The Prince And The Pagan

Chapter 2: Know Your Enemy

-Cole-

“Come on, son, remember: know your enemy.”

My father tossed the wooden training sword back to me as I got up from the ground. He smiled, swinging his own sword with the confidence of a clear winner.

“Know your enemy. What does that even mean? You never explained it to me!” I said, feeling defeated. I was tired of losing. I just wanted to win, even if just once.

“Well, what do you think it means?” he asked with a teasing smile.

“I don’t know... Try to figure out what your opponent will do next?”

“Well, is he your opponent or your enemy? There is a difference,” my father told me.

“What difference? I’m fighting him either way.”

“That’s true,” he replied. “But your enemy isn’t just trying to kill you. They’re trying to destroy you. They want to take away everything you care about. You need to find their weakness.”

“But you don’t have a weakness!”

He laughed and stepped closer. “We all have weaknesses,” he said. “That’s why it’s important to know both your own and your enemy’s. Know your own to protect it, and know theirs to defeat them.”

“I always thought you said that once you know their weaknesses, you can’t defeat them.”

“Not exactly, Cole,” he replied, lowering his sword. “I said once you know their weaknesses, you can’t kill them.”

“Then how am I supposed to win?”

For some reason, a dark look crossed my father’s face. While he enjoyed teaching me and often shared stories with my sister and me before bed about his experiences, I knew there were things he kept hidden. Some stories remained untold.

“What does winning mean to you?” he inquired, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

“It means... to win,” I replied, struggling to find the right words.

“Yes, but how do you win? By killing your enemy or by simply defeating them? You can win a battle without ending their lives,” he explained.

“Showing mercy?”

“Exactly.”

“But then they’ll just try to kill you. Why show them mercy if they want you dead?”

“Blood has a price. It always has,” he said. “If you spill it, it will take a piece of you. Remember that, my son.”

He pointed at me with his sword before extending his free hand. “I think that’s enough training for today.”

I sighed and handed him my sword. He took it and walked over to a small wooden chest, placing it among the other training weapons. He always insisted on training me himself, even though I could train with the other knights.

But he believed there were lessons that only a king could teach, though I wasn’t quite sure what those were yet. After all, I had just turned twelve.

“Come,” he insisted. “Let’s go find your mother and sister. They must be in town helping the sick.”

He walked toward the closed doors leading out of the large training room, but I lingered a moment longer, looking down at my feet. The wooden floor was stained with dark spots from sweat and a little blood. He always talked about knowing your enemy. But why? You just needed to outsmart them to defeat them. Why waste time getting to know them?

“Cole?” I turned to see my father waiting in the doorway. His gray eyes, which my sister had inherited, studied me with a look of concern. I quickly composed myself and walked over to him. He smiled, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“Well done today, son,” he said.

I didn’t understand why this memory resurfaced as I closed my eyes and prepared for the upcoming fight, just as he had taught me. It had taken me a day and a half to catch up to them, but I had finally found their camp.

They were gathered around a fire, their hoods down so I could see their face tattoos and bald heads. All were men, though I knew the pagans had many women who practiced the red magic as well. I tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword.

They will pay, I promised myself as I watched from behind a large oak tree. My heart pounded in my chest, and my breathing came fast and heavy. I tried to move as quietly as possible, edging away from my hiding spot. But just as I made some progress, one of them turned his head and spotted me.

“For my father! The king!” I yelled.

I charged at them while they were still seated, their weapons lying beside them. They scrambled to their feet as I reached the first one and struck him down. He let out a piercing scream just as another attacker charged at me with an axe raised. Now, only four remained.

I stepped back to avoid his swing, then slashed him across the back. He let out a small scream and collapsed, just as my sword clashed with another opponent’s. This one was larger and stronger, pushing me back before swinging his sword at me. He almost struck me, but I managed to leap back in time to counter with my own blade. He was faster than I expected and met my strike with his own.

“Filthy pagan!” I roared, managing to push him back.

He stumbled, struggling to regain his footing. I charged and drove my sword through him, watching him fall to the ground. I turned, ready to face the next attacker, but as I came face-to-face with him, he blew a cloud of black ash directly into my face.

I gasped, feeling an immediate choking sensation as my body began to paralyze. I had no idea what this was, but I couldn’t move or barely breathe. The two remaining pagans grinned as they watched me struggle. They circled around me like hungry wolves, one of them picking up his dead companion’s sword.

“If it isn’t the mighty prince,” he said mockingly. “You came after the wrong ones.”

I tried to speak but couldn’t.

“You really thought you could take us on alone?” he laughed.

“Pathetic,” the other sneered.

“Arrogant,” the first one added.

“Stupid!” the second one spat. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, prince!”

“The king is dead,” the first one laughed. “Which makes you... king!”

“And like his grandfather, he has a thirst for blood. Our blood.”

I had never met my grandfather. All I knew was that he had died, and my mother hadn’t seemed particularly saddened by his passing. But maybe that was because he had imprisoned her in a monastery for years before my father had rescued her.

“You’re a fool for coming after us,” the first one sneered.

He had an ugly scar that ran through his lips—or maybe it was a deformity. I couldn’t quite tell, as I was too focused on trying to breathe.

“We serve the God of Death, and you, mighty prince... will die!” he declared.

He pulled his sword back, and despite my desperate attempts to move, I was paralyzed. As he thrust his sword through me, I tried to groan or even shift, but the paralysis held me firmly. The pain was overwhelming, and all I wanted was for it to end.

The pagan who had run me through grinned at the pain and fear clearly etched on my face. He obviously relished the sight, pulling back his sword before shifting his weight and kicking me away.

As I stumbled backward, I finally regained some mobility and took a few steps before the ground beneath me suddenly sloped downward. I tumbled and rolled down the hill until…

Splash!

I plunged into icy water, and as I sank deeper, I found myself unable to keep afloat. I was losing strength... dying. Darkness began to close in around me, swallowing up the light.