The Stolen Prince (Blood for Blood Book 1) (11 page)

“You mean…” Was Gage suggesting that Hakon was this man? Just because he was raised among the Terra?

“Your purpose is far greater than just to beg for peace from the king. A fate of an entire land rests on you.” Gage paused, letting this sink in. “But remember also, all these legends may not be true at all. They are stories that a hungry people may have made up when they wanted someone to be their deliverer.”

Hakon felt like he should point out the obvious. “And I don’t have those powers…”

“No. But you still have the power to change the fate of a nation.” Hakon understood now. He wasn’t the fulfillment of prophecy, but the legend could give him hope that change was possible. He looked at the pictures again. If the Master willed it, they could change the future of the races. He couldn’t be the Master’s bridge, but he could be a bridge. Gage took his arm. “Do you understand your role?”

“First, win the duel.”

“You will win it. Not easily, but you will win.” Hakon smiled despite himself. He got a strong jab in the stomach. “Don’t give your pride away. You’ll have worse foes than the Three Winds. Go on.”

“I will reveal myself to the king. Beg for peace.”

“Win his favor. If he will not stop the war, we will have gained an ally in his court at the very least.”

“I will spin the war to our favor.”

“Or at the least, prevent the Terra from being destroyed. We are stronger than the Alem. You will see that. But they have many advantages, and we were not a united people in war until now.” Gage looked at the paintings and carvings again. “And Hakon, try not to kill anyone.”

Hakon grinned. “On which side?”

Gage returned Hakon’s smile. “Whichever side is watching.”

Suddenly, the carvings and paintings seemed to jump out at Hakon. His head was still throbbing from the constant drumming. It was an inconsistent drumming. First it was steady like a heartbeat, and then it would change randomly. It felt like music in a language Hakon didn’t understand. The drumming only made the cave and its philosophies come alive. They comforted him. They gave him hope in something higher than himself. That perhaps the Master’s will really was on the Terra’s side, on Hakon’s side.

“It’s time you meditate,” Gage said.

Hakon peeled his eyes from the strange yet familiar symbols. He had seen a picture of a young hunter with a mark very similar to the one upon his brow. Hakon turned to Gage—had he seen that same drawing? Is that why their tribe had saved his life?

Right now it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have a chance to do anything if he didn’t win the duel. Gage was right. It was time for meditation.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Out in the hall, Kara found Azure waiting to escort her back to the room.

“I was dismissed. Twice.” She fell casually into conversation with Azure. But he was silent. “Oh, not you too, Azure.”

“Pardon, Your Highness?” he asked, appropriately, still a step ahead of her. She leapt to catch up with him and turned to face him.

“Are we friends, Azure?” she asked. Sincerely. She just wanted to know.

“I do not believe a betrothed princess can have a friend like me,” he said, adding, “Kara.”

She looked up at him and saw that he wanted to say more, but it was probably his honor that prevented him. She wondered what he meant when he’d said, “a friend like me.” A guard?

“But I am loyal to you,” he said, as if to make up for it.

“I don’t need loyalty. I need a friend.” Kara was overcome with loneliness. The loneliness made her restless. With only Azure to guard her—and he knew her secret. It wouldn’t be a terrible surprise to him if she…

She checked down the hallway and saw the spot. She zipped to it, cutting the space between two points easily by using the air around her. She wasn’t quite sure how it worked—it had always come naturally to her since she was about six or seven. With her father’s training, Kara had learned to zip without harm.

She heard Azure calling behind her, fear in his voice, but she started to run, zipping ahead down the hallway, careful to avoid the crowded curtains around the dining hall. She opened one of the servants’ doors and slipped into the parallel corridor that allowed the servants to walk throughout the citadel without being seen by any air people. She zipped through these passages—knowing them all by heart, since they were the ones she’d used as a child. She passed through the main hallway with its numerous entryways. She wanted to run, to escape, to simply be free as she used to be. She didn’t want to be quiet or see Prince Sesto or listen to the hard truth from Truthsinger or anyone.

She took a breath and let her skin touch the air around her—she could feel it making contact with her hands. She could be even more powerful if she could wear an air zipping shirt for women—they were cut across the top and midriff, exposing as much skin to the air as was decent. But not many women zipped. Only men, by tradition, were supposed to use, let alone possess, the power. Still, her father had taught her to fight—hoping to give her the ability to defend herself should the need arise. He had also taught her to trust no one but be loyal to everyone.

She was outside the armory. There were hash marks above each door, signifying to the illiterate Su servants where they were. She stepped through the door and zipped to the roof when no guards were passing. She saw King Arden, King Darr, Prince Sesto, and the other generals and advisors all watching a duel between trained porting soldiers. Kara felt a thrill to be spying again. The sun was only beginning to set, making the winter air turn bitterly cold. Once again Kara wished she had worn her thick wool cloak and not just her dinner cape.

She ignored the cold and turned her attention to the duel. Two soldiers battled without short swords, using only one dagger each, which was the watered–down, traditional dueling style. They each had a second who, in an unofficial duel, usually resorted just to catcalling at the opponent. They ported quickly, in flashes, moving so fast that any normal eye wouldn’t be able to catch them. But Kara saw. It was a zipper against a vanisher. Since a zipper could only port to where he could see and a vanisher could only port to a place he couldn’t see, it made for an interesting fight. A vanisher usually resorted to porting behind himself in a duel, while the zipper had the advantage of getting right behind his opponent again and again. They moved past each other, fast and skilled. These were some of the best of the Atmen fighters. The key was not to be touched, otherwise, the air zipper could take them wherever they wanted, and that could mean high in the air to drop his opponent—high enough to do some damage.

He did just that. The zipper grabbed the vanisher’s leg, zipped to a spot in the sky, and dropped him. He then zipped back to the ground, waiting for the vanisher to fall, but the vanisher anticipated his move and ported underneath the zipping dueler, landing on his back. He grabbed the zipper’s legs from underneath. Kara was impressed with the vanisher’s ability. How did he vanish with such accuracy and not harm himself? She couldn’t know because vanishers were careful to keep their training and tricks a tight secret.

The zipper fell and elbowed the vanisher quickly to destabilize him. The vanisher turned, kicking his feet from underneath him and throwing sand into the zipper’s eyes. This was the fastest way to destabilize a zipper. It was impossible to zip without clear vision. The vanisher knocked his disoriented opponent to the ground and stomped his leg into his opponent’s chest, hard.

“I yield!” the zipper cried, in pain. The vanisher bowed.

Kara smiled. Everyone thought that air zippers had the incredible advantage, but in a fair duel, vanishers were an equal match.

“You have talented porters among your soldiers,” King Darr observed.

King Arden nodded, stepping away from the fighting men. “Yes, but their numbers are dwindling. Are yours?”

“Yes. Fewer and fewer men are born with the power each generation. Now, perhaps one in three or four families has a child with the capabilities. We have stopped training truthsingers or other artisans. If they have the power, they are all signed up for war now.”

King Arden looked at King Darr in shock. “You don’t give them the choice?”

“Of course not. Their power is needed to defend the people. If the Terra attack our nations, that is our best advantage. You will be grateful for it when our armies arrive. You will wish that every apprenticed artisan or entertainer were a warrior.”

“Some of them aren’t natural fighters. You saw my truthsinger. He is an artist.”

“With a power like that? He could have been a warrior.”

Kara watched her father purse his lips—the way he did when he knew that if he continued to argue it would either be futile or amount to something worse than an argument.

“Also,” King Darr added, “most of the boys born with the ability are sons of nobles. They want to go to war and fight.”

“And the girls?” the king asked. Kara perked up. Why was he asking?

King Darr started. “Women don’t zip or vanish!” King Darr sounded disgusted by the idea. King Arden nodded as if in agreement and glanced up toward Kara. He caught her eye.

Kara gasped as King Arden glared at her—there would be a severe scolding. No, beyond that. That was the death stare. He glanced down in enough time so it didn’t look suspicious. She crawled away from the edge of the roof, avoiding the searing eyes of that gaze. A hand gripped her ankle.

Instinctively, she zipped to the other side of the roof and then zipped again. She was now hanging on to the ledge of the roof with only her hands, her legs dangling down the edge. It was a classic defensive move, used so that whoever grabbed her might fall into the armory below. Instead, the weight released from her ankle, and suddenly Azure was in front of her, holding down her hands.

“Azure!”

He pulled her off the roof with easy strength and immediately grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward the door that went to the roof. He was looking left and right to see if there were any guards. A sunset guard was making his way toward them just then. Azure ducked into a storage closet, pulling her inside.

“Azure, how did you do that?”

“Shh.”

He pushed his hand over her lips, not trusting her ability to remain silent. She yanked his hand away from her mouth, and he let it remain at his side. They waited as the guard walked by. Azure peaked out the doorway and commenced dragging her to the door again. He opened it softly. They were back inside the servants’ passageways.

“I can make my way back to my room, Azure,” Kara said, pulling her hand free. He kept walking down the hallways, expecting her to follow. Walking took a lot longer than zipping. It would take them twenty minutes to get back to her room. How had he gotten here so fast? The duel didn’t last more than three minutes.

Azure hissed. “Do you know that you put my life at risk when you pull a stunt like that? As your guard, I am responsible for you. Hopefully no one important saw you.”

“My father saw me,” Kara said.

Azure cursed.

“He knows I did it at my own volition.”

“Have you heard of a whipping boy, Princess?” Azure asked, speeding his walk to a trot.

“No.” she said, hurrying along to catch up.

“Not long ago, it was tradition for royalty never to be punished. You couldn’t harm the heir to the throne. So they always brought in a boy—a Su—who was punished for whatever the young heir did.”

“That can’t be true. How would the prince learn responsibility?”

“By the sympathy brought on when he saw the Su boy whipped.”

“Surely…”

“You grew up a secret, but you are no longer one. Your father cannot punish you, even in private. You will have a whipping boy.”

“A person to blame…” Kara said, realizing. “He will not blame you. I will go to my own room.”

“
I
will not shirk my responsibility as your escort,” Azure said. Kara took the stab—meaning he would not abandon his duty, while she would.

“This, coming from a Su,” Kara said and immediately regretted it. Why did her pride make her bite so viciously? Even now, she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. She just watched Azure pause, anger pulsing the edges of his lips. It was wrong for her to say that… and it wasn’t true of Azure.

“Azure…” she started, but he turned away and continued to walk. She wished she could zip away and get to her room as quickly as possible, but she allowed herself the punishment of walking beside her old friend, every agonizing, awkward moment of it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Everyone was watching Hakon. A thick layer of dirt shaped into a circle marked the dueling ring. Hakon waited on its outskirts to be called. He tried to ignore the throbbing in his thigh and the drum beats still aching in his head. It was time to focus. A man designated as the dueling master stepped forward.

“Hakon. Bavol.”

Hakon stepped forward into the ring and watched Bavol step forward opposite him.

“Who is Hakon’s second?”

“I am,” Skeet said behind him. He stepped up, carrying Hakon’s weapons.

“Who is Bavol’s second?”

“I am.” The young boy, Tadi, stepped forward. A few guardians stood in protest. He could be no older than twelve, and one who had not completed their survival was rarely allowed to fight in a duel of decision. Windfather looked confident, and no one could protest his choice.

A second’s responsibility was to guard the duelist, to care for their weapons, and if they were to lose or die, it was their responsibility to avenge the dueler. The code was clear. That meant that if Hakon won against Bavol, he would have to fight Tadi as well. He had determined he wouldn’t give Skeet the chance to fight.

Hakon turned and gathered his weapons from Skeet. Skeet handed both to Hakon, placing the dagger in his right hand and the stone in his left. They didn’t fight with their hatchets in duels.

Guardian taught that the Master favors the warrior who fights for the great cause. The Terra believed that fate would decide the outcome of this duel. He believed in the purpose the tribe of Kaldin had given him, but in this moment, Hakon wondered if he fought for his people or if he fought for himself. He wanted to know who he was outside of the Terra. He wanted to know what the Alem were like, what he was supposed to be like. Regardless of his true motives, Hakon hoped the Master would favor his desires over Bavol’s.