Kyen seemed to sink where he stood.
Adeya paled. With a pat, she directed the warriors to lower her to the ground.
Gennen’s bushy eyebrows drew tight together.
The fiend caladrius winged a circle to alight on a ruined wall. It settled itself, grinning down on them.
In the silence that fell, Ennyen walked to the middle of the circle.
“Blademaster Gennen, you will witness?” he said, his eyes not leaving Kyen.
“I will witness,” said Gennen.
Adeya started forward, but Inen and Wynne barred her way with their arms.
“Don’t interfere,” said Wynne. “These are matters of Avanna. Our kingdom, not yours.”
She gripped her amulet with both hands and watched, her aquamarine eyes bright. All the Blades behind them looked on.
Kyen, with a slump in his shoulders, with his head hung, walked out to meet Ennyen with every eye on him. He stopped just out of blade range.
“If you want the throne, you can have it,” he said.
“The throne cannot be given, only taken. The Blades of Avanna will respect nothing less,” replied Ennyen, drawing his sword. “Avanna is only honor-bound to the Blade who slays the heir.”
“I will not fight you, Ennyen.”
“Then, you will die.” He flashed forward, closing the space between them in a blink, but Kyen only watched. The black blade glinted moments before it plunged into his body. It stabbed through Kyen’s rib cage and punched out through his back.
Adeya covered a cry that escaped her mouth.
Kyen, jolting back a step, steadied himself, his jaw clenched tight.
Ennyen’s frown deepened as he stared Kyen in the eyes. He whipped the blade free, flinging Kyen face-first into the cobblestones. His body hit the ground with a smack.
“Kyen!” Adeya started for him, but Wynne grabbed her wrist and yanked her back. She struggled against the swordswoman’s hold. “Kyen!”
Gennen wore a grim set to his jaw, the light having left his eyes.
Kyen’s arm slid along the ground for a moment as if he meant to get up. But then it fell still, and he moved no more.
After observing him for a moment longer, Ennyen stepped back and rose from his fighting stance. He whipped Kyen’s blood from his blade with a flourish. Taking the edge of his cloak, he cleaned off what specks remained with great attention.
“Kyen.” Adeya choked over a sob. Tears rose to her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She collapsed against Wynne’s arms crying.
Ennyen stepped over Kyen’s body. Sheathing his sword, he addressed them, “Are you witness, blademaster?”
“I am witness,” Gennen sighed. Without feeling, he proclaimed, “All hail Ennyen, son of Madiryen of the House of Dearthart, the King of Avanna.”
“All hail, the King of Avanna.” The Blades echoed him.
Gennen clapped a fist to his chest and moved to kneel, but before he could lower a knee, a moan drew everyone’s attention.
Ennyen looked back.
Kyen’s arm shifted again on the ground, drawing underneath him.
“No,” he whimpered, curling up on his hands and knees. “Don’t… Stop it!”
Gennen’s eyes grew wide, and Adeya looked up from her tears.
Ennyen’s dark gaze narrowed.
Kyen’s body jolted as if struck. He gasped and tensed, nearly thrown flat to the cobblestones. With trembling arms, he raised himself up on his hands. All at once the tension left him, and he gasped. He hung his head. His back rose and fell with huffs that slowed and steadied until at last he drew in one deep breath. His fingers curled into a fist. Slamming it against the cobblestones, he screamed. Facedown into the pavement, his whole body contorted as the sound tore through him. His voice turned ragged as it echoed through the ruins.
Adeya turned the color of paper, her grip on the amulet as white as her face.
Kyen’s breath ran out. His voice died into silence. It left him hunched over himself. His fist flattened out into fingers that pressed against the ground.
All at once, he shoved himself up to his feet. Staggering backwards a few steps, he caught his balance. Kyen faced them, his own blood staining the front of his tunic, his fists clenched at his sides. A haunted glare in Kyen’s stormy gray eyes searched the circle until it found Ennyen. His face darkened.
Ennyen hefted his blade as if thinking.
Kyen coughed, gagged, spat out blood. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
“I see I’ll have to try that again,” said Ennyen, unlatching his cloak. “My hand must slay you for the throne to be mine, but if your arcangel pulls a healing trick like that again, I will let Jezeru have his way with you both.” He tilted his head towards the fiend caladrius.
Its grin widened as its faceless nub turned towards Kyen.
Kyen’s trembling stilled. His face hardened into an black expression unfamiliar to him. His eyes never left Ennyen.
Ennyen slung his cloak aside. All at once he launched forward. A blur of dark limbs and flurry of black steel slammed into Kyen before the cloak could flutter to the ground. Not a single blow landed. The blade whooshed past Kyen on every side, pushing him backwards, but he ducked and dodged and sidestepped and danced around it. Avoiding the blade like the wind, he dashed backwards. Kyen suddenly slipped by Ennyen, tripping him with a kick to the ankle, sending him stumbling, almost falling, face-first to the pavement. He sprinted for the laundry area, and Ennyen whipped around.
Kyen veered amongst the cauldrons, heading for the common hall and yanking clothes lines down behind him. The posts and racks toppled into Ennyen’s way, but he slashed them aside as they fell and leapt through, not slowed for a moment.
He turned to face Ennyen, still hurrying backwards as the swordsman chased him onto the portico. He slashed out, but Kyen dodged behind a pillar. Ennyen feinted first one way then another, Kyen jerking back and forth trying to anticipate him.
With a yell, Ennyen hacked into the pillar with a hard swing. The black blade bounced off the rock with a clang, and splinters burst up through the pillar. Kyen bolted, and Ennyen chased him as the pillar crumbled. A section of the portico roof collapsed in a spray of stone at their heels.
Pelting back towards the middle of the circle, Kyen headed for Ennyen’s fallen cloak. Ennyen launched at him again, but Kyen slid to a stop, snatched up the cloak and lunged into Ennyen’s attack, the blade grazing past him. Surprise registered for an instant on Ennyen’s face. Kyen, whipping the cloak over Ennyen’s blade, wrapped it in the crook of his arm, grabbed the crossguard, and slammed the palm of his hand into Ennyen’s face. He tried to lean out of the way, but Kyen’s hand still glanced off his cheek, unbalancing him. Kyen grabbed the side of his head and slung Ennyen sideways into the ground. Whipping the black blade out of the cloak, he flipped, grabbed it with both hands and raised it high over Ennyen. With a yell he stabbed down the moment Ennyen rolled to his back.
His eyes widened.
The blade froze a finger’s breadth from his neck.
The two swordsman stared at one another: Kyen, panting hard, the black blade in both hands, pinning Ennyen to the ground with a knee on his chest; Ennyen, taking a few deep breaths, lay immobilized. The cloak fluttered to the ground behind them.
Kyen glared down at Ennyen for a long moment. His hands twisted on the hilt of the dark sword, every muscle in him taut.
Ennyen waited, but when nothing happened a small smile rose to his face.
The point of the dark blade began to tremble in Kyen’s grip.
“Still can’t do it, can you?” said Ennyen.
Kyen staggered backwards to his feet as if struck.
Hopping up to a crouch, Ennyen rose slowly.
“I won’t kill you,” said Kyen, still breathing hard. “There are few enough true Blades of Avanna left without your death, Ennyen. Our people need you, they need your sword. Stop this.”
“Excuses,” he replied. “You’ll never be more than a spineless throwback.”
He lunged. Kyen slashed out to force him backwards. The strike lacked power, lacked speed, and Ennyen sidestepped easily. He ducked in as a black flash, entering under Kyen’s guard for a fraction of a second. Kyen barely swung the sword free of his grasping hand and stumbled backwards.
Ennyen stalked around him.
“I will not kill you,” said Kyen.
“Will not?” A dark smile rose to Ennyen’s face. “Or can not?”
Every muscle in Kyen’s body tensed up. He lowered his head, his hand clenching and unclenching on the sword hilt.
“You couldn’t kill the thief either. What use is a Blade that cannot kill?”
With a yell, Kyen hefted the sword. Ennyen tensed and made to back away but Kyen hurled it as hard as he could. It skittered across the cobblestones and disappeared over the steps. The ring of it clattering down filled the air as they glared at one another.
The smile vanished from Ennyen’s face.
“If you want the throne, take it. But I will not fight you any more,” said Kyen.
Ennyen straightened up from his fighting stance.
“The Blades will escort you to the entrance,” said Kyen. “Don’t come back.” He turned and strode away.
The Blades of Avanna watched, breathless and still. None of them moved.
“Who’s going to follow you?” Ennyen’s smile returned. “Kyen of Crossblade?”
The warriors stood by and watched Kyen walk past. Halting, he faced them with eyes as hard and sharp as steel. “Do as I say!”
The Blades all looked at one another; no one moved.
“Do as he says,” Gennen growled. “Escort Ennyen out of the hold.”
Inen stepped forward. Oda and a few other Blades joined him. They surrounded Ennyen and ushered him towards the steps. Ennyen cast one last dark smile at Kyen before he allowed himself to be led away.