Page 246 of The Cradle of Ice
More of the crew gathered closer from across the wide deck.
“What is all of this?” Kanthe asked.
“Besides our reunion being belated, so is the sparring match that we left unfinished. When we were so callously interrupted.” Mikaen touched his mask and nodded to Thoryn. “Now we may carry on where we left off.”
The huge knight brought the sword in hand and held it out toward Kanthe.
He balked, stepping back, but a hard palm blocked him from behind.
Thoryn came forward, with a glint of pity in his eyes. His voice, though, remained firm. “You must take it, Prince Kanthe. If you must die, better with a sword in hand than on your knees.”
Kanthe respected this ruthless assessment and took hold of the sword’s hilt. He stepped back, unsheathing the blade from the knight’s palms. Thoryn nodded his head and returned to a post behind Mikaen, joining his fellow guardsmen.
Kanthe lifted the ponderous broadsword. It was unwieldly and heavy. He brought his other hand around to steady it.
Across the circle, Mikaen drew the same weapon from a sheath at his waist, but he was able to lift it with one arm.
“Shall we begin?” his brother asked.
Before either could move, a booming shout echoed across the deck. A tall figure strode through the clusters of crewmen—who quickly scattered back to their posts. Kanthe didn’t know the man, but from the laurels engraved on his breastplate, he was a liege general.
“What is the meaning of this, Prince Mikaen?” he shouted as he approached. “We’re about to engage in battle!”
The explosions had grown louder. Ahead, the wall of smoke rolled toward them. Distant screams and shouts could be heard.
For once in his life, Kanthe prayed for war.
As the liege general reached them, he finally noticed the other prince aboard the Hyperium. While Kanthe might not recognize the man, the liege general had no difficulty identifying him. Shocked and startled, the man tripped a step. Clearly, he had no idea of Mikaen’s plot and the successful abduction of the traitorous prince.
“This is between brothers, Liege General!” Mikaen shouted back, fury sharpening his voice. “It does not concern you. My father has made it clear that I’m not captain or commander here. The battle ahead is yours to wage. I will address my own fight here, rather than sit idly by. And we’ll see who brings home the greater glory to Hálendii.”
The liege general glowered, his face going dark under his helm. Still, he stared between the two brothers, trying to judge whether to intervene. After a long, tense pause, he gave a small shake of his head, settling on neutrality as the best course. If there would be any punishment for what happened next, it would be meted upon Prince Mikaen.
To further settle matters, a hunterskiff shot high across the Hyperium’s bow, flashing the Klashean Arms. It looked to be a scout, surveying the approaching behemoth. As the enemy ship turned and rocketed away, the liege general followed after it, pounding across the planks, bellowing orders.
“Now where were we?” Mikaen asked, lifting his sword higher.
Kanthe guarded himself, knowing there was nothing he could say to dissuade his brother. Still, he tried. “It’s not too late, Mikaen. Together, the two of us have a rare chance to broker peace between Hálendii and the Southern Klashe, to bring greater glory to both.”
“Whoever said I desired peace?” Mikaen stepped forward with a flourish of his sword. “And when I bring your head back to Azantiia, I will garner plenty of glory.”
Mikaen lunged at him, his sword driving low for his belly. Kanthe sidestepped and parried with the flat of his blade. Steel rang loudly. The impact stung his palms, but he gripped harder.
Still, there was no pause to savor or sulk. Mikaen spun off his parry and swung his sword high, while Kanthe’s sword hung near his waist.
Kanthe ducked, hearing steel sing over his head. He twisted to the side. Mikaen came again and again. Kanthe matched him—two-handed to Mikaen’s one, but still holding his own. Kanthe found a rhythm.
Mikaen’s first attacks had been taunting, nearly mocking, wanting Kanthe to look foolish. But soon their fighting grew earnest. They circled, clashed across one another, rebounded to new positions.
Kanthe still played a defensive role, which he knew was foolish. He would tire out quickly. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to go for a mortal blow. It was less a conscious decision than it was reflexive. He could still hear Mikaen’s childish laughter as the two fled through the halls in some grand adventure of play. This battle had also come too suddenly. To kill a brother took time to digest, to let sit in the gut and weigh, before committing to such an act.
Mikaen hissed and came at him again.
Plainly, his brother had found that time.
Distracted by these thoughts, Kanthe missed a feint. The edge of Mikaen’s sword sliced along his ribs, down to bone. He fell back with a gasp.
Mikaen retreated rather than going for a killing blow. But it wasn’t a hesitancy against a mortal strike. His brother wanted to relish first blood.
