Romulus again moved away from the Loomanator as he tried to make his mind-up about its temperament. Finally, he plucked-up the courage needed to hide his uneasiness at being so close it, and knew he was going to have to befriend it, as it was part of his weaponry. With a large chuck of trepidation and fear still present in equal measure, he held out a hand in friendship. The Loomanator reciprocated Romulus’s offer — bent down low and allowed him to stroke its head.
A crescendo of trumpet players signified that the Chandrapaul tournament was about to begin, and with the assistance of two helpers, who’d miraculously appeared from nowhere, Romulus started to get changed into his battle armour. It helped that he knew the two assistants as they had served him in the past, as part of the kitchen staff at Tormencer Castle. So, it was fitting they were going to help him again by aiding him in changing into his Chandrapaul combat gear.
Although he hadn’t competed in a Chandrapaul tournament for over a year, and never a senior one, he soon got into the mindset he would need to help him fight at the highest level.
His splendid array of body protection consisted of a full suit of gold plated battle armour, covered in silver chainmail — a pair of silver plated knee-high boots and gold-plated gloves. A white and red silk robe, more for show than protection, with the family coat of arms stitched on to the front and back was draped over his shoulders. The coat of arms depicted Tormencer Castle in the centre of two crossed swords.
The final addition to his battle armour was a ruby-encrusted gold helmet, much the same as Gordrick’s. The helmet opened at the front, like a frog’s mouth, and had two eye slits so the fighter could lean forward to see, and then straighten at the moment of impact, so the lip protected his eyes from splinters if a lance shattered.
Though the armour was slightly heavier than the one Romulus wore for junior Chandrapaul, it was still manageable and surprisingly lighter than it looked.
Romulus’s Loomanator hadn’t missed out on dressing up for the occasion either, and his valiant mount really looked the part. A huge turquoise silk coat spanned the length of its back and ran down its neck, chest and hind quarters. The silk coat also covered a mass of chainmail underneath to protect the Loomanator should a lance shatter. Decoratively engraved metal plates hung from the Loomanators ears to its muzzle, and flanges covered its eyes, and hinged extensions covered its jowls.
The final part of the Loomanators battle gear was a beautifully embroidered brown leather saddle and wraparound strap. Romulus’s family coat of arms had also been stitched into the saddle, and his family’s red and white standard was tied to the Loomanators head, via a steel contraption which doubled as a further head protector. Extra weaponry had also been fitted to the Loomanator in the form of a gold ball and chain held in a sheath around its neck and a gold shield around its stomach.
With the sound of the trumpet players slowly fading away Romulus knew this was a decisive moment. Though he tried to hide the signs of nerves, they were obvious for anyone to see as he hastily climbed aboard his gallant Loomanator.
Picking up a hefty gold coloured lance from a selection of a dozen, hand-picked by his two assistants and lined up at the entrance to the tent, he exited the changing area — ready as he would ever be for what was to come. With a trot, rather than a gallop, he made his way to the centre of the battle arena within the Great Hall.
Once there, Romulus pulled hard on the reins and the Loomanator ground to a halt. And then they waited for Kraken to officially open the tournament.
He didn’t have long to wait as Kraken had got to his feet the moment he had spotted Romulus making his way into the battle arena. Raising both arms into the air, he gazed up at the roof of the Great Hall, and moments later, in a vengeful voice, he declared the tournament open.
“My loyal subjects. It gives me great pleasure to host this magnificent Chandrapaul tournament. For many years I have been an avid follower, though could only watch from a distance as Zorax forbid my inclusion on the balcony.” Boos and jeers filled the Great Hall at the mention of Zorax’s name. “But now … as ruler of Tormencer … I declare the tournament open.” The boos and jeers turned to cheers and Kraken relished in the admiration shown to him.
Romulus’s first fight, as he had already been informed by one of the Goblin Guards, was against Solidor — who was a vicious and ruthless gladiator, usually assigned to Kraken’s personal bodyguard. It was going to take every bit of Romulus’s experience and knowledge of the game of Chandrapaul to defeat him, and he knew it too. Never had he faced such an intimidating fighter — someone much older — bigger, and of course wiser than himself, in a Chandrapaul tournament.
Solidor looked twice the size of Romulus. Even his silver lance and fearsome looking battle dressed Loomanator seemed bigger than his. In addition, as he made his way purposefully from the changing area, he was spurred on by the wild celebrations his stature as a Chandrapaul champion commanded.
Solidor’s dress sense was of someone who meant business. He was covered from head to foot in a chainmail casing of black steel, that shimmered mesmerizingly under the eerie flickering light of the Great Halls fire torches. Solidor’s aura was certainly a shock to Romulus as he clasped eyes on him thundering into the battle arena.
In a concerted effort to take his mind off what was going on around him, Romulus made his way over to the holding area, rather than wait for Solidor to arrive next to him. It was a psychological tactic that had sprung to mind in the spur of the moment. For one, he didn’t want Solidor to measure himself up against him at close quarters; Solidor could only further his own confidence from that. And Romulus didn’t want him to see the fear starting to show on his face, as he tried his best to stem the signs of nerves from breaking out throughout his body. If it wasn’t enough that Solidor was an intimidating sight … his full-length … silk covered … silver chain mail … black steel helmeted … battle clad Loomanator only added to the anxiety building up inside Romulus’s head.
The battle arena was covered in a deep carpet of sawdust, with a two-metre-high wooden fence down the middle, stretching over thirty meters in length. The fence acted as a separation barrier to keep the two fighters apart. Each fighter would pick a side and hurtle at full throttle towards each other with the butt of their lance tucked firmly under an arm. Each lance had a circular vamplate, a metal holding cup, which prevented the fighters hand from slipping up the shaft of the lance on impact, and potentially losing control of his weapon.
— CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE —
Chandrapaul Knockdown
Chandrapaul was a simple, but deadly game, and at senior level would end with a fighter being hit by the lance, unseated from their Loomanator and either killed, knocked unconscious, or offering to yield to the winner. On the odd occasion that both fighters were unseated from their mounts, hand to hand combat would ensue, with a ball and chain, axes, shields, daggers and swords coming into play. It would also end in the same manner, with the victor either killing their opponent or forcing them to yield.
A bone chilling wind blew in from four large oval windows high up near the roof of the Great Hall and caused a section of fire torches to go out.
The combination of wind and extinguished fire torches placed a very different complexion on the Chandrapaul battle arena, as if a giant shadow had cast its marauding cloak over it. Romulus didn’t seem all that fazed by the winds intervention. For reasons unknown, he seemed to have recaptured his composure... So much so, that he had confidently trotted up to his starting position, to the left of the Chandrapaul fence. In fact, the combination of the wind and fire torches going out looked to have unnerved Solidor. His face looked pained, and an unnatural, contorted twist took hold of his lips and a stare of wild panic locked into his bloodshot eyes.
It looked like Solidor was trying his best to buy some time to calm himself and walked his Loomanator, at a snail’s pace, towards his designated starting position. It was strange, but there was something not quite right about Solidor�
��s body language.
Not only Romulus, but at the very least the first two tiers of the grandstand on Solidor’s left could sense something wasn’t right with him. He was mumbling incoherently under his breath, and Romulus instantly picked up on it and felt it was a welcome omen in his favour.
Once again Kraken rose to his feet … the Book of Spells lay on the floor beside his chair and he held a red handkerchief tightly in his right hand. He dropped his gaze onto Romulus and pointed a spindly finger at him. And without affording him the common courtesy of calling him by his name, uttered some chilling words.
“Are you ready to show how weak and pathetic you and your family are by forfeiting your life, prisoner?”
Romulus stared up at him and yelled a rebellious reply. “I don’t recognise the words you used to describe myself or my family ... but can think of others here today who are far worthier of them.” His outburst was scarcely audible over yet another deafening barrage of heckling from the venomous crowd. He winked in Kraken’s direction and followed it up with a mocking smile. “Oh—” he continued defiantly, “—and in answer to part of your question, yes … I am ready.”
Kraken snubbed Romulus’s insolent reply and turned his attention to Solidor. “I trust my finest Chandrapaul fighter and true warrior, Solidor, is ready?”
Solidor had shaken off the unsettling nerves that had gripped him moments earlier and sat straight, firm and confidently on his Loomanator. “I am ready, and at your service, sir.”
Kraken kept his eyes on Solidor. “May the best fighter win.” His last remark and facial expression showed he had total faith in him.
Kraken opened his hand, took a nostril-busting intake of air, and let the handkerchief float effortlessly down towards the battle arena below.
The atmosphere within the Great Hall was electric and a crescendo of noise from the raucous crowd signalled that the tournament was set to begin. And as the handkerchief touched the ground all hell broke loose as the sound of the Loomanators heavy legs pounding deep into the sawdust floor reverberated all around.
Macy tried her best to rally Romulus, and shouted at the top of her voice, “Go on, my son. Knock him out!”
Olivia, not to be outdone, added to Macy’s graphic outburst. “You can do it, Romulus. Deck him!”
Not that Romulus could hear a word of the encouragement being voiced in his direction ... the Loomanators and the vast crowd were making far too much noise. But he did manage to grab a split-second glance to his right, where his friends were seated. It was only a glance as Solidor was bearing down on him at a frightening speed — the business end of his silver lance firmly aimed Romulus’s head.
As they passed the point of no return Solidor’s lance slammed into Romulus’s shoulder and rocked him back in his saddle.
Macy cupped her face in her hands. “I can’t watch!”
Olivia grabbed Macy’s hands and pulled them back down. “Romulus needs our support … look he’s okay.” Olivia was right, Romulus had somehow managed to keep his balance and stay in his saddle.
Macy changed her tune and jumped in the air, much to the disapproval of the crowd behind her. “Well done, Romulus... You’ll have him next time.”
Though Romulus was still in the tournament, the huge hit by Solidor had winded him and as he reached the far end of the dividing fence and turned ready for a second pass, he did his best to catch his breath.
Solidor meanwhile, buoyed by his strike on Romulus, and the increased cheers from the crowd, had already set-off and built-up a ferocious head of steam as he began to bear down on him. Romulus knew he didn’t have much time to react and set-off in Solidor’s direction.
No one could be sure if it was a stroke of luck, or whether the Spell Keeper had anything to do with what happened next — he didn’t deny it, anyway. For the second time in quick succession, a gust of wind, even stronger than the last one, blasted a thunderous course right through the Great Hall and over the battle arena.
Again, it seemed to have a dramatic effect on Solidor’s concentration. So much so, he took his eyes off Romulus and looked towards the windows. It was a bad and costly mistake for him, if ever there was one, as Romulus was too close.
With his gold lance fixed solidly in position, the steel tip struck Solidor high-up in his chest. The force of the hit proved to be significant and tore a hole in Solidor’s breast plate and chainmail suit.
The massive blow shunted Solidor out of his saddle, along the back of his Loomanator, and dumped him firmly, with a bone-jarring thud, onto the sawdust floor of the battle arena.
The momentum Romulus’s Loomanator had built-up came to an abrupt halt, such had been the ferociousness of the hit on Solidor. His lance snapped in two and the butt slid back through his hand, causing the vamplate to smash into it. Romulus shook the remainder of the lance from his grasp and kickstarted his Loomanator. He needed a new lance and galloped ungainly over to his battle tent, where one of his assistants had a replacement waiting for him.
Solidor meanwhile, was in no fit state to carry on. He was conscious, but dazed, and disorientated. Wearily, he climbed to his feet, but lasted only a couple of seconds before his legs buckled and his knee joints gave way. Unable to control himself, Solidor crashed back to the ground in a crumpled heap. It was a sight that dismayed the crowd, and Kraken especially.
“Get him out of here,” was Kraken’s response to the humiliation he had been forced to witness. “Who will rid me of this thorn in my side? I want a winner; I will not be made a laughing stock in my own castle. I want someone who is strong, worthy, and willing to fight for me? Not a pathetic excuse for a soldier like this disgrace beneath me.”
Kraken leant over the edge of the balcony and threw a silver goblet of red wine over the twisted armour-clad torso of Solidor, flat out below.
Gordrick raised himself from his chair and held high a boxing glove size clenched fist. “I’ll fight for you, sir.” He removed his helmet and placed it heavily across his chest. “I would consider it a great honour — a great honour indeed.” He placed his helmet back on his head and took one pace forward and looked down onto the battle arena.
With a snarl on his grotesque face he set his piercing eyes upon the triumphant Romulus below.
Romulus was oblivious to whom his next opponent was going to be. He was too busy soaking up the moment of his triumph, and Hangaku, the Spell Keeper, Macy, Olivia and Jack did all they could to be heard, though vastly outnumbered by the Kraken partisan crowd.
“You have been at my side for many years, Gordrick.” Kraken smiled broadly and placed a hand on Gordrick’s shoulder. “Not only do I consider you my most trusted and loyal friend, but without a shadow of a doubt, you are a shrewd advisor and seasoned Chandrapaul fighter, as well. So, the answer is, yes… I will let you fight Romulus. All I ask is you don’t let me down like that worthless excuse for a soldier, Solidor.”
“Rest assured, sir ... I will not let you down,” replied Gordrick with a demonic look of sheer determination and anger prominent on his face.
“I know you won’t. I have every faith in you. A winner is what I want and a winner I shall have.”
Gordrick leant over the balcony, looked down at Romulus and pointed. “I’m coming for you.”
Romulus cut short his celebration to look up at who he now knew was going to be his next opponent. “Oh great, that’s all I need!” To say he was a little dejected would have been an understatement. Romulus knew he may have won the battle, but he hadn’t won the war, yet. Solidor was a formidable fighter, but Gordrick was on another level all together.
Kraken faced the battle arena once more, and the vast grandstands packed with a hugely disappointed and disgruntled crowd and readied himself to introduce Romulus’s new opponent.
“My loyal subjects. Do not be disheartened … for I have a remedy for success right here at my side. I have decided to scrap the next round of the tournament and go straight to the final. Gordrick has taken up the challenge and w
ill fight Romulus in a grand finale — the winner being crowned Chandrapaul champion.”
A tremendous roar of approval, loud enough to almost lift the roof off its rafter sounded around the battle arena as the crowd got to their feet. Gordrick moved to Kraken’s side and bowed, along with everyone else in the Great Hall, as a mark of respect towards Kraken. All that was, except Romulus, Macy, Olivia, Jack, Hangaku and the Spell Keeper. They were all dumbstruck by the shattering news that Romulus was going to have to face Gordrick.
Macy found her voice and jumped up and walked across the battle arena, where she knew she would be visible to Kraken and his cronies, high up on the balcony. “Wait a minute, wait a minute.”
The cheering stopped, and silence once again ruled the Great Hall.
“Ah, one of Romulus’s little helpers, I do believe.” Kraken cast a derisory stare towards Macy. “A stranger who would very much like to see my downfall, I dare say? And what could you possibly have to talk about that would interest me?”
Under immense strain Macy stood still and gulped down a lung full of air. “If you’d keep quiet for a moment, I’ll tell you.” Fear gripped her body, but she wasn’t about to give Kraken the satisfaction of knowing it. “You are fully aware of the rules of Chandrapaul, and as such if Romulus wins the tournament you would have to let us all go free, including Zorax and Helena. But from what I have heard and seen of you, I doubt you’ll keep your promise.”
“Untrusting and spirited for one so naive, I’ll say that for you.” Kraken seemed to be enjoying himself. “I trust you won’t be so forthcoming once Gordrick has done my bidding.” Several Goblin Guards moved towards Macy, but where waved away by Kraken. “Leave her be. She amuses me.”
Macy ploughed her fingers through her hair Macy and ignored his goading. “The second thing that bothers me is the size of Romulus to that of Gordrick. He has already fought Solidor, who was much bigger, but Gordrick is even bigger still.” Macy’s voice began to break as her emotions took over. “That should help you understand the reason I’m standing here. How can this be a fair fight, when the difference in size is so obvious? It’s not very sporting, is it?”
Macy Vickers and the Book of Spells Page 21