“Finish it,” Gunther ordered.
Lord Argus scurried off to give instructions to the trumpet player.
The blast of his horn echoed through the stadium, and the crowd responded with a shout. “One!”
The second blast. “Two!”
A third blast. “Three!”
The third trapdoor opened and the admiral’s body fell through.
As the crowd cheered, Brigitta tried not to think about the murder she’d just witnessed. Instead, she focused on Rupert. He was watching her. Slowly, he lifted two fingers to his lips, then smiled.
A kiss. She smiled back.
“I see you’re enjoying it.” Gunther chuckled. “Wait till tomorrow. I designed the obstacle course myself. It’s going to be very exciting!”
* * *
The next morning, Brigitta rode to the stadium with Lord Argus. He explained that King Gunther had left before dawn to oversee the completion of the obstacle course.
“We started building it yesterday after the archery contest,” Lord Argus explained. “I haven’t seen His Majesty this excited in years. There will even be a wild boar!”
Brigitta gasped. “A boar?”
“Yes!” Lord Argus’s beady eyes gleamed with excitement. “We’ll just have to hope that one of the contestants falls into the boar pit. I’m sure the crowd would find it very entertaining.”
“Of course.” Brigitta swallowed hard. “I’ve never seen an obstacle course before. How does it work?”
Argus smiled proudly. “Even though His Majesty designed the course, I came up with a way to determine the winner. The drummer will pound out a steady beat. Then I have servants who are assigned to each of the five contestants. They will count how many beats it takes for each one to finish the course.”
“So the fastest one wins the contest?”
Argus nodded. “Yes, but it’s more than a test of speed. There’s strength and agility factored in. You see, there are three main walls. To reach the top of the first wall, the contestant must climb a rope. Between the first and second walls, there will be a grid made of ropes suspended ten feet over the ground. The holes in the grid are large enough that a man could fall through. The ground below has been made into a giant pit of mud, so if anyone falls through—”
“He gets all muddy,” Brigitta finished.
“Exactly.” Argus chuckled. “It should be very entertaining.”
Brigitta nodded. “So where does the boar come in?”
“The boar pit is between the second and third wall. There will be nine stone columns, three rows of three, and each column will be seven feet high and topped with a small wooden platform. The runner will leap from one platform to another. If he goes in a direct line, he’ll land on only three platforms before jumping to the third wall. Then he climbs a pole and rings a bell to finish the course.”
“I see.” Brigitta took a deep breath. This sounded like something Rupert could do. After all, he had years of experience climbing ropes and maneuvering down yardarms.
“The winner will be the one with the fastest time,” Argus added. “And the loser will either have the slowest time or fall into the boar pit and be gored to death.”
She winced. Clutching her hands together, she sent up a silent prayer to the twin goddesses to keep Rupert and his companions safe.
* * *
He’d pulled a long straw.
Rupert glanced at the other contestants to see what they had ended up with. Since the obstacle course couldn’t handle five at once, they would be running it in two teams.
Numbers Two and Five had short straws. They would do the course first. Numbers One and Four had long straws like Rupert. The three of them would run the course together.
Number One shot an arrogant sneer at him and his companions. “Before the day is done, one of you will be feeding the boar.”
Rupert drew Four and Five aside. “Watch out for One and Two. Stay as far away from them as you can.”
Five frowned. “You think they’ll try to throw us into the boar pit?”
“Only if you’re close enough that they don’t have to sacrifice too much time. Remember, the winner is judged on speed, so do the course as fast as possible. That way they won’t have time to deviate off course to attack you. They’ll be forced to go straight through in order to beat you to the bell.”
Four and Five nodded.
“Run across the grid if you can,” Rupert continued. “If you go too slowly, you could lose your balance and fall through. Use your forward momentum to your advantage.”
Five gave him a wry look. “You don’t sound like a guy who grows grapes.”
Rupert smiled and shook his hand. “Good luck.”
Five lined up beside Two and waited for the trumpet blast that would signal the start of the race.
The horn sounded and the general dashed for the middle rope hanging from the wall. Five ran to the one on the left.
Boom. The kettledrum sounded the first strike.
Two and Five climbed, walking their booted feet up the wooden wall as they hauled themselves to the top.
Boom. Second strike.
The men started across the grid.
Rupert gritted his teeth. From his vantage point on the field, he could no longer see how Five was faring. All he could make out were the two poles at the end of the course, since they were higher. The cheers from the crowd remained at a constant level, so it appeared that nothing drastic was happening. Still, he didn’t trust Two to behave honorably. The general had committed murder yesterday.
He counted the number of drum strikes, and on the twentieth one, he saw Two climbing a spike-studded pole to ring the bell. Five started up the second pole.
“He did it!” Four exclaimed with a grin.
Rupert heaved a sigh of relief. Five had gone fast enough that Two had been hard-pressed to beat him. Indeed, Two rang his bell only a few seconds before Five.
And Rupert was now more convinced than ever that Five had been well trained for combat.
The officer in charge on the field told the second team to line up. Rupert made sure to place himself between One and Four. If One wanted to cause trouble, he’d have to go through Rupert first.
The trumpet blared, and they took off.
Rupert reached a rope at the same time as One, but he climbed faster and was the first to reach the top. He glanced at Four to make sure he was climbing all right, then took off, running across the grid, his feet landing firmly on one rope after another.
The crowd roared, then started to chant Seven!
He was almost across when the ropes suddenly heaved underfoot, throwing him off balance. He fell forward and landed facedown on the grid, which was now undulating like waves on the ocean.
A yelp sounded to his left. Four had fallen through the grid, but had caught a rope with his hands, leaving his feet to dangle over the mud pit.
Rupert glanced to his right. One was behind him, facedown and jerking the ropes on purpose to make the grid unstable. Asshole.
He looked back at Four. The Eberoni farmer was dangling underneath the grid, but still managing to move forward, hand over hand, as he made his way to the second wall.
With the grid heaving up and down, the best Rupert could do was move forward on all fours. Luckily, he didn’t have far to go.
He reached the second wall. One was now frantically trying to catch up.
Rupert scanned the pit in front of him and spotted the boar running about, desperately searching for a way to escape. The strange surroundings and the noise of the crowd had agitated the animal to the point it was ready to attack.
He jumped to the first platform. Then the second one. And the third. By this time, he had too much momentum built up, and he nearly skidded off the edge of the platform. He fell back and grabbed on.
The crowd resumed its chant: Seven! Seven! He rose to his feet. One more jump and he’d be on the third and last wall. A simple climb up the spike-studded pole to ring the bell, and he’d be done.
He glanced back to check on Four’s progress. One and Four had both reached the second wall. Four was focused on a platform, preparing to leap, when One ran at him and pushed him into the pit.
With a screech, the crowd leaped to their feet. The boar reacted to the noise, snorting and scurrying about.
Four ran for the first column to try to climb up to the platform, but the columns were smooth stone and there was nothing to hold on to.
Dammit. Rupert moved toward him, jumping from one platform to another. While he was going in the wrong direction, One leaped across the platforms, headed toward the third wall.
Four cried out in terror as the boar spotted him. Rupert reached his column and lay flat on the platform, hooking his boots over one end as he stretched an arm down to Four.
“Grab on!” Rupert shouted.
As the boar started to charge, Four latched on to Rupert’s arm.
Seven! Seven! The crowd chanted.
Rupert strained to pull the man up onto the platform.
Seven! Seven! The crowd erupted in a cheer when Rupert hauled Four safely onto the platform.
“Are you all right?” Rupert asked.
Four lay there, breathing heavily. “You saved my life.”
“We’re not done yet. Can you jump?”
Four nodded. “I’ll be fine. You go first.”
As Rupert stood, the bell rang. One had finished the course. He waved his arms in victory, but the crowd didn’t seem to notice.
As Rupert leaped across the platforms, the chanting started again. Seven! Seven!
He landed on the third wall and glanced back to make sure Four was all right. When Four made it to the wall, Rupert scrambled up a pole, rang the bell, and jumped down.
The crowd went wild.
Holy shit. He ran a hand through his hair. Stefan was going to be pissed.
* * *
Up in the royal box, Brigitta heaved a sigh of relief while her brother let loose a long string of curses.
“Who does this Seven bastard think he is?” Gunther growled at Lord Argus. “Mador and Tarvis had excellent runs, and no one even noticed!”
“We could disqualify Seven for going backward on the course,” Lord Argus suggested, then his skinny shoulders slumped. “But we might end up with a riot on our hands.”
Gunther snorted. “The crowd acts like he’s some sort of damned hero.”
Because he is, Brigitta thought. As the crowd continued to shout Seven, a shocking thought jumped into her mind. The Telling Stone marked with the number seven! All this time, she’d thought it referred to the contest of seven men competing for her. But it meant much more than that. It meant Rupert, himself, for he was number seven.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Surely if the stones had predicted Rupert, that meant he would survive and they would have their happy ending.
Her skin suddenly prickled with an odd feeling that she was being watched. She looked around, but couldn’t spot anyone.
Her attention snapped back to Lord Argus when he told her brother, “The crowd already knows that number Four had the worst time. They could get violent if we don’t make him the loser.”
Gunther huffed. “Seven must be a damned idiot. Why did he bother to save Four’s life? All the losers will end up dead, anyway.”
Argus nodded. “It was a ridiculous waste of time.”
Gunther waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had enough of this Seven. What is the contest tomorrow? A swordfight?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Argus replied. “The four remaining contestants will be paired up for two swordfights. It will be Captain Mador and General Tarvis against numbers Five and Seven.”
Gunther smiled. “Tarvis is the best swordsman in the country. Make sure he’s paired with Seven tomorrow.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Argus’s eyes gleamed.
Brigitta’s breath caught. She would have to warn Rupert.
Gunther chuckled. “And tell Tarvis that I have grown tired of Seven. He can take care of Seven just like he did the admiral.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
He’d been given an inferior sword. Rupert ran his hand along the porous steel and thumbed the dull edge of the blade. Dammit.
Yesterday, after the obstacle course, Brody had passed on a warning from Brigitta. She had overheard the king’s plan to be rid of the annoying number Seven. Gunther had arranged for him to fight the general.
Gunther’s decision had not come as a surprise to Rupert or Stefan. After all, Rupert was posing as an Eberoni nobleman, and he’d become the crowd favorite. That was something the Tourinian king would never accept.
Brody had given them an additional warning, although Rupert didn’t know what to make of it. For the last two days, Brody had caught the scent of the Chameleon in the stands. But since there was a least a thousand people in the stadium and Brody didn’t know what the Chameleon looked like, he hadn’t been able to detect him.
Rupert and Stefan had never heard of the Chameleon, so Brody had explained how the bastard had attempted to take over Eberon by assassination and impersonation before escaping in the form of an eagle. Since he had failed to steal the Eberoni throne, his sudden appearance in Tourin could only spell trouble.
Now, the following morning, Rupert pushed aside all thoughts of the Chameleon. His first concern had to be surviving today’s swordfight.
He examined the field before him. The obstacle course had been removed, but the mudhole still remained. The boar had been killed and served at a celebratory feast last night.
General Tarvis and Captain Mador were nearby, boasting about the feast and making sure Rupert and Five heard about how they had courted the princess while Five and Seven had been kept under guard in the basement.
Rupert glanced up at the royal box. Even from here, he could see how pale Brigitta looked. She was frightened.
Hell, she had every reason to be frightened. Stefan had warned him that General Tarvis was rumored to be vicious with a sword.
“Use your powers,” Stefan had urged him. “Blow him away. Do whatever you have to do to stay alive.”
“But you can’t afford to be obvious about it,” Brody had quickly added. “Being Embraced is a crime here in Tourin. They could kill you for it.”
Rupert glanced down at his shoddy sword. He might be forced to use his power.
“Are you making your peace with the Light?” General Tarvis smirked as he approached Rupert. “You should before it’s too late.”
Rupert squared his shoulders. “Is it true what they say? That you’re the best swordsman in all of Tourin?”
The general shrugged. “It’s a well-known fact.”
“Then why have I been given an inferior sword? Is the prospect of a fair fight too scary for you?”
The general’s eyes blazed with anger. “Mind your tongue, Seven, or I’ll cut it out before I deliver the final blow.”
“When this sword breaks in half on the first strike, the crowd will know you were too cowardly to—”
“Enough!” General Tarvis bellowed, his face turning a mottled red. “Guard!” he yelled at a nearby soldier. “Get him a good sword.”
Yes! Rupert tossed the inferior one on the ground.
Tarvis sneered. “Don’t think it will make any difference. You will still die today.” He marched off to complain to number One.
When the guard handed Rupert a decent sword, he said, “Thank you. Can you give Five a good one, too?”
The guard winced. “He already has a good one.”
Rupert snorted. Perhaps he should be flattered that he was the one they most wanted to kill.
The guards handed each of them a white tunic to put on over their shirts. Each tunic was emblazoned on the front and back with their number.
As the crowd grew increasingly noisy and impatient for the match to begin, Rupert wandered over to Five. “If you’re in danger of being wounded or killed, surrender.”
With a grimace, Five whispe
red, “The north has surrendered enough to these bastards.”
Rupert looked around to make sure no one could hear them over the noise of the crowd. He rested a hand on Five’s shoulder and leaned close. “I need you alive so we can make things right.”
Five’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you, Seven?”
Rupert squeezed his shoulder. “Stay alive.”
A horn blasted, signaling the king’s wish for the match to begin. The four contestants put on their helmets.
The kettledrum pounded, escalating the tension in the air as the four swordsmen strode onto the field.
Rupert glanced at Stefan and Brody in the stands. They both looked worried, but gave him a thumbs-up.
The contestants paired off on either side of the mudhole—Five fighting Captain Mador, and Rupert facing General Tarvis. They took their stances, their swords raised and pointed at their opponent.
The trumpet blared.
Rupert charged, figuring a bold attack would catch Two by surprise. The general had probably assumed that Rupert would adopt a more defensive posture.
Their swords clashed, the ringing noise echoing about the stadium as the crowd began to chant Seven! Seven!
The fight continued for a few minutes until Rupert shot a small burst of air toward his opponent to make him stumble back. The surprise on Two’s face gave Rupert hope. If he kept using just enough power to undermine Two’s confidence, he might make the bastard desperate enough to make a mistake.
With a shout, Two attacked, his sword striking with speed and incredible strength. Rupert was hard-pressed to parry each move. Eventually, he pushed the general back with another gust of air.
Two breathed heavily, cursing under his breath. No doubt he was confused as to how Rupert was managing to repel him.
Without hesitation, Rupert charged. The general retaliated and came close to slicing Rupert’s arm. Rupert leaped to the left, but his opponent kept slashing at him. Rupert blew him back to take a small break.
And that’s when he realized they had turned enough that Two’s back was now to the mudhole. On the other side of the mud, One was forcing Five into a retreat.
Two charged toward him, his sword raised. Rupert blocked the downward swing aimed for his head. With a growl, Two strained, pressing hard against Rupert’s sword. Rupert’s arms burned, but he managed to shove Two back and keep attacking until Two was forced to retreat toward the mud.
So I Married a Sorcerer Page 30