The Four Swords

My arm started to bleed. I hit the ground with a hard thud. I rolled to the left and let the practice sword hit the ground. I was told they were supposed to be blunt. So much for that. The warm sensation running down my arm told a different story.

"Jack, keep your shield up." My dad always knew exactly what I was doing wrong by the way the wind got knocked out of me. I don't even think he was looking. Last time I looked over toward him, he was cleaning his weaponry. John, my uncle, was destroying me in combat as usual. If I actually had to go to war, I wouldn't make it out of the city gates.

With a momentary glance toward my house, I was relieved to find I was without an audience. Occasionally my mother and two younger siblings could be spotted from the upstairs window when their schooling was completed. My mother always worried a bit too much for my liking, especially when blood was involved. Luckily the curtains were drawn and the familiar faces were nowhere in sight.

I took a moment to breathe before finding my footing. I stood in the stance my father had ingrained in me since I was 7, which seemed like eons ago. These last 9 years, I spent more time on my back on this practice field than in my proper stance. There was only one thing of which I was certain; the only thing I learned from my father was that breath was key. I don't think I have the right keys to open this fighter within me, but the key to making any decision was to breathe.

I inhaled deeply and felt the weight of my sword. I exhaled through my next move. I swung my sword toward my uncle, but it made contact lower than I meant it to. For once, it came out in my favor. My uncle lost his grip and the sword landed in the dirt a few feet away.

Uncle John cursed to himself then smiled. "Never thought I'd see Squirt best me."

"I could've said the same thing about you when you were his age." My father beamed with pride. My uncle and father were two halves of the same person. Although they are 4 years apart in age, there seems to be no one closer. Sometimes I wished I had that kind of closeness with someone. Maybe brotherhood like that only came in the heat of battle.

My father uses me to fight my uncle nowadays. My father is the head of my clan, the leader of the crest of Stag and the keeper of the sword Capreolinae. Like a coin such an honor comes with two sides; privilege and loss. Loss of certain things that many of us take for granted, such as sparring with kinsmen. But the biggest privilege life has to offer is being one of Four Swordsmen of the kingdom of Ensis and the Guardian of Crown.

I sat down on the logs that ringed our field and found the basket with the clean linen bandages. I rolled up my sleeve and started to wrap my wound, convinced I had earned a break.

My father finally put down the sword he had been cleaning to face my uncle. There was some pride in his eyes, mixed with some mischief. He had a thought that amused him which probably meant I had not earned my break.

"Jacob, let's be fair. Jack never had you for an older brother, and therefore has to settle for me to train with." John chuckled in good humor, which I was not sure would be the case considering I just beat him.

"Second born doesn't mean second best." My dad's eyes proudly twinkled in admiration, "However, considering my son just beat you..."

They both laughed heartily. My dad made his way over to me, finally looking me in the eye. I smiled, happy to be part of this comradery. My dad clapped his hand down on my shoulder and smiled.

"You weren't perfect today, but you never gave up. That's what matters." My father was not one for sentiment, so that statement was worth more than gold from him. "We are done for today."

"Really?" My mouth got ahead of me for a moment. "I mean, yes sir. Thank you." My father could give the best gifts when he wanted to.

I never got out of practice early. I was not where I should be in my training and spent my time with my nose in too many books instead of training or exercising. More than once, I had been caught longingly gazing toward the latest book I was reading, instead of on the blunt objects being hurled toward my person. This was a gift and I was not going to let it go to waste. I started to run toward my favorite retreat, but my feet were not fast enough to get away from my father's words.

"But please don't go spend this time in the library. At least try to do something that can help you with your place in life." I heard him reprimand as I hurriedly ran off, but his tone was still light. I was not the worst warrior, but I was still far from being considered knightly. I had always hoped that my brain would win out over my brawn, but both needed to be trained, stretched and strengthened if I was ever going to be worthy of my father's position.

Although I would still prefer the library, I know exactly where I wanted to spend the day. Today is Princess Alina's 18th birthday, and she is one of my closest friends. Not to mention the castle's widely varied selection of tomes happened to be much more extensive than ours. It would be helpful for a future guardian to spend time with the future sovereign and possibly her library, even if it was not what my father meant by his comment.