Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (30 page)

word he spoke threatened him. “What of your father?”

To Gustav’s surprise, the man spat at the scuffed sand and angrily

shook his handsome head. His voice emerged in a choking growl. “I

have no true father.”

Ivar roughly prodded the Curamian’s solid shoulder. “I told you,

brat, watch your mouth and actions. You speak to a king and you

address him as he deserves, understand, hothead?”

The Curamian ducked his head in brief remorse. “I beg

forgiveness, Sire, Captain. I meant no harm. I am not used to the

company of kings.”

Astute Gustav discerned the man didn’t mean his mocking words.

He desperately contained his merry smile. This man acted quite

forward. “Understandable. What I don’t understand is how you have

no father. Did you spring from the ground fully formed or did a

miraculous virgin birth secretly occur?”

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The warrior’s expression turned guarded. “I’d rather not speak of

the matter, Sire, that is if I own your leave to remain silent.”

Even more curious. Gustav nodded in acceptance. “I did not mean

to cause you pain. You may keep your secrets. What is your name?”

“Tahir…” A swift second passed before, “Noname, Sire,”

completed his speech. Intense pride shone forth. “I sincerely hope to

make a new name for myself, Sire.”

Gustav inclined his head. “Excellent. I appreciate fierce incentive.

Speaking of incentive, I need to see if you handle your fine sword

correctly.”

Tahir narrowed his eyes. “Do I fight against the infamous

Stormcaller?”

A subtle smile answered the Curamian’s query. “No, Tahir

Noname, you fight an honest war blade sans a lofty name. I would

hardly waste blessed Stormcaller on practice in the ring.”

“A wise decision, Sire.” As he met Gustav’s light gaze, Tahir

paused and dropped his voice into dry mockery. “But, Sire, do you

truly wish to waste yourself on a miserably hot day? The day is longer

young, Sire. The full afternoon sun is a harsh mistress. Her bright kiss

makes you sweat like a commoner.”

Ivar’s next fierce prod almost knocked Tahir’s body to the hot

sand. “Blessed Gods, you are an impertinent Curamian sandworm!

That does it. I’m tolerant but enough! I…”

The unable to contain his smile Gustav held up his left hand.

“Ivar, dear Ivar, the lad speaks the truth. Leave off.”

Tahir stiffened once more. “Please, I am not a lad, Sire.”

“Compared to me you are, so I call you lad.”

“I have seen twenty-three summers.”

“Really now. I have seen seventy-two summers but I can send you

sprawling against the sand.”

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At hearing Gustav’s age Tahir blinked in sheer amazement. The

rumors were true! “How do you look like a man of thirty, Sire?”

Gustav frowned in remorse. “A tiny drop of sacred blood

circulates in my veins, a gift from the Domas wizards who sheltered

me after the Usurper almost slaughtered me before my exile. But

enough chatter.” Gustav lifted his blade and saluted. “Come, Tahir

Noname, show me how a fatherless son of Curamia fights the sweaty

old King.”

At the salute, Tahir finally released a genuine smile. He bowed

and followed Gustav into the center of the sand ring.

THE DUEL

Tahir’s mocking gaze fixed on Gustav’s damp face. He whispered

his words. “Tell me, Sire, how does one fight a legendary King? Do I

restrain my swing and let you win? Do I hold back?”

Gustav arched his brows in equal mockery. What a brash pup.

This Tahir Noname was not some sheepherder or drover fresh off the

dry plains; he possessed too much natural arrogance. Intriguing.

Lowering his voice Gustav leaned close. “Well, lad, you fight a king

like any other talented sparring partner. You are familiar with the

polite rules of engagement? I trust you won’t poke out my eyes or

slice off my nose? Although capped, our live blades still damage.”

Gustav paused and cocked his head. He pushed. “Do you understand

right of way dueling? Or must I explain the time-honored concept to

you?”

Tahir stiffened again. “I am not some ill-trained barbarian who

does not understand dueling! I’ve been…” His guarded, watchful stare

replaced his ire. “I understand the rules, Sire.”

Gustav wondered if a thorny cactus had pricked this man’s

mother! “Fine, lad, prove the crucial fact to me. Prove to me why you

deserve a chance to be in my guard.” Gustav lifted his blade and

smiled in challenge. “First to score five hits wins. Agreed?”

“Yes, Sire. May the best warrior win.”

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“Indeed. Ivar? We duel to five hits between the waist and

shoulders. Right of way rules.”

“Excellent, Sire. Lothar, Camer, Amrath, position yourself to

watch the hit angles.” The other soldiers occupied three equidistant

positions. Ivar held up his hand. “Begin.”

Blades tapped in confirmation. The two combatants stepped apart

and slowly circled each other. The challenger stared into Gustav’s

eyes, he assessing an opening move. Gustav thought this man must be

fine card player; his stare revealed nothing but wary anticipation. The

men performed one full foot pattern circuit, their steps light and

precise. Puzzled taint washed from the recruit. Excellent. The king’s

usual sparring partners understood his custom tricks; Gustav’s most

obvious one let his opponent attack first. How bracing to face a fresh

warrior. The encounter unfolded in true challenge.

Sandals moved against the sand’s embrace. Anticipatory silence

captured the ring. Overhead two brazen ravens added their squawking

opinion about the match. Tahir studied his calm, collected opponent

and tried assessing which opening thrust to use. The king held his

sword ready for any attack; the blade’s angle silently defied him.

Where to strike? Tahir wondered if the king’s massive biceps still

worked at full strength. The man’s power daunted him. This legendary

king appeared sculpted from burnished bronze. Sun-bronzed muscles

and dark red hair dazzled Tahir’s senses.

They circled, circled, paced in silent wait. The cautious beginning

wore on Tahir’s fiery nerves. His lessons taught him to attack and

press his advantage, not hover like a waiting dragonfly. Maddening.

The opportunity frustrated yet exhilarated the Curamian. He never

imagined dueling against this renowned warrior! If Tahir shamed

himself, he’d own no second chance. Tahir didn’t know if he could

win, but he planned to do everything in his power. The ultimate

chance to prove his quality arrived. Returning to unforgiving Curamia

was not an option. Never. He’d die before returning. Ha, if he did

return, he’d also die.

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His life options looked limited.

Another tense circuit slid their sandals against the sand. Tahir

hissed under his breath. His hot temper, never his best friend,

unraveled in the heat. “Do we duel or dance, Sire?” Before his words

floated toward the watchful sun, Tahir lunged to the side and thrust at

Gustav’s broad chest.

Gustav almost didn’t see Tahir’s sly feint. What an excellent

move. Gustav deflected the attack and drove in before Tahir set up his

second attack. They battled in earnest, their blades lovingly ringing

together in an age-old deadly song. Neither allowed a new opening.

Awed silence gripped the watching crowd. Word had spread that

the king challenged a desert savage. Despite the heat, curious on-

lookers gathered on the observation deck. Money quietly exchanged

hands. Most favored their powerful, skilled king but the brutal day

blazed in wearing heat. The far younger challenger, from a cruel, heat

stroked land, looked fit and strong.

Gustav blocked another talented feint. He allowed Tahir to

perform the heavy attack work. Let the man’s muscles work too hard.

Defense and observation worked for Gustav. At last the wily king

spied an area that Tahir, in his zeal, did not fully protect. The mistake

happened again. A slight opening occurred as the man’s capable arm

swung back for a jarring blow. Yes, wait, step, step, pause… perfect.

His sword whipped up in a decisive move. Gustav knocked past his

opponent’s blade and poked Tahir’s leather jerkin directly at his heart.

Gustav thought his move rather poetic.

Ivar clapped in approval. “First clean hit to King Gustav.”

Cheers shook the hot air. More money exchanged hands.

During their brief pause, Tahir hissed in feral annoyance. “You

are sly, Sire! Thank you for showing my sad lack. Trust me, it shall

not happen again.”

“Excellent. Glad to offer you knowledge.” Gustav saluted again

and resumed the match.

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After another ten minutes, the hot and sticky Gustav wondered

why he started this duel. The late afternoon air refused to grant even

the smallest of mountain breezes into the sweltering ring. The

suffocating temperature deepened the practice sand. Gustav’s sword

gained weight. This intrepid man refused to grant him any new

openings. Their blades engaged yet, except for one heated flurry

ending in mutual annulled hits, no progress occurred. Although he

claimed he had no father, this Curamian recruit fought in skilled

passion. Someone had taught him well.

Curious questions hovered in Gustav’s mind. He tamped them

down. Concentrate on winning rather then on how glorious Tahir

looked glistening in the sun. The Curamian’s swarthy, sweat-washed

face almost glowed in intensity. Gustav wanted to toss his sword

aside, lunge forward and run his tongue along one perfect cheekbone.

His act would cause a fuss. Standard dueling rules never included

licking. What a pity.

Time to pull the match to the next level. Pressing hard Gustav

attacked Tahir in a burst of fast footwork and excruciating speed. As

he gasped in surprise, Tahir desperately defended his position. A wild

lunge prodded Gustav’s left shoulder.

The watching crowd murmured and clapped in polite

acknowledgment.

Ivar agreed with his guards’ signals. “Second clean hit goes to

Tahir.”

“Well played, my clever warrior. Now…” Instead of allowing a

breather, Gustav drove forward again. Tahir slipped on a slick sand

patch and stumbled. Gustav crowded in, lunged and easily scored his

second hit low to Tahir’s stomach. The king wished to see what

lurked under the leather practice jerkin. Sliding his tongue over

swarthy flesh sounded delicious.

After the hit Tahir danced back. Frustration lanced into his mind.

He didn’t want to lose due to stupid mistakes. “Not cleanly done,

Sire.”

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Gustav grinned and shrugged. “But I did it. I suggest you

concentrate harder.”

Fury fought for control of Tahir’s sword arm. He scowled and

fiercely pressed a fresh attack. Again. Again. Hearing the watching

audience’s sincere appreciation drove him on. The next fierce hit

landed high on Gustav’s right shoulder.

Ivar sounded doubting. “Sire, the hit is questionable…”

Gustav waved his sword before him. “I declare the hit high but

clean. We are tied, but not for long.”

Tahir couldn’t believe his blessed luck. Gustav acted gracious in

giving him the second hit. He pressed another strong attack.

Excitement welled up. He possessed a chance. Tahir’s wild giddiness

granted him a fresh hit. He was winning!

Gustav smiled at Tahir’s obvious exhilaration. He decided his

knowledge needed to defeat youth’s might. Gustav deployed a sly old

trick, a sloppy opening attack to draw Tahir close. Gustav pounced

into a strong second attack and scored a hit.

Tied again at three apiece. Two more for victory. Gustav feared