Turtle Shell

Turtle Shell

It’s always a standoff with Dax. So cliche. He’s about thirty feet from me, swinging his spear around like some circus performer. His flowing white robes billow with the angry wind that pulls on my armor. He twirls his spear around effortlessly, the tip sparking every time it hits the cobbles. The electric spear has a massive legacy throughout the kingdom as not only the most lethal weapon invented but also just overkill. It fits Dax. His nickname should be overkill.

“Finally we meet!” He yells, his Chesire smile sending chills down my spine.

“I don’t want this, Dax. We can fix what happened and start anew.”

“It’s too late for that, and you know it. I need to finish what my father started, and that begins with you dead, William.” He feigns a noble accent when he says my name. I scowl under my visor.

“Don’t act like I’m the only royalty here, Dax. Your father was the King’s right-hand man. His best friend. I should’ve known he was a rat. Always chasing the newest deal. Just like his son.” Dax spits on the ground in disgust.

“He didn’t know what he was getting into. I ha-“

“Oh, and you do?” His face contorts into an ugly snarl at my words. Rain starts to fall lightly.

“I know more than you do, prince,” he spats. He’s goading me… I don’t care. I charge forward, screaming. He waits for me patiently, only making me angrier. I close the distance in moments and swing my sword overhead, aiming to cut him in two. He parries my strike easily and counters with his own low sweep toward my feet. I leap back, barely dodging him, and try to strike at his chest. My sword, too short, misses and my follow-through takes me off balance. I slip forward and catch the butt of his spear to my back. I hit the stones, but I pop back up immediately. He could’ve killed me there, but he didn’t. I don’t dwell on my luck and instead raise my sword, taking the patient route this time. We circle each other for a beat until I spot my upper hand. The stables! Harvey is held there. I won’t come out of this fight alive unless I can get to Harvey and ride off to regroup with the others. He has technique over my strength and that’s always been enough to beat me. I feign a strike to his head, then when he ducks out of the way, I sprint toward the stables.

“Coward!” he yells. I hear his footsteps close behind me as I push myself. I wish I had listened to my father and trained more with the weight of my armor. The stables are about fifty feet away, and I’m huffing and puffing. As I’m about to pass the gate into the stable, my vision shatters, and my head explodes.

My ears ring loudly; I feel my armor sink into the mud. Rain pings off my armor as I lay on my back. The dent in my helmet presses into the side of my skull. I’m sure it cut me. I try to lift my arm, but the mud keeps me there. A groan escapes my lips as I lie in my metal prison. I stare at the sky, my shaky vision beginning to collapse in on itself. I can feel him walking closer to me, and as he does, my eyes close, and my mind drifts.

........................................................................................................

“Will, don’t play with the turtle like that.”

“But look at it wiggle!” A giggle escapes my lips as my father scoops me up in his arms.

“Son, this turtle has a hard enough life. Not only is it not fast, but it can’t right itself after you flip it over like that.” He set me down and put the turtle back on its feet. “How would you like to be stuck like that?”

“I can’t get stuck like that!” I complain as he picks me up again.

“Maybe not physically, but one day you’re going to get stuck just like this turtle. Maybe somebody will make you stuck.”

“That’d be mean,” I say.

“Exactly. This poor turtle probably thinks you’re pretty mean too.” I stay quiet in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Pa.”

“It’s ok, son. The important thing is how you get up. I’m not always going to be there to help you.”

“How will I get up then, Pa?”

“You’ll have to get up on your own.”

“How do I do that if the turtle can’t do it by itself?”

“You’re not a turtle are you?” He holds me upside down and I shriek with joy as he pokes my back. “You’re going to have to be strong, son.” He sets me down on my back and puts his hand on my chest so I can’t get up. “Get up, son.”

“Pa, I can’t.”

“You can if you try.” I push with my arms, legs, and core. Nothing works. I feign a kick, and shove his hand off my chest with all my might, and roll out from under his grip. I hop to my feet and face him, ready to move away if he tries to push me down again. A smile glows on his face, and he hugs me hard until I start to squirm, wanting to run around the forest some more.

........................................................................................................

Everything comes back to me in a rush. He was right. A single tear rolls down my cheek. I feel just like that turtle right now. I can’t get up with my own strength.

“I’m surprised at you, Will, I never took you for a coward.” I hear the squish and squelch as he nears my beaten body. My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, and I notice the coppery taste of blood. He finally reaches me after an eternity of waiting, and he puts his foot on my chest plate. Through the slits in my helmet, I can see his spear swing back and forth lazily in his hand. He leans down, putting more weight on my chest. The air escapes my lungs, and my breaths become shallow. “Will, I have waited and waited for this moment for so long.” He reaches down and rips my helmet off my head, the dent tearing into my flesh as he does. I take a depthless breath of fresh air. The chilling air invigorates me. Mud tries to force its way into my mouth and ears as he pushes me deeper into the ground. I feel the strength of my father roar through me as Dax rattles on about something. My muscles burn but I buck my hips as hard as I can, freeing my legs and throwing Dax off balance. I wrench my arm free and push his leg off my chest and to the side. He falls hard, face-first into the mud. His spear leaves his hand, and I sit up, shoving his head deeper into the mud. I force my aching limbs to obey as I stand. They argue fiercely, but I ignore the complaints. Dax’s white robes, now black and muddied, tear as he picks himself up. Anger burns in his eyes. He stares me down, his eyes glancing at his spear that’s just out of reach. I spot my sword in the opposite direction. We lunge for our weapons at the same time. I rip my sword free from the mud and turn to see his spear tip pointed at my exposed neck. I swipe it away quickly, twirl around, and thrust my sword point toward his chest. He parries it easily, and we lock our weapons between us.

“Why won’t you just die?” Dax snarls.

“It’s my birthright, Dax.”

“You don’t get special treatment just because you were born into it.” I can feel my arms screaming at me as I keep pushing against Dax. My strength starts to fail me. He must have been training. I used to be stronger than him. I can feel my feet slipping in the mud and an idea comes to me. I fall to my knees and feel Dax’s force go over my head, and I push up, launching him back into the mud. I feel his spear catch the exposed joint behind my right knee and electricity spikes through my leg. My leg goes numb, but I use this as an opportunity to limp-run to Harvey only a couple of feet away. I whistle loudly and he gallops toward me. I hear a yell behind me and I know what’s coming. I twist and intercept the spear flying through the air. I redirect it into the mud below and I throw my foot into the stirrup. I force my numb leg over the saddle, grab the reins, and urge my horse to gallop away as fast as he can.