by James Dale
"It is truly humbling Lord d'Lachaeland," Jack agreed.
"Call me Daenel," the steward said quickly. "Anyone commanding a reception such as this may dispense with the usual formality."
"Very well...Daenel. But I'm not sure I deserve this."
"Modesty is a fine thing," Daenel smiled, "but I saw your match with Tamaran Skuar. Skill such as you displayed is rare. Truth be known, until yesterday I was resigned to yet another waltz by the Duke of Raashan through the competition. Thanks to you however, I am looking forward to a most interesting tournament. Most interesting indeed."
“That is most kind of you to say, Daenel,” Braedan nodded.
"Now," the steward continued sobering. "About the unpleasantness of last night. Allow me to express my sincerest apologies."
"There is no need to apologize," Jack assured the personable young man. "You couldn't have..."
"On the contrary," Daenel interjected. "This city is under my care. Whatever transpires within these walls, be it fair or ill, I alone am ultimately accountable. Rest assured I will do every-thing within my power to bring the responsible party or parties to justice."
"I'm sure you will."
"It is too late to do anything for The White Hand or Flame of Praetor," the steward continued sadly, "but if you require anything from me, you have but to name it."
"Really," Jack assured him, "I suffered least of all from the terrible events last night. I was unaware anything was amiss until I awoke this morning."
"Can I not at least offer you the protection of the Immer Guard?"
“It won't be necessary," Jack smiled. "I have arranged for General Gamrin and his Razorbacks to...watch over me."
"They're a tough lot," the steward nodded. "But honorable. Their reputation alone should make anyone think twice before attempting to do you harm."
"I am certainly counting on it," Jack replied.
"Well...since you have no need of my protection, may I at least offer you best my wishes for continued success?"
"I gladly accept," Jack bowed.
"It has been a pleasure, sir knight," Daenel smiled. "From the look Darius is giving me however, I must bid you good day. I look forward with anticipation to our next meeting."
"As do I," Jack said truthfully. "Good day sir."
"I see you Darius!" the Steward of Immer cried, moving off after a quick bow.
"A true gentleman," Cassaban remarked as the steward hurried away. "I think even if you were not the current darling of his people, he would be no less solicitous."
"He certainly isn't your usual politician. That's for sure," Jack agreed. Daenel d'Lachaeland was likely going prove a valuable asset if...when he'd defeated Kiathan and announced himself the Heir of Ljmarn.
Unlike the previous day there was no ceremonious parade around the field by the contestants. While the spectators continued filing into the coliseum, those still eligible to participate in the competitions simply gravitated to their respective groups and began making preparations for the day's matches. There were only a few scattered seats still unoccupied in the uppermost galleries when a loud fanfare of trumpets announced the arrival of the royals. As one, the people stood to watch the monarchs of the Whesguard kingdoms take their places beneath the pavilion.
Jack stood with them and immediately began to search for Annawyn. His heart soared when he spotted the auburn-haired princess, but sadly her gaze once again swept over him without recognition. He did not however, go unnoticed by all. Prince Arrinor sighed with visible relief when he marked Jack's blue armor among those gathered on the field. Following his son's gaze, King Cilidon's face also brightened at the sight of the Disinherited Knight and he graced Braedan with a quick smile. To his surprise, Jack saw someone enter behind King Theros and the delegation from Brydium who hadn't been present the day before. Duke Morgan Ellgereth. What his appearance might portend, he could not guess, but the Duke of Dorshev's countenance was decidedly grim.
When the royals were seated, another fanfare sounded and d'Lachaeland moved to the center of the field where he announced the resumption of the tournament to thunderous cheers. Immediately thereafter, a tournament official called for the first ten archers of the day and the three pairs of swordsmen. The Disinherited Knight and Oranir Baal'tir were the first pair named.
"No sitting around in the sun today," Jack remarked, moving to select a practice sheath for Grimrorr.
Baal'tir proved to be a capable swordsman, possessing superior skills than Tamaran Skuar. Once again however, Jack won the day untouched by his opponent's blade. Though it was no easy thing. Baal'tir fought him tooth and nail, prolonging their for nearly half an hour before Braedan scored the second winning point. As the two swordsmen quit the field, bowing to the royal box, cheers for the Blue Knight filled the stadium. Yet because the crowd's attention was divided between the other competitors engaged as well, their cheer for him was not as boisterous as it had been the previous day.
"Well done," Cassaban said, coming to Braedan's side as he slumped wearily down on the nearest bench. Cassaban loosening the straps on his armor, then handed him a ladle of water from a nearby bucket.
"Thanks," Jack sighed, taking a hearty swallow before pouring the rest over his head. "Damn, my arms feel like they're made of lead. Another minute or two and..."
"And Baal'tir would have collapsed from exhaustion," Cassy smiled.
"Could've fooled me. He nearly got to me there at the end."
"Did you expect this to be easy? He's one of the best swordsmen in Aralon or he wouldn't have made it this far."
"But..."
"But you won," Cassaban interrupted. "He didn't touch you. And now you are in the Round of Sixteen. You did fine. Now forget about Baal'tir. Now...now you can start worrying about Jurden Salazar."
"Borg Cassaban and Tome Sarakoll!" cried a tournament official. "Five minutes!"
"Looks like an early day for both of us," Cassy said standing.
"Give him hell Cassy," Jack smiled wearily.
He did, making short work of Sarakoll.
"Not bad for someone so long of tooth? Eh, my lord?" Cassaban said as he came off the field to his own cheers of 'Borg! Borg! Borg!'
"Cassy," Jack said, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "What's going to happen if we meet out there?"
"Well...for one thing you're going to be glad you're wearing pretty blue armor," Borg laughed.
"Speaking of which, would you mind?"
Cassaban helped Braedan shed his armor and their day done, the two men settled down to watch the Competition of the Sword. They saw Tark Macuna advance with little difficulty. As did the anonymous fighter calling himself the Shadow Warrior. The left handed Jurden Salazar also won his match with ease before competition was halted at noon for construction of the lists and the resumption of the joust.
"Tomorrow, sir knight," Salazar bowed to Braedan as he came off the field, "you shall face a true swordsman."
"Better get a good night's sleep Jurden," Cassaban muttered at the cocky swordsman. "You're going to need it."
"Are you still here Borg?" Salazar glared. "Did you not see Macuna advance? I would have thought his victory would have sent you scurrying back to your pig farm."
"Not when there are still swine like you rooting around," Cassaban retorted.
"I do believe you won that round Cassy," Jack smiled as Salazar whirled away in a huff.
"His arrogance would be laughable," Cassaban said. "If he was not so good. Have you ever faced a left hander before my lord?"
"Twice. And I won both. Though both were some time ago," Jack admitted. "And neither were as quick as Jurden."
"When we get back to the Guild Hall, we'll ask if any of the Razorbacks are left handed," Cassaban said. "I believe Saemon Naud is. He could probably be convinced to have a go at you for practice. For a price of course."
"Of course," Braedan sighed. "Why should he be any different?"
"They are mercenaries," Cassy pointed out.
&nbs
p; When the lists were completed, the jousters took commanded of their attention and the two men discussed little else for the next two hours save for commenting on the violent collisions taking place on the tournament field. Lancemaster Julian Brin again won impressively, but a few other's showed enough skill to promise the Competition of the Lance would not be decided without contest. After the lists were cleared, archery and swordsmanship resumed. Another anonymous swordsman, the one calling himself The Blood Wolf, advanced to the next round. But one other was also defeated, leaving but three, Jack included, remaining in the competition.
Finally, as the day drew to a close, Kiathan Ellgaer, Swordmaster of Aralon, and Prince of Doridan, took the field against Masga du'Paz, a Captain of the Caladin Royal Guards. du'Paz fared little better than Dernhor Redmane had the day before and Kiathan walked from the field to thunderous cheers. Removing his helmet, he bowed with a flourish to the royal box, then quite deliberately made a point of catching Jack's eye. The satisfied smile he wore as he exited the field spoke confidently of his assurance it would be his name the people praised as they left the coliseum this day and not the Blue Knight.
"I know it's going to be hard," Cassaban said, helping Braedan gather his armor, "but your only concern right now must be for Jurden Salazar. If you do not defeat him, facing Kiathan is a moot point."
"I know," Jack sighed. "Come on. Let's go see if Saemon Naud will lend me his left arm a few hours."
Captain Khalmiya and his platoon of Razorbacks were waiting for the pair of swordsmen when exited the stadium, with Eaudreuil and Cassaban's Sorrel saddled to ride. A crowd of spectators also waited anxiously for the Disinherited Knight to appear, though today they were smaller in number and conspicuously kept their distance. Thanks, no doubt to his mercenary escort. Kiathan's men were there again as well, a squad this time, but they lingered far to the rear of the crowd and took great pains to appear uninterested in the Blue Knight.
Jack smiled with delight when he also noticed Arrinor standing off to one side. The Ailfar prince stepped forward at this, but a pair of Razorbacks moved quickly to block him.
"He insists on speaking with you," Khalmiya informed him.
"Let him through Maadim," Jack instructed, "He looks okay."
"Thank you for seeing me sir knight," Arrinor bowed formally.
"Cous..." Jack began, but the elf interrupted quickly.
"My name is Arrinor An'Mera, Prince of the Ail'itharain Ailfar," Arrinor said, then continued in a loud voice meant solely for Kiathan's watchers. "I but wished to offer the Disinherited Knight my hand in congratulation on his victory today."
"Thank you Prince Arrinor," Jack said, playing along though he was unsure what Arri was up too. He removed his gauntlet and shook the elf's hand, then understanding dawned as he felt the concealed note in his friend's palm.
"My father, King Cilidon also wishes to convey his congratulations, and to express his relief you were unharmed by last night's tragedy," the Ailfar smiled. "As are many others," he finished, placing emphasis on the last words to let Jack know exactly whom he meant.
"Thank you, highness," Braedan bowed, replacing his gauntlet to hide the note. "And thank your father and the others for their concern. Please assure them I have taken steps to guard against any further such calamity."
"I will," Arrinor smiled. "Good day to you sir knight. And good luck tomorrow."
"What was that all about?" Cassaban whispered as they climbed into the saddle and rode away from the coliseum, surrounded protectively by the Razorbacks.
"He slipped me a note," Jack replied, and discreetly removed his gauntlet. The note was written in Ailfar runes and read.
Great Lion,
Beware of Kiathan’s hound. He suspects you are one of the masked swordsmen despite your supposed convalescence Elvendale and is beside himself to discover which. You are probably safe in the Guild Hall, but take no chances even there. None! Morning Flower sends her regards and wishes to meet with you for a 'walk' tonight if you think it's safe. You may also be interested to know a certain Doridanian princess spoke highly of the Disinherited Knight over supper last evening. I thought Kiathan's head was going to explode!
Be careful dear kinsman.
Arri
I had no idea you were actually this good!
"What does it say?" Cassaban asked.
"To be careful of Kiathan." Jack replied, "And to take no chances. Even in the Guild Hall. There were also a few personal items he thought I might enjoy," Jack smiled.
"Such as?"
"None of damned your business."
"Annawyn?" Cassaban prompted. Braedan's only reply was a glowing smile.
Arriving at the Guild Hall near sundown, they found a bountiful supper already prepared. After eating heartily, Jack sought out Saemon Naud, who was indeed left handed, and for a small price, the mercenary agreed to be his fencing partner for the evening. Naud was not in the same class as Salazar in swordsmanship, but he was certainly not unskilled, being after all, a professional soldier. Two hours later, Jack retired to his chambers, exhausted, but confident he would represent himself admirably when the tournament resumed in the morning.
Cyran, Erlwin and Falan stopped by his room as he was preparing for bed to wish him a good night, and also to boast about the money they had won today.
"I'm glad you guys are making a profit from my labors," Jack muttered.
"Well...actually m'Lord," young Falan grinned sheepishly, "we wagered on Captain Cassaban."
"Your odd weren't worth spit today," Erlwin muttered.
"But tomorrow," Cyran cried excitedly, "Salazar is favored over you four to one!"
"Really?" Jack said thoughtfully, "Then by all means, put me down for ten...twenty Th'rakken on the Blue Knight."
"Silver or gold?" Erlwin asked.
"Well gold of course," Jack replied, counting out the coins and handing them to Cyran. "Now run along and let me get some sleep. And stay out of trouble! No dicing with the Razorbacks. And please...don't corrupt Falan beyond all usefulness. I'd like to keep at least one Lion with an honest reputation around me. For emergencies."
"We'll tuck him into bed before midnight my lord," Cyran laughed. "Word of honor."
"Yeah...right," Braedan sighed, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders. "Trim the lamp for me on your way out, would you?"
Sleep came quickly and soon Jack found himself in the Land of Dreams. His talent for Dreamwalking was growing better with each use and he easily transported himself to the open fields of the Greenrun. But no sooner had he anchored himself in the Dreamworld, when the night sky began to boil with angry black clouds filled with red flashes of lightning.
"Go!" a warning voice howled, exploding like thunder inside his head, and immediately the shadowy form of a large, gray wolf appeared at his side.
"Long Tooth?"
"Go you foolish cub!" the wolf snarled, snapping at his heels to speed him along.
"But Ailicia is meeting me..." Jack began.
"I have already chased that noisy female back to her pack," Long Tooth informed him tersely. "Now go! And do not come here again until Snow Dancer sends word or you can bring Bright Flame with you!"
Jack suddenly found himself hurled from the Land of Dreams and lying on his bunk in the Guild Hall. Seconds later, Maadim Khalmiya burst into the room, sword in hand, followed quickly by Cyran, then Cassaban and Falan.
"Great Prince!"
"I'm okay," Jack assured them quickly.
"But...I could have sworn I heard the howl of a wolf coming from your room," the Kadinar said, searching every corner of the chamber closely.
"I thought I'd go for a...walk," Jack sighed. "Long Tooth convinced me it wasn't such a good idea. You probably...mmm... heard him escorting me back to bed."
"Long Tooth?" Maadim asked, now thoroughly confused.
"My Lord?" Cyran said slowly.
"I fine. Really," Jack insisted.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. Go bac
k to your rooms. I won't do any more wandering tonight."
"Long Tooth?" the Kadinar asked again.
"It's a long story captain," Cyran said, taking the mercenary by the arm. "I'll explain everything over a large mug of ale. Good night my lord," he said, guiding everyone back into the hall. "And stay put, will you? That howl scared us all half to death."
"I will," Jack promised. "Wake me at first light."
"Of course," Cyran said, bowing as he closed the door.
Jack settled back onto his bunk, rubbing a tender spot on his calf where the ghost of Long Tooth had nipped him. He soon drifted off to sleep, taking care not to dream.
Jack was up and dressed the next morning before Cyran came to wake him. After a quick breakfast, he donned his armor with Falan's help and made his way to the stables. Maadim and his platoon of Razorbacks were already assembled and waiting, along with General Malik.
"Will you be joining us this morning sir?" Jack asked.
"I thought I'd go see what all the fuss was about," the stocky general shrugged. "Especially after the drubbing you gave Naud last night."
"I would hardly call it a drubbing," Jack smiled. "I spent most of the evening on my heels, trying to keep his sword from my throat."
"That's not the way Naud tells it," Malik laughed. "He actually seems to think you have half a chance of beating Salazar today."
"We shall see."
"I also came by to give you this," the general said, handing Braedan a gilded envelope. "It arrived just a few minutes ago."
Jack turned it over and seeing the royal seal of Doridan his heart skipped a beat.
"No need to open it," Malik said quickly. "It's from the Dog of Raashan, not your lovely Horsemaiden. He humbly requests the presence of the Disinherited Knight at the High King's Palace this evening for food and spirits. Conditional I suppose, though it actually doesn't say, upon your victory today. I would guess the Blood Wolf and the Shadow Warrior received similar letters."
"Be so kind as to send my regrets," Jack said coolly. "I'm afraid I'm going to be busy sharpen-ing Grimrorr."
"Already done," Malik grinned. "And worded more graciously than he deserves. Though I made a point of addressing your reply to the Duke of Raashan. That should put a bur under his saddle."