By midday, Danish and Gregor had gone through a few dozen drills. Weary arms struggled to keep their blades held upright. Aeric, the instructor, continued to call out directions. “Medium. Inside. Outside. Saint. Medium.”
The two boys shifted their arm to match the called guard. Over and over, they cycled through the different stances with little time between the given orders. With it being Danish’s first day of learning, he was slow to follow the directions. His movements clunky and unsure. Meanwhile, Gregor fluidly moved through each of the guards. Even when the pattern was changed suddenly, he was almost able to predict what was coming next.
“It will come with time,” Gregor said. Doing his best to encourage his younger brother. Letting him know that no one was expecting him to be perfect on his first day.
“Halt.” Aeric watched as the two boys lowered their arms to their sides. It was difficult to know if the man was pleased with their performance. A permanent scowl hung on his face. As he looked the boys over, he paced before them. Remaining silent, hands folded behind his back. “You,” Aeric suddenly swung his blade Danish’s way. The tip grazed his nose. “What is the purpose of your training? Why do you wish to learn the blade?”
Danish stood silent until his brother nudged him with his elbow. Seemingly snapping him back into the conscious would. “I want … I want to learn because …” He trailed off. Why was it he wanted to learn the blade? When King Dante asked him if he wished to learn how to fight with the sword, it had sounded fun. But he couldn’t deny the fact that part of him wanted to learn due to his family’s heritage. He’d heard so many stories about the Vickery family. Stories he wished to follow in one day, if he was capable.
“Your answer, boy.” Aeric seemed to be growing impatient with Danish.
“Sorry,” Gregor began speaking, “Danish is st—”
“I want to learn because it’s who I am.” Danish sounded sure in his answer, however, he lowered his shoulders and lowered his head as the words came out.
Aeric slapped Danish with the side of his blade. Striking him in the chest and sides, Not stopping until he was standing upright.
“What was that for?” the young Vickery asked. His free hand rubbed at his chest where Aeric had hit him.
“For doubting yourself,” the teacher answered. “Your body, mind, and heart must all feel the same confidence if you are to learn.” He then turned his blade to Gregor. “And you. Why is it that you learn the blade?”
Gregor spoke. His voice broke as the words came out. “Because it is expected of me, as the prince.”
Whipping his blade, Aeric once more had it in the face of Danish. “And that is why you learn. Because it is expected of you. Not as a prince, but as a Vickery! Do not let the shadows of your family walk you down the wrong destiny. Now, we drill again.”
Dinner was a silent affair. The queen had once more dined in her chambers, leaving the men to enjoy pork glazed in honey, paired with apples boiled and coated with cinnamon, and salad made from the vegetables grown within the queen’s own garden. Consisting of carrots, lettuce, spinach, onion, and a few types of nuts.
They were all mostly done with their meal when the first of them spoke up. It was the king who shattered the silence. “Arrangements are being made to visit Keep Ankaa. It should only be a few more days before the procession will be ready.”
“Thank you, father,” Danish spoke. Picking at his food. All day, he had been thinking about what Aeric had told him. Wondering if he should refuse going to the next training session.
“Danish did well at practice,” Gregor spoke up. Smiling at his adopted brother as though he could feel the doubts in his heart. “I think he might be better than me.”
“I had no doubts he would be skilled with the blade,” King Dante spoke with high praise. “I wish I could offer him a teacher with the quality of his father. Then the boy would accel at the art.”
Do not let my family choose my path, Danish told himself. Thinking hard at the words his teacher had said. But if he didn’t follow the path o the blade, then what was his life path? He hadn’t known any other goals. Gregor would one day be the king. Was it Danish’s destiny to stay by his side? Work as an advisor to the future king?
His mind then went back to his dream the night before. He wished he could forget it, but it was burned into his mind. Putting down his utensils, he turned to face Dante. “Does anyone live in the Runebound Grove?”
The king cocked his head to the side. Raising a hand to his chin to run fingers through his beard. “People living in the Grove? Hmm, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of such a thing. Nor have I heard of anyone living there. Why the sudden interest?”
Danish thought of telling his father about the man he saw at the forest’s edge. The shadow that seemed to watch him before suddenly vanishing. Choosing to hold that fact for himself, he came up with an answer quick as he could. “I’ve never heard of anyone visiting the forest either. It feels forbidden, so I was wondering if there were people keeping us out. Even with it so close to the castle, I don’t think I’ve heard anyone mention felling a tree from there.”
“Forbidden is right,” Dante suddenly raised his voice. Hands slamming on the table as he pushed himself to his feet. “Even a king is not to step foot into that place. It is sacred and ancient. Entrance to the forest I punishable by death!” Catching his breath, the king saw the unbelieving looks upon the young boys’ faces. Flushing red, he sat down with a cough. “Right, I must apologize for my strong reaction. But there are things we must live by.”
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“Well,” the king continued, “it is late. I must retire for the night. Thank you for joining me for this delicious meal.”
Once the king had left the dining area, Danish waited a few minutes before excusing himself as well. His usual guards stood waiting for him. Ready to escort him back to his room. Instead, he began to make his way back toward the parapet.
“Danish,” the woman who always stood by his side spoke in a hushed and hurried voice. “Young prince, where are you going?”
Her companion held more authority in his voice. “This is not the way to your room. We must turn around.”
Danish stopped. Keeping his back to the two of them. “I have something I need to look into. I promise it won’t be long.” When neither of his guards objected, Danish continued forth.
Just as it had the night before, the Runebound Grove was illuminated in its multitude of colors. As he stared out toward the ancient forest, he kept an eye out for any signs of that person he saw the night before. Just a few minutes, he told himself. But he needed to know, had he truly seen someone in the forest?
Underbrush spread open as once more a figure escaped from under the luminescent canopy. And once more, the figure seemed to be staring directly at him. But this time, when he blinked, the figure was not gone.
Heart racing, he wondered what he should do. As his father had just told him, it was forbidden to be in the Grove. But there someone was. Living among the ancient trees. Was this person the reason people were not allowed to venture into the Grove? Danish had heard many tales of ancient evils. Beings from another realm, born of magic that fed off mortals. Great beasts more powerful and wild than any creature he was familiar with.
“Time to go,” the woman called out.
“Come now,” the other added.
Danish nodded in agreement, letting the two lead him through the familiar halls and back to his tower room. Like always, the first thing he did once he was in his room was approach the orb left behind by his family. As always, it sat there. When his father let him visit the place he was born, he knew he would need to take it with him. Those who had taken his home from him saw no value in the orb.
Danish, though he was unable to explain why, knew the secret of the orb was back at Keep Ankaa. He grabbed it from his bedside table and laid across his cot. Rolling the orb around in his hands.
He’d never taken the time to truly hold the orb. Surprising him at how light the material was. In fact, it felt as though he were holding nothing at all. But he knew the orb was not hollow. Part of why he never held the orb stemmed from the time he had dropped it.
He was certain the old baker was still angry at him for shattering that floor stone … and his foot. But it had been a long time since that incident, so he was no longer afraid to be near the baker. And if the baker was still angry, he hid it well.
Worried that his tired body might slip and drop the orb, Danish put it back by his bedside. Contemplating telling anyone about what he saw had put a lot of stress on his mind. Sourness built in the back of his throat as his stomach churned.
To make matters worse, there was a knock at his door. Visitors were rare at that time of night. Meaning it would be important to answer the door. As much as he would prefer not to climb out of bed. Just laying on the plush mattress had reminded him how tired his body was. If he were to pretend to be asleep, would the person walk away and let the matter wait until morning?
More knocking let him know that was not an option.
Everything hurt as he pushed himself back to his feet. His footsteps accented by continued knocks. Behind the slab of wood was one of the old servants. Danish was sure he’d seen this man dusting the main halls and polishing busts in the halls.
“Master Danish,” the servant spoke. His words drawn out. “You are being summoned to the king’s study.”
“Did he say why?” asked Danish. The reason why was not important, and he was not sure if he really cared why he was being summoned.
“Afraid not,” the man said. Sweeping to the side, he motioned for Danish to begin his descent down the tower. “But we must not keep him waiting. You know how his majesty can be.”
Groaning—his muscles following in his example—Danish began his journey to the king’s study. Knowing there was no getting out of this if it was his father summoning him. If he was lucky, the meeting would be brief and he would soon be back in his bed.
Each servant they passed seemed to be watching Danish. Expressions of dismay until they caught him looking. Then, they changed their expression to false smiles.
What could be going on? It seemed everyone but him knew why the king wanted to see him. Making him turn his attention back to the man who had come to gather him. Was he lying about not knowing why he was being summoned? “It’s a little late for father to be summoning me,” Danish tried to egg the servant into telling him what was going on. “It must be rather important. Usually, he is in bed by now.”
“Yes,” the man answered. “It must be something very important indeed.”
When they reached the door to the king’s study, the servant stepped away. Danish swallowed as he raised a shaking hand to the door. Knocking as firm as he could, careful not to beat on the door. He then cracked the door open. Pushing his head through the space. His father knew he was coming, and he had announced his arrival. Still, he was unable to fight the feeling he was intruding in on his father.
He saw Gregor seated before their father’s desk. Dante sat with his hands folded before him; head resting on his crisscrossed fingers.
“Pleased you could arrive so promptly,” Dante spoke. Gesturing for the young boy to take a seat next to his brother.
“What is this about, father?” Danish asked. Obeying his father and sitting next to Gregor. “Is something wrong?”
King Dante looked at the two boys. Remaining silent as he tapped his fingers across his desk. With a heavy sigh, he answered the boy. “I met with your instructor earlier. He said the two of you are fine swordsmen, for the level you’re at. But he also tells me he is not sure your hearts are in it. So, I want to give you boys a choice. Do you want to learn the sword?”
“Of course, father,” Gregor answered promptly. “Why would we not?”
Dante turned to his blood son. “I do not want you to feel as though it is an obligation. If you are unhappy, I will gladly allow you to end your lessons.”
Danish always loved that about his father. While Dante was the king and had to fulfill his duties, he was always one to put his sons’ happiness above their obligations.
Gregor fidgeted around in his seat. Clearly mulling over the options in his head. The elder prince had always been taught he needed to grow up in a certain fashion. Clearly something embedded into his mind by his mother. Of the two, Danish had always been the more free it seemed, at least when it came to the choice of what he was allowed to show interest in.
Finally, the prince spoke up. “I want to continue learning. Aeric is a great teacher, and I’ve already come so far.”
Dante nodded. Now focusing on Danish. “And what about you?”
“I want to continue as well,” he proudly said. Unlike when Aeric had asked him earlier, Danish stood proud on his answer.
Dante let out a breath even he hadn’t known was held. “Very well, I look forward to hearing about your progress. Now, it’s late. The two of you need sleep.”
As the boys got up to leave, Danish paused. Waiting for Gregor to leave before he turned to face their father. “I saw someone in the Grove,” he admitted. “Twice now, at sundown. Someone has stepped out of the forest.”
Dante’s brow furrowed. “This is certainly upsetting news. Tell me more.”