33

Lance held up a hand at the girl who was brandishing her staff. “I’ve already gotten the permission of Knight-Lieutenant Kline, and he’s agreed. To take back the offer now would dishonor the festival.”

“It’s a worse dishonor to include a Taker.” She spat the word like a slur, which Michael supposed it was.

The bald recruit looked up at Michael. “You healed me when I was in the infirmary. You looked a lot younger then.”

“A healer, eh?” said the one with rust-colored hair. “Lance knows how to pick, though I suppose that’s a given since he chose me.”

“Either he goes, or I do,” said the girl.

Michael stayed silent. He could tell there was a delicate balance here, and he didn’t know the girl. From what he’d seen of Lance, though, he was a political animal—he likely already had a plan for convincing her.

“If you leave my team, no other team will choose you. I am the only captain willing to choose a woman, mage or not. You drop from the team and lose the chance at gold and a Deed, and I know you want both.”

She scowled at him but lowered her staff and sat back down in her chair.

Lance nodded. “Michael is the final member of our team. He’s a healer, as Jakub mentioned, and also a solid combatant in general. He was in my group during the training exercise a few weeks ago and took ten flags in a single fight.”

The two other boys nodded, impressed, but the woman continued scowling.

“Michael, this is Leana, a mage trainee”—he pointed at the redhead—“Cohle”—he pointed at the redhead—“and Jakub.” He pointed at the bald one.

“Good to meet you,” said Michael, nodding at each of them in turn.

“We have two days to strategize and prepare. The first event we have is the team melee, then the games, then the tourney,” said Lance taking his own seat at the head of the table. “From what I’ve been able to gather about the other team compositions, we’re the only group with a mage and the only group with a healer.”

Michael frowned at that—he understood the lack of healer. As far as he knew, he was the only one there, but mages would seem to be very useful in his opinion.

Sensing his question, Lance turned to him. “Mages are limited during the events, just like they were in the exercise. They can’t use offensive spells, only defensive ones, or ones related to movement. Between that and their inability to wear the heavier metal armor, they’re usually seen as too much of a burden in the first melee to bother recruiting.” He looked at Leana. “I know better, though.”

Her scowl softened a bit at the acknowledgment.

And even if she does go down, thought Michael, he would be able to get her back up. Would he have recruited her if he hadn’t been planning to recruit Michael all along? He seemed to be putting together his pieces very carefully.

“What are the games?” asked Michael.

“Feats of strength, skill, and endurance,” said Lance. “It’s a distance race, archery, the stone hold, the wisp hunt, and the infinite climb. The wisp hunt is already going to be handled by Leana, and the archery by Jakub, but we’re going to have to decide among us who handles the other events.”

Michael nodded but could tell that Lance already had choices set in his mind and was playing it close to make sure the others would agree with his assessments.

“And the tourney?”

“The teams fight against one another in one-on-one bouts. If the majority of your team wins, then you continue. There should only be two rounds. After that there’s just the final fights between members of the remaining team to decide who fights their captain.”

Lance would do whatever he could to win if they made it to that point—that much seemed clear to Michael. He wanted to make his father the general proud, and considering the relationship they seemed to have, Michael had the impression he’d do anything to achieve that.

“Starting tomorrow, we need to be meeting every day to train and hone our strategies to make sure that we win.”

“Before and after the melee and jousts, of course,” said Cohle.

Lance’s face flashed a bit of annoyance, but he quashed it before anyone but Michael could notice and smiled broadly. “Of course! I wouldn’t want to miss them. Besides,” he said, looking over at the two bored guards assigned to watch Michael, “I think if we made Michael’s guards miss the festivities, they may kill us.”

The next morning before the melee, but after breakfast and a meeting with Dugan to discuss teaching him the ink transfer spell to help with some of the paperwork, Michael, along with two escorts, arrived in one of the training fields where the rest of his team was meeting. Leana was engaged in some sparring with Cohle, his sword bouncing off of shimmering blue shields that she summoned even as she swung her own staff at him. Both were able combatants, though Michael could tell that without her magic, Cohle would be dominating the duel. He had a very straightforward fighting style, utilizing his bulk and power well with simple but fast and powerful blows. It reminded him a bit of Davi, but Davi would mix in the occasional feint or low blow.

Lance and Jakub were watching them spar, and Lance nodded at him as he arrived.

“I’m just trying to get a good idea of where everyone’s skills are.” He pointed to a nearby weapon rack. “Go ahead and grab what you want. You and I are going to spar.”

Michael grabbed a sword and shield, twirling the blade with a flourish as he approached him. Lance chose a spear and shield, giving the spear a spin of his own as he took his place across from Michael.

Michael took a middle stance, keeping his body relaxed and ready. Lance was a hair shorter but slightly stockier than him. He also had all of those Titles and Deeds attached to him that granted him greater strength and speed, as well as, Michael assumed, skills developed over a lifetime of being raised in a military family.

“Let me show you what an old man can do,” Michael said with a smile.

Lance took his own stance with a smile as well.

Jakub turned to them and raised his right arm high, bringing it down swiftly to signal them to start.

Michael slid back, expecting Lance to take the initiative, which he did, and with his back foot, he kicked sand up into Lance’s face.

Lance stabbed forward with his spear blindly, and Michael moved to deflect it with his shield. He was grateful he decided to deflect it rather than take the brunt of the blow, as it was much heavier than he’d been expecting.

Michael pushed forward and slashed down with his sword toward the top of Lance’s head, but he ducked down and caught the blow with his shield. He then slid forward under Michael’s guard and slammed his shoulder into his chest, pushing him backward.

Michael rallied quickly and kicked at Lance before he could clear the sand from his eyes, but Lance brought down his spear’s shaft and slammed it into his leg, forcing his opponent to the ground.

Michael used the momentum to slam his shield into Lance and push him back a foot before trying to retake the initiative with a half-dozen swift sword strikes.

Lance blocked them all, catching the blows on his shield or batting them away with his spear. Michael noticed that when he blocked his blows, his feet barely moved a centimeter.

Lance made a stab with his spear again, and when Michael moved to block it, he adjusted his strike and slammed it into his exposed right leg.

Michael’s legs were very suddenly out from under him, and he brought up his shield to cover his vitals by instinct, but the fight was over. Lance gently tapped his shield with his spear, and when Michael moved it, he was holding out his hand to help him up. Michael took it and was practically thrown back onto his feet. He’d been right to assume the Titles and Deeds Lance had gave him a tremendous advantage. Now he was even more curious about the strength of kings.

“He’s good,” said Cohle from the sidelines. He must’ve finished his own match with Leana shortly after Michael and Lance had begun.

Leana shook her head. “He’s easily the worst of the five of us.”

“Being the worst among the best is still impressive,” replied Cohle.

Jakub looked at him closely. “You’re not tired at all, are you?”

Michael shook his head, brushing some of the sand from his pants.

Lance was panting slightly, a bit of sweat starting to form on his face, but Michael’s own breath had recovered quickly.

“We may beat him in skill, but the melee is long and the events are frequent. His endurance will be a boon.”

Lance scratched his chin. “Did you climb in your old life?” he asked.

“No, never cared for heights.”

He nodded. “You will handle the run then.”

Michael nodded—that’s what he had figured. He also noticed that Lance had no concern about making it to the games after the team melee.

“I will handle the climb, and Cohle,” he said with a smile. “How do you feel about holding a heavy burden for a long time?”

He flexed his impressive biceps. “I was planning on carrying the team anyway. What’s another burden?”