Part 17 (1/2)
”The practice fields. They must have changed their hours.” He put his bottle of water down. ”Let's start sword-”
”Can we visit them?” I couldn't explain the urgency zipping through me. All I knew was that I had to see them. ”Just for a few minutes.”
Annoyance crossed Master Kenta's face, but I didn't care. I was tired of one-on-one sessions with him. ”Please. If Father asks, we can tell him it was part of my lessons.”
Master Kenta shook his head.
”Or we can tell him I persuaded you.”
He shot me a disapproving look. ”You are forbidden to use your powers on me.”
”I know, but we can say I was angry and it just happened.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh and stood. ”Fine. Follow my telegate.”
I knew what a telegate was-the energy disturbance left behind after a teleport-but I'd never followed one. Still, I went with my instinct. Closer to the field, I noticed the energies of the guards. I counted forty of them. I appeared beside Master Kenta, Callum, and Ruby.
”I didn't know you could slow down your teleport,” Master Kenta said.
How the heck did he think I surprised him whenever we sparred? My attention s.h.i.+fted to the fighters, an antic.i.p.ation I couldn't explain pulling at me. This was all too familiar. I must have watched the Guardians practice.
At first, no one noticed us. The instructors yelled instructions and insults at the trainees. ”Feint left, man. Block and... You idiot! What in Tartarus was that?”
”Thrust. Move those sluggish feet. Your mother can hit better than that.”
”Incoming! Incinerate it. You call that an energy ball?” The instructor created an energy ball and hurled it. Screams followed.
I winced. These instructors were brutal. To my left, some trainees or guards were using wooden staffs. They were just as bad.
I cringed as I watched one man pummeled another again and again. The pairing was wrong. The man winning was a superior fighter, yet he didn't give the weaker guy a chance to recover.
”Let's go,” I whispered.
Master Kenta glanced at me with surprise. ”Why? I thought you wanted to observe the fight.”
”Yeah, a fair one. Not someone being beaten to a pulp. This is not sportsmans.h.i.+p. This is... I don't even know what it is.”
Unfortunately, the trainees at the edge of the crowd noticed us and stopped whatever they were doing in mid-action, causing or receiving some serious injuries. I cringed. Maybe I shouldn't have come. They bowed, some smiling, others frowning. I gave them a tiny wave.
”Would the princess like to give us the honor of watching our session?” a knight asked. Unlike the trainees, his black s.h.i.+rt had the red raven crest worn by Sir Malax. Some of the trainees had a yellow raven, while others wore plain s.h.i.+rts.
I glanced at Master Kenta, but he was talking to Ruby and Callum. He glanced at me. Your father needs me at the castle. Stay here.
He teleported. I smiled at the knight who'd asked me to stay. ”I'll watch, thank you.”
The trainees split into two groups, the ones with yellow crests on the right and the ones wearing plain T-s.h.i.+rts on the left. The instructor selected a fighter from each group and gave them wooden staffs.
Watching them, I visualized moves and countermoves. Their technique wasn't bad, just brutal. Once again, the pairing was wrong. Instead of giving the less-experienced trainee a chance to recover, the superior fighter pushed his advantage, leaving nasty bruises on his opponent's arms and face. The cut on his right cheek was deep and bled profusely. The instructor didn't stop them. The smirk on the instructor's face said he was enjoying the beatdown.
”Why isn't he stopping the fight?” I asked.
”The other man is a minion,” Callum said calmly, but his hazel eyes flashed with anger. ”The guards fight them during practice.”
More like use them as target practice, I thought. The man's face was swelling fast. He had another nasty cut, this one on his left eyebrow. ”Why can't someone heal him?”
”Their healers don't come to the field,” Callum said. ”He'll visit one after practice, then come back for the same beating tomorrow.”
”And usually they return before they are fully healed,” Ruby added.
How could Father let this happen? The defeated minion dropped to his knees. The superior fighter raised his staff again and arced it toward the poor guy. Thoroughly annoyed by the knight's inability to mediate the fight, I lifted my hand and froze the stick. The bully tried to lift it but he couldn't. Confusion flashed across his face.
”What's happening?” someone asked.
”How did the minion stop it?” another added.
”He doesn't have that kind of power.”
”But I do,” I said, drawing their attention as I marched to the field. ”That is enough. Can't you see the man is not fighting back?”
I hated bullies-another new discovery. With a flick of my hand, I indicated to the man standing over the injured man to move aside, but I underestimated my powers. He flew backward and took down several trainees from his team with him.
Take that, you bully. I flung the stick aside and hoped it hit him. I glared at the knight. ”Did you notice that this poor man was injured?”
”Yes, Princess. But-”
”Then why didn't you stop the fight?”
”He's a minion. They are here as sparring partners.”
”Don't you mean target practice? Why not fill bags with sand or use trees, for that matter, if you want to fight something that can't fight back? I don't get this. It's senseless and unfair, and stupid. When a man is injured during sparring, the fight must be stopped. And you never pit a superior fighter against a trainee unless he's teaching him. There's no need to beat your fellow Hermonite into a pulp when it's obvious he can't self-heal.”
”I apologize if we've offended your sensibilities, Princess.” He sounded like I'd insulted him. ”But I've trained royal guards, other knights, and regular guards for centuries. This is how we do things here.”
I didn't care how many people he'd trained. He was a brutish-looking man with thick limbs, scraggy brown hair sprinkled with gray, and heavy eyebrows. His lips were thin and he had a cruel gleam in his green eyes.
”What's your name?”
”Sir Kellion, Princess.”
”I think it is time to change things around here, Sir Kellion. For now, this man-”I pointed at the bleeding minion-”needs to be healed.”
He glanced at some of the trainees. ”Take him back to the hole and find him a healer.”
”Wait. Hole?” I asked.
”The minions”-he pointed at the trainees in plain T-s.h.i.+rts-”volunteer to train with the guards. Their families are paid handsomely for their, uh, partic.i.p.ation.”
I frowned. ”And the hole?”
”They don't live with their families. They stay in special barracks and go home one week every month.”