The Princess and the Bear - Mette Ivie Harrison [88]
Chala, however, had no such choice. She practiced sword fighting with him in the courtyard of the palace and Richon loved to watch her. It was as if she had gained back some of what she had lost in losing her magic: the ferociousness and focus that she had as a hound and the sheer grace of her movements.
Often there was quite a crowd to see Chala best Richon, as she did all too frequently. And Richon heard there were more than a few women who were asking to join his royal guard—or even the army. That was when he felt that his people had truly come to see Chala as he did, as one of them, but more.
It was on one of those sword-fighting mornings when a man galloped forward on a horse, dressed finely in livery, and announced himself as a servant to Lord Kaylar, who had once been one of Richon’s companions in drinking and hunting.
Richon had refused many other “friends” from the past who had written to ask for a return to the king’s favor. But when Richon opened Lord Kaylar’s letter, it was a challenge to a battle to the death, to prove who should be rightful king of Elolira.
“What shall I say to my lord, Kaylar?” asked the messenger.
Richon could not see how he could refuse a challenge from one of his own noblemen. “I accept,” he said.
“It is for you to choose the place and time,” said the messenger.
Richon nodded. “One week hence. In this courtyard. At noon.” The men around him cheered.
The messenger held himself very still.
“And the weapons?” asked Richon. That was Lord Kaylar’s choice.
“Magic,” said the messenger.
“Very well, then, magic it is,” said Richon. He had never seen a battle of magic before, though he had read of them in books that Jonner had recently shown him. It was an ancient tradition.
The messenger promptly mounted his horse and went galloping back in the direction from which he had come.
“Lord Kaylar?” asked Chala later, when the two of them were alone together.
“Yes,” said Richon. “Why?” She couldn’t know of the man, could she?
“He is the one,” said Chala.
“Which one?”
She only had to say one word. “Crown.”
Richon hissed, as the invitation suddenly made sense to him. Lord Kaylar had been the sort of man who attacked where he knew he would win. If he had been angry at Richon, he would attack him through his horse.
Poor Crown.
What did Lord Kaylar intend to do now? Richon suspected the man must have magic himself, but perhaps not much. In order to maim a horse as he did Crown, he could not feel much of the animal’s pain.
So why would he choose to battle with magic?
Did he think to prove that Richon did not have much of it, either? Or prove that Richon was a coward if he refused to kill a man with it?
Doubts tumbling in his mind, Richon did not sleep well for the next week. But when the day came, he was waiting in the courtyard as Lord Kaylar arrived, complete with his entourage. There was a banner-carrying young page at the front, in the bright colors of blue and gold that were Lord Kaylar’s. Then came the men-at-arms, who rode on warhorses. There were six of them.
Then Lord Kaylar himself, astride the largest horse of all. And after that, two carriages full of his wife and her ladies-in-waiting, who had come to watch the “sport” of seeing Lord Kaylar attempt to kill the king with his magic.
“My lord,” said Richon with a nod.
Lord Kaylar stared ahead coldly.
Then Richon put out his hands so that his own people would step back and give them space. When they were far enough away, he began to change into a bear.
He looked at Lord Kaylar. It seemed his magic was taking him much longer to use. Well, the bear would wait for it, then. He would not wish to be called unfair.
He stepped back.
And saw the man reach for a sword thrown toward him by one of his men.
The bear had no chance to see how an animal without a weapon would fare in a battle against a man with one. Chala raced between Lord Kaylar and Richon and struck Lord Kaylar through the heart