Standing Up to Bullies

All those years of teaching Zac to only turn to violence as a last resort. My lessons about controlling his anger, and that hurting others was not the answer. All of it was undone in one single moment, when I struck a blow against Eon’s soldiers for harming my little boy.

The cruel soldier who’d been torturing Zac spun around and deflected my sword on his iron-edge, the fuller now aglow with pulsing, red light. When our blades connected there was a loud crackling sound, and when they parted, arcs of white and red lightning leapt between them.

“You bastards!” I roared. “You cut my boy?”

The cruel soldier and I circled each other, weapons pointed outward, ready for the next strike.

“He tried to steal from me,” said the soldier with a sneer.

“Avery!” Piers cried, “Just let the boy go! We’re not supposed to start fights with the locals!”

The sarcastic smirk on Avery’s leathery face was all the answer I needed. I lunged again, driving my sword toward his heart. Avery deflected again and smacked me in the nose with the back of his fist.

I staggered away, my nose still sore from when Zac kicked it.

Avery twirled his sword in one hand, a stream of scarlet following the spinning blade as he took a few steps back from me. The smug expression was gone, replaced by seething rage. “You just tried to kill me... It’s been too long since I’ve carved up a savage.” He raised his weapon above his head and a beam of red light extended from the blade, doubling the sword’s length. With one swipe, he brought the ray down at my head.

I raised my silver-edge with the flat faced toward his beam. A disc of white light appeared in front of my sword, a shield which defended me from his attack. No sooner had his beam bounced off my shield, then the disc flickered.

“Ha!” he flourished his weapon again. “Looks like someone didn’t leave his silver-edge in the moonlight.”

I needed to end the fight quickly, or my weapon would run out of power and I’d be defenseless against his iron-edge’s magical properties.

Already desperate, I charged at him with my flickering shield in front of me. He raised his iron-edge in defense, forming a red disc to block me. Once the shields connected, I pushed at such an angle as to force his guard away from his face.

My knuckles avenged my nose as they cracked his jaw. He fell back, and I was certain that a blow that hard must have knocked a few teeth loose.

His shield vanished and he slashed at my neck.

Our weapons clashed together once more, sparks and arcs of white and red electricity flying out from every ferocious impact. With every blow I drove him further and further back, toward the wall of the nearest house. If I could force him into a corner I’d have him.

Another step toward the corner, and I pressed him harder. With every blow he fell closer and closer to my trap, then I’d avenge Zac’s blood seven-fold.

But just as he neared the corner, he slipped past me, kicked me in the back, and I found myself trapped in that very spot.

Avery’s laughter and stabs were equally as wild, like a man who had lost all sense of reason, mercy, or fear. Frantic to defend myself, I deflected blow after blow, causing his red blade to cut holes in the wall behind me (which I’m sure those inside did not appreciate).

“Enough! Weapons down!” called out a froggy female voice. “Now!”

Avery leapt away from me and threw his sword on the ground. In an instant I saw why. The woman in gray with straw-like hair I’d seen before stood with her spear pointed at the two of us, the head glowing with golden light. Behind her stood ten soldiers with their iron-edges ignited and poised to strike us down should we fail to cooperate. Each wore the same gray uniform as their leader.

I dropped my silver-edge and raised both hands, not wanting to risk their wrath for even a second longer.

“Captain Marth,” said Avery, his hands raised as mine were, “this scum came at me.”

The woman in gray glared at him, her lips curled in disgust. “Private Vinter says you provoked him by wounding his son.” She turned to the two soldiers who still held Zac by his arms. “You two, release him immediately.”

“Yes, Captain,” said both men.

As soon as they let go of Zac’s arms, my son kicked them both in their shins and ran off. I’d expected him to run all the way home to tell Mr. Benji what had happened to me, but he stopped just on the other side of the street and turned to watch me.

Captain Marth kept her spear pointed between the two of us, silently daring us to move a muscle. With her head she gestured to one of her ten subordinates, who sheathed his sword and produced two pairs of manacles.

“We’re taking you both into custody,” said Captain Marth. “Until we straighten this out. The Consul will decide your fate.”