The Runaway King

“You wouldn’t want to be king of my country,” I said.



“Why is that?”



“Well, you’re rather fat. I doubt you’d fit onto my throne.”



He laughed. “I appreciate your concern, but it will do until a new throne can be made for me. Now, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a young princess in Carthya who is obligated to marry whoever wears the crown. I hear she’s very pretty.”



“And you’re very ugly,” I said. “Have mercy on your children. Even the princess’s beauty won’t compensate for you.”



“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”



“Then what now?” I cocked my head, the only defiance I could offer from this position. “Because you should know that I will never give up my country, and certainly not to a pig like you.”



“And next you’ll say that I’ll have to kill you to do it, right?” Devlin grinned. “Let me save you the words. I have no intention of killing you . . . yet. Jaron, you will give me the location of that cave, and you will give up the throne, or I will kill that girl kneeling beside you.”



At the nod of his head, two pirates lifted Imogen to her feet. She screamed in terror and looked back at me.



I tried to stand but pirates were on either side of me, clamping me down. “You are still bound by your code,” I yelled. “She’s committed no crime. You can’t touch her!”



“She lied to me when she came,” he said. “That negates the code. Prepare her.”



I continued to struggle. “You are the ultimate coward. Deal with me, Devlin. Not her!”



“Gregor was right,” Devlin said, looping the whip again. “You’d do anything for this girl.”



Pirates tied each of Imogen’s hands on opposite ends of a wide board they had lowered from a tree. Slots were carved into each end for her wrists. They’d prevent her from moving too much as they whipped her.



By this time I had worked a hand free of the ropes behind my back. I stretched out a foot to trip a pirate behind me and rose up to hit another in the jaw. I ducked the attempt of a third man to grab me and tried for his sword. But before I could reach it, several more pirates had me again. One punched me in the back, forcing the air from my lungs. Before I could recover, another two got my arms pinched behind me.



“Devlin, I challenge you.” I still gasped for air and my voice was dry and hoarse. “I challenge you as king of the pirates.”



Devlin shook his head. “You have no right to a challenge. You lied to me to come here.”



Technically, I hadn’t lied, but this was no time for the fine points of that debate. I pulled one arm free long enough to reveal the pirate branding. “Whatever I did to get here, I am a pirate. I have every right to challenge you, and you are obligated by the code to answer it.”



“All right,” Devlin said, finally lowering his whip. “Give this boy-king his sword. I accept your challenge. Prepare to die.”



The fact is that I wasn’t prepared to die. Not only would I be dead, but even worse, it would prove everyone right who had called me a fool for coming here. Besides, it would give Gregor the last laugh, and I had no intention of dying and allowing him that satisfaction. However, I assumed that Devlin probably had no plans to die either. One of us would have to lose. I hoped it was him.



The pirates formed a rowdy and uneven circle around us. Imogen was left outside the circle, but I preferred that. If things did go badly, I didn’t want her to have to see it. I mumbled my wish for the devils to use their mischief against Devlin, rather than me. It was a fair request. The devils had spent a lot of time on me lately.



Agor tossed my sword into the ring, requiring me to dive close to Devlin to retrieve it. I leapt at it and quickly rolled away from him. He stabbed at the ground and caught the back of my shirt, which snagged for a second before I tore free.



Devlin had punched his sword so deeply into the ground that he needed both hands to tug it out. I used that opportunity to slash his ankle. He yelped and brought his sword up at me as it came loose. I blocked it with my sword, though I had to roll on my back to do it. When he reared up for a second swipe, I kicked hard at his knees, knocking him backward.



Around us, the crowd was cheering for Devlin. I didn’t detect anyone calling my name, at least, not without some wish for my death attached to it. No big surprise there.



While Devlin stumbled away, I jumped to my feet and ran for him. He recovered and we locked swords. It was obvious that he was far stronger than I. I could block his blows but only with considerable effort, and mine seemed to have little more impact than if I’d tossed feathers at him.



However, I had the advantage of being a smaller target and was much quicker on my feet, so it was easier to dodge his hits and swipes. I was also younger, so I decided to make him move as much as possible, to tire him. Gradually, that seemed to be working. His sword still struck mine ferociously, but his reaction time was slowing. I used the gaps to work in extra hits.



He attacked to my right, which I blocked, but it knocked me off balance. He used the moment to switch hands, and so I charged forward, piercing his shoulder. Devlin cried out and fell back. With his weaker arm and with his injury bleeding profusely, I finally gained the advantage.



I increased the speed of my sword, forcing him back against the crowd, which had now largely fallen silent. They gave him no leeway and for the first time it occurred to me that there might be several who liked the idea of losing Devlin as their king. However, that didn’t mean any of them wanted me to have the job.



Devlin dropped his sword and I exhaled, relieved that this fight was about to be over. But his other hand swung at me from behind his back, and I ducked when I realized what he was holding.



“That’s my knife!” I scowled, insulted that he had attempted to kill me using my own weapon. I hammered his arm with the flat edge of my blade. His reflexes reacted and the knife fell. He started toward it but I kicked his thigh, knocking him to the ground.



Devlin put an arm in the air for mercy and slowly rose to his knees. I kept my sword at his neck as I crouched low enough to pick up my knife. “Thanks for not making me steal this. That was going to be a lot of work.”



Devlin bowed his head. “Sage . . . Jaron, spare my life, I beg you.”



“If you want to live, then release Imogen first.”



“Devlin has no authority to release her, even to save his own life,” Agor said, stepping forward. “She still must answer for violating the pirate code.”



“But I can save you, Jaron,” Devlin grunted, and held his wounded shoulder. “If you kill me, my pirates will never accept you as their king. From the instant I fall, your rule will be challenged by one pirate after another until your strength eventually fails. So if you give me my life, I’ll give you yours. I’ll let you go free, and the pirates will never come against you again.”



“If this is a sincere offer, tell me the names of anyone else in my court with any connection to you.”



Devlin growled, but I kept the point of my blade at his neck. To encourage the conversation, I gave him a scratch and he said, “There’s no one else. After Conner’s failure, Gregor was our only remaining connection to your court.”



I withdrew the blade slightly. “And do I have your word on this?”