Scott Kirkman Books

Prince Kamunteht, heir to the Pharaoh and future ruler of the empire, prowled the practice ground, his bare feet moving lightly over the hard packed sand, despite his six-foot-three-inch frame. He wore only a plain linen kilt. Sweat glistened on his well muscled body in the already hot mid morning sun. His rugged jaw, dark brows, and richly black almond shaped eyes only added to his mystique, like his father’s, of a god made flesh.

He held two swords, a matched set, blades slightly curved with only one sharpened edge. Two men stalked opposite, bodies tense, their cautious steps nearly a perfect mirror to his.

Dehrmun moved on the prince’s right. Built on a smaller frame than Kamunteht, Dehrmun’s weathered body was all whip cord muscle. He was older, a former arms instructor to the prince and now a trusted lieutenant and friend. Dehrmun had driven the chariot that had hurled a fifteen year old Kamunteht into his first battle. Since that terrifying, exhilarating day, almost eight years ago, how many battles and border skirmishes had they seen together? The prince could not easily count.

Dehrmun was armed with the short double edged sword and small round shield he preferred. His dark, weather wrinkled face had that determined look Kamunteht knew so well.

On the prince’s left was a hulking brute of a man. Even taller than the prince and more heavily muscled, Horrtoeh was a newer recruit. Although quick for his size, his technique lacked grace. Still, the prince had high hopes. Horrtoeh had all the right building blocks, including the right attitude, to make an excellent soldier.

The three men continued circling, waiting for the moment to strike. Their weapon edges were sheathed in heavy leather practice guards. As usual, when the prince was fighting, a small group had gathered to watch silently from a safe distance.

Without warning, Dehrmun struck. Leading with a feint of his shield, he lunged with the sword. Kamunteht’s response was a blur. Not fooled by the shield feint, he sidestepped Dehrmun’s lunge, deflecting the blade with a downward sweep of his own. Another quick half step brought him just behind Dehrmun. Before the veteran could turn, the prince pivoted and slashed his other blade across the back of Dehrmun’s legs.

With naked blades, the cut would have crippled him, so Dehrmun collapsed to the ground, not needing to fake the wince of pain. Practice or not, you knew when the prince tagged you.

The prince spun away from Dehrmun as Horrtoeh charged in, raising his double edged broadsword. The heavy blade came down with enough force to crack the prince’s skull but was stopped with a muffled clang by the scissor block of the prince’s twin blades. The prince twisted his wrists as he pivoted away, wrenching the sword from Horrtoeh’s grip. Continuing his turn, the prince reversed grip on his sword and drove a backhanded thrust into Horrtoeh’s chest. The blunted point hit with enough force to knock the big man onto his back.

The prince straightened and studied Horrtoeh who was gasping for breath, blood welling at the point of impact. The blow had been excessive, but calculated. Horrtoeh’s own attack could have been lethal even with the protected blade. He needed to learn control.

Dehrmun slowly got to his feet, a smirk just lifting the corner of his mouth.

The prince took a step toward Dehrmun, but was stopped by a young woman striding into the practice yard, her raven hair bouncing with each quick, purposeful step. She planted herself directly in front of the prince, clenched fists thrust against her thin waist. She wore a simple one piece wrap of the highest quality linen that somehow showed every enticing curve of her body without appearing overt.

She scowled at the prince, narrowing her almond shaped eyes. Eyes that were the mirror of his own. She said, “Have you gone insane!?”

“And a good morning to you as well, sweet sister.” The prince’s smile was indulgent.

“Don’t you sweet sister me…”

Still holding his sword, Kamunteht held up a finger to silence his younger sister. “A moment please.” Then he turned to Dehrmun. “You alright?”

Dehrmun only nodded.

The prince walked to Horrtoeh and held out his hand. Horrtoeh took it, and the prince pulled him easily to his feet.

“You were a half step late in your attack,” the prince said. “It cost your life and the life of your partner.”

Horrtoeh lowered his head, fixing his eyes on the sand.

“You were late because you weren’t in tune with your partner. You’re still thinking like a lone fighter. The purpose of this exercise was teamwork.”

“Yes, Highness.”

“Nobody doubts your abilities as a warrior, but we are training an army of soldiers. There’s a difference. It’s the difference between winning a street fight and winning a war. It’s something you still need to learn.”

“Yes, Highness.” Horrtoeh said again, with an even lower tone.

The prince smiled then, and grabbed Horrtoeh by the back of his thick neck and shook him with affection. “But this is why we train, eh? To lean.”

Horrtoeh glanced at his prince for just a moment before looking down again. “Yes, highness. I’ll learn”

“Good. Now go find Master Tallamerh and let him see to that wound, then two bells of forms.”

“Yes, highness.” Horrtoeh turned, picked up his sword, and marched off toward the officer’s quarters.

Dehrmun watched him go and thought, Kamunteht has won himself another.

The prince walked over to Dehrmun and handed him the pair of swords. “Take these for me. I must attend to the Princess.”

Dehrmun bowed his head slightly and took the swords. “Highness.” He then walked off toward the armory.

Only then did the prince look at his sister. “Come, sister. Walk with me.”

The princess fell into step next to her brother. She opened her mouth to speak and was cut off again by the prince’s raised finger. “I’ve warned you before about speaking to me disrespectfully in front of my troops. When we are alone or with the family that is one thing, but…”

The Princess rolled her eyes. “Oh, spare me the speech about how a general must look infallible, or something, in the eyes of his army. Your troops would follow you into the depths of the Duarg, and you know it.”

The prince let out a sigh but also quirked just a hint of a smile at his sister. “What has you so upset this time?”

“Don’t play innocent with me! What by all the gods are you thinking!” She stopped and turned, scowling up at her brother. His unflappable calm sometimes inflamed her own volatile temper, but this time it had the opposite affect. She took a deep breath. “Look, I know you have a kind of…thing…for Sirraa’s nanny, but this is our little sister’s safety. How can you possibly believe that drooling, vicious beast can be captain of her guard?”

End – Barquark: Troll pit fighter – Episode 7

Keep an eye out for the next exciting episode!