Chapter Nine

Seven wrong turns and swallowing his pride.

"Not now," the man growled, still not looking

up.

Calix raised his eyes to the blue sky. Clouds

gathered to the north. It would be a cold

night in Brunia for the men. "Captain," he tried

again.

"Are you deaf or fucking stupid, boy?" the

captain snarled, finally looking up.

Calix raised an eyebrow as the man paled.

"G-General. I, I didn't realize it was-I mean-"

The captain stopped stuttering and snapped

out a salute, fisted hand pounding once

against his chest before holding his arm out

straight in front of him, hand still fisted.

Calix returned the salute. "At ease, Captain,"

he said quietly. "I was just wondering if I

might spend a little time training with some of

your men?"

"Of course, sir," the captain said briskly,

nodding toward the sandy ring. Then he cast

a curious look at the lord.

"Yes?" Calix asked with some amusement.

The captain only shook his head. "Nothing, my

lord."

"Julianus," he said sternly. "Or sir, if you must.

Out here, I'm no better than any of these men."

He smiled, the expression self-deprecating.

"Just another sword, Captain, that's all I am."

"That's not the way we've heard it, sir," a

soldier suddenly piped up.

The captain bristled, but Calix raised a hand

and cocked his head at the soldier. Thin and

wiry, he looked like he'd barely just made it to

manhood. He paled at the attention, but was

nudged from behind by his compatriots.

Calix sensed the other soldiers drifting closer

with interest and sighed internally. Better to

deal with it now, he supposed, even if that

would be more of a fight than he'd come

looking for. "Oh?" he asked. "And how have

you heard it then, boy?"

His throat bobbed nervously. "There've been

stories, General, about you. How you've wiped

out entire armies single-handedly."

Calix nearly started in surprise. He hadn't

been expecting that.

The soldier continued, "It's said that you've

got the gift of Eretanes running in your blood."

At the mention of the war god, his mood

soured and he couldn't stop the small snarl

that curled his lip and made several of the

guards flinch. He quickly reined in his temper,

and instead let out a good-natured chuckle.

Nodding, he said, "And I suppose I should be

taller, too, right?"

That inspired a few uncertain snickers.

"What else have you heard?" he asked, crossing his arms and frowning in thought.

"Because I've heard that Cen-General

Julianus sacked Antelium with balls of fire

from his ass."

Now the men laughed outright, punching

each other's shoulders and ridiculing eac

other. Calix smiled, then turned to the captain.

Loudly enough for them all to hear, he said, "I'll

try not to rough 'em up too much, Captain."

The man scoffed. "Some of them could use a

good knocking about."

"And you think the pretty lord-bitch can do it?"

A hush descended over the training grounds,

and Calix watched as the other soldiers

slowly turned to look at one of their own. A

sullen-looking man with hair an inch too long

for regulation and a few days' growth of beard

stood and swaggered toward Calix, who only

narrowed his eyes.

That was a tame insult compared to what

he had endured the first three years in his

father's army. Certainly not anything that

could upset him now. It was more in line with

what he had expected from the others-an

assumption of his uselessness based on the

accident of his birth.

"Brocchus," the captain warned, but once

again Calix held up a hand. There was only

one proper response to words like that.

He drew his sword, pointing it at the man, who stiffened. Then Calix abruptly turned his back

on him and stalked to the fighting ring. The

coarse brown sand crunched under his boots.

Magpies chattered in the branches of trees

near the kitchens, the harsh wock-wock of

their calls ringing across the grounds of the

castle. He stripped off his shirt, tossing it to

one of the soldiers, all of whom had crowded

around the ring in anticipation.

A cool morning breeze kissed at his chest and

arms, staving off the heat of the rapidly rising

sun. A sun he put to his back.

Brocchus hesitated at the edge of the ring,

eyes tight as he looked at the scar on Calix's

chest. He stared like he could see through

Calix to the SHV tattooed on the back of his

right shoulder.

Calix knew he was still a little on the thin side,

having lost nearly fifteen pounds and most of

it through his chest and arms. However, that

thinness had given him the appearance of a

starving, vicious wolf and people had started

to look twice at him for it.

He could see doubt begin to flicker in

Brocchus' eyes, and gave him a faint smile.

"What?" he taunted. "Don't tell me you're afraid

of a pretty lord-bitch?"

Murmurs fluttered through the crowd of

soldiers, bets being placed. Both Calix and the

captain studiously ignored that.

Brocchus sneered and stepped into the ring.

Everyone went silent, eyes glued on the two

men as the guard tried to circle the general.

Calix didn't move. He didn't need to.

"They keep saying you were in Mortania,"

Brocchus said. "But none of us remember

seeing where you were."

Calix's eyes turned to slits. Not just a palace

guard who'd never seen any real action then

-most likely a legionnaire who had served

his time on the front and had wanted to add a

little more to his pension by serving two extra

years here in the capital.

"Probably letting the kitchen boys fuck you

while the rest of us were fighting."

Well that was a bit more creative. Calix

snarled quietly, but didn't respond. He'd

spilled his own blood in Mortania. Words

didn't disprove that.

The guard prowled around for a moment

longer before realizing Calix was going to

force him to make the first move. Murmurs

and quiet jeers were beginning to ripple

among the onlooking soldiers.

Brocchus swung his sword, and Calix took

half a step to the left. There was a sharp

snick as the blade found the sand.

A laugh came from those watching.

"Can't you do better than that?" Calix drawled

Then he got what he came for.

Brocchus went red with rage and Calix

slipped to that in-between place in his mind.

The one that quieted his thoughts and noticed

every detail. The one that could see the flash

of a sword and know exactly where the strike

was going to land.

Their swords clashed as they moved about

the ring. The sand caught at the low heels of

his boots, but it was better than mud.

Brocchus thrust his blade forward, trying to

gut him. Calix stepped to the side, extending

his arm as he batted the sword away for extra

measure, and the guard struck him.

A fist smashed into the side of his mouth and

shouts sounded all around him. Blood pooled

in the space between his lip and lower teeth.

He swiped his tongue along the inside of his

lip, tasting the copper tang of his blood.

He spit, the glob of blood and saliva landing

an inch away from Brocchus' boot.

Calix leapt forward, swinging his sword

down toward the guard's head. The swords

smashing together sent a jolt up his wrist and

his arm, all the way to his heart.

He battered away at Brocchus, sending blows

raining down around him. They twirled and

skidded around each other. The sun climbed

a little higher into the sky. Calix lost himself

to the dance, savoring the burn and strain in his muscles as he let the fight stretch much

longer than it needed to.

Brocchus was breathing heavily now. He was

getting tired. Calix sliced into his calf, just

below his knee before once again raising his

sword, intending to stop just shy of cleaving

the man's arm from his shoulder.

A clean, solid victory.

But Brocchus twisted wildly out of the way,

stepping on Calix's right foot. A hand pressed

into the back of his shoulder, pushing him

away and he roared in pain as his weak ankle

popped loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Brocchus grinned as Calix went to a knee,

his ankle refusing to hold him. The guard

lifted his sword above his head. The world

threw itself into a frenzy around Calix, every

battlefield instinct in him ripping away the

manners usually observed in a sparring

match.

He pushed off his good leg, tackling the guard

around the middle. A pommel smashed into

his upper back, near his spine as Brocchus

went to the ground. Pain zinged up Calix's

leg, but it didn't matter. He pinned the man,

straddling his chest. With his free hand, he

grabbed Brocchus' sword arm, just below the

wrist and squeezed.

Tendons slipped under his fingers as he

crushed down onto Brocchus' wrist until the

man gasped and dropped his sword.