CHAPTER SIX
AN IMPOSTER REVEALED
SUR Verity leapt from her saddle and stalked towards Joss. The ferocity with which she was eyeing him made him shrink away, but, as it had been with the tyrannosaur, he had nowhere to run, and certainly nowhere to hide.
‘Exactly what in the name of Mother Mab do you think you’re doing here, Prentice Sarif?’ she demanded as she advanced on him, the illumicam swooping in for a close-up. Her hand was tightened into a fist, wrapped around the hilt of her Champion’s Blade with such tension that Joss wondered if the metal might snap.
Joss blanched. ‘Sur Verity, I –’
‘Prentice?’ the golden-haired stranger exclaimed, sharing a look of shock with Sur Luther.
‘I just meant to –’ Joss tried again, but Sur Verity only grew more irate. He backed up as she drew closer to him, her face taut and red with anger.
Before he could find the words to explain himself, a third voice interrupted them. ‘Can you believe it, folks? A stunning turn of events here as the competitor believed to be Sur Wallace Wundamore stands revealed as an imposter!’
Merry Merl sounded almost delighted, obviously knowing an opportunity for added excitement when he saw it, while the noise of the crowd had died away to a stony silence. All the while, Sur Verity glared at Joss, her fist fretting at the handle of the Champion’s Blade.
She’s not just mad at me for bluffing my way in, he realised. She’s mad because I spoilt her winning streak. Glancing at the helmet lying by his feet, he wondered if he had enough time to scoop it up and put it back on. No doubt he was going to need the added protection.
‘Arriving now on the field is Grandmaster Eno to deliberate on this unprecedented occurrence, a first in all the Tournament’s history!’ Merry Merl announced as the flying platform soared into view, blotting out the sun. Squinting against the light, Joss could just make out two other figures standing alongside the grandmaster. ‘And it appears he’s not alone!’
The platform glided to a landing just a few feet from Joss and Sur Verity, and not that far from the unconscious tyrannosaur. When the engines had rumbled to a stop, Grandmaster Eno unlatched the railing and stood to one side, allowing his passengers to disembark before him.
The first person to step off was the Illustran gentleman that Joss had run into earlier, his hat wobbling in the breeze. The gentleman’s polished boots crunched in the dirt as he spun in place, plucking the hat from his head to bow before the second figure, who now stepped from the platform onto the red earth below.
Regent Augustus Greel was a small man, which surprised Joss. Having never seen him in person, he was accustomed to the sight of the leader of Ai’s head floating like a hot-air balloon over public illuminators, making decrees and announcements with paternal confidence.
Now, in the flesh, he seemed so much more … ordinary. Even with his platinum chain of office, his white ceremonial robes, and his facial hair that had been clipped and waxed and groomed into an elaborate goatee, he still looked like someone who should be collecting taxes rather than running a country.
‘My good man – congratulations!’ the regent said, walking towards Joss as if he had springs in his knees that made him bounce on the balls of his feet. ‘What a decisive victory that was, truly and spectacularly. Don’t you agree, Lovegood?’
The hatted man looked up. ‘Truly and spectacularly, Your Excellency.’
Having crossed the distance between them, the regent grabbed Joss’s wrist to shake it enthusiastically. Though stunned by this sudden arrival, Joss returned the gesture.
‘And a firm grip at that! You do your order proud, my young friend. Grandmaster Eno, what say you? Ready to declare our winner?’
‘I’m not sure it’s as simple as that, Your Excellency,’ said Grandmaster Eno, leaning heavily on his cane as he limped over to the regent. With every step, he stared at Joss as if he could divine his character just by looking at him. The intensity of his gaze was enough to make Joss glance away, only to catch sight of Sur Verity’s scowling face instead. With nowhere else to look, Joss stared at the ground. ‘There’s an issue of fraud to deal with, y’see. Our rider here entered this competition under false pretences.’
‘Nonsense!’ Regent Greel exclaimed with a grin, his teeth crooked but almost as bright as the chain gleaming around his neck. ‘I saw him out there. He rode with spirit and ability, and there’s no faking that. Tell me, son, what’s your name?’
‘Josiah Sarif of Round Shield Ranch,’ Joss said, then thought enough to add, ‘Your Excellency.’
‘Sarif? That’s a Daheedi name, isn’t it?’ the regent said, his smile turning to a mournful frown with such speed that his expressions felt practised, as if he were an actor rehearsing two different scenes at the same time. ‘I wasn’t aware that anyone had survived the Destruction …’
Though everyone had already been staring at Joss, it felt as if their attention now intensified to a laser focus. Even Sur Verity’s expression of fury seemed to give way to something more complicated.
‘I … don’t think anyone else did, Your Excellency,’ Joss said and left it at that, doing his best to swallow the bitter taste of the regent’s feigned sympathy.
‘I see. My condolences, Josiah,’ the regent replied, staring at him a moment longer before allowing the sunshine to return to his face. ‘Now, you were riding under the name of Sur Wallace Wundamore, correct?’
‘Yes, Your Excellency.’
‘And you are from which order?’
‘Round Shield Ranch, Your Excellency.’
‘Then that settles it!’ the regent crowed and clapped his hands. ‘Our young friend here was riding on behalf of one of his own paladeros. I take it Sur Wallace was indisposed, Josiah?’
‘Yes, Your Excellency, he was,’ Joss said, confident that he was speaking the truth, though not so confident that he allowed himself to even glance in Sur Verity’s direction. There was still Edgar to consider, after all, and the last thing he wanted was to drag him into all this.
‘Then he’ll be delighted to hear what you’ve accomplished on his behalf. Though I dare say the prize money will have to go towards your order, rather than your own personal funds. Does that sound fair?’
‘I never thought I’d actually win, Your Excellency. So I didn’t exactly have the money all counted up,’ Joss replied, much to Regent Greel’s delight.
‘Ha! Just as well, my lad, just as well!’ The regent beamed at Joss, then at Grandmaster Eno. ‘Well, I’d say we have our winner. Wouldn’t you agree, Grandmaster?’ Though Grandmaster Eno’s expression betrayed nothing of what he was feeling, he was clenching his jaw so tightly that the veins on his head stood out. Remaining quiet for the longest time, he turned his attention to Sur Verity. She offered nothing more than the barest shrug of a shoulder.
Even when Grandmaster Eno finally spoke, his teeth remained locked together, forcing his lips to do all the work. ‘Of course, Your Excellency,’ he said.
‘Splendid!’ The regent threw his arms around both Joss’s and Grandmaster Eno’s shoulders. ‘Let’s get a picture, what say?’
The illumicam was already focused on them, snapping photos at the same time that it streamed the live fe
ed back to the stadium. Joss had almost forgotten it was there, but if he needed a reminder it came when the regent grabbed his hand and raised it in the air in victory.
‘There you have it, folks!’ Merry Merl’s voice echoed all around them. ‘Regent Greel himself has declared young Josiah Sarif, prentice of Round Shield Ranch and last survivor of Daheed, the undisputed champion of this year’s Tournament!’
Much to Joss’s surprise, the crowd didn’t boo. In fact, they cheered louder and longer and far more passionately than they had before. They had been listening all this time, and something that Joss had said must have won them to his side.
‘Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it?’ Regent Greel said when finally the cheers had faded and the illumicams had all buzzed back to the stadium. ‘Come on, Lovegood, we’ve a ceremony to conduct. And after that I’m sure there’s champagne to be popped and dignitaries to be hobnobbed.’
‘Yes, Your Excellency,’ Lovegood said, tilting the bucket of his hat back up onto his head. Together, the regent and his manservant returned with Grandmaster Eno to the platform they’d rode in on, which the grandmaster quickly fired up. He still hadn’t unclenched his jaw, even as they took to the air and disappeared from sight.
‘Congratulations,’ Sur Luther said when they were gone, his tone icy enough to make a weathered paladero from the Northern Tundra shudder. It was as if he’d completely forgotten his gratitude just moments ago for Joss having saved his life. Even the Zadkille prentice scowled at Joss as he loaded his brother onto the hover-stretcher that had just arrived, its twin mechanoid bearers scanning his injuries as Sur Luther crawled into place.
‘Try not to move, Luther,’ the prentice muttered, placing a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘The meks need a clean read.’
‘Stop telling me what I already know!’ Sur Luther barked at him as he smacked the hand away. ‘I’ll meet you back at the pavilion … unless these jumped-up trashcans get lost on the way. In the meantime, see to the lizard.’
The prentice’s scowl grew darker but still he held his tongue, watching as the stretcher flew up and away from the arena. When it had finally vanished from sight, he unclipped a strange weapon from his back and walked towards the tyrannosaur, which was groaning lightly as it struggled awake. This weapon was shorter and bulkier than the wooden air-blasting thundersticks most paladeros used. Its matte black alloy gave it an alien quality that bordered on the sinister, leaving Joss to speculate about what exactly the prentice intended to do with it.
Aiming at the tyrannosaur, the prentice pulled the trigger and electricity shuddered from the barrel. The charge hit the struggling thunder lizard between its tiny eyes, and all the gathering tension left its body.
‘Tourney Base, this is Zadkille.’ The prentice spoke into a receiver stitched into his cuff. ‘King Lizard has been pacified. Over.’
‘Copy that, Zadkille,’ the voice on the other end of the line squawked. ‘Transport will be with you for collection shortly.’
The prentice didn’t look up as he stomped past Joss back towards his jet-cycle.
‘Come on, Sur Wallace,’ Sur Verity said from over Joss’s shoulder, where she had withdrawn to observe the unfolding events. She’d already returned to her raptor and was now climbing back up into the saddle. ‘Hope the champion doesn’t object to packing down his own tent.’
Joss knelt down to retrieve his helmet, brushing the dust from its contours. ‘Sur Verity, I never meant to –’
‘Save it, Josiah,’ Sur Verity said, kicking her raptor into a run. ‘You can enjoy your ceremony and your spotlight and all the shallow glory that comes with it, for now – but we’ll see what Lord Malkus has to say when we get home.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
A SKY FULL OF STARS
THE sky was crowded with cargo ships, their jets glowing like fire pits, their hulls emblazoned with the Zadkille Station emblem. Joss stared at these roaming stars from his well-worn saddle, and fiddled with the sword that now hung from his belt.
The handover ceremony had been far more subdued than in previous years. Though the crowd still cheered him on, there was a sense of resistance from all the officials as they assembled in the stadium to observe the passing of the Champion’s Blade. Sur Verity’s face had been a mask of stern resolve as she’d performed the actions required of her, but Joss knew her well enough to sense the emotion blazing beneath the surface.
She started by detaching the sword from her belt and pulling it from its sheath to expose the golden blade to the sun, blinding Joss with the reflection as he stood upon the winner’s podium.
The sword itself was short, tapering to a needlepoint. The grip was enough for a single hand, its pommel carved from a raptor claw. Joss wondered how Azof would feel about that particular design element, even as he looked over the inscription that had been etched in gold on the pommel’s polished surface. A True Champion, A True Paladero. Words intended to honour the sword’s bearer. Words that seemed almost mocking now.
The sword now proven to be the Champion’s Blade, Sur Verity sheathed it once more and offered it on outstretched palms to Joss. He bowed his head and accepted it in the same way, holding out both hands. The weight of it as it found his fingertips surprised him. Given that it was meant only for ceremonial purposes, he had expected it to be as light as the sunshine that danced on its edge. But instead it was leaden, his arms wavering under the weight.
‘With the passing of the Champion’s Blade, I proclaim Prentice Josiah Sarif the winner of this year’s Tournament, and the Keeper of the Blade until we meet again two years hence,’ Grandmaster Eno announced, his voice booming across the stadium. ‘Long may he ride!’
‘Long may he ride!’ the crowd echoed, breaking into applause.
The handover now finished, Grandmaster Eno declared this year’s Tournament to be at an end. The stadium emptied out, the tents were packed down, and the livestock was rounded up. Then all the paladeros from across Ai went their separate ways.
Now, as he rode alongside Sur Verity on their way back home, all Joss wanted to do was stop and ask her to take back the Champion’s Blade. It had been hers for three Tournaments in a row and six years straight, after all. Longer than Joss had even been at Round Shield Ranch. But knowing that to make such an offer would only insult her further, he chose instead to ride on in silence and occupy himself by staring up at the Zadkille ships.
Zadkille Station was the oldest and most affluent of all the paladero orders, and now that it had taken to the skies its supremacy was undeniable. The Zadkille paladeros could move hundreds of thunder lizards in half the time it took the other orders to drive a dozen. Joss wondered if the golden-haired prentice was aboard, tinkering with his jet-cycle as he reflected on all the blessings he’d collected in his charmed little life, even if it came at the cost of having a brute for an older brother.
Turning his gaze earthward, Joss looked out over the dozens of stegosaurs and triceratopses that he and his fellow order members were driving back home. He often wondered why Round Shield Ranch persisted in the traditions of the paladero, when new technologies like airships would have made their lives so much easier.
A fat, wet belch rippled from behind him. Joss didn’t need to look to know it was Sur Wallace, but still he glance
d over his shoulder. The old paladero was swaying in his saddle, his eyelids fluttering shut, his jaw lolling open. Ordinarily, Joss and Edgar might have ridden alongside each other on their way home to swap stories, but the young prentice was too busy struggling to make sure that Sur Wallace kept pace with everyone else, so that no livestock would break with the herd.
‘Both his sponsors renewed their contracts,’ Sur Verity muttered, startling Joss. ‘He even signed two new ones thanks to what I’ve heard him describe as his “brilliant tactic of having a rising star run the Gauntlet on his behalf ”. So his position in the order is secure for at least another couple of years.’ She paused, and then added, ‘But we know the truth of that, don’t we?’
Her words were as pointed as her gaze, throwing Joss into a tailspin. He had been doing everything he could not to think of what awaited him back at Round Shield Ranch. If he ruminated on it too much, then he started to concoct ever more elaborate and nightmarish scenarios. What started in his head as Lord Malkus rebuking him quickly turned to expulsion from the order, and a life spent wandering Thunder Realm as a destitute drifter.
Joss pushed the images out of his head. Looking again at Sur Verity, he found her facing away from him as she watched over the herd.
Rather than risk falling back into paranoid fantasies, Joss stared up again at the sky. The Zadkille ships were now banking towards the thick white clouds gathered on the horizon. One by one they disappeared into the swirling mists, their engines fading away like a dream at dawn, while Joss and his companions continued across the plains of Thunder Realm and on towards Round Shield Ranch.
That night they camped on the banks of the Saurian River among an oasis of palm fronds and fruit trees. While the livestock crowded together to drink, the paladeros and prentices busied themselves setting up their tents and getting a fire started.
The Riders of Thunder Realm Page 4