As Justus Corden rode into the city of Archella with
Squire Fox, he noticed how the people’s eyes were drawn straight toward Fox. He
wasn’t surprised. Except for Paulus’ blonde hair, he probably looked more
Temanite than Rygian.
He wore a golden cloak and carried a Temanite sword, its
hilt filigreed in gold. A golden shield hung from the saddle of his beautiful
black Temanite mountain pony, Goliath, who stepped lively at the side of
Corden’s huge black stallion.
Justus wore his blue cloak emblazoned with a silver
eagle regardless that he was relieved of command of the Rygian army. He knew
the only people who might argue his right to wear the silver eagle were
councilmen, and he didn’t care what they might say about it, he wouldn’t be in
Rygia long.
“What happens if the council won’t let Teman pay the
debt?” Paulus asked as their horses plodded the dirt road.
“Then there’s nothing more we can do for them.”
“You mean we’ll just let Caledron take control?”
“How can we stop them?”
“I bet the Temanite army could stop them.”
“Josephus and I have been through that already. If the
Rygians don’t want Teman’s help, we can’t force ourselves on them. If the
Temanite army came to fight for Rygia, they’d face Caledron at their front and
Rygia at their back.”
“You really think Rygia would join with Caledron against
Teman?”
“Yes, unfortunately. From what I’ve heard, most Rygians
welcome Caledron.”
“But why?”
“Caledron’s ways are more suitable to them than Teman’s.
I guess when you don’t serve any god, you make easy prey.”
When they reached the castle and passed under the
portcullis, Justus noted how different the place felt, colder somehow, like a
deep, dark winter was about to set in.
And it was only May.
“Would you look at that?” a voice said off to his left.
“Just who do you think you are, Mouse? The king of Teman?”
The boy speaking was Abez, whom Justus knew had given
Paulus some grief in the past. Standing next to Abez was his older brother,
Squire Nabal, who had given Justus grief on occasion.
“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you, Mouse!” Abez said.
Paulus said, “My name is Fox.”
“No, it ain’t, yer just a pipsqueak mouse.”
Paulus jumped from Goliath’s back. “Care to back up your
insult?” He drew his steel sword and used it to tap the wooden sword hanging
from Abez’ belt. “I see you’re a squire now. Care to try your sword against
mine?”
Justus smiled. At fourteen years of age, Paulus was
small compared to other squires, especially compared to the pudgy Abez, but his
tenacity more than made up for it.
Paulus said, “Defend your words or take them back.”
Abez’s hand hovered over his paltry weapon. “But…”
“But what? You a coward?”
“But it wouldn’t be fair! You got a steel sword!”
Justus dismounted and stood next to Paulus. “Abez is
right, Fox, this is quite unfair.”
“Whaddaya mean?” Paulus said.
“This boy must be twice your size. You’re at a definite
disadvantage. How about some help?” Justus flipped his sword from its sheath
and twirled it in his hand.
“Naw, I’ll chance it myself.” Paulus sliced the air with
his blade. “Have at me, Abez!”
Abez looked to his brother, but Nabal only said, “You
insulted him, now back it up.”
Abez pulled his wooden sword from his belt and took a
stance. Paulus swiped at him from the right and the left. Abez blocked each
time, his wooden blade meeting the steel one with a thwack.
Both hands on the hilt, Paulus swung down hard. His
blade sliced right into the wood, embedding itself.
“Hey!” Abez said.
Paulus yanked the wooden sword from Abez’ hand, flicked
it off his own blade, and caught it by the hilt, instantly pointing both blades
at Abez’ round gut.
“That’s not fair!” Abez said.
“Shut up!” Nabal said. “Just shut up!”
* * *
As Abez watched Paulus walk away, he hissed, “That boy’s
blood is mine.”
Nabal’s eyes were on Justus. “Just wait, we’ll get our
chance. At both of them.”
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