The Dragon Prince's Consort

Thirty-Eight

"You," Tias wheezed, "you're s-stupid, you n-know that?" He sucked in a breath and took up the halberd. "I'll beat you down and you'll stay down!" Tias prepared a swing and Valen skipped backwards, grunting each time he jarred his arm; the pain was weakening him, he would have to end this fast. Tias bent low as he swung, his head level with Valen's, and he howled in frustration when he missed. "Stand still!"

Valen did not stand still. With the extra space he'd given himself, he thrust the far end of the pole into the mat between the claw-marks in the canvas made by his own feet. The pole bent, curving into an arc like Anun's moon on a clear night, and when he felt the carbon-fiber straining to return to its former shape Valen both jumped and pulled. The pole lifted him and Valen curled his legs under his body, the sudden weightlessness turning his stomach as he rose into the air. 

Tias reared, the force of his swing and the halberd's weight putting him on his back foot, and he stared up in disbelief at his little brother looking down on him from above. Locking eyes Valen drove both heels out, catching Tias in the eye and cheek. His brother's head snapped back and Valen sailed over Tias's head, releasing the pole and curling his good arm over his chest to cushion the injured one from his fall. Nevertheless, the thin inner bone snapped as his momentum turned into a forward tumble and Valen landed on his chest. The mat beneath him shook and Valen rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding Tia's head as the bigger Drass toppled. Valen pushed with his heels, skidding over the canvas until he felt cold stone under his back. His wrist throbbed, his hearts thundered out of sync, his head swam with terror and agony. Get up, get up! I won't yield, get UP!

"Your Highness?" someone touched his arm and Valen flinched. "Easy, Your Grace, it's just me."

Valen blinked. "Ben?" The Warden slid her hands under his shoulders and sat him up. Valen rubbed at his face with his good hand to clear the blood and sweat from his eyes; his brow felt swollen and tender, and he yelped when he touched his nose. "Ow! Ow..."

"Stop touching it!" Ben scolded, and tucked her hands under his arms to lift him to his feet. "Come on, let's get you to the physician."

Valen fought her, ignoring the pain. "No! Help me up, I'm not–"

"It's over, Valen," Benna gripped his shoulders to keep him from running off. "He's out cold."

Forcing his eyes open Valen looked to the pitch and found Tias lying flat on his back, arms and legs flopping as attendants tried to rouse him. A moment of horror passed wherein Valen worried he'd killed his brother (just like your mother you killed him too) but Tias stirred and began to mumble. Valen clung to Ben's arm with one hand while the other spilled waves of nausea-inducing agony through his hand and arm. He groaned when small pale claws latched onto his elbow and Fang grabbed handfuls of his tunic. She pulled him around with shocking strength for such a small woman and started frantically patting his face, his ears, his chest and neck as if she couldn't believe he still lived. "Valen! Ashes, I thought he–"

"My Lady, be careful!" Benna pushed her back, "I think his wrist is broken."

Fang cried out in dismay. "Eyah! Oh honey, I'm sorry!" She pulled her hands back, crossing them over her mouth. Fresh tears turned her reddened cheeks shiny and she gasped between sniffles and sobs of relief; where she had touched his face, her hands were smeared with dark Drass blood. 

Ben supported Valen on one side, Freya approaching from the other, and between them both they helped him to his feet – his legs were shaking far too much for him to stand on his own. On the pitch the Dragon Emperor knelt by his son and instructed an attendant to bring the physician, and when Tias attempted to stand he stayed him with a hand on his shoulder.