The Prince of Aragon

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE TRAILER

Novak was the first one to free his sword from that perpendicular deadlock position and did not waste a single second before throwing a powerful cut in the direction of the Emperor. The latter, being on his guard, parried effortlessly but was unable to riposte.

The Prince of Aragon was not giving him an inch. Fighting against the man was a way to unleash all his pent-up frustrations that he’d bottled up for the past sixteen years. Every strike felt like some sort of retribution for all the atrocities that Salvatore had committed, so Novak held nothing back.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

Salvatore responded to his every cut with an equally powerful parry of his own, demonstrating premium defensive techniques. If Novak had underestimated his sword skills before, getting a firsthand spectacle of his talent drove away any misgivings.

However, Novak was stronger than him in every way, and that salient fact was visible in the frustrated manner the ruthless Emperor’s jaw clenched tightly to block the attacks. Heady with the power, Novak for once forgot about his mission, as he continued to relentlessly surge forward to wound his opponent.

The two men closed, with Novak cut towards Salvatore which the latter parried, but Novak transformed the cut into a thrust, driving his enemy around the ring, never giving an opportunity to gain his balance.

Salvatore had no other option that to parry desperately, trying to counter, but Novak continued without yielding, not allowing the merest scope for riposte.

Novak’s sword finally slipped past the Emperor’s defense, as he missed turning his head in time and the sword tore at the skin on his face. The crowd gasped, and Salvatore stumbled in shock and fury at the sight of blood.

Blocking the next attack, the Emperor parried high, managing to point his sword in Novak’s face. Surprised, he leapt backwards, clouting the Dà Vita’s blade aside.

A sadistic gleam shone in the Emperor’s eyes, as he brought the tip of his sword around, as he attacked from another angle. Caught off-guard, Novak retreated out of distance – barely, the tip passing very close to his chest.

Taking advantage of his unguarded moment, Salvatore surged his sword around in a tight circle, repeating another attack by aggressively stepping forward, aiming for his head, which Novak dodged right in time.

Another loud gasp sounded from around, but Novak was immune to the noise. There was something off about the Emperor – the match had taken another turn. It was no longer a friendly battle but had become a quest for blood.

Not giving Novak time to recuperate, the Emperor gushed towards him again with another upward cut in a harsh attack at unnatural speed. Caught off-guard by that rapid attack, Novak took a few steps back to parry as he was nonetheless prepared.

That time, the Emperor spurted forward with a high twist, the sword held upward in the guard position as he landed upon Novak to land the final fatal blow, and the Prince of Aragon peeped at the ruby to catch the number, before jumping back at the last second with the sword missing its target.

For the first time since the match, Novak smiled as he whirled around in a three-sixty-degree landing with his knees on the ground, keeping his balance by the hand on his sword plunged in the soil. Eyes cast downwards, he allowed himself a second of enjoying his victory before standing up again by holding the corpse down with his foot and pulled. Gaining his balance, he was able to parry just in time to stop another upward cut from Salvatore.

It was now time to end this match.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward, preparing to deliver a potentially deadly overhead attack on Salvatore with purposeful intent. As anticipated, the monarch parried with the forte of his sword. Without missing a beat, Novak proceeded to strike another similar attack, but he kept the Emperor’s legs in his peripheral vision, and at the last minute changing the sword’s direction downwards to aim for the foremost leg, causing the sovereign to fall on the ground.

Having him at a disadvantage, Novak held his sword at the King’s throat, and the latter looked back with seething rage. He didn’t seem to appreciate being humiliated in front of the whole palace.

Too bad, Novak thought remorselessly. That man never gave a damn before showcasing innocents’ deaths like vulgar trophies.

“Move back!” his Majesty hollered in fury.

Unwilling to fluster the man further, Novak promptly stepped back with a bowed curtsy. “I’m sorry, your Majesty. I got carried away in the heat of the moment,” he apologized quickly, knowing that Salvatore would loath to have lost against a commoner.

“You’re lucky I got injured,” he replied, touching the cut skin on his face with the tip of his finger. His cobalt eyes gleamed like two hypnotic specters candidly displaying his displeasure, and promising retribution.

“Of course, my Lord,” acknowledged Novak in utmost humility, and he risked a glance towards the Princess who was staring at them with her chin raised in a haughty fashion. “My Lady,” Novak bowed to her curbing his disdain this time. “My apologies. It was my honor to have won this battle.”

Everybody knew it had never been a question of honor.

Although, she harrumphed in response, Novak could catch the gleam of admiration in her eyes. He watched with a stoic expression as the Emperor took his daughter’s hands and marched away with the guards at his trail. It was the first time that Emperor Salvatore failed to evoke the grandeur and glory which usually happened in his wake.

Novak couldn’t care less - he had managed to kill two birds with one stone. The princess was impressed, and he’d seen the number of years on the sword.

Twenty-four thousand, five hundred and four. It sounded a lot.

For the moment, he was wrought with exhaustion, and he didn’t have the energy to do any more revenge plotting. But, he yearned to share the good news with the others. Catching a glimpse of Cameron among the crowd, he waved towards him.

Isla came running in his direction, and he caught her in an embrace when she flung herself against his chest.

“I’m okay,” he reassured, feeling a bout of affection for the woman in his arms, all antagonism towards her forgotten as he’d achieved his objectives. She was so fierce conquering hero that he tended to forget how sensitive she was.

Her eyes shone like the gleaming sky as she pushed her head back to roam her gaze over him. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

He grinned imply. “I didn’t”

Isla seemed to catch her breath at his mischievous retort, but she held herself back from replying, and took a few steps back. “That was so foolish of you. He would have killed you,” she repeated again with a weak voice. “All for nothing,” she supplied, here eyes locking with his to send him a message.

Cameron and Connor lingered behind them, and Novak glanced up at their defeated faces with a hidden smile. They were feeling remorseful for not having succeeded in catching a glimpse on the sword.

Novak maintained the suspense and signaled them to follow him. “Let’s go,” he simply said, and the others obliged.

“Twenty-four thousand, five hundred and four,” he announced as soon as they entered the sanctuary of his room.

“What?!!” the three exclaimed in perfect unison.

“Twenty-four thousand, five hundred and four,” he repeated mechanically, being deliberately obtuse, and enjoyed the fleeting second when they all realized what he meant. Connor’s jaw unceremoniously dropped open, Cameron smiled in his usual lopsided way while Isla’s eyes popped out, emphasizing the blue color as her irises expanded with shock.

“You go the number?”

“Is this what we think it is?”

“Get out of here!”

Their belated reactions rained simultaneously, and Novak enjoying their stupefaction took his own sweet time to put them out of their miseries. He was too elated for once to care about the consequences of having locked horns with the Salvatores.

“I saw it just before he thought he had me at his mercy. It flashed just like mine did when he took the guard’s position. It was twenty-four thousand, five hundred and four.”

“Ohhh, you did it!” exclaimed Isla with her hands to her mouth. “I’ll never doubt you again. I promise. You’re our hero!” She rushed for another warm hug by hooking her arms around his neck, and Novak had to admit that he liked her warm body cuddled against his.

Or maybe it was the aftermath of having won against that atrocious man? It seemed to him like it was the first time since years that he was allowing his emotions free reign. Tonight was meant for celebration, he would worry about repercussions later.

“Wait a minute. Wait a damn minute. How come the Emperor hasn’t noticed that his life has diminished?” Cameron asked pragmatically.

“What do you mean?” Isla frowned down upon him.

“If we’ve stolen his lives, then he must have noticed that his life’s counter has diminished. Do you think he knows?” Cameron elaborated with emphasis. “Do you think he wanted to challenge you in that battle to test your skills?”

Frowning in turn, Novak released Isla and contemplated the possibility with a heavy heart. “I’m not too sure. I was the one to call him our for a battle. But there was something bizarre in the way he fought, like he was in a trance or something. At some point in the game, the pace changed, and I felt that it was no longer a friendly match. It’s just a hunch though.”

“Whatever,” Isla concluded. “We need to double the precautions. With the daughter in here, it will get harder to execute our murder plans.” She frowned.

“Twenty-four thousand, five hundred and four,” Cameron mused pensively. “Cart, you originally had sixty-three lives remaining, and now you have five hundred and four. That means we have stolen four hundred and forty-one lives from him.”

“That’s it?” Connor exclaimed in abject defeat. “Three murders only to steal four hundred something lives while he still has twenty-four thousand lives remaining? How many more of those damned murders do we have to endure?”

Cameron raised a hand to stop him. “Wait. So, if you add four hundred and forty-one to twenty-four thousand, five hundred and four, it becomes twenty-four thousand, nine hundred and forty-five.”

“I’m afraid I don’t get your point,” Novak was saying, his frown deepening as he tried to follow his brother’s reasoning.

“That means that the number of lives we’ve stolen so far is insignificant. If you compare four hundred to twenty-four thousand, it must have gone unnoticed. Salvatore is not a man to tolerate that kind of treachery – he would already have ordered a m******e if he’d felt something wrong.”

Novak nodded. “That’s more likely. I too feel that Salvatore is not one to play games with us. If he finds us out we won’t be alive to tell.”

“So, how many murders do we have to commit exactly? If three murders equal to four hundred lives, how long will it take to reach twenty-four thousand?!” Connor asked in an outraged voice.

“It’s not going to work like that,” Isla explained. She fetched a papyrus along with an ink pen and started to write down the calculations. “Okay so Carter had sixty-three lives originally, after third murder it becomes five hundred and four, and the Emperor’s twenty-four thousand five hundred and four. On the fourth murder, we steal the same number of lives – five hundred and four. Carter’s becomes one thousand and eight, and if we remove the five hundred and four from the Emperor’s, then he becomes exactly twenty-four thousand.”

Connor shook his head dejectedly. “I still can’t see when we will exhaust all his life. We’re taking baby steps.”

“Wait!” Isla ordered tyrannically. “It’s an exponential growth – it will get bigger with time. So the fifth murder, Carter becomes…,” she started to do some multiplications on the thick material, and came up with another number. “…two thousand and sixteen, and the Emperor’s twenty-two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-two.”

Even if he considered himself smart, Novak had lost track of her calculations. Isla, along with being a great warrior was also sharp-witted and really really good at arithmetic.

“So, on the sixth murder, Cart’s becomes four thousand and thirty-two, and the Emperor twenty-thousand nine hundred and seventy-six.”

“He’s still marginally higher than us. We’re already at the sixth murder, how do you reckon us killing him so many times?” Connor felt compelled to comment.

Isla ignored him. “On the seventh murder, Carter’s lives becomes eight thousand and sixty-four against sixteen thousand, nine hundred and forty-four for the Emperor. We’re getting close,” she replied suavely before continuing her calculations.

“Murder eight, Carter becomes sixteen thousand, one hundred and twenty-eight versus eight thousand, eight hundred and eight for the Emperor. You see? The more lives Carter has, the more it will decrease from the Emperor’s.”

Connor nodded. “Are there more?”

“Yes. I guess we’d have to do one last because our attempt is not having more lives than him but having him have no life remaining. On the ninth murder, Carter becomes thirty-two thousand, two hundred and fifty-six and the Emperor will have…,” she paused with a frown, and all three stared at her with bated breath. “…it’s too complicated for me. I think it’s a negative number which means below zero.”

“Below zero?” Novak repeated. “That means he’s dead?”

“Uhuh,” Isla frowned again at the numbers she’d scribbled on her papyrus. “Give me a second, let me check again.”

Novak, Cameron and Connor hovered over her while she pursed her lip in concentration, and finally looked at them with dead certainty. “That’s it! The Emperor dies after the ninth murder.”

There was a moment of tense silence among them before Connor exploded. “How do you expect us to plan nine murders without getting caught. I thought that this was a one-off thing. So much forethought and murders are rendering me jittery and nervous.”

Novak patted him on the back, pressing a massage on his shoulders to work through the stiff muscles. “We’re getting closer, brother. Just think how far we’ve come. We had no idea we could defeat him, now we at least have a way. It’s only nine murders.”

“Three of which we’ve already committed,” reminded Isla smartly.

That seemed to dispel Connor’s fears a little. “So, we only have six more murders to plan? Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Six more times and we’re done, Con. We all get rid of the man who’d destroyed our happiness in some way or another. And most importantly, Aragon gets a worthy King back,” she commented, turning towards Novak for more effect.

That motivational speech seemed to raise both Sommervilles’ spirits – Connor looked skeptical, but Cameron had a determined expression pinned on his face.

“For mama,” he said simply, glancing at his twin with a fierce emotion in his green eyes, a small amount of suspicious wetness gliding the surface of the retina.

That seemed to jerk Connor out of his stupor, and his forehead creased with the same resolution as his brother, their resemblance for being twins striking as another pair of green eyes shimmered similarly. “For mama,” he said in a small voice.

“For Isaac,” Ilaria Ashbrook a.k.a Isla Sommerville said in turn and placed her hand forward like she was pledging an oath.

The Sommervilles imitated her, and they all looked expectantly at Carter who seemed reluctant for such a puerile gesture. At the risk of making the others feel bad, he thrust his hand forward too.

“For my parents,” he said hoarsely, and was horrified when he also felt moisture at the corner of his eyes. Blinking them back furiously, he looked down at their joined hands, thinking that his wish had finally become true. They were now closer than a family, pledged together by grief, and Salvatore was going to pay for his sins.