The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 8.1: Alynde's Choice

As Cal returned to his room to pen a message for his mother before his rendezvous with Alynde, he heard a tremendous crash come from the playroom followed by a stream of childish giggles. Despite his urgent business, habit compelled him to investigate.

He threw open the heavy wooden door just in time to see Coriss unwind a coiled string with a sudden yank as he launched a large top across the floor. It spun directly into a rigid formation of Cal’s painted knights. The heavy cylinder slammed into the hapless warriors, sending horsemen flying from their saddles to clatter on the stone floor.

Coriss laughed once again at the havoc he had wrecked.

He barked at his younger brother, “Stop that!”

“Why?” retorted the rebellious eight-year-old. “They’re my toys. You can’t tell me what to do with them.”

A surge of anger welled up in him at his little brother’s defiance. Just as he intended stamp down this impudence, he remembered the firestorm his father and older brother intended to unleash.

How many times have little scenes like this played out in the centuries since this castle was built? Fathers and sons—brothers and cousins—linked in an endless chain receding into the past.

Calidon looked upon his brother’s gleeful play and mourned for what Coriss was about to lose. His anger vanished. Rather than yell, he ruffled his brother's front cowlick.

Let him have his fun. It will end far too soon.

                                                       *      *      *

Cal met Alynde that evening in the stable. Only last night their flirtation here had been just another episode in the endless pursuit of fun. Today, he found himself in a dire struggle to escape a bloodbath that he foresaw, but could not stop.

She, however, was not in a reflective mood. She hurled angry words at him, “I am not a prize for you to carry off on your lance...”

“Alynde, please. I had reason...”

“And just what might that be? What pathetic reason could you have to behave...”

“LISTEN TO ME,” he thundered with his deepest voice. “My father is plotting against your father.”

Alynde clenched her jaw shut with visible effort, her eyes wide. Shaken, she allowed him to explain.

“My father ordered Henrick to attack you.”

“What!?!”

“It was part of his plan. He intended to get caught. That way, your father would be forced to challenge my father to a duel.”

“Calidon, that...that doesn’t make sense...”

“All he wanted was a pretext to launch a war with your father. When I stopped Henrick, I ruined my father’s plan. I did not know until Father screamed at me for saving you.”

A hard edge crept into her voice. “Why are you telling me this, Calidon?”

Calidon? She never used to call me that. When did I become ‘Calidon’ to her?

“After they told me their scheme, I had to pretend to go along with it.”

Tears poured down her face. As grief and fear wracked her body, she clung to him. As he held her in his bulging arms, she pleaded with him, “What are we going to do?”

Cal looked down at Alynde gleaming eyes and felt a tremendous desire to protect her. But, he agonized over betraying his family on a moment’s notice. He had rebelled against a lifetime of training: the core values of Knighthood, the culture of the Baronies, and everything Immel, Aldon and his father had taught him about duty and family. She’s the one precious thing in a twisted world. I’m not going to let anyone ruin her.