Shattering Dreams

by Catherine M Walker

  “Excuse me, My Prince. I think I should rescue the poor unfortunate sparring with Jessalan before she forgets it’s only practise and skewers him!”

  Pushing himself off the bench, Kyle drew his swords in a smooth, practised manner as he walked across the ring, noting that they were both wearing protective gear. Kyle was only remotely aware that others in the training ring had broken off their session and turned to watch as a heightened awareness of the veil washed over him.

  Kyle flicked his glance over to the weapons master, then, at his nod, launched himself into the fight in a blur of motion. The wiry little man, whom Kyle didn’t recognise, stumbled back. Not expecting the assault from a second attacker, he lost his feet and fell to the ground. Jessalan recovered quicker and launched her attack against Kyle with a grin. Kyle parried her first attack and smiled as he heard the weapons master bellow at the poor unfortunate he’d knocked out of the way.

  “Get your lazy arse off the ground and get back into the fight.” Weapons Master Gareth glared at his latest recruit, the poor unfortunate Matthew Webb, as he fumbled for his blade, almost wailing. Gareth tried not to laugh.

  “But Weapons Master, h-he has no protective armour and she—well she’s a lady.” Matthew gulped, looking back at the deadly whirling blades of the unexpected attacker.

  Gareth walked forward and leaned over Webb, glowering.

  “Matthew, that’s alright; you are wearing protective armour, we’ll patch you up if you’re lucky enough to survive. Get back in there. Now!” Gareth bellowed and tried not to laugh as the boy who would shine against any other opponent except him scrambled for his weapon before launching himself at Kyle.

  Gareth winced as Kyle shunted Lady Jessalan aside and, in a blur of blades, landed one blow after another onto the boy. As Lady Jessalan rallied herself and launched back into the fight, Marcus stepped forward from his customary place at Alex’s shoulder, sword in hand. Receiving a nod from Prince Alex, he drew his sword and gained the weapons master’s attention.

  “Let’s try to even this up, shall we?”

  Marcus grinned at Gareth and took a moment to assess the fight. While he could see that Jessalan and Kyle were enjoying their exchange, it was clear that Kyle’s demeanour changed every time he crossed blades with Matthew. Seeing that all other bouts in the arena had now ceased, Marcus rolled his shoulders, raised his sword and launched into his assault on Kyle.

  Kyle could hear the whispering, unescapable voices through the veil. Although, at first, he struggled to resist their pull, he found himself drawn. Power submerged him—thrummed and pulsed through him—neither here nor there, lost. Except for the fight, his world had slowed down around him as he dealt with the assault on three fronts. The veil enhanced his natural abilities, making him stronger, faster, and heightening his perception of the movement and threat he faced.

  One was easy: the boy. Oh, he was good, he knew it. Just not as good as he thought. At least not yet.

  There was Jessalan. She was good, brilliant even. If she hadn’t been born a Lady of the Realm, she would have made the King’s Guard, even the Elite in her right, and been numbered as one of the best of them.

  As for Marcus, the last to join their little training exercise, he was the best in the King’s Elite.

  Everyone always wondered why Marcus was assigned to Alex and not the King. Everyone except Kyle, that was. Marcus believed, against all the odds, in the Legend of the Fourth. Alex was the Fourth Son; as a result, Marcus was his. Heart, blood and soul, he belonged to the Companions of the Fourth.

  Marcus was also one of the Tainted, just like them, although he didn’t wield as much of the power as they did. Even if no one else recognised it yet, Kyle did. He could feel and see the veil swirling, not only around himself, but around Jessalan, Marcus and the boy.

  Princess Elizabeth stood high in the palace looking down onto the training grounds below, wincing as the new boy was again sprawled on the floor of the ring, stunned after a brief exchange with Kyle. She bit her lip, watching, as the remaining three continued their fight in the training ring: Jessalan, Marcus and Kyle.

  She would know the figure that launched into the fight below anywhere with his dark hair and athletic build she knew well. Elizabeth bit her lip, not even trying to hide the grin. He was tall, broad shouldered and had a back many ladies would scratch each other’s eyes out over. That and his dark smouldering eyes and… Elizabeth cut off her train of thought with a breathy chuckle as she realised she was mentally stripping him of his customary black fighting leathers that fit him like a glove. Kyle, his sword a blur of motion, his second blade appearing in his off hand as he whirled and battled on three fronts. A master swordsman doing what he did best.

  She broke her gaze, turning away from the scene below, and spoke to Daniel, who stood next to her.

  “He’s excellent with a blade, always has been, but when did he become this good with a sword?”

  Daniel glanced at her before flicking his attention back to the fight below. “Don’t know. He always seems to improve in leaps and bounds; it’s Jessalan who is amazing to me. It has been a while since I’ve seen her fight, but while she’s not in Kyle’s league, she’s definitely good.” Daniel winced as Kyle’s attack made her stumble. “If I didn’t think he’d skewer me in the attempt I’d cross blades with Kyle myself for that.”

  Elizabeth turned her attention back to the training grounds below. One of the few women present in the private training ground, Jessalan’s small petite form was easy to spot. Plastered down the side of her face, a strand of her blonde hair had escaped the practical braid she had her long thick hair restrained in. A smile graced her lips as she parried a series of strikes from Kyle, her focus not wavering from her opponent. Her skill and confidence with the long thin blade she wielded was obvious to see.

  Right now, Jess wore long pants, utilitarian black boots, a brown leather vest over a green shirt with leather vambraces on her forearms and a sword belt at her waist that was obviously her own. Elizabeth couldn’t help the smile. She knew the eminently capable swordswoman below would be transformed tonight, her hair piled up in an intricate design, impeccably dressed for court. The Lady Jessalan would, as always, captivate the eye of every male in the court. Including her own brothers.

  Elizabeth laughed, “Please don’t. You irritate me, but I’d rather not lose a brother. If he didn’t swat you away, Jessalan would for interfering with her fight. Or did you miss why Kyle jumped into the fight in the first place?”

  Daniel shook his head, and they both fell into a comfortable silence watching the fight below. Elizabeth gazed at Daniel out of the corner of her eye for a moment before speaking up.

  “Did William talk with you about Kyle and Alex?” Elizabeth slid her eyes back down to the practice yard.

  “You mean about Kyle and speculation of him being the Shadow?” Daniel snorted, his disdain clear. “The expectation on Alex of all three of them to be what they’re not because of that damn legend? Alex just needs to grow up before he gets someone killed.”

  Elizabeth frowned at Daniel. “You are too hard on him Daniel. Alex has been through a lot, more than he ever should have had to.”

  Daniel grimaced. “We all lost Mother, Elizabeth—not just Alex. You don’t see me being dragged out of the most disreputable establishments in the Kingdom regularly.”

  Elizabeth sighed, having had this argument with Daniel before. Her eyes tracked across to Alex where he sat on the sidelines, intently watching the fight. Alex had fought earlier and was obviously in his element right now. He was never this relaxed in court. Not that anyone who didn’t know him would pick that he was the youngest son of the King right now.

  He was wearing a set of his nondescript fighting leathers, similar to those worn by Kyle. Alex leaned against the wall with one of his booted feet on the bench next to him, one arm resting on his knee. Alex pushed his hair out of his eyes, turning to the man next to him and obviously made an observation about the fight
as both men laughed. Although she was too far away to see them, Elizabeth knew that Alex’s eyes were a startling deep blue and his chocolate brown hair, although much shorter, was a mirror of her own. Alex wasn’t as well built as Kyle but she could see why the ladies of the court favoured him. Alex, like William, would draw the attention of ladies far and wide, even if he wasn’t the King’s son.

  “Yes, we all lost Mother, but the rest of us didn’t watch her, the guards and servants get slaughtered. We don’t have nightmares to this day about it. None of us bear enough of the Taint to cause an issue.” Elizabeth’s eyes flicked from the scene below to Daniel’s set face momentarily before moving back to track the action below. “We don’t have to contend with that damn legend. The bond between all three of them is clear. It always has been, because of the burden they all share. If nothing else, at least they have each other. I wish Alex could stay our irresponsible, party-boy brother, live his life free of the Taint.” Elizabeth heard the sadness in her voice at the last observation, watching her little brother down below.

  Daniel frowned at his sister; his expression hardened. “I don’t know why you all insist on ignoring that our dear brother and his friends are dangerous. They will break—all of their kind do—and then we will all be at risk.”

  Elizabeth sighed, wishing she’d never brought up the Taint. Daniel was unreasonable about the subject; he had been since he was a young child. Nothing had ever seemed to shake him from that standpoint. She opened her mouth to reprimand him, but the training ground below caught her attention. She stiffened and raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with astonishment. Daniel swung his attention back to the practice yard below and was equally speechless.

  A petite woman had entered the training ground, her black hair restrained in a tight braid similar to the way Jess wore her own hair. She pushed herself off the wall that she’d been leaning on and strode across the training ground, drawing her sword from the scabbard at her side with practised ease.

  “I didn’t know Amelia attended the sword practice.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened, her hand pressed to her mouth.

  “I didn’t even know Amelia could use a blade more dangerous than a butter knife. Although, since Kyle is her brother, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised.”

  Daniel was shocked. In all these years, he’d never once seen Amelia train with a sword, although her appearance suggested otherwise, since the blade strapped to her waist was obviously her own and the attire she was wearing resembled the training gear that her brother wore, although in green and brown tones rather than black. They did not look new.

  “Well, I guess that might be why Father suggested that she would be perfect to be in my inner circle now she is of age.”

  Elizabeth frowned, and both she and Daniel kept their eyes on the training grounds below.

  “Hold!”

  The bellowed command from the weapons master rang out across the now silent practice field.

  Kyle grinned tightly and removed his sword from the weak spot in the safety armour that the boy was wearing. He took a breath, shaking off the veiled world, and stepped back. Looking at his other two opponents, Kyle grinned and sheathed his swords. He looked down at the boy, who lay at his feet sucking in air.

  “I don’t think we’ve met, guardsman.”

  Kyle, faintly amused despite himself, felt his usual good humour starting to return. He felt a little sorry for the hapless guard. His eyebrow raised slightly; the boy didn’t get up or answer, instead solidly ignoring him in his pursuit of breathing. Kyle glanced up at the weapons master and cocked his head to one side. He’d never seen the weapons master turn that shade of red before.

  Weapons Master Gareth strode forward.

  “Get your sorry arse off the ground, Webb. Practice is over, and in case that thick brain of yours hasn’t caught on, that was Lord Kyle’s polite way of enquiring after your sorry-arse name!”

  Kyle didn’t think it was possible for the lad’s face to go any paler, but he managed it as he staggered to his feet. Kyle watched patiently as the boy continued to say nothing in response, his eyebrow raising even further.

  Gareth muttered under his breath. “Powers preserve me. Your name, or did Lord Kyle manage to snuff out what little brainpower you possessed before the last bout?”

  The lad gulped, looking wide-eyed at the weapons master, and shook his head. “No, Weapons Master, um … sorry My Lord. I’m Guardsman Webb—Matthew Webb—from Lord Grumman’s estate out west.” He stumbled to a halt, aware he’d gone from being mute to almost babbling.

  “Sorry to intrude on your session with Lady Jessalan, but you were holding back, and honestly you didn’t need to. Her life might depend on the training she has here one day. It’s not a game.” Kyle nodded at the weapons master before walking over to join the others.

  “Good fight, Marcus. You nearly had me a time or two.” Kyle grinned at both Marcus and Jessalan, who sported smiles as wide as his own. “I think the pair of you have given me a new set of bruises.”

  Marcus finished stripping off the arm and chest guards he’d worn for training and chuckled as Alex joined them.

  “I think I will have more than a few, My Lord Kyle. Good fight. I’d feel better about the compliment if you hadn’t been fighting three of us at once. You too, My Lady Jessalan. You’ve come a long way from the little girl who tagged along with these two reprobates demanding to be taught swordplay right alongside them.”

  Kyle spun around when he saw Alex’s stunned expression and tracked his gaze to see Amelia leaning against the wall, dressed for swordplay. Despite his mother being horrified by the idea, his father had had no intention of allowing his little girl to grow up unable to protect herself. An incident had occurred years ago in the ballroom, when a drunken Lord Minor tried to take advantage of her; this had only solidified his determination.

  Still, to appease her mother, Amelia’s practice sessions had been done privately, so the rest of the Realm likely didn’t know how capable she was, much like Princess Elizabeth’s practice sessions—done in the strictest confidence.

  Amelia chuckled, pushing herself off the wall, and drew her blade. Cocking her head to one side, she moved to the centre of the ring, not bothering with the protective training gear any more than Kyle had earlier. Amelia paused, and her gaze shifted over to the weapons master.

  “With your permission, Weapons Master Gareth?”

  Gareth looked startled, and his gaze slid over to Kyle, who chuckled and nodded.

  “As you will, My Lady.” Gareth gestured to the training ring. Most of the blade work around the arena halted once more as they noticed Amelia’s presence and drew closer to watch.

  Amelia drew her sword in a smooth, practised motion with an economy of movement that had the attention of all in the ring. Startled glances were traded by all the guards present. Amelia dismissed them as a distraction, her gaze sliding back to her brother. She gestured toward Kyle, beckoning him to come into the ring.

  “Come, brother, enough with the play. Let’s show them how the Straffords dance.”

  Kyle drew his blade, raising it in salute to his sister, smiling as she mirrored his movement. It was a courtesy of one Blade Master to another. He barely knew of the whispers that ran around the training ring. It got their attention. All activity in the training grounds stopped; the members present didn’t even try to pretend they were not watching.

  Without further pause, Kyle attacked, drawing his second blade, grinning. Amelia did the same. He could feel her use of the veil; her power was growing, although not to the same level as Jess. Still, Amelia was several years younger. Kyle forgot himself in his delight at the dance between their blades; they both moved with what was, to others, astonishing speed and skill. Their worlds narrowed to this moment, the power of the veil swirling through them both—as though they were opposite sides of the same coin, they mirrored each other perfectly.

  Amelia looked just as delighted as he did, lost in the complexity of their l
ethal dance. Neither of them were aware of the time passing as they moved with deadly grace around the practice ring.

  The weapons master bellowed, commanding them to hold.

  Long practise and skill stilled both their blades as they straightened and withdrew. They flipped their blades up in salute to each other before sheathing them. Kyle was startled when the applause rang out around the practice ring. He looked at Amelia, laughing, and held his hand out to her. Amelia’s laughter burst out from her lips as she took his hand and they both bowed to their appreciative audience.

  “Amelia, I’ve missed trading blows with you. Mother will be beside herself when she finds out.” Kyle chuckled as Amelia poked her tongue out at him in a very unladylike fashion.

  “I’m sure our Lady Mother will get over it. Besides, our Lord Father will approve. It’s his fault; after all, he’s the one who insisted that I learn to defend myself.” Amelia smiled. Her gaze turned to Jess and Alex as they joined them on the side of the training ring.

  Weapons Master Gareth walked up to both, an appreciative smile on his face.

  “My Lord, My Lady, thank you for that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a finer display of swordsmanship. My Lady, you are welcome on my training grounds any time.”

  Amelia smiled at the compliment. “Thank you, Weapons Master Gareth. The offer is appreciated.”

  Kyle laughed outright at the stunned look on Alex’s face. “What, taken by surprise brother?”

  Kyle could see Alex—the Alex he met in the veil for training. Not his drunken, party-boy alter ego that he generally displayed to the world. Kyle was aware enough that the real Alex showed up more often than not when Amelia was around. It was a subtle difference that most wouldn’t pick, the calm competent Alex versus his wild, don’t-give-a-damn mask.