Empire of Ashes

Chapter LXII - How You Lose

We sat on the crumbling stone wall at the field's edge. We would be waiting a long time, and after travelling for weeks straight, we had run out of things to say to each other.

"Do you want to spar?" Ark asked Tem.

It had been their custom on the way to Canton, but we had been going at a breakneck pace for the last two days, because today was new dark, and that was the only time we could catch a ride north, according to our mysterious guides. There had not been time to catch our breaths, let alone for our sparring lessons.

"If you are not too tired..." Saqui added, and it could only be interpreted as a taunt.

Tem held up his splinted hand as an answer. "You make for a tough opponent on a good day. Thank you, but I will watch the pair of you."

And he did. Ark and Saqui danced back and forth across the meadow, their blades singing so fast that it was difficult to see any individual blows. Saqui used his knives, as always, and Ark fought with the curved sword that he called a scimitar. Neither of them could get the upper hand, but if I had to bet, I would put my money on the pair of knives that slashed and stabbed like lightning.

Tem must have been learning something, because his eyes didn't budge from the fight once, I could just feel his thoughts racing behind that inscrutable mask. When they stopped for a drink of water, he asked, "Are you the best swordsmen in your ... ahem, line of work?"

Ark snorted and shook his head. "Jeviah is better than us. Much better, in fact. That is why he is king and we merely serve him."

"What?" Tem demanded.

The old man shrugged. There was a new briskness to his tone that conveyed his irritation. "He would stay in the practice rooms dawn until dusk some days, and he started very young - five or six or thereabouts. Not even you could best him with a blade, Ragnyrsbane."

"No, what did you call him?"

"Jeviah. It was his given name - a peasant name, and soon discarded. Herox is ... a nickname... A play on words, if you will," Ark murmured.

I licked my lips. I wanted to know more about my enemy, but every word sent hatred coursing through me and it was difficult to focus. "What was he like then? When he was younger?"

"Ambitious." That word came easily to Ark. He tipped his head to one side to think. "And stubborn. Once he had fixated on something he wanted, there was nothing and no one that could stand in his way. But mostly he was just furious at the world and everyone in it."

Most of that, I could have surmised myself. The man who had dragged himself out of the gutter and climbed all the way to a throne would have to be ambitious and stubborn. A killer by trade would have to be angry. But I found it curious that Ark made no mention of cruelty. Perhaps the absence of information was more telling than anything he had actually said.

I sat back and wrapped my arms around my knees, hugging them close to my body. I forced breath after breath into my lungs like the air could chase all the hatred away.

"Lyra," Tem said abruptly. He was smirking, trying to distract me. "Would you care to spar?"

"Me?" I checked. We had only sparred once with sticks on a roadside, and it had been more of a test than a lesson.

"Yes, you."

Well, this was a daunting prospect. Incapacitated as he was, I was still sure I would be thoroughly outmatched. I could thrash Melia, and I could get the better of Glyn more often than not, but despite all my lessons, I had yet to land a blow against Anlai or Fendur.