The Stolen Prince (Blood for Blood Book 1) (10 page)

“Are they smart enough to attack the farms?” King Darr asked.

“No,” King Arden said. “But the logic of Terra makes no sense. I still don’t understand why they took my son and not me. It only worked because they had the advantage of surprise when they took the heir. Taking my son caused grief, but my death would have led to chaos.”

“Well, another king would have replaced you,” King Darr said.

“After war, perhaps.” Arden eyed King Darr warily. “But why my son?”

“Leverage,” King Darr’s wife, the queen of the coast said. It was the first time she had spoken all night. She and Sabola had remained quiet the entire feast, not even talking with each other. Kara didn’t know her name—no one had bothered to tell her. “If they were smart, then the boy is still alive.”

King Arden looked up at her, betraying the shock on his face. Kara saw her mother eye the coastal queen with suspicion. Then Sabola spoke up and said, “I agree.”

“But they aren’t smart. They are merely desperate,” Arden said. “My son is dead.” He pointed the statement at both queens, closing the subject. “And why they took him will remain a mystery to us.”

“What about negotiation?” Rangi asked.

“Every scout we send into the forest disappears. Every slave we capture insists that the Terra will keep fighting,” King Arden said simply. Then he turned to Rangi. “The code hangs over us all, Rangi, even the Su. We must avenge the fallen or their blood will cry up and their souls will never be free. Our honor requires us never to give in or give up.”

“I’m sure the Terra think the same thing,” Truthsinger said pensively, suddenly appearing beside the canvas, sitting on one of his wooden knobs. “Gone for a hundred years… probably nursing their own thoughts of vengeance all that time. How the code binds us into eternal duels.”

Kara felt a chill, and it wasn’t just the outside cold. Something about what Truthsinger said seemed to add something uncomfortable to the air, like it was the hardest truth he had said all night.

“So your supply lines,” King Darr said, ignoring the heavy silence. “That’s your main concern.” King Darr nodded to Prince Sesto, who was still sitting in a sugar and wine stupor. “Sesto, join us. It’s important for you to be in attendance.”

The prince reluctantly got up from the table and walked toward his father. King Darr continued, “So if the Alem are attacked, the kingdom is at risk of losing their harvest.”

“We do have stores,” King Arden said. “Most inside the borders as well. A lone earth zipper might be able to get past. We all understand that zipping and porting cannot be prevented, however clever our methods. But an entire army could not get to our stores, and a lone Terra would not survive long. Why do you think we have so many slaves? We would have enough provisions stored up for the citadel and the city of Atmen to live for about a year. It’s the villages and townships that would starve if there were a siege.”

General Iben leaned in. “But if you leave them out there and the Terra attack, they’ll be slaughtered.”

King Arden nodded solemnly. “We have soldiers across the plains in every village. And we have more prepared to fight at a moment’s notice stationed here and outside Atmen’s gates.” He turned to King Darr. “With your numbers, we are ready.”

King Darr nodded, staring intently at the map. “Yes,” he said, “let’s go see these fighters of yours. And then we will see what I can add.”

As the company cleared the banquet hall, Queen Sabola walked straight to the curtain where Kara was standing. Kara took in a sharp breath.

“You were dismissed, Kara,” the queen said through the curtain. Then she turned and left the room with the rest.

CHAPTER TEN

“You’re a full–blown, breath–sucking, tiger–bellied idiot!”

Skeet punched Hakon across the face. Hakon set down the stew he was eating and got to his feet in a cat stance—feet planted wide apart and his arms stretched out in front of him to fend off Skeet’s attack.

“Stop it,” Skeet said. “I deserved that. Sneaking in without me, suddenly appearing before the fire and throwing yourself at their feet.”

Hakon nodded. Skeet was right. His brother raised his hand as if to punch Hakon again, and Hakon raised his arm to block, but Skeet relaxed. He sat beside him, grabbing his bowl of soup and slurping it down.

Skeet glanced up. Tip and Gage were looking down at them, discussing something. “I wish I knew what they were saying. Think I should vanish up?” Skeet said between mouthfuls of food.

“Too dangerous. You would probably get stuck in a wall.”

“I’m a better vanisher than that.”

Hakon agreed. He didn’t understand how Skeet was able to vanish into a place he couldn’t see. That was what gave zippers such an advantage over vanishers—they could always sense where they were going and how much space they needed. Porting by any means was dangerous. Material did not move for a porter. If you misplaced your port, you could end up dead or maimed. Any fool could end up losing his foot inside the earth or tree or wall. How Skeet vanished without even seeing where he was going was one of the great secrets kept among vanishers.

“Good thing the duel is fair.” Skeet said.

Hakon nodded. A fair duel involved no porting, zipping or vanishing. It was merely a test of strength. Hakon preferred to fight that way. He didn’t want the Terra to find any other reason to distrust him, and having the advantage of an air zipper in a fight would only remind them of their enemy.

Hakon nodded. “Are you upset it came to a duel?”

“Honestly, no. I can’t wait to see you beat one of the Winds. They deserve to be humbled.”

“You think I’ll win?” Hakon was confident in his fighting, but he was nervous. The wound from the tiger was still tender, and the constant drumming would be a considerable distraction.

Skeet nodded, as if it were obvious. “You had better.” He swallowed the rest of his food and got to his feet, turning to Hakon. “I think you had better practice.” Skeet turned to the rest of the boys gathered around where their tribe was eating. “Don’t you think, Kaldin?”

Hakon’s fellow hunters hooted and stood to their feet. Hakon smiled—the sparring would be a good distraction.

Hakon got to his feet and faced Skeet, crouching. If Hakon wasn’t against a serious opponent, he might have laughed. Skeet looked like a wildcat before it pounced. They were taught that way, to imitate their surroundings. They were a people hardened by their environment, made from it, carved from it like wood. A deep swelling of love overcame Hakon for the Terra, but it was accompanied by a type of festering—a bitterness that sprung from the feeling of being used. They had never kept it secret from him, and it had never really angered him. Not until now.

Hakon made the first advance. He never liked waiting. Skeet dodged him, grabbed his left arm quickly, and spun Hakon, throwing him over his back and onto his feet. Hakon relaxed, letting Skeet flip him, but as he spun, he pulled his legs underneath himself and pushed Skeet’s knees out. Skeet was now on the ground, and Hakon let him recover rather than let the fight end as quickly as that. Skeet laughed as the wind returned to his lungs. “Knocked the wind out of me! Get it? Knock the Winds… the Three Winds?”

“Hilarious, Skeet.”

Skeet got to his feet and tagged in another boy. Hakon fell into meditation as opponent after opponent advanced. He managed to block any attacks aimed at his wounded leg, and the meditation helped him ignore the drumbeat throbbing inside his head. Finally, the number of groaning wounded was greater than attackers. Hakon could feel his confidence growing.

Winning reminded him of his own abilities. He felt powerful, like the royalty he was marked to be. He could hold onto this power, even though he was uncertain about everything else the future might bring.

Skeet returned to fight him one more time. He was all laughs and grins as he cheated and vanished away from Hakon’s advances.

“You’re cheating,” Hakon noted.

“I wouldn’t put Bavol past cheating.”

Hakon paused, watching Skeet closely. He knew Skeet’s tremors well—the small uncontrollable twitch a person makes before they port. It didn’t matter if they were a vanisher or zipper; everyone had their own unique signature. Hakon watched, saw Skeet twist his right foot ever so slightly. Hakon leapt at Skeet, pulling his head into a tight headlock and throwing him to the ground before he could get footing to vanish. Skeet raised his hands in surrender.

Hakon looked around, and the others gathered burst out in laughter. They had all lost to Hakon. Skeet had lost twice. Hakon was still the best dueler among them. Gage had made sure of that.

“Good.”

Hakon looked up and saw Gage, watching. How much had he seen? Gage turned to his nephew.

“Skeet, you will be Hakon’s second?”

Skeet’s smile disappeared as he looked at Gage. He looked annoyed that he had even been asked the question. “Of course,” he said.

Gage inspected the others in the tribe. “Chief Tip and I have decided. Should Hakon win the duel of decision, we will be charged as a tribe to accompany him. We will be his escorts after a second and third are named.”

Hakon looked at his fellow brothers, the ones he had grown up with his entire life, fought and hunted with. They all looked confident and proud in that moment—there was no doubt in their eyes. Once again, Hakon felt a swelling of affection for the Terra, especially the tribe of Kaldin. They believed in him.

“Hakon, let’s walk.” Gage said.

Hakon nodded, putting his sharper weapons back into his furs. He glanced back at his fellow warriors before he left. Skeet was already telling a story, which got the rest of them laughing. Hakon followed Gage away from their tribe.

“Do you think I’m cruel, Hakon, for separating you from my family?”

“I understand it, Guardian. You never wanted me to forget who I am.”

Gage was leading him to the tunnels they had walked through on their first day here. They were soon walking among the dark hallways lined with images and carvings. “Not just that. It is important for you to be like a guardian, separate from any attachments, like a family. Do you know why this is?”

Hakon had always wondered why guardians were not allowed to marry or have children. “So you won’t have favorites in your training?”

Gage shook his head. He turned to face Hakon, pausing in the darkness beside a torch. “One day, perhaps soon, you will have to make decisions about who lives and who dies. These cannot be decisions of the heart. Your affection for your mother, your fellowship for Skeet, even your respect for the Terra. All this will be tested. Skeet may be your enemy one day.”

“Never,” Hakon said. Wasn’t that the reason he was raised among the Terra? So that he might never call them his enemy?

Guardian bowed low underneath an entryway to a cave. They wandered through the darkness of the passage toward the torches ahead. His voice reverberated across the walls. “You haven’t met your father. You do not know what he will make you do to test your loyalty.”

“Never,” Hakon said again. His honor would not allow him to be a traitor.

“You do not understand the depth of hatred, Hakon. How much our people hate the air people. And how much they hate us. It has been bred in us for centuries.” He paused, having reached the carvings and paintings on the walls.

Hakon felt like shouting. “You don’t think I understand that hate? You don’t think I’m bitter? But it’s my own people I hate, not the Terra.”

“They are both your people.” He picked up a lit torch and held it higher so Hakon could see. “You mustn’t forget who you are, on both accounts. You are divided, but by understanding both sides, you can become a bridge.” Gage pointed to the strips of cloth that hung from the ceiling along the walls, dividing the paintings and carvings like pauses in a story.

“This is the legend. The story the guardians tell.” Hakon peered at the drawings on the walls, recognizing some of the images of a man. But they were crude and old. Hakon had forgotten the stories, but they hardly seemed important now. Why had Gage brought him here?

“All of these drawings and carvings were discovered or written here when the Terra escaped into the Desolate Mountains a hundred years ago.” Guardian held the torchlight close to a carving. “These religious texts tell of the Master, who in other translations is called the Maker. It speaks of a bridge, Hakon, or perhaps a better way of saying it is ‘bond.’ There is a bond between the Maker and the earth, since it was made by the Maker.” He walked along the walls, pointing out various drawings. “It is also believed that there is a bond between the earth and the Terra, especially the Terra that can port. In order to zip or vanish, we must use the earth, and in return, it gives us space and a small amount of time.

“It was believed, and stories were told, that one day, the bond, or bridge, would be manifest in corporeal form. Specifically, in the physical form of a man. There are many interpretations of this man. Some say it is a man who will be the bridge between peoples and bring peace to this land as the Master would have it. Some say the man will come as a punishment for our disloyalty and laziness. Here…” he said, pointing to a particular carving that showed a warrior with many marks on its fingers and holding the sky and the earth in both hands “… there are beliefs that he will be able to wield both the power of the earth and the sky or, as we understand it, air.”

Hakon looked at the picture. “He will be able to port using both earth and air?”

Guardian shook his head. “Perhaps. Others say it is not a literal legend of a real man. But rather, just a metaphor for all of us, that we have the ability to bond with our Master as we bond with the earth. That there is no single man who will possess such power.”

Hakon peered at carving after carving and noticed the man was always painted with weapons in hand. “Why is he is always drawn as a warrior?”

“It is said he will be a great fighter, a warrior who obeys only the highest Master, no king or chief.” Gage moved to another etching and Hakon followed. “When the Terra kidnapped you, they believed you could be used for leverage against the king. Their intent was ill. But our tribe has always believed that one day the bond will manifest itself. We saw the signs, Hakon, and we protected you. We raised you, watching you.”