I could tell you of all the reasons we did it, of how I believed my moral code was more suited, how I could rule better than they and why, or how evil and corrupt they were. Those are convictions, ideas, abstractions. Those are not the reason we are here.

  We are here because we are better at violence.

  Make no mistake. It was a violent coup. I wanted to be king. I believed I was better suited to the role. I made myself worthy of it and then I seized power. I did it because I was better. I did it because something that is corrupt and rotten and contemptible must be cut out. The chaos had to be replaced with order. I took power and used it to make my values the standard.

  Would you allow demons to live among you? Creatures who by their nature had no choice but to drain the life from your people? No. You would remove them. You would bar their entry. This was no different.

  -Harald Erling, as dictated to Leif Olander

  ***

  The pounding in his head continued. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He tried to reach up, to cradle his head, to block out the crashing, to no avail. He couldn’t move his arms or his legs. He fought against the weight, the tightness.

  Realization struck him that he’d been asleep and was slowly waking up. His arms finally responded and he used them to pry his eyes open. His body felt like it was buried under a pile of stones. The hammering on the door continued. “I’m awake!”

  Leif got up and opened the door to a clearly annoyed Vigo. The days were blurring together and weariness seemed to be his daily companion. “I’ll be right there.” Leif rushed to dress then raced down after Vigo to the courtyard for their daily morning practice.

  Vigo wasted no time once they entered the courtyard. He selected a wooden practice sword, threw off his cloak, and lunged at Leif. Leif immediately reached for his magic. He was still groggy from the sudden wakeup. He’d needed more sleep. He’d wanted more. Please work.

  It didn’t. His magic remained quiet and out of reach. Bloody hell. He turned and sprung back, away from Vigo’s swings. He stumbled and forced himself back to his feet and arced just out of reach of Vigo’s blade.

  He kept trying to reach his magic. He ran and Vigo followed close behind. He needed a sword. He needed his magic. He feinted then cut across towards the rack of training swords but Vigo raced to intercept him. If he couldn’t respond soon then Vigo would slap the wooden sword across his shins, or something equally painful and humiliating. He focused, strained again for his magic, delving into his core. Finally. Magic burned up through him and despite the stress of his situation, he smiled inwardly. Vigo was on him the next instant. Leif needed to get to the swords, he needed Vigo away.

  Leif threw his hands up and reacted. He didn’t know what he was doing but an invisible force came out of him. It slammed into Vigo forcing him back, his feet sliding along the dirt. He’d hoped Vigo would have fallen or the pressure would have taken him farther. Vigo smirked.

  Leif didn’t know exactly what he had done, or what he was doing, but he tried to keep the pressure extending out towards Vigo. At the same time, he looked towards the sword rack. He reached out with his other hand.

  “Feeling bold are we?” Vigo taunted him menacingly.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He ignored Vigo and tried to feel the swords. He sensed the particles swirling all around him and he could pick out the carved wooden swords across the courtyard. He reached for them and connected.

  Vigo stepped forward despite the pressure Leif was pushing towards him, his stupid smirk still on his face. Leif focused on the swords. He reached across the courtyard with his magic. He collected a sword with his will, making the vibrating particles his. He pulled with his will so the sword would cross the courtyard and land in his hand.

  The wooden practice sword leaned out, then clattered against the side of the sword rack, before tipping backwards and knocking the entire row of wooden swords to the ground in a jumbled mess. Bloody hell.

  Vigo stepped towards him and placed his own sword against Leif’s neck. He then turned and raised his hand towards the sword rack. As if tied to a string, the handle of one of the wooden blades sprung towards Vigo’s outstretched hand. He caught it, too easily. He flipped the blade and handed the handle to Leif.

  Vigo drew back to begin a new attack but paused at the sound of clapping. Hestan, who also seemed to have slept in, had appeared, and next to him stood Magnus who was clapping. “Well done, both of you! I’m sorry to surprise you all but Karalee informed me that you frequently meet down here to practice, I thought I might participate. Mind if I tag in?” He stepped towards Vigo with a smile and reached his hand towards the sword rack. A wooden blade flew towards him. Without looking he plucked the sword out of the air.

  “No. You’re not welcome. Go back to where you came from.” Vigo said it without looking at the prince.

  Magnus laughed, “Oh surely you jest, Vigo? I’ve heard such impressive things about your magical ability. Surely you have nothing to fear from me.”

  Magnus seemed surprised by Vigo’s refusal and genuinely hoped to stay and practice. Hestan spoke up, prodding him forward, “He’s afraid Magnus! Terrified! He doesn’t want to duel you, Magnus, don’t let him get away with it.”

  Magnus had an open mouth smile on his face as he tapped Vigo’s blade which hung at his side. Magnus then went in for a soft lunge, coaxing Vigo to respond.

  Vigo caught Magnus’s wooden sword in his off hand. He rotated violently and slammed his elbow into the middle of Magnus’s weapon. The wooden sword cracked and splintered in half. In the same motion Vigo released the broken sword and grasped Magnus's neck. By some force, Magnus's feet were swept out from beneath him at the same time that Vigo slammed Magnus into the dirt by his neck.

  Leif glanced at Hestan whose eyes were glued to the two fighters. He wanted to see Magnus beaten and shamed but he feared what the king would do to Vigo if he killed the prince.

  Anger and exertion against the grip on his neck flashed across Magnus’s face. He curled himself up and forced his legs across Vigo’s face and chest. He arched his hips and with both hands, forced Vigo’s grip off of his neck. He gasped for air. Still gripping Vigo’s arm, he drew his legs back and planted them on Vigo’s chest and hip then pushed.

  Vigo flew backwards up into the air. Leif expected to see fury emanating off of him but his face was calm and focused. He caught the ground on one foot, off balanced, then rolled backwards. Settling himself, he stood, still holding his wooden sword, and stepped towards Magnus who was standing himself up, looking quite pleased with himself. Another sword flew from the pile on the ground to Magnus’s outstretched hand, he then stepped towards Vigo in kind.

  When he was still several strides from Magnus, Vigo reached out his hand. Magnus jolted towards Vigo as if pulled by a string from his chest. Vigo caught him roughly by the collar then released him and cut in. He was a streak of blonde. His speed was impossible to Leif who could barely follow Vigo’s movement.

  Magnus reacted but too late. Vigo had grasped Magnus’s sword hand, raised it and then yanked himself through to Magnus’s back. He hooked Magnus’s neck with a steel dagger. Leif hadn’t seen it but Vigo had dropped his wooden training sword in the movement and drew the dagger from his waist. He pressed the steel up under the prince’s chin. Vigo reached up with his free arm and grasped the prince’s hair, forcing Magnus to drop his head back onto Vigo’s shoulder. He spoke into Magnus’s ear. “I told you to leave.”

  Magnus dropped his sword and raised his hands, ”Okay Vigo, you win.” Leif wasn’t sure how to read it. He didn’t know whether Magnus was pleased or troubled. Vigo was clearly angered but finally withdrew his dagger and released Magnus’s hair.

  Magnus leaned over and rubbed his neck. “Vigo, I don’t understand the hostility. We’re all friends here are we not?” His eyes flicked to Leif for the briefest of moments.

  “We’re not.”

  Magnus looked at Hestan then back to Vigo, “Very well, I shall see you tonight for the wedding.” Vigo didn’t respond. Magnus exhaled then stalked off.

  The wooden sword Vigo had dropped flew back into his hand. He pointed it at Hestan, “you’re up Hestan.”

  Hestan scoffed, “Not a chance, Vigo. Not now. I’ll take Leif.”

  Leif snorted but flipped his wooden sword back up.

  Vigo seated himself and looked up at them expectantly, as if he hadn’t almost slit Magnus’s throat. “Very well, but he uses magic until I say otherwise.”

  “Simply not fair.”