Seven wrong turns and swallowing his pride.
"Not now," the man growled, still not looking
up.
Calix raised his eyes to the blue sky. Clouds
gathered to the north. It would be a cold
night in Brunia for the men. "Captain," he tried
again.
"Are you deaf or fucking stupid, boy?" the
captain snarled, finally looking up.
Calix raised an eyebrow as the man paled.
"G-General. I, I didn't realize it was-I mean-"
The captain stopped stuttering and snapped
out a salute, fisted hand pounding once
against his chest before holding his arm out
straight in front of him, hand still fisted.
Calix returned the salute. "At ease, Captain,"
he said quietly. "I was just wondering if I
might spend a little time training with some of
your men?"
"Of course, sir," the captain said briskly,
nodding toward the sandy ring. Then he cast
a curious look at the lord.
"Yes?" Calix asked with some amusement.
The captain only shook his head. "Nothing, my
lord."
"Julianus," he said sternly. "Or sir, if you must.
Out here, I'm no better than any of these men."
He smiled, the expression self-deprecating.
"Just another sword, Captain, that's all I am."
"That's not the way we've heard it, sir," a
soldier suddenly piped up.
The captain bristled, but Calix raised a hand
and cocked his head at the soldier. Thin and
wiry, he looked like he'd barely just made it to
manhood. He paled at the attention, but was
nudged from behind by his compatriots.
Calix sensed the other soldiers drifting closer
with interest and sighed internally. Better to
deal with it now, he supposed, even if that
would be more of a fight than he'd come
looking for. "Oh?" he asked. "And how have
you heard it then, boy?"
His throat bobbed nervously. "There've been
stories, General, about you. How you've wiped
out entire armies single-handedly."
Calix nearly started in surprise. He hadn't
been expecting that.
The soldier continued, "It's said that you've
got the gift of Eretanes running in your blood."
At the mention of the war god, his mood
soured and he couldn't stop the small snarl
that curled his lip and made several of the
guards flinch. He quickly reined in his temper,
and instead let out a good-natured chuckle.
Nodding, he said, "And I suppose I should be
taller, too, right?"
That inspired a few uncertain snickers.
"What else have you heard?" he asked, crossing his arms and frowning in thought.
"Because I've heard that Cen-General
Julianus sacked Antelium with balls of fire
from his ass."
Now the men laughed outright, punching
each other's shoulders and ridiculing eac
other. Calix smiled, then turned to the captain.
Loudly enough for them all to hear, he said, "I'll
try not to rough 'em up too much, Captain."
The man scoffed. "Some of them could use a
good knocking about."
"And you think the pretty lord-bitch can do it?"
A hush descended over the training grounds,
and Calix watched as the other soldiers
slowly turned to look at one of their own. A
sullen-looking man with hair an inch too long
for regulation and a few days' growth of beard
stood and swaggered toward Calix, who only
narrowed his eyes.
That was a tame insult compared to what
he had endured the first three years in his
father's army. Certainly not anything that
could upset him now. It was more in line with
what he had expected from the others-an
assumption of his uselessness based on the
accident of his birth.
"Brocchus," the captain warned, but once
again Calix held up a hand. There was only
one proper response to words like that.
He drew his sword, pointing it at the man, who stiffened. Then Calix abruptly turned his back
on him and stalked to the fighting ring. The
coarse brown sand crunched under his boots.
Magpies chattered in the branches of trees
near the kitchens, the harsh wock-wock of
their calls ringing across the grounds of the
castle. He stripped off his shirt, tossing it to
one of the soldiers, all of whom had crowded
around the ring in anticipation.
A cool morning breeze kissed at his chest and
arms, staving off the heat of the rapidly rising
sun. A sun he put to his back.
Brocchus hesitated at the edge of the ring,
eyes tight as he looked at the scar on Calix's
chest. He stared like he could see through
Calix to the SHV tattooed on the back of his
right shoulder.
Calix knew he was still a little on the thin side,
having lost nearly fifteen pounds and most of
it through his chest and arms. However, that
thinness had given him the appearance of a
starving, vicious wolf and people had started
to look twice at him for it.
He could see doubt begin to flicker in
Brocchus' eyes, and gave him a faint smile.
"What?" he taunted. "Don't tell me you're afraid
of a pretty lord-bitch?"
Murmurs fluttered through the crowd of
soldiers, bets being placed. Both Calix and the
captain studiously ignored that.
Brocchus sneered and stepped into the ring.
Everyone went silent, eyes glued on the two
men as the guard tried to circle the general.
Calix didn't move. He didn't need to.
"They keep saying you were in Mortania,"
Brocchus said. "But none of us remember
seeing where you were."
Calix's eyes turned to slits. Not just a palace
guard who'd never seen any real action then
-most likely a legionnaire who had served
his time on the front and had wanted to add a
little more to his pension by serving two extra
years here in the capital.
"Probably letting the kitchen boys fuck you
while the rest of us were fighting."
Well that was a bit more creative. Calix
snarled quietly, but didn't respond. He'd
spilled his own blood in Mortania. Words
didn't disprove that.
The guard prowled around for a moment
longer before realizing Calix was going to
force him to make the first move. Murmurs
and quiet jeers were beginning to ripple
among the onlooking soldiers.
Brocchus swung his sword, and Calix took
half a step to the left. There was a sharp
snick as the blade found the sand.
A laugh came from those watching.
"Can't you do better than that?" Calix drawled
Then he got what he came for.
Brocchus went red with rage and Calix
slipped to that in-between place in his mind.
The one that quieted his thoughts and noticed
every detail. The one that could see the flash
of a sword and know exactly where the strike
was going to land.
Their swords clashed as they moved about
the ring. The sand caught at the low heels of
his boots, but it was better than mud.
Brocchus thrust his blade forward, trying to
gut him. Calix stepped to the side, extending
his arm as he batted the sword away for extra
measure, and the guard struck him.
A fist smashed into the side of his mouth and
shouts sounded all around him. Blood pooled
in the space between his lip and lower teeth.
He swiped his tongue along the inside of his
lip, tasting the copper tang of his blood.
He spit, the glob of blood and saliva landing
an inch away from Brocchus' boot.
Calix leapt forward, swinging his sword
down toward the guard's head. The swords
smashing together sent a jolt up his wrist and
his arm, all the way to his heart.
He battered away at Brocchus, sending blows
raining down around him. They twirled and
skidded around each other. The sun climbed
a little higher into the sky. Calix lost himself
to the dance, savoring the burn and strain in his muscles as he let the fight stretch much
longer than it needed to.
Brocchus was breathing heavily now. He was
getting tired. Calix sliced into his calf, just
below his knee before once again raising his
sword, intending to stop just shy of cleaving
the man's arm from his shoulder.
A clean, solid victory.
But Brocchus twisted wildly out of the way,
stepping on Calix's right foot. A hand pressed
into the back of his shoulder, pushing him
away and he roared in pain as his weak ankle
popped loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Brocchus grinned as Calix went to a knee,
his ankle refusing to hold him. The guard
lifted his sword above his head. The world
threw itself into a frenzy around Calix, every
battlefield instinct in him ripping away the
manners usually observed in a sparring
match.
He pushed off his good leg, tackling the guard
around the middle. A pommel smashed into
his upper back, near his spine as Brocchus
went to the ground. Pain zinged up Calix's
leg, but it didn't matter. He pinned the man,
straddling his chest. With his free hand, he
grabbed Brocchus' sword arm, just below the
wrist and squeezed.
Tendons slipped under his fingers as he
crushed down onto Brocchus' wrist until the
man gasped and dropped his sword.