Wildfire: Book Two of the Everealm Series

by J. D. Wright

  “What will I do? I don’t even know what an Elder Mage is responsible for. And I don’t have full access to my powers, either. If someone was to find me here… I can’t put everyone in danger.”

  “That is where the second part of the message may be of some help,” Celeste chimed in. “Leitis said that you will need to find your father. That he could help you with your magic.”

  “How are we supposed to do that? All we have is a name—Zaine. We don’t even know if he’s alive.”

  “Leitis did send something with me, a stack of journals. He said that you left without them and perhaps they could help you. I have them in my trunk.”

  “Well,” Dagan said, “it’s a start, at least. We can try using the scrying mirror, as well. We would usually need to know more about him, to locate someone, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  ~*~

  The first day of the tournament was a rainy one, but it didn’t seem to dampen anyone’s spirit. It was the second week of spring, so a little rain was typical. The fishing challenge went off without a hitch and the day’s catch was the largest in the past several years. The second and third days went just as well, with much nicer weather to accompany it. The fourth day was the most interesting to Bree, as it was the day of the archery tournament and she had always found the archers to be so graceful and fluid in their skill that it was a pleasure to watch. That was followed by an entire day of intense sword fighting, which Bree found was rather painful to witness, up close. Even though it was required that competitors use a blunted sword, there were still injuries, including a man taking a jab to the eye.

  Finn didn’t seem to mind, as he sat by her side for the entire day, cheering on his favorite challengers. It was nice to see him enjoying himself as he had been sulking around the castle since Adelphie left. Though he didn’t enjoy the company of the other Sabras, he was sad to see her leave. But since Finn didn’t mention it, Bree pretended not to notice.

  Overall, the first week of the tournament was a success. Bree knew she should be happy and proud that she could carry on the tradition that her great-grandfather had started so many years ago. However, all of the excitement had worn off by the first day of the second week, which was the day of Rowan’s knighting ceremony. Just like her grandfather had done for other knights who earned their title in battle rather than the tournament, Bree had decided to make Rowan’s ceremony separate from the others. This had been the plan for over two months. However, that was before Rowan found out about Sarita. Since then, he had stayed away from the castle as much as he could for the past few weeks and even when he did make an appearance, he barely said three words to her.

  “Do you think he will even show?” Bree whispered, sitting on her outdoor throne, looking out at the grounds of the tournament. The morning dew was still shining on the grass below, as the crowd was gathering. Cicilly and Sarita were chatting in their seats beside Bree, on the raised platform, giving them all a great view of the battlefield.

  “I’m sure he will,” Finn replied, leaning in from a seat behind her, but his tone wasn’t very convincing.

  “I probably wouldn’t, if I were him.”

  “Rowan takes his duties very seriously. I think he will come, for his father, if nothing else.”

  “I should have listened to you, Finn. I should have told him when he returned. Just like he said…”

  “What is done, is done. You can’t change the past any more than he can. You were just a child back then, Bree. You had no choice but to do as the King wished.”

  “I just wonder if things would have gone differently…”

  The sound of the trumpet interrupted her thought. She looked up to see the crowd parting. She caught a glimpse of Sidonie amongst the faces, who was beaming at the horse and rider coming through the gathering. Dragon was almost unrecognizable, outfitted in blue and gold, as the horse strut toward the throne with his rider in matching colors. It was the first time Bree had ever seen Rowan in an official military uniform. He wouldn’t wear his armor until the knighting ceremony was over.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Bree saw Sir Nicholas approaching her. He bowed before his queen, then laid his sword at her feet. It was customary for a king or queen to bestow the accolade of knighthood unless the knight-elect was a direct descendent of a royal knight, which Rowan happened to be. Bree looked over at her mother, who smiled and nodded.

  Then Bree did what her father would have done, and picked up the sword, holding it out to Nick, who took it and bowed again. Bree could tell that this was a proud day for Nick, who had mostly lost hope of his only son following in his footsteps.

  Rowan dismounted and one of Sir Ainsley’s squires took the reins from him, but not before Rowan gave Dragon a signal to stay. The horse made a short snorting sound but remained in his place. Rowan turned and walked toward the throne, keeping his eyes on his father, then he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. He hadn’t seen a knighting ceremony in over eight years, so his father had made him practice what to do, which Rowan thought was pretty pointless. He literally only had to kneel and repeat a few lines.

  Once Rowan finished his oath, Nick tapped the side of his shoulder with the blade of his sword, then the top of his shoulder, followed by a gentle tap on the top of his head. Then he repeated on the other shoulder and again tapping on the head. Then Nick took the sword and drove it into the ground, directly in front of Rowan. This was to signify that he was finished with his share. All that was left to do was for Rowan to pull the sword from the dirt below and he would become a royal knight of Junacave.

  Taking the hilt of the sword, Rowan stood and pulled the point out of the ground in one smooth motion. Then he held the sword in the air as the crowd cheered. The squire holding Dragon’s reins moved forward, guiding the horse to the throne. Today was a special day for him, as well. A knight’s horse was often also recognized during the ceremony. However, it would be Rowan who dubbed him. This was fortunate, because if anyone else had brought the point of a sword near Dragon’s head, he would probably have gotten bit.

  Afterward, Rowan turned back to the throne and handed his father the sword. The last part of the ceremony was the dressing, in which a squire brought Rowan his helmet, sword, and shield. Nick had a sword made for Rowan that matched his own, with the same family crest that had been used for the past four generations. Rowan pulled the belt and sword around his waist. Then he slid the helmet down over his head, took the shield, and walked back to the throne. There, he knelt once more. The crowd erupted again and for the first time all day, he looked up and made eye contact with Bree.

  The crowd was dispersing, seeing as the excitement was now over, but she barely noticed. Even though she was happy for him, she wasn’t sure if she should smile, or if she should say anything. As many times as she had imagined this moment for the past several months, she hadn’t expected it to be this awkward. Rowan stood and removed his helmet.

  “Where did everyone go?” Bree mumbled to herself, realizing that Finn, her mother, and Sarita had all stepped away the moment that the ceremony was over, leaving her alone with Rowan.

  “I suspect they were hoping to avoid this conversation,” he replied, flatly. Cicilly and Nick may not have known what Bree and Rowan were at odds over, but they did know not to interfere.

  “Rowan, I’m so sorry—“

  “No, don’t apologize. We both seem to be doing a lot of apologizing. Mostly for things we can’t even control. And let’s face it, neither of us is particularly good at apologies.”

  Bree laughed aloud and smiled for the first time since opening her eyes this morning.

  “No, you’re right,” she said. “It’s a skill that neither one of us seem to possess.”

  “I realize that you didn’t have any more of a choice about what happened than I did. I know how hard it is for me to look at her and know, so I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you, every day, from the beginning.”

  “I know
you told me not to apologize, but I am sorry for keeping it from you. I guess it was just easier to pretend. That’s what I’ve been doing for seven years.”

  As if on cue, Sarita wandered over, with a small box in her hands. She opened it up for Rowan to see.

  “What do you have there?” he asked, trying to act as natural as possible.

  “Honey brittle. Want some?”

  “Sure,” he said, taking a small piece. “It’s my favorite.”

  “It’s my favorite, too.”

  Rowan stopped chewing and glanced up at Bree, who forced a small smile. This was going to be harder than he thought.

  ~*~

  Immediately after the knighting ceremony, the second half of the tournament began. The first event was the pageant, in which the competing squires would parade around the battlefield in their armor and displaying their crest. Crests were either that of their family if they were of noble blood, or the crest of the knight that they served if they were not.

  “I like the one with the blue and white crest,” Celeste said, leaning toward Bree.

  “I’m more partial to the red and green one, myself,” Bree said. “Matches my hair and gown.”

  “Oh, I could care less about the colors. I mean the man. Just look at those broad shoulders. I bet he is quite handsome.”

  “Just because he has broad shoulders?” Bree laughed.

  “Well, that and the way he walks. Such confidence!” Celeste fanned herself with her hand. “What day is the damsel challenge?”

  “Day after next, I believe.”

  “Any chance that I can be his damsel?”

  Bree laughed at her aunt though she wasn’t sure if Celeste was joking or not.

  “We stopped using real women as the damsels after one got dropped off of a horse and nearly trampled. Do you remember that, Mother?”

  “I do remember. Frederick was mortified. We started using straw-stuffed dummies after that. There sure are a lot of them this year. How many are competing?” Cicilly asked, sitting on the other side of her daughter.

  “I don’t remember,” Bree replied, then she turned her head up to ask Nick, who was positioned behind her. “How many are there, Sir Nicholas?” She had to remind herself to use his formal title in public. She had already grown accustomed to calling him by his name.

  “We have twenty-three this year, Your Majesty.”

  “How can there be that many?”

  “Well, Sir Luthias has two entries, as well as Sir Tomas. Also, we allow senior members of the guard and military to compete. It’s a tradition that your father started, actually. It keeps the competition interesting.”

  They understood exactly what Nick meant when after the second day, the field of competitors had been cut in half. During the melee event, in which the competitors were put into teams and participated in a trial battle. There were four teams and all men fought on horseback with the weapon of their choice. Most used a sword or mace though two had chosen an axe. The goal was to knock all of the opposing team members off of their horses. The team with the last man still astride his horse was the winner.

  The next day was the damsel event that Celeste was most excited to see, in which a stuffed damsel was placed at the end of a long course. Each contender had to make it through the course on foot, mount their steed, and rescue their damsel. The stuffed damsels were hanging over a pit that Dagan had enchanted to look like fire. Per Sarita’s suggestion, sheer veils were added to the dummies heads to make them look more like real damsels. The first ten men who completed this challenge proceeded to the fourth day. Bree was happy to see that both her and Celeste’s choice fighters had made it this far. However, Bree’s pick ended up losing in the jousting event on the fifth day, bringing the remaining number of challengers down to four.

  On the sixth day, there were no contests. Instead, a giant feast was held on the battlefield to celebrate the tournament. Bree was surprised to see that Celeste’s choice contender wasn’t present at the feast. However, he was there the next day, for the final battle: handheld combat. The four challengers were about to fight each other for the prize of knighthood. There was a great deal of excitement in the crowd. When the trumpet blared to signal the start, a hush fell on the people as they watched.

  All four men started slowly moving toward the center of the field. The man in purple was the first to strike out, barely missing the man in black. The other two paired off, the man in green and the favorited man in blue. It took no time at all for the man in black to knock the man in purple down to the ground and deal the fatal blow, which was met with cheering from the crowd. Of course, they were using blunted swords, so no real harm came to the fallen competitor, other than the shame of being put out of the battle so early.

  Then there were three. This added quite a bit of excitement as they each had to fend off two at the same time. The man in green raised his sword to the man in black, but the man in blue saw an opportunity. He quickly spun his sword around and holding on to the blade, he used the hilt of the sword to sweep the man in green’s feet out from under him. Immediately after he hit the ground, the man in blue had him pinned. Again, the people cheered.

  “That was impressive,” Bree heard Rowan saying out loud. She was so mesmerized by the entire battle that she didn’t notice he had arrived. He was standing against the wooden pole of her shade tent, watching the fight from several feet away from her.

  Movement on the field caught her attention again. The man in blue had little time to catch his breath before the man in black attacked. Their swords met in the air. Metal clanking on metal, they fought each other while moving in a circular pattern. Around and around they went. Just when one would seem to be worn down, and their failure imminent, they would find the strength to continue. The crowd was very involved at this point, cheering or booing when the moment struck.

  “It’s a good match of strength,” Nick said, from behind her.

  “It is certainly a longer battle than I can remember seeing in the past,” Cicilly complained.

  “Oh, Cici,” Celeste said, leaning forward in her seat, “don’t be a bore. This is exciting!”

  “Sir Nicholas?” Bree turned her head to the side so Nick could hear her. “Who are these men? I don’t recognize either of the crests.”

  “The one in black was Sir Colbert’s squire. He now trains under Sir Evan. The other one, I am not sure of. He may be a member of the guard. Sir Raymun has the official registration.”

  “Perhaps, you should knight them both,” Cicilly mumbled, smacking an insect off of her arm. It was easy to see that the Queen Mother was ready to move back indoors.

  “Perhaps…” Bree said, but she didn’t take her eyes off of the competitors.

  Suddenly, the man in blue lifted his sword and spun around in a complete circle, using the force to hit his competition square in the chest plate and knock him onto his back. The man in black tried to roll out of the way of a second swing, but his rival’s sword hit him in the back of his helmet. Finally, the battle was over.

  The crowd went wild. Bree stood and clapped, as well. It was quite the victory. The winning contestant came forward and knelt before the throne. Rowan took Bree’s hand and led her down the steps to the ground below. Then he handed her his sword, which was still shiny and new, having come straight from the blacksmith for his ceremony a few days before. Bree walked around the platform, to the kneeling man as he removed his helmet. She could only see the top of his head, in which his thick brown hair was drenched in sweat from the combat.

  She recited the oath, which she was happy to have memorized perfectly. The man repeated her words. Then, using the sword, she performed the taps in the same order that Sir Nicholas had. Finally, she lifted the sword into the air and slammed it down into the ground at her feet.

  “Congratulations, victor!” Bree said. “I am happy to announce that on this day, the kingdom of Junacave has earned a new champion. I now present to you, Sir…”
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  “Reeve.” The man said, as he rose and pulled the sword from the ground.

  “Sir Reeve!” Bree shouted to the crowd.

  When she turned back, she froze, staring at the face before her. He turned toward the people cheering and lifted the sword up, further enticing noise from the crowd. Then he turned back to Bree and held the sword out to her. At first she couldn’t move, but she forced herself to take it. Her eyes never left his face. He smiled at her, which surprised her and caused her to blink. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of it all. The resemblance was too close to be coincidence…

  It was then that Rowan noticed something strange about the new knight. He took a step closer then stopped, the hair standing up on his arms.

  Reeve could feel the many pairs of eyes on him. Whatever he had been expecting, this was much more intense. This was only his second week in Junacave, having set out only three weeks ago to fulfill his mother’s request. He had decided to join the tournament on a whim and never expected to make it to the last day, let alone to finish victorious. And this certainly wasn’t the way he intended to introduce himself, but nevertheless…

  “Please accept my apologies, Your Majesty. I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Reeve. I came here from Hosselly, to seek my father.”

  Bree had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly what Reeve’s next words would be, as he turned toward the throne, but it still didn’t prepare her for what he said next.

  “Sir Nicholas, I am your son.”

  Silence.

  Even the horse that had been led forward by a squire somehow knew to be quiet. Bree turned around, hoping that her aunt, mother, or someone would give her a clue as to what she should do now. But everyone just looked stunned and confused.

  “Perhaps, we should move this to a more… private location. Yes, that’s what we’ll do.” Then she turned back to the gathering of people before her and raised her arms up in the air. “Citizens of Junacave and our esteemed guests, I would like to thank all of you for attending and participating in our annual tournament. Per tradition, we will celebrate the victory of our champion at dusk!”