Sea of the Dead by Matthew Holmes
Chapter 3: Street Fight
After a good night’s rest, Michael went down the stairs to work. Reno had set two places for breakfast.
“Good morning, Kyle.”
“Yeah, it is nice out today.”
The smell of fresh eggs hung in the air. Michael’s mouth watered at the fragrance. This was the first time he had ever felt the pain of hunger driving into his gut like a sword.
“Hungry?” asked Reno.
“I think so,” Michael said, uncertain of what the feeling in his stomach was.
“Sit down and eat!” he exclaimed joyfully. They both sat on old wooden chairs at the round pine table.
Michael was the first to speak. “Why were you so worried last night, about the dagger?”
“Well, I suppose if you’re going to stay here I should tell you the truth. I’m the weapon smith for the royal armory. The night before you arrived, a messenger from the castle arrived with an order for ten thousand new weapons to supply the army with, and can’t keep up with the demand.”
“Hmm.”
An awkward silence ensued, until Reno asked, “So, where are you from? I mean, how can someone be as skilled as you at sorting, and reading for that matter, if they had lived on the streets their entire life?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know where I’m from,” he said. Wanting to change the subject to something safer, Michael asked, “What do you want me to do today?”
“We don’t work on weekends, so you have the entire day to yourself. You can go out with your friends, but be careful.”
Stepping out into the busy street, the crowd pressed Michael into the path of a big man, who tossed him back into the rush of people. There were thousands of them, all hurrying to work, the bank, the market or the tavern.
Suddenly he felt a solid tap on his arm by a thick finger. He turned quickly, and to his horror, there stood a guard.
“You there!” the tall guard demanded Michaels attention, “Have you seen this young man?” he handed Michael a flyer with his picture sketched on it.
“Um…I mean…he…that is…no sir,” Michael replied nervously, keeping his face low.
“Hey kid, yes or no answers.”
“No!” The prince turned and ran before the man had a chance to ask more. The guard had not recognized him; it may have been because of the old clothes, the piercing, or the fact that he did not have his sword or satchel with him.
Michael was so distracted by the event that he didn’t see the person in front of him until they collided.
It was a young man, about eighteen years old. He had broad shoulders and orange hair. “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” he said angrily.
“I-it was an accident!” Michael said timidly to the young man.
“Is that so?” the other boy sneered.
Michael started to leave, but the other boy grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“Nobody pushes me and gets away with it!” he struck his fist on Michael’s jaw. The prince immediately jumped and kneed the opponent in the chin, whose head jerked up.
He regained his balance and charged Michael knocking him down.
The older boy swung a rock down, and missed Michael’s head by a hair. He swung again and again until he got around Michael’s defending arms, splitting the skin on his scalp.
Rage boiled inside the prince. He hooked his feet on the inside of the other boy’s knees and grabbed him around the back of the neck. Michael rolled back and pushed with his legs, still holding the boy with his arms, and flipped him over so he landed on top of the red haired boy, pinning the arm which still held the stone to the hard ground. While still holding him down, Michael pressed his other forearm into the boys’ throat.
“Don’t test me!” Michael spat the words with rage. “Now, if I were you I would drop the rock before you get hurt.”
The boy released the stone, and Michael stood and walked away. Something struck him in the back and he dropped to the ground, clutching his lower spine. The orange haired man had thrown the rock at him.
“Rule number one in these parts—always watch your back!” The young man jumped on Michael, who was now sprawled on his back, and started smashing his head back and forth with his clenched fists.
I need to get him off, now! This is the only thing I can do. Michael thought reaching for the rock. When he felt it under his hand he grasped it tightly.
“I’m sorry it came to this!” he kneed the other boy between his legs and knocked him out with the rock, leaving an enormous crack that was bleeding at an alarming rate.
The prince knew that if he left the young man there, he would surely die, so he brought him out of the alley.
People gasped and turned their heads in disgust as Michael dragged him through the street.
Finally, he found a medical clinic at the edge of the town. The prince pulled him inside and called for a doctor. When he saw the injured boy, he gasped.
“Aaron! Are you all right?” he turned to Michael. “What happened to my son? Answer me!” The doctor snarled like a father should, given the circumstances. Michael was so distracted with trying to point out the similarities between the two, that he didn’t even hear the man.
Aaron has red curly hair, but the doctor has dark brown and rather flat hair. Freckles cover Aaron’s pale, oddly shaped face, but the doctor’s face is tanned with a small scar on the right cheek. They don’t look related at all!
“I asked you a question, and I expect an answer and now!” the short, stout man shouted.
“I can see where he got his charm,” Michael retorted. “Well, you see, I got pushed and as a result, I bumped into your brat of a son. That caused a ‘Hey! Watch where you’re going!’ which eventually led up to the fight and—”
“You got in a fight with my son? You insolent little—”
“Hey, I wasn’t finished, so shut up!” Michael snapped, pointing a finger sharply at the man. “I started to leave, but he grabbed my shoulder and hit me. Then I kneed him in the jaw. He grabbed a rock, knocked me down and hit me with it. I kicked him off me and slammed him into a wall. I started to leave again, but he threw the rock and attacked me. I grabbed the rock and hit him too hard, I guess.”
By now the doctor’s tanned face had turned purplish-red with rage. “Get out! And stay away from my son!”