AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But on the inside, around the healed edges of my wound, the deepened cracks and fissures of loss rip open once again.
2
The Captain
Morningsareusuallymysanctuary.
But not today.
The smell of the evening storm still wafts through the air as the birds begin adding their song to the wind. But their music turns to ash as it reaches my ears. I move my face toward the sun and let it warm my skin while my arms hang limply at my sides. My stomach clenches as if I’m being wrung from the inside out. The shame that I’m here enjoying the bright heat makes my head swim.
A long day lies ahead of me.
My chest methodically rises and falls as I stare out into the training grounds. Repeated use of this stretch of land has given way to large patches of dirt and mud within the scattered greenery. Last night’s downpour left the ground softer than I prefer, but you never know what conditions you’ll be in when fighting for your life, or for the life of another.
“Come on, put some pressure on him!” I shout toward the barrage of stick hitting stick.
Otto, our sword trainer in the Guard, is circling the other side of our recruits. His brow stays furrowed as he oversees their meager sparring abilities. He continues adjusting stances and holds of the men, getting better angles for attack while also showing them how to protect their face and vital organs.
“Raise your arm, lad. Up here. And your foot. This foot. Move it here. Now, try again.” Otto steps back, massaging his neck, tilting it off the side as he watches. An audible pop of his joints murmurs underneath the clap of wood in the distance.
Otto was born and raised in Felshan, just as his parents before him. The loyalty in his blood runs through him like the river Rashan— the only river in the Four Kingdoms to pass solely though Felshan.
The mighty Rashan—a shiver runs through me.
I set my focus back to what is in front of me. Today I will hold my head high, pretending to be as strong as everyone thinks I am.
The crack of pounding wood rings through the air. “Go again,” I say, staring intently. The boys look at me as I methodically circle their group, searching over to Otto, and then back to each other.
“You heard the captain! Again!” Otto shouts.
I don’t bother learning the names of first years until I know they are here to stay.
Many may dream of being a guardsman, protecting Turin and Felshan’s other surrounding cities. But few are willing to put forth the effort and grit it takes to actually get there. The early mornings and midnight trainings. Seeing first-hand the scum that prey on the weak and innocent. Making the hard decisions. Taking orders even when you don’t always know why or agree. The blood splotching every piece of clothing you own.
Sticks clash over and over as the boys spar around the yard. If you can even call it sparring. More like two reluctant dance partners who are afraid they’ll break a toe if they move too quickly. Ten seconds in real combat and both of them would be dead.
A plan forms in my mind, my lips turning upward in a sly grin. If I plan to survive this day, I need a distraction. Or, at the very least, I need to create a mask to the pain underneath.
“Line up!” I yell, eyeing Otto and nodding in the direction of the sword at his waist. His face is blank as I walk to the edge of the yard, retrieving my own sword. My eyes close as the swishing sound of metal releasing from its sheath reaches me, my lungs breathing in the gentle whoosh of air it creates.
Otto meets me off to the side. “Do you think this is wise today, my friend?” he mutters so only I can hear.
“Just raise your sword and meet me in the clearing.” A smile crinkles his face, but I can see the unease in his eyes. He nods before turning away.
Otto is almost twenty years my senior. As the Master of Weapons for the Royal Guard for over twelve years, he trained me after I joined the Guard myself at fifteen years old.
The last seven years have passed in such a blur, particularly those four years of recruit training. The only way I could convince my parents to let me join the Guard at such a young age, and also receive the blessing of the king and queen, was if I was also willing to continue my education. For two years I trained all morning with the recruits, spent my afternoons sitting in a classroom, then headed back for round two of training in the evening.
If it weren’t for Otto, I’m not sure determination alone would have been enough. Since the Guard trained all day, he personally trained me in the evenings to make up my hours. I’m also fairly certain there were a couple nights Otto had to carry me to bed, as I woke up on my cot within the barracks but couldn’t figure out how I got there from the armory.
I head to the center of the battle arena. It’s hard to miss an opportunity to spar with the one and only Otto. The only practice I get nowadays is sparring with him. And it’s just what I need to burn away the flourishing ache weaving itself through my stomach and dissolve the anvil on my chest.
The prince should have been the one who entered the Guard, not me. As next in line for the throne he would have started as a recruit after his own educational tenure was completed. At seventeen years old he would have spent the next four years learning extended training on the sword and bow, as well as military strategy with his father. It is tradition within the country of Felshan for the prince to have spent time among his people, to train alongside them, earning their love and respect while also diving into war and battle strategies to prepare him for life and duty as the king.
But instead they got me. Roan Montgomery,the prince-slayer. My selfishness got the prince killed. Time may have helped the sting of truth bite softer, but the painful reality is always waiting for me.
I dig my feet into the ground, finding my steadiness and raising my sword. Our feet move slowly as we begin. Otto and I look each other up and down, sizing up our opponent as we anticipate their first move.
