The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher (4 page)

             
Using their daggers and short swords, the guards cut the clothes off of Kenner and his cousins, laughing the whole time and leaving them naked.  Kenner tried to fight when they tried to take the boots his father had made for him, but he was kicked to the ground.

“Irmgar!” The Prince called out.  “Hand me that sword on the wall next to you.”

The guard pulled a sword off of the wall and then presented it to the Prince.  Still laughing, one of the guards cut the bindings off of the three prisoners.  Then the Prince tossed the sword to the floor in front of Malton.

              “Your Highness,” Captain Krall called out, “I’m not sure…”

“Don’t be a mother hen,” The Prince answered.  “That swords as dull as your sense of humor.”  He then spoke to Malton.

“Pick it up.” He ordered.

“Your Highness…” Malton tried to say.

“I said pick it up.” The Prince interrupted.

Young Malton shakily picked up the sword.

“Stand.” The Prince ordered.

Malton slowly and uneasily stood to his feet.

             
“Here’s how this works.” The Prince started to say.  “You are convicted criminals and I have the power of life and death over you.  This is my exercise room and you three are going to assist me in my exercises for the day.  It’s as simple as that.  If you impress me, I will set you free.  If not, then I’ll just have to come up with some other punishment for you.”

The Prince then pulled his own sword from his scabbard.

“Hold the sword up.” He commanded Malton.  Malton, now thinking that this would merely be an exercise and there was no real danger lifted the blade of the sword in a defensive posture.

“Not a bad guard you’ve taken,” The Prince said. 

The Prince swung slowly at Malton and he parried the soft blows.

“Not bad.” The Prince said, sounding encouraging.  Then with one blow, he knocked the sword out of Malton’s hands, spun around and plunged his own sword into Malton’s belly.

“No!!” Kenner screamed.  He was again kicked to the floor.  He looked over at his fallen cousin and watched his last breath leave his mouth.

              “You son of a…” Kenner tried to yell, but a guard kicked him across the mouth.  The Prince then picked up the blunt sword and tossed it at Belfor.

“You’re next.” He said smiling.

Belfor stayed on his knees.

“Please Your Highness,” he begged.  “I’m so sorry.  I beg for mercy.”

“This is mercy,” The Prince laughed.  “I could have had you executed in front of the fountain.  At least this way, you have a fighting chance.”

“I’m no warrior…”Belfor pleaded.

“For the Lady’s sake leave him alone!” Kenner screamed.

“Pick up the sword.” The Prince ordered again.

“Please, Your Highness…”

“Pick it up!” The Prince yelled.

Belfor took the sword in his hands.

“No!” Kenner hollered again.

“Your Highness….” Captain Krall tried to interject, “I must object.”

“Objection noted.” The Prince laughed.  As he had turned to face Captain Krall, Belfor leapt to his feet and tried to charge the Prince.  The Prince turned suddenly taking up a guard position.  When Belfor saw this he froze and then dropped the sword.

“I’m sorry Your Highness.  I’m so sorry…”

The Prince then, with one motion sliced Belfor’s head off of his shoulders.

             
Kenner tried to shut his eyes to what he’d just seen, but it was too late.  He had just watched his two young cousins; who had grown up with him almost as brothers slain by a brutal Prince.  Tears welled up in his eyes, but he choked them down along with his fury.

              The Prince tossed the sword to the floor in front of Kenner.  Kenner took several deep breaths.  He could almost hear the voice of his father.

“Never fight angry,” his father taught him.  Despite his rage, he forced himself to breathe deeply.  He gnashed his teeth together and he felt as if his eyes were on fire.  He picked up the sword then stood to his feet.

             
“Do you see that, gentlemen?” The Prince said teasingly.  “I do believe our friend here is a little angry.”

Several guards laughed.  Captain Krall swallowed his own emotions.  He was horrified and angry; but also felt helpless.

“Don’t worry,” The Prince said grinning.  “You’ll be joining your friends soon enough.”

The Prince swung his sword at Kenner’s neck and Kenner stopped it cold using only one hand.

“Well,” said the Prince.  “Isn’t this something?”

He swung again and Kenner parried again easily, all the while staring intently at the murderer.  “Stay cold.” Kenner told himself.  “Never fight angry.”

             
The Prince tried several combinations of blows.  None of them seemed to bother his opponent.  For a moment, he thought it was fun.  Here was some good exercise.  But the more blows were countered, the more he began to get frustrated.  He swung, he jabbed.  He went for the legs, the shoulders and the groin.  All his attacks were repelled.  He swung faster and faster and in great swirls and loops.  Still, the peasant stood.

              As the fight went on longer and longer, Kenner could sense the Prince beginning to lose his composure.  His smooth, controlled blows were beginning to become more desperate and erratic.  He could see his breathing becoming heavier.  In his eyes, he began to see more frustration and anger.  The Prince tried his best moves; one’s taught to him by masters.  Still he could not penetrate the peasant’s defenses.  Finally, Kenner saw the moment was right.  He slammed the broad edge of the sword into the Princes gut.  Had it been a sharp sword, the Prince would have been disemboweled.  He doubled over in pain, and then Kenner smashed the pummel of the sword onto the middle of his back.  The Prince fell to the floor in a heap.

              All at once, the spears and swords of the soldiers began to descend on Kenner, standing over the wounded Prince.  Just before they all reached him, a loud, commanding voice shouted, “Stop!”  All eyes looked to the top of the stairs.  Kenner only caught a brief glimpse of the barrel chested man with the red beard before he was grabbed and forced his knees.  Captain Krall called out, “All hail the King!”

Chapter Five

              The King walked slowly down the stairs with a look of intense anger on his face.  Kenner looked up at him, surprised to see how ordinary he appeared.  He was a little taller than himself, barrel chested, with short red hair and a thinly cut red beard.  He did not wear fine linens or adornments like his son.

“What the hell is going on here?” He growled.

No one spoke.

              When he reached the bottom of the stairs he pointed at Captain Krall.

“You!” He said.  “Captain of Walechia.  What happened here?”

Captain Krall slowly rose to his feet and bowed.

“Prince Melkur has found these men guilty and has taken it upon himself to meet out what he says is justice.” Krall said sternly.  The Kings eyes hardened and narrowed on Captain Krall.

“Justice,” he hissed.  “And you did nothing to stop him?”

“He is the Crown Prince, your majesty.” Krall answered.

“You are a Captain of Walechia!” The King shouted.  “I expect my Captains to uphold the law and be brave enough to stand up against injustice, no matter who is responsible!”

              Prince Melkur, panting heavily and coughing rose to his feet.

“Father,” he said gasping for breath.  “Did you see what he did to me?”

“Yes, I did,” The King answered angrily.  “And I seem to remember trying to teach you that if you pick a fight, sometimes you lose.”

              King Philas looked with disgust at the two bodies on the floor.  They were two young men whose lives had barely even begun slaughtered like animals.  He looked with equal reversion upon the soldiers now kneeling before him and hiding their faces.  They all knew, he thought that what had transpired was wrong; and yet, not only had they done nothing to stop it, some had probably eagerly participated.

“And what was their crime?” He asked turning back to Captain Krall.

“Poaching, Your Majesty.” He answered flatly.

“Poaching?” The King asked.  The anger seemed to grow in his voice.  “Poaching what?”

“Deer.”

“How many deer?”

The King’s voice sounded almost like horses hooves over gravel.  Captain Krall looked the King directly in the eyes.

“My company and I caught them with one stag.”

             
The King took a few furious breaths to try and calm himself, then turned and looked at the bodies on the floor.

“The lives of two young boys for one stag?” He said gritting his teeth.  He then stepped to within inches of Captain Krall.

“I’d say that debt has been paid.” He hissed.

              The King then turned and stepped in front of Kenner who was still being held down by the Prince’s guards.

“Stand up.” The King ordered.

Kenner stood.  He was still hurting inside and the sight of his cousins dying was still burning in his eyes.  Now, here was before the King, he thought.  The blunt sword was still in his hand.  He thought for a second of striking the King with it.  The right blow might break his neck, killing him, he thought.  It would be so easy.  But he did not.  It was not fear of death that stopped him.  If he struck down the King, his own death would be even faster.  However, the King was defenseless; helpless.  As angry as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to murder.

              “What’s your name?” The King asked him.

Kenner swallowed his fury and forced himself to answer calmly.

“My name is Kenner,” He answered.  “And I must apologize if I’m a little underdressed.”

              King Philas studied the young man in front of him.  He understood the wrath in the young man’s eyes.  But there was something else in this young man he saw; something familiar.

“Do I know you?” He asked curiously.

“I doubt it.” Kenner answered.  He could, he thought tell the King of his father who had once served him; but something inside of him told him it was not the time.

The King then stepped over to two soldiers who were still on their knees.

“You and you,” he said to them.  “Stand.”

The two stood quickly.

“Take off your black armor.  You are no longer my son’s guards for watching this abomination.”

The two soldiers slowly and sadly did as their King commanded.

             
Once more, Kenner thought of killing the King.  Now his back was turned and it would have even been easier.  However, now he was even more helpless.  When the soldiers had taken off their armor, the King commanded them to give Kenner their clothes.  Kenner dressed himself and then recovered his boots.

“All of you who watched this and did nothing to stop it,” The King shouted into the room, “are no longer worthy of wearing the Great Tower on your chest.  Take off your armor now!  All except you, Captain.  I have need of you.”

             
By the King’s command, Kenner was again led through the narrow corridors leading to the throne room.  His anger was beginning to give way to sorrow for his two cousins; but he fought hard against this.  He wanted to stay angry.  He wanted to hold on to his rage.  It is better; he thought to scream in fury than to weep like a child his father once taught him.  When his sorrow had nearly taken hold, his legs felt heavy to the point where he felt they would be unable to hold him up.  With anger, he found energy and strength.  With anger, he could face this King as a man, not a boy.

              However, there was something about this King, Kenner thought that seemed to soften his opinion of him.  The King had seemed genuinely angry at the murder of his cousins.  He seemed willing to punish those responsible.  But, Kenner reminded himself; he would not punish their murderer.  Despite the apparently strong words of honor and justice the King had spoken, there would be no real accountability.  They were just words, his anger reminded him.

              When Kenner was led through the large doors and back into the throne room, he saw the King conversing with Captain Krall.  He was led to stand directly before the King with two of the King’s guards in white armor flanking him.  The King gazed at him and Kenner, still defiant stared back.