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The Owl’s Nest
A single line of sweat slid down the left side of the Prince's nose as his breath came in long heavy controlled breaths through his nose. Blinking from behind the steel of his mask the Prince tracked the three of his soldiers as they shifted across from him in the dirt ring which had been cleared and turned over in the center of the compound made of tents. They had been here for weeks training with the locals. Hakim had wanted to make the acquaintance of the Valen training school immediately but Muziri had cautioned patients. The gladiator school was in dire straights, something his outdated intelligence on the West had failed to account for.
The moment's hesitation was all his well trained guardsman needed. Like a pack of wolves they closed in on Hakim striking with their spears:high, one at the knee and one at the throat. Reacting in the split second it took to see the three in coming attacks. Shifting the shield on his left arm Hakim hit the edge of the first spear shoving it off to the right of his head. With a quick snap down with the shield he shoved the spear out of the way as it slid off to the side. The third spear went right for his left knee. Shifting his right leg Hakim twisted his whole body, dropped his weight and lashed out with the spear in a hundred and eighty degree arc swiping at his guards. The third spear barely grazed his left knee as Hakim dropped his stance and shifted it well out of the way.
The prince’s spear swiped the shields of his guards. It forced them to stop for a moment. Slowing very carefully to get them to rush him; as his guards charged him Hakim suddenly pivoted on his bent leg and whipped his spear at the back of their legs. The spear hit the back of two of his guards legs and it knocked them right to the ground. The third was wise to the trick and skipped backward. Swinging his spear back up and over his shield Hakim sprang like a bird of prey over his downed guardsman. Hakim drove the spear into the shield once, flipped it over and smashed the end of it into the flat front of the shield. Pressing the attack the prince dropped and drove upward slamming shield to shield. It lifted the guard slightly and suddenly the prince dropped both his shield and his spear executing a perfect three hundred and sixty degree leg sweep. It dropped the guard like a stone before the prince planted his hands on the shield pinning the shield and spear arm of the guard before he planted his right knee on the shield. With a sudden snap of his left leg Hakim kicked the guard in the face and he went limp.
Rolling off the guardsman Hakim stood smoothly. Muziri stood in the shade of an awning, even with the pathetic heat of this western sun. It was an old habit for the cleric. As much as he didn’t mind the heat those who could afford the shade in the South were in a position of power. Watching the young prince, Muziri folded his arms into the sleeves of the clergy robes he wore constantly, the young man was making progress. It was difficult to teach someone who blended all of the paths of the Hitar province. All of Hakim’s instructors could only see but a part of the way, it was up to the prince in the end to know how they would all fit together. Soldier weapons, Soldier forms, Cleric weapons, Cleric forms, and then of course the royal forms. So much knowledge of war for but a single man. Hakim was bordering on the edge of being a prodigy in the art of battle. It was not something that the young man's father would have approved of but it was necessary now that the Prince was without the shield of his father's household and the Owl Guard was the only thing standing between Hakim and a blade in the back.
Flicking his eyes to the side Muziri could just barely see the dark form of one of the half dozen Owl Guard that lurked in the space between the canvas and silk walls of the Prince's tent like palace. On the road the tents of the Hitar province were set up with space between the wall sheets of the main tent. Within them the families Royal guard could follow their charge anywhere and remain concealed. Out of sight. Muziri could feel two more in the walls behind his and to his left. Years of practice and training made the aging man a formidable opponent, and still he never wished to cross the Owl Guard. The silent deadly masked retinue of the Prince’s Royal guard were trained in a form of Shrak which was only taught to the Royal guard. It was a lethal path and one that few ever walked. Its knowledge was forbidden to all save the Royal Guard and the Sheikh himself.
Muziri kept his eyes on the prince as Ezekiel instructed him on the ways in which he had been a fool. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and knowing what it was turned his head to make eye contact. Through the ripple of the walls in the last of the chill wind of winter Muziri stared right into the dark oval holes of the Owl Guards silver steel mask. With a slight lowering of his chin the Cleric acknowledge the Royal Guard who in turn tilted its head ever so slightly to the right, acknowledging the Cleric before returning to its watch.
Hakim strode over to his instructor. Muziri acknowledged his charge with another deferential nod. ”Thoughts?” Hakim removed his mask wiping its inside against his sleeve. The interior was neatly padded and when set out to the sun it quickly dried in the open air. Setting it on a plate a servant offered Hakim waiting for his mentor to comment.
Muziri didn’t comment on the fight. It wasn’t sloppy it just wasn’t in his wheelhouse as a combat instructor. This was Ezekiel’s realm. The Hitar providence hadn’t seen a cast of Warrior-Clerics in over two centuries. Their techniques and training were locked away in the same vaults that contained the teaching of the Royal Guards and other less savory orders within Anan Sol’s walls. Muziri shuddered to think of them.
“I think it is time for you to bath, and make yourself presentable. The Lady of House Valen’s is interviewing Gladiators and the evenings tournament should be starting within a few hours. Both Muziri and Hakim grew suddenly silent as they turned to take in the individual who had joined them.
Ina
The Lady of the House, or at least her eyes and ears. Hakim sighed internally, of course the second they turned their talk to any female Ina appeared as though summoned by some sort of strange magic. Leeta had named Ina her Will and sent her with Hakim to as Ina put it: ‘Guard his bed’. The result had been a barren bedroom and an empty harem. Not that Hakim could have afforded the cost of maintaining such a thing but a second wife or companion would not have gone amiss with Leeta still in Anan Sol. With a nod to his instructor Hakim gave Ina a tight smile and brushed past her making a line for the bath.
When the prince had left Ina turned her steely cold gaze on Muziri. “Careful Cleric, my Mistress will not have you trying to thwart her.” Stepping around the woman Muziri started towards the exit from the Prince's’ tent. “There is nothing to thwart. From me, I would worry more about Prince Hakim if I were you. He is young and you keep his bed baren. If you wish to rein him in. Compromise. Not all of these foreign women have to be as bad as you think. Or perhaps Leeta could send someone from Hitar.” Ina scoffed. “The Prince will accept my decision and like it. It is his fault we are all in this foreign land.” Faulting his stride Muziri tilted his head slightly. “Be careful what you have to say about The Owl Prince. His servants have excellent hearing…”
The hair on Ina’s neck stood on end and as she turned to look; she could not help but see a form behind the wall fade away as the man stepped back.
The Owl Guard were ever watchful, even of those closest to the Prince.