by I. B. George
The tables were loaded with all kinds of treats, from venison to chicken, cooked in all manner of ways, alongside bowls of juicy fruit and platters of pies. The cooks at Nargor went over and beyond to show their guests from Elementis that the people of Khalari had more than a touch of refinement, despite their warrior nature.
A rumour was spreading round the corners of Nargor Castle that the youngest of the seven travellers was Queen Aryana’s nephew, Robert Eremon, the heir to the Kingdom of Fire. The courtiers were waiting eagerly to be introduced to the young prince during the ceremonies and tournaments which were due to take place before the grand banquet. At each festivity of this kind, it had become a tradition to organise sword fights and archery competitions in order to celebrate the warrior spirit of the Khalari people.
The guests began to make an appearance soon after sundown. The huge glazed doors to the inner courtyard of Nargor Castle were wide open, showing the enclosure that had been especially prepared for the competitions held in honour of Krotos, the god of war, the supreme deity of those in Akros.
The wooden targets were propped up at the back of the court and a stand of beautifully crafted bows and swords procured even more joy to those present who were all keen on acts of bravery and the skilful handling of weapons.
After about an hour, all the important names among the nobility of the Khalari Land had turned up and they were now waiting expectantly for the ceremony to start. You could tell that some of the guests were not entirely accustomed to the protocol of the court, as they were more familiar with the art of fighting and hunting. Many of them spoke loudly and laughed heartily as the wine from the Kingdom of Clouds, gladly drunk from big clay flasks, spilled freely across their beards in thin dribbles swiftly wiped with the back of their hands.
A few loud bangs rang out across this general merriment. Two stout soldiers from the king’s personal guard controlled the rhythm by beating two drums with wooden hammers, their handles inlaid with gold.
Another ten guards came out of the palace and took their place on either side of the stairs leading to the courtyard, forming a corridor for the usher who appeared in the doorway.
Dressed in his official attire, the usher banged the step on which he stood with a stick that had the Tanaris House’s coat of arms carved at the top, urging everyone to be quiet.
He inspected the guests with authority then uttered in a booming voice:
“Bow your heads before the great King Volkar Tanaris, the ruler of the entire Khalari Land, from the Borders Crossroad to the Dark Cliffs, heir of Zolar, the founder of the Tanaris Clan and ruler of the Great Council of Akros and before Queen Aryana, princess of the Kingdom of Fire and Queen to the Khalari Land!”
Everyone there bowed in respect on hearing the words uttered by the usher who looked pleased with himself as he savoured with relish the effect of his speech.
The king appeared accompanied by Aryana, and he motioned to everyone to raise their heads. Volkar Tanaris was a tall, broad man with a hooked nose – a trait that ran in the Tanaris family – and piercing blue eyes, as sharp as steel. His demeanour was dignified, fearless, a legacy from the tens of warriors in his kin.
Leaning on Volkar’s arm was Queen Aryana, her frame as delicate as the moonlight and her stance as unflinching as the darkness fraught with danger. She resembled Yari, the Night Goddess come among the mortals.
Volkar and Aryana headed towards their dais from where they could watch the competitions which were due to begin. They sat on their thrones and Queen Aryana arranged the folds of her dress around her, unaccustomed to such attire. She had been at the court of Nargor for almost twelve years during which time she had habitually worn her hunting or military garments.
Years ago, when she first arrived to Khalari as Prince Volkar Tanaris’s wife, she had been eyed with suspicion by her new subjects who were not pleased at their future king not choosing someone of their own people.
Over time however, Aryana had proved her ability as a leader and her people grew to love her as if one of their own. Twelve years on, anyone here would have gladly given their life for Queen Aryana.
The fact that their queen was also a descendant of the oldest family in Fantasmagoria, the Eremon House, made the people of Khalari feel the more proud and superior to the other clans in Akros.
The usher thumped his stick once more, making everyone turn their eyes to him, as his strong voice bellowed forth again:
“His Highness, Prince Robert, descendant of the great King Ga’al of the Eremon House and heir to the Kingdom of Fire!”
Everybody looked towards the door in order to see the last descendant of the Eremon House whose fame had long crossed the borders of the Lower Realm since the prophecy of the Oracle of Konaar.
Those at the back stood on their toes in order to see over those in the front row, curious to catch a glimpse of the prince who King Tyreas, the ruler of Elementis, feared so much.
Those who didn’t live at the court and hadn’t yet had the chance to see Robert when he arrived in Nargor with his friends, expected to see a big man.
When Robert appeared, a murmur of surprise spread among the nobility of Khalari.
“So this is the prince feared by the ruler of four kingdoms,” a tall fellow with a grey beard and a large scar running across his left cheek sniggered. “If everyone in Elementis were as… brave as their king, we could win a war just with our stable boys,” he added to the amusement of everyone around.
“He’s a midget!” called another.
“He’s not a midget,” argued someone nearby, “he’s just a little boy. Perhaps King Tyreas is afraid of being attacked by wooden swords and toy soldiers,” he added and everyone burst out laughing again.
Robert heard the giggles around him, but he continued undaunted towards the dais where his aunt and King Volkar stood, in order to pay his respects.
As he reached the thrones, he bowed and the king thanked him with a slight nod for the respect he was showing and asked him to sit on a throne to the left of Queen Aryana.
When the noise that rang out across the gathered crowd subsided, the king signalled to the usher to announce the start of the tournament.
Eleven strong men advanced towards the stand of weapons and chose their swords. Master Azar, who sat among the nobility with his friends, asked for permission to join the fighters. He wanted to teach a lesson to these haughty warriors who had made fun of his protégé.
The king granted the master his wish and explained to everybody that Azar had been the Master of Arms at Sardar Castle, the residence of the Eremon House, making the aristocracy very curious indeed.
The tournament started and the twelve knights took turns to fight until the king decided who the six remaining warriors were. He then divided them up in two groups of three, each fighter having to eliminate the other two in his group.
There followed two fierce fights, leaving Master Azar and Zarg, a tall, fair haired man, as the winners to go on to the final: sword fighting.
After a short break – while the two future competitors regained their strength and rearranged their attire – the two fighters approached the royal stand and greeted the occupants, then turned and bowed to each other.
They crossed their swords and Queen Aryana gave the signal for the fight to begin.
Zarg attacked swiftly with a terrible blow, aimed from above Azar’s head. The master jumped to one side and parried the blow with his sword, managing thus to make his young adversary lose balance.
Zarg recovered quickly and attempted a lunge but Master Azar turned to the left and avoided the blow while at the same time aiming his sword with a twist at his adversary’s shoulder.
With the agility of youth, at the last minute the young fighter managed to place his sword on that exact same side and avoided Azar’s blow.
He then pushed the master by using his greater strength and thrust away the other sword with the wide side of his own. Azar recovered swiftly and took the ‘en garde’ pos
ition, waiting for the next blow from his impetuous adversary.
With a roar, Zarg rushed towards Azar and started thrashing both left and right, while the master blocked each of them calmly, happy within himself that the young competitor had lost his temper. All he had to do now was to wait for him to make a mistake so he could launch his decisive attack.
The spectators were thrilled seeing Zarg’s strength and Azar’s dexterity who seemed to reply to the blows with the serenity of one who knows exactly what he was doing. Occasionally, the former Sardar’s Master of Arms would narrow his eyes, almost becoming lazier in his responses.
The older people who were very familiar with the secrets of sword fighting knew however that this was a sign of cunning which usually preceded the final blow. Aryana was also aware of Master Azar’s strategy and she expected him to end the fight at any moment.
Zarg was getting tired after a series of side attacks which Azar parried quite easily. The young man stopped, disconcerted by his adversary’s agility and thought about his next move.
Azar approached him, seemingly uncovered and Zarg charged to thrust his sword into his adversary’s shoulder. However, the master had left his guard down deliberately and made his opponent think it was time for the final attack.
With a flashing movement, he twisted on the inner side and aimed, stopping the sword within one inch of the neck of a petrified Zarg.
For a moment there was total silence among the nobility who couldn’t quite believe their eyes that a little old man had just won against one of their best fighters.
At last, the roar of cheering and clapping rang out across the courtyard in admiration, crowning a victory that had followed a spectacular fight.
Volkar, Aryana and Robert stood up and cheered Master Azar who was bowing in recognition for the appreciation that was shown to him.
“Come closer, Master,” said Volkar. “I’ve heard many stories about your agility with weapons. I’m glad to have been witness to your talent at last,” he added as a servant brought a beautifully ornate sword which he handed to Azar as his prize.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I’m sure the stories you’ve heard about me are greatly exaggerated. I’m nowhere near as good as you think. I’m simply passionate about weapons and I have always tried to pass on this passion to my students.”
“I’m happy to see you’re also modest, Master,” said the king with a smile.
Azar bowed his head to the royalty on the podium and then, accepting his prize, he turned to the spectators and saluted to the delight and cheers of everyone.
After the commotion caused around the sword fighting eased off, the usher announced the start of the archery competition.
Six Khalari youngsters had been chosen to take part in this, as they were considered to be the best archers in the kingdom.
The competition included hitting a target from a distance of one hundred paces after which, those who scored the highest would remain and the target would be moved fifty paces further on each round, until there was only one winner.
To everyone’s surprise, Azar asked for the king’s permission to enrol Robert in the archery competition, knowing that he could trust in his ability as an archer.
At first, Robert said no, afraid to embarrass his master, whose aura of accomplished fighter had enthralled everyone there. He accepted the challenge in the end when Azar insisted and convinced him he was ready to take part in the competition.
Since the bows available for this competition were too big, Robert was allowed by King Volkar to use his own bow which Master Azar had made for him.
The contest started well, all six competitors managing to hit the target. Finally, one of them – a tall young man with a mane of hair – left the tournament after he narrowly missed the bull’s eye.
“The shorty is good!” one of the spectators called in amusement.
This time however, the aristocrat’s remark did not cause any ripples of laugher but, on the contrary, some disapproving murmurs were heard. Everybody had warmed to the visitors from Elementis after Master’s Azar’s victory and now to the skill shown by the little Eremon Prince.
“My friend,” a bearded fellow with a booming voice said, “how many times do I need to tell you, he’s not a midget, he’s a small boy. By all gods, show some respect to our guests.”
The one who had been reprimanded began to say something, but swallowed his words when he saw everyone around him giving him funny looks, then he made himself scarce among the crowd which had gathered near the place where the competition was held.
At one hundred and fifty paces, two of the Khalari lads left the contest. One of them had the misfortune to miss his target when a breath of wind changed the trajectory of his arrow and he was disqualified immediately. The second one missed the centre of the target by very little but, just like the first one, he had to leave the competition.
To the astonishment of the crowds, Robert was still in the competition to win the bow and arrow contest. Those who had made fun of him at the beginning couldn’t stop themselves from praising Prince Eremon and his steady hand.
The target was moved again, this time to two hundred paces for the last remaining three fighters. They drew the order they would go in and Robert came last.
The first of the Khalari warriors pulled the bow and released. The arrow swished towards the target but went over by one bit, which made everyone sigh.
Hope was now with the second Khalari warrior left in the competition.
He took his place in the designated spot and checked the leaves in the trees, assessing the speed and direction of the wind. At last, he grabbed an arrow and placed it calmly, compensating for the distance with a slight lifting of the bow. He glanced at the leaves in the trees once more then took aim and released his arrow.
The arrow started with a whirr, bolting slightly and landed straight in the middle of the target, making the spectators burst into cheers after having held their breath in anticipation.
Robert realised that he had a difficult task and that it was near impossible to achieve a better result than his opponent. His only wish was to hit the target as close as possible to the centre and not disappoint his master.
Holding the bow in his right hand, Robert approached the spot where he was meant to stand, cheered on by everybody there. He took an arrow out trying to remember what Master Azar had taught him a few days previously.
Just as his predecessor had done, he checked the speed and direction of the wind, then stretched his bow, aiming a little bit higher than the target in front of him. He could feel the soft touch of the feathers at the end of the arrow as he tried to position it as perfectly as he could.
He held his breath for a few seconds so as not to hider the trajectory of the arrow, then finally released it towards the target.
As it left the bow, the arrow started high up in an arch then descended and eventually hit the target in the middle, next to the one belonging to the Khalari warrior. Straight away, one of the masters of arms at Nargor Palace headed towards the target to have a closer look.
Robert’s arrow had been so close to his opponent’s arrow that it managed to scrape the wood off it. Had the order of shooting been the other way around, Robert would probably have had the better shot and claimed victory over his opponent.
The Khalari warrior was declared the winner as he had been the first to claim the bull’s eye, so he headed towards the royal podium to collect his prize: a beautifully crafted bow which had the Tanaris family coat of arms emblazoned on it as a sign of appreciation from the royal court towards the skill that was employed during the competition.
The young fighter was very chivalrous and asked Robert to join him during the prize giving ceremony in recognition of his little partner’s ability.
Azar felt happy for his protégé as he realised that the many hours of training had not been in vain. After a while, when the general merriment had subsided, Azar took a few steps forward and asked for permission to address
the king.
With a gesture of his hand, the king granted his wish and Azar thanked him ceremoniously.
“Your Majesty, when the festivities are over, I would like you to give permission for my student, Prince Eremon, to demonstrate his ability to handle fire.”
Sitting on his throne, Volkar Tanaris replied with a smile:
“Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see the talents of your people, Master Azar. Even though my wife as a princess from the Kingdom of Fire has these ability too, I had never actually witnessed any of the Fire Chosen’s abilities. Our laws forbid us from using any tactics in battle other than weapons and Aryana as my wife has never used her talent here in Akros. I shall be delighted as much as everyone else will be to see the abilities which have made those from Elementis so famous.”
Azar beckoned Robert over to the court where the competitions were held. Visibly overwhelmed by the importance of this new event, Robert came closer to the master, all the time thinking that he must not disappoint Azar or anyone else there.
He eyed the two torches that framed the podium on which he had stood a few moments earlier and raised both arms before him, palms facing up. Two flames rose from each of the two torches, floated then rested obediently in the cup of his hands.
A murmur of surprise and admiration rang out from the crowds who had gathered around to get a better view of the prince’s demonstration.
Robert brought his palms closer and merged the two flames together, kneading them until he made a sphere of fire. The spectators were now watching the prince’s display breathlessly, astonished by his ability to tame fire. To the nobility in Khalari, Robert’s skill was unbelievable. Apart from the obvious artistry in manipulating fire, they were also amazed that the flames did not seem to hurt the prince in any way.
Suddenly, Robert hurled the fireball towards the target previously used for the bow and arrow competition. Engulfed by flames, the target collapsed, making everyone cheer at once with the thrilling pleasure at seeing this new trick.