sit down and stop being in charge.
He had accomplished a lot in the last few hours, though. There had been no real celebration after all, but the two princes had congratulated each other and made plans to meet later and negotiate trade agreements. They had dispatched a messenger – one of the Malornian soldiers who had been stationed in the Alasian palace – to order the rest of their troops out of Alasia. And then Korram had finally sent Rampus off to Sazellia in the care of Lieutenant Togan and a handful of his men, to be marched straight to the dungeon.
Malornian Law and Government stated that a crown prince at least sixteen years of age could appoint a new regent if the current one died in office, resigned, or was otherwise unable to continue his duties. Korram had already started thinking about whom to pick and was considering High Councilor Aybien. He would meet with the High Council as soon as he returned and decide after that.
The rest of the soldiers had retreated to their separate camps, Malornian and Alasian. Wounds had been tended, campfires lit, food dug out of packs, and those who had an appetite had sat down to supper.
But Korram couldn’t eat, and though he had been awake for two days in a row, he didn’t think he would be able to get to sleep any time soon either. He no longer had the heart to sit beside his friends, congratulating them on their victory and trying to keep their spirits up. He no longer felt like celebrating. All his life he had dreamed of fighting in a battle, but the reality was not the glorious adventure he had imagined.
I killed people today. Lowlander soldiers were probably sitting not far away around their own fires mourning for friends and comrades who would have been alive if not for Korram. And Korram knew he would never forget the way it felt to end someone’s life. It was not a good feeling. He felt dirty, as though their blood would always stain his hands.
Leaving the Mountain Folk side of the clearing, he wove his way between Lowlander campfires, where clusters of soldiers excitedly discussed the battle’s outcome and the revelation that their honored regent had actually been a traitor. Wanting only solitude, Korram stayed out of the firelight so no one would recognize him.
At the edge of the clearing, the bodies of the dead had been laid out in neat rows, Malornian Lowlanders and Mountain Folk together. The Alasians had brought their dead to their own camp; all would be taken back to their respective homes for burial in the morning. Messengers had been sen
t to Sazellia and Mosra, the nearest Alasian town of any size, to fetch wagons for that purpose.
Korram had no desire to walk among the corpses, but they lay between him and the trees. He was thankful it was too dark to see their faces or the wounds that had ended their lives. The faint smell of blood as he approached turned his stomach.
But there were live people here too, he realized as he drew near. Some of the Mountain Folk had come to sit beside the bodies of their loved ones, crying or holding them close or just sitting in silence, heads bowed in grief. Korram recognized Fretchal, bent over the body of Layth, two of the Newly Accepted who had become more than just friends in the course of their training. Fretchal sniffed as Korram tiptoed past, the tears on his face gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Korram’s heart ached for him and his shattered dreams.
When he was out of sight and earshot of the camp, Korram finally sat down and leaned against a tree. His wounded arm, though neatly bandaged by a Malornian army physician, throbbed painfully, and he cradled it in his lap.
He had accomplished his goal, but it didn’t feel as good as he had expected. So many dead. So many lives damaged forever. Yes, he had warned the Mountain Folk that it could turn out like this, but none of them had really been prepared for what a battle would be like. They had followed him into it full of excitement, and now – even though they had succeeded – there were wounds and broken hearts and families that would never be whole again.
Korram drew up his knees and wrapped his good arm around his legs. His snowcat jacket was comfortingly warm, but the ground beneath him was icy, and he felt himself beginning to shiver. Thinking of the bodies – some of them people he had known – lying out there in the cold, he felt hot tears begin to squeeze their way out of his eyes. In a moment he was crying harder than he had since he was a little boy, barely able to gasp in ragged breaths between sobs. He pressed his forehead against his knees, shoulders shaking, tears splattering on his deerskin breeches.
Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3) Page 49