“It was like a flame, a fire that I could control. It was not hot, but burned. It was as if I just had to open a small hole in the fire and let out some of the flames. I then directed the flames down my arms and through my hands. I moved the flames through Airthear’s head and burned away the cobwebs.”
Nas grunted, impressed, said: “There are different ways to use Dreamseer to heal. As you discovered on your own, fire can be used to cure certain ailments, in this case, Airthear’s headaches. The other healing methods use earth, air, and water. You will learn to use earth to heal bones, air to stop bleeding, and water to clean wounds and remove infection. Soon, you will be able to transition from one healing method to the next. You are already learning more quickly than I thought possible. But there is more that you can do with Dreamseer. We will need to practice dreaming with the circlet. We need to see if you can find more items of magic.”
***
King Frederick was tired but happy. The day had gone well, having started with the audience with the Aarlund king and his retinue. The gifts had also gone over well, which had pleased his queen, Astrid. And, having the Aarlund clansmen participate in the King’s Tournament had already excited the games. Overall, he mused, a very good day. Having already kissed Astrid a good night, the king made his way to his private bedchamber. The two guards at the door saluted him crisply, although they did not look familiar. In the morning, he would have a chat with the captain of the guards to review this slip in castle procedures.
Once inside, he changed into his nightshirt, and a wave of exhaustion rolled over him. As he went to his privy, he suddenly came face to face with himself.
Frederick exclaimed: “What’s the meaning of this?”
Something heavy crashed down on the back of his neck, knocking him unconscious.
“Take him away,” said the king’s imposter in Goran’s voice.
***
The thieves gathered the unconscious king and wrapped him in a carpet. Goran was impressed with how little sound they made, and how they had been in the king’s bedchamber minutes before him. He figured it might be best not to antagonize these thieves whose powers impressed even him.
The thieves then stole out the front door, past the fake guards, and were gone, carrying the real king to places unknown.
CHAPTER 18
The Archery Event
Farling woke, and for a moment, could not remember how he had gotten back to Bringon’s forge. Then it all came back and the memories made Farling smile. He had wondered if he was going to have an interesting time when he moved to Trondheim, but did not realize it would be this interesting. Already, he was looking forward to visiting his mother and younger brother and giving them the money he had already raised from his share of the merchants guild reward. The rooster had not yet crowed, waking everyone else, so Farling lay on the floor on his blankets, feeling the heat still radiating gently from the forge, wondering what he would say when he saw Brodden and his mother.
As the rooster greeted the sun, the boys threw off their blankets and got ready for the day.
“Today’s the first day of the King’s Tournament,” said Grum. “And it starts with the most interesting: archery!”
“You mean the most boring,” said Arastead. “The archers stand and shoot their arrows from their bows at some faraway target. Boring!”
“What, you would have one archer at one end and the other at the opposite end and they would shoot their arrows at one another?”
“It would be much more interesting in my opinion.”
“Definitely last knight standing would win. Let’s divide up our shares of the reward from the merchants guild as I want to wager some of mine.”
“Careful, Grum,” said Farling. “You need to make sure you do not attract too much attention to yourself. What would a blacksmith apprentice be doing with all that coin? Just take a few.”
“Fine, fine,” said Grum. “I will just wager a bit then.” He looked around the forge to make sure no one was looking. Once it was clear, he lifted the fake floorboard and pulled up the bag of coins. He squeezed it, bounced it in one hand, then the other.
“It is missing one coin,” he said.
“I would wager Einar took one just to test your skills,” said Farling.
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” said Arastead. “He is not the thieves guild Master for nothing. Just give us a few coins each.” Grum handed his friends some coins, took a few for himself, then placed the bag back in the hiding spot.
“Should we hide it somewhere else?” asked Farling.
“Einar said he wouldn’t touch it,” said Arastead.
Bringon came down the stairs banging a wooden spoon on an empty pot, crying: “Rise and shine, apprentices. Today is the first day of the King’s Tournament. We have a busy day ahead of ourselves.”
After breakfast, they went back down to the forge and started putting on their leather aprons. “Boys,” said Bringon, “why do not the three of you go and enjoy the King’s Tournament. Take the day off. I think after what happened last night, you need a break.”
The look of happiness was clear on all their faces.
“Are you sure?” asked Farling. “We were just planning on going during lunch. Can you handle the forge by yourself?”
“I have handled this forge many a time on my own, I will be fine. There might be some emergency repairs here and there. But we got the Knights Stable order in on time, so I should be fine on my own. Enjoy yourselves, boys. And if there is any work, we will do it after supper.”
They hung their aprons back on the pegs and raced out the door.
***
They arrived late and had to stand at the back of the crowd again. This time, everyone waited outside King Frederick’s pavilion, which had been built within the tourney grounds. Part of the pavilion was raised allowing royalty and visiting dignitaries a commanding view of the games. It was also used for the morning speeches and awards at the end of the day.
Already speaking was Queen Astrid. Words of welcome drifted over the crowd to Farling and his friends.
“Why is Queen Astrid delivering today’s speech?” asked Farling. “I realize this is my first King’s Tournament, but isn’t it supposed to be King Frederick.”
“It was to be him,” said Arastead. “Grum, can you see the king?”
“He is sitting, with King Cormac and his daughter, Margret,” he answered. “There are other barons, lords, nobles, and their families in the box as well. If I am not mistaken, King Frederick wears a scarf. Now, why he would be wearing one on such a warm autumn day as this, I cannot reason.”
“He must be ill,” said Arastead. “Else, he would be giving the speech.”
A stranger beside the boys said to one of his friends: “I heard that that tattooed druid from Aarlund cursed the king and robbed him of his voice. The druid then put the king’s voice in a jar and will return the king’s voice once the King’s Tournament is over.”
Grum, overhearing the comment, could not resist, said: “Why not just say that this druid has cursed all the knights of Dennland and they will all lose.”
The stranger looked confused, said: “Now why would the druid do that?”
“Just forget it,” said Grum realizing trying to argue with the stranger was a lost cause. “You are probably right, the druid just took King Frederick’s voice, and decided he would stop there and not do any other curses. Honestly, where do you think this stuff up?”
But before the stranger could respond, the crowd gave a huge roar.
Arastead pointed at the pavilion, said: “Queen Astrid has finished speaking, the archery event is about to begin.”
“Oh good,” said Grum. “Now you are going to see the most exciting event of the entire King’s Tournament.”
“As I always say,” said Arastead, “they start off with the most boring event and always end with the joust. There is a reason for that.”
Grum merely shook his head and smiled. “Hey, let’s g
o find Conall,” he said. “I want to watch his uncle and his archery style. See if I can learn anything from how he handles a bow.”
And they set off to find the pitch where the Aarlund warrior competed.
***
A scoreboard across the field listed all the knights’ names with an ample number of columns to mark their scores. Representing Aarlund in this event was the brother Cruithni. His name too appeared on the board, and stood out as it had the flag of Aarlund, a boar and a stag, and in-between a sword pointing down.
Farling, Grum, and Arastead pushed their way through the crowds to find where Cruithni was competing. The Aarlund warrior had developed a lot of interest from the crowd, as most people had never met someone from Aarlund, let alone a clansman warrior.
The straw men targets at the far end of the archery columns were dressed in regular clothes, a bit of humor on the part of the farmers who had made them. Points were awarded for where the arrow struck: one point for each leg or arm, two points for the trunk, four points for the head, and 10 points for striking the small red circle placed over the heart. Each archer was given just three arrows during the first heats of the competition. Once down to the final ten competitors, each archer could shoot five arrows, while during the finals, between just two archers, each was given 10. Each competitor had a slightly unique type of arrow to distinguish the arrows. The knights’ squires and Conall had spent many, many hours painting each arrow using the exact same color and markings on their knight’s arrows. Each course had its own official, who had their own way of blowing their whistle. The whistle blow indicated it was safe for the squires to run down the course and retrieve the arrows.
Cruithni had already completed his first round and had won easily. His arrows had struck either the head or the 10-point red circle, while the knight he was competing against had only struck the straw man’s trunk or arms. At the end of the match, they shook hands, then Cruithni handed his bow to Conall.
“Rats,” said Grum. “We will have to find where he is competing next as I want to watch him.”
“Aren’t you going to lay any bets on today’s matches?” asked Arastead.
“Ah, good point,” said Grum, and went off to bet on Cruithni winning his next round. After a few minutes, Grum ran back telling his friends where Cruithni was competing next.
Grum, seeing the Aarlund steward, yelled: “Hey Conall, your uncle is off to an impressive start.”
Conall smiled. “He did not even break a sweat on that round,” he said. “He is in fine form and feeling pretty confident.”
“Oh good, because I just bet some money on your uncle winning the next round,” said Grum.
Conall laughed: “My uncle would like that. A Dennlander making some coin off his archery skills.”
“Someone has to do it. Although the odds have already dropped as he has already proven his skill. Hitting the red circle three times in a row, very impressive.”
“He hunts deer with that bow of his up in Aarlund. He is deadly accurate.”
“He will have to give me some lessons, then. Maybe we will come up to Aarlund and visit sometime.”
Conall looked a little surprised at the suggestion, then smiled broadly. “We should, although things might change if I beat Farling in the sword tourney,” he added with a wink.
This time Farling laughed. “I just hope we both make it to the finals,” he said. “I would not want to compete against you too early, knocking one of us out.”
“Yes, meeting you in the finals would be best,” agreed Conall.
A trumpet gave a short blast.
“Next event,” said Arastead.
“I know which pitch you are at,” said Grum. “Follow me.”
In a few moments, they were at the next event. As Cruithni had earned higher points in his previous round, he could go second, the favored spot.
The competing knight had a fine-looking bow. The official raised his flag, indicating it was time to start. The knight walked to the aiming line, notched an arrow to his string, pulled back, aimed, held for a few moments, and loosed. The arrow arched gracefully and made a satisfying thud as it hit the target.
“He hit the red circle,” said Grum. “He is good. We will see if that was just luck or not.”
Then Cruithni walked to the aiming line. In one fluid motion, he notched his arrow, aimed, and loosed. His arrow landed squarely in the middle of the red circle. A murmur of appreciation rose from the crowd.
“Wow,” said Grum. “I have never seen anyone loose an arrow that fast and so accurately. I think that is a little unnerving.”
After two more arrows each, Cruithni won the round by a few points. He shook hands with the knight.
“You know, we really should watch a Dennland knight compete,” said Arastead. “Who’s the favorite to win?”
“Sir Crali,” said Grum. “Good idea, let us go watch him compete. But first, I need to collect my meager winnings.”
They watched Sir Crali compete and win several rounds. Grum remarked that he was confident Sir Crali would make it to the finals against Cruithni. Then they went back to watching Cruithni compete.
***
Late in the afternoon, the archers had been narrowed down to the final ten, and then after another hour, down to the final two. If the person won the archery event, he might have a chance at winning the Grand Prize.
As Grum had predicted, the final two archers were Cruithni and Sir Crali. The final event was held in front of the royal pavilion.
With a total of ten arrows each, both archers favored shooting arrows in the red circle or head as those awarded the most points. The crowd clapped and cheered every shot, always making sure to be deathly quiet when the archer was pulling back on the drawstring, aiming.
After nine arrows, both Sir Crali and Cruithni were evenly scored. The money amongst the gamblers and bookies traded furiously as people now betted on each arrow shot. Sir Crali’s last arrow struck the head, another excellent shot, which sent the crowd wild. Cruithni stepped up, the crowd collectively held its breath, wondering if he would aim for the target’s head, or take a chance on the heart to win.
In one fluid easy motion, Cruithni notched an arrow and loosed. The arrow streaked down the length of the field and struck the target dummy directly in the red circle for ten points.
The crowd cheered.
Both finalists shook hands, Sir Crali congratulating Cruithni on a fine win.
Grum, his mouth still hanging in amazement, cried: “Did you see that? Cruithni waited to see what Sir Crali would do, and then instead of going for the tie, won the match with a fantastic shot. Simply amazing.”
“I have to admit,” said Arastead, “that was the finest archery final I have ever seen.”
“See,” said Grum, lightly punching Arastead in the shoulder. “Not all archery is boring, not at this level and with this caliber of talent.”
***
Cruithni was invited to the royal pavilion to be congratulated by the kings, queen, princess, lords, nobles, and barons.
Watching from afar, Farling said: “Any word on why King Frederick wears a scarf?”
Arastead nodded, said: “Overheard some king’s guards talking, saying that King Frederick has a bad cold and has lost his voice.”
“A bad omen that,” said Grum. “Our king should not be losing his voice at a time like this.”
“Oh well, even kings can become ill,” said Farling. “When does the archery competition for the squires start?”
“Soon, once all the knights are off to have their supper in the big dining tent,” said Arastead. “Lots of these knights also have pages and other people in their retinue, so it frees up their squires.”
“Let’s run back to Bringon’s forge, get my bow and arrows, and head back,” said Grum.
At the forge, Bringon greeted them warmly. “Been busy, but nothing I could not handle. Haven’t had a hammer in my hand for a while, and it feels good.”
After a quick bite
to eat, Grum grabbed his bow and arrows and they ran back to the tourney grounds.
Trumpets started blaring, and everyone around them started to quicken their pace.
“Hurry,” said Grum. “The competition is about to start.”
The three friends rushed over to the scoreboard, eager to see where Grum would compete and who he was competing against.
“Over this way,” shouted Grum as he dashed through the crowd of squires.
“Some squires have quite nice bows,” admired Farling.
“True, but they had better be strong enough to pull them,” yelled Grum, running.
Unlike the knights’ competition, the squires had to fetch their own arrows, making the games last a little bit longer. But because there were fewer people competing, soon they were down to the final ten, then the final two: Grum and an older squire, Crawly. Grum had competed against this squire before but had never won. Crawly had also graduated from the School years ago, so he was also well versed in the fine arts of archery.
They shook hands before the final match, exchanging encouraging words and luck.
Like the knights’ archery competition, both Grum and Crawly aimed at the heads of their straw dummy targets, striking it each time. But in the second-to-last-arrow, Grum’s arrow uncharacteristically fell just short, missing the head, but striking the body for fewer points. Crawly’s next arrow struck the head perfectly again, as he gained the lead in points.
“So, Grum,” said Crawly, “will you go for the heart?”
“You will see,” said Grum.
Grum pulled his last arrow to string, stood straight and pulled back all in one fluid motion. He exhaled slightly, and waited for the pause between heartbeats, when his aim was truest, and released. His arrow flew, seemed to almost pause at the highest point of the arc, then dropped suddenly, faster and faster until it struck the target directly in the middle of the red circle above the heart.
The crowd of squires exploded with cheers, whistles, and acclaims. The official blew his whistle repeatedly, failing to quiet the crowd. It wasn’t until Grum held up his hand for silence that the crowd went quiet.
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