by D. F. Jones
The second and third rounds saw the elimination of more competitors. Matches grew more intense, and injuries more severe. The arts clashed, resulting in lightning, fireworks, smokescreens, death masks, rain, and more. Siv’s skills proved so strong, however, she’d required no magic.
Siv, Rand, and Dakrus from the West Stage had easily dispatched their opponents in their quarter-finals. Only one team remained from the East Stage. The head umpire called the four finalists to the center of the jousting field.
The head umpire announced, “Congratulations on making it to the semi-finals. With three teams from the West Stage and one from the East, we must balance the competition. One team will move from West to East. Your scrying stones will alert you to which area you will report. You’ll have one hour to have a meal and prepare for your next match. Good luck.”
Piercing whines echoed with humming as the stones vibrated in the jousters’ hands. Siv glanced at her stone until “EAST” appeared in gold letters against the red surface.
Dakrus headed back to the West Stage. As he passed Siv, he shouted, “Looks like you’re heading to the losing side, Siv.”
Ghy stiffened as Dakrus’ mount snorted a puff of black smoke shaped like a death dragon into her path. The wyvern blew billows of white smoke drawn from her powers of life, smashing the offending dragon against the wall. With little effort, Siv blasted air through clenched teeth to dissipate the dark cloud, forcing Dakrus to grab the pommel to remain in his seat.
Her power of air was far greater than the Necromancer’s command of the death element he’d just displayed.
She patted Ghy’s neck. Nyrin looped head over heels and stretched out her arm to stroke the dragon’s cheek as they flew to their new location.
Siv said, “We’ve just had minor skirmishes so far, ladies. Now we face a battle I cannot lose.”
As spectators rushed to concession stands, the council gathered in their private wing, where a feast awaited them.
Zelman huddled with the Senior Delegate. “Siv is among the best of the best, Tudoriax. Her skills are definitely in the top three of our four finalists.”
“Siv will joust either Rand or Dakrus in this match.” Tudoriax reached for a glass of wine. “Things are in our favor. Either is formidable enough to take her out. If she fights Dakrus first, we’ve put some insurances in place to handicap her. Should she make it to the finals, she’ll be near exhaustion when she faces Rand.”
Zelman rolled his eyes. “Fire Elves are the most feared race when it comes to fighting. You know the saying: ‘If a Fire Elf steps on your foot, you apologize first.’ They’ve been on the frontlines of every battle since Prima Morda, and they live to die a glorious death. What if Rand wins the final?”
“Who cares, Zelman?” Tudoriax snapped. With a clap of his hands, a mist appeared and spun before him. It dissolved, leaving an ancient leather-bound record floating in its wake. He wagged his fingers and metal pages flipped until he stilled his hand. “According to the Etchings of Law, his entry was a fluke that could not be prevented. But he can’t be Grand Sentinel because he’s not Mesolands-born. That is ironclad. The end.”
“Would it matter if Siv becomes the Grand Sentinel?” Zelman asked. “She is as worthy as any competitor we’ve seen and is fully capa…”
Cold silence met the minister’s statement. He opened his mouth and then clamped it shut, realizing he may have just sealed his death warrant.
Siv tended to her dragon before taking a break. Esrala and Giln, the female apprentice jousters, struggled to carry a metal tub to the staging area. They set it before Siv, busy inspecting her dragon’s claws.
She stood. Although older, she was as lithe as the others. Only when she removed the dead sheep from the tub and tossed the carcass to Ghymugras did her true strength become evident. Both trainees stepped back in awe.
“Take your time and enjoy, Ghy,” she crooned. “Esrala and Giln, where are the imps who should be attending to my dragon?”
The younger females shook their heads. “We haven’t seen them.”
Nyrin fluttered into the hallway. “Lady Siv, you need to come eat. Your food is ready.”
“I’m coming.” She rubbed the dragon’s snout and turned to the apprentices. “Please take care of her. Only allow her to drink a small tub of water, please.”
“Yes, Lady Siv.” The apprentices scampered from the room to do her bidding.
As Siv walked toward the West Stage dining hall, she glanced at the countdown on the time monitor. Twenty minutes. Food was the last thing on her mind but she needed the sustenance. She joined Nyrin at a small table to one side. A server brought her a plate stacked with fruits and breads.
Across the room, the other jouster finished his meal and leaned back in the chair. He nodded once and Siv returned the greeting. His name was Altin and they had trained together when they were young, but never jousted in the same competition.
She nibbled on a hunk of bread, leaving Altin alone to his thoughts.
“Aren’t you hungry, Siv?” Nyrin popped a grape in her mouth. “You aren’t nervous, are you?”
“No, to tell you the truth, I’m not. And I’m not hungry either, although I need to partake of some food before the next contest.”
“Well, I’m starved.” The pixie polished off the food on her plate and went in search of more.
A novice jouster brought a jug to the table. He kept his eyes averted as he poured.
“Are you new?” Siv asked. “I haven’t seen you before. Where are you from?”
“Slak. A small village in the western hemisphere.”
Siv nodded. “I know it. How long have you been here?”
“I just arrived, Lady Siv.” He bowed and walked toward the other jouster’s table. He started to fill the cup, and the beverage spilled across the stone tabletop. Altin leapt to his feet as the servant mopped with his apron.
Nyrin returned with a plate piled full of cakes and sweets. Between bites, she chattered, sometimes with her mouth full.
“I’ve talked to the other flight guards. Everyone is excited. Today is the day of reckoning. They’ve started a betting pool and you’re favored to win.” Nyrin polished off another cake. She inclined her head to the other diner. “Even Altin’s guard bet on you. Only Dakrus and Rand’s guards voted for their jouster.”
“Hmmm.” Distracted, Siv glanced around the room, trying to figure out what had caused a sudden disturbance in her mind.
A screech echoed across the room, and Altin glanced at his scrying stone.
“I’m up first.” The monitors displayed “SEMI-FINAL ROUNDS” and his name. The screen wavered until Rand’s name appeared as his opponent. Under their names, the “Element of Afterlife” appeared as the banned art for the round.
He extended a hand. “You’ll fight Dakrus then. Good luck, Siv. Defeat him. You’ll make a good ruler.”
“It’s not over yet, Altin, but good luck to you, too.” Never one with extreme hubris, Siv shook his hand. Altin headed out.
Siv said, “Let’s go to staging, Nyrin.”
“Almost ready.” Nyrin grabbed her goblet and gulped.
“No!” Siv pivoted and knocked the cup to the floor. “How much did you drink?”
“The whole glass. Why?”
“Where is our server, the apprentice who brought the last jug?” Siv stomped up and down the aisles.
“I don’t know. What is it, Siv?”
“There’s something strange about him.” Siv grabbed her temples and concentrated. Then she snapped her fingers. “He knocked the jug over at Altin’s table, but now I don’t think it was an accident. It must be drugged. He poured me a glass, but I never drank from it.”
“It tasted fine to me. Let’s go. We don’t have a lot of time.”
The two arrived at the staging area just as the gates closed behind Altin.
Ghy snorted a greeting. Siv gave her a reassuring pat. Her gaze drifted to the tub of water at the dragon’s feet. Unease stirre
d in the pit of her stomach.
“Esrala, Giln!” Siv called the assistants. “Did Ghy drink this water? Where did it come from?”
“The cistern,” they answered in unison.
“You’re sure that’s where it came from?”
“Yes,” Giln said. “We drew it ourselves. Two imps carried a tub of water in, but they acted strangely. Nasty little things. They began to argue, and one pushed the other into the water. He was so dirty, we chased them away and got fresh water for Ghy. I think they were high on something.”
Siv slapped her forehead. “I should have realized there may be sabotage and kept closer watch.” She glanced at the monitors as the scrying drones panned the scene. Thunderous applause railed through the speakers as Altin took his place. A mix of cheers and hisses greeted Rand.
“That drowd is getting guggly,” Nyrin mumbled through puffed lips.
“What did you say?” Siv turned.
Nyrin’s eyes rolled up, and she fell forward onto her face.
Chaos ensued. An uneasy Ghy snorted puffs of gray smoke. The two apprentices bumped into each other, trying to help. Then Giln raced away to find a healer.
Heavy booing rattled the stadium. Siv stole a peek at the floating monitors. Rand had won the match and was on a short victory lap before returning to the West Stage.
“Nyrin, wake up! Wake up!” Siv cried. The pixie curled up and snored softly.
“We have to go without her, Ghy!”
The wyvern swooped low so Siv could climb onto the saddle. They blew through the gates to the starting point. Their opponents were already in the stadium, swooping and somersaulting. Dakrus’ mount drifted to the starting point.
A new wave of cheers followed as Ghy lined up at the opposite end.
Siv’s memory rings warned her that Dakrus aimed to dislodge her saddle. As he thundered down the field, he summoned fire to form a wall of flame and smoke. Siv called forth the blast of air she needed to keep her vision clear. She blocked his weapon with a mighty thrust from her shield. At the same time, Ghy twisted and slapped her massive tail into the chest of the opposing dragon, sending the beast and its rider crashing against a wall. Applause followed the two teams until they reached the end of the field and skidded around the U-turn mark.
With the next pass, Dakrus summoned the forces of death and the undead to surround him and his mount. Writhing, tortured souls formed a black wall of smoke, blocking him from Siv’s view.
Lightning bolts flashed, sending shock waves throughout the stadium as Siv called on the elements of earth, air, and water. The strengths of the two powerful jousters brought them to a standstill as the arts warred against each other, stalled by some unseen wall between them.
Heat from Ghy’s flaming breath propelled over Siv, whose clothing had already changed to the life-saving armor. She and Ghy both flapped their wings to further fan the air against the wall of godforsaken figures struggling to reach them.
Siv’s memory rings warned her that the coronal had fallen off Dakrus’ lance, revealing a sharpened metal tip aimed straight for her heart. Armor hardened over her. She stood in the stirrups and called forth the power of water. Her command of the combined arts was too much for Dakrus’ power of death and the undead. The torrent broke through the invisible wall, engulfing the fiends.
Although thrown off balance by the flood, Dakrus’ dragon continued the charge. Ghy careened her massive chest into the other dragon while Siv powered her lance at Dakrus’ shoulder. The attack on his unbalanced frame sent him toppling from his saddle. He swayed at the end of the tether.
Derisive catcalls ensued. The umpire again declared Siv the winner. Tudoriax flipped his palm at Siv.
Dakrus’ dragon began its flight of shame, circling the stadium until it could land the furious, dangling jouster onto a solid surface.
Ghy looped into one graceful somersault before flying to the staging area to thunderous approval from the crowds.
The five-minute intermission allowed just enough time for a comfort break.
After the monitors flashed Siv’s and Rand’s names, scrambled letters flipped on the next line. At last, the letters fell into formation, revealing “ALL MAGICS BANNED.”
The crowd roared in disapproval.
“Lady Siv! Can the council do that?” Giln cried.
Siv shrugged and mounted Ghy. “No telling what they can do, but this should be interesting.” The duo headed onto the field.
The jousters squared off at their starting points. It was only then Siv realized that without magic, her armor would not form. Her memory rings remained dark.
As if reading her thoughts, Rand removed his armor. The spectators burst into cheers.
Rand was as handicapped as she—except as a Fire Elf, he never tethered to his saddle.
Determined to compete on an equal footing with her opponent. Siv stood in the stirrups and made a point of removing her tether. The crowd lapsed into silence.
Let this match begin. I’m ready.
On the first pass, Siv managed to slice one of the straps of Rand’s stirrup. His lance snagged the billowy cloth of her sleeve. She jerked sideways, but remained seated. The dragons lashed at each other with their spiked tails and then continued to the opposite end with both riders upright.
The teams lined up for the second pass and charged ahead.
Siv stared down the padded coronal of Rand’s advancing lance. She aimed hers, and in a micro-second, the two ends smashed together. The impact sent Rand’s mount crashing against a railing while Ghy spun head over heels. Siv’s coronal broke, leaving a sharp point.
Siv struggled to hold on. The crowd roared when Ghy righted and the feisty jouster still remained in the saddle.
Ghy steadied and rounded the U-turn, as did Rand’s mount at the opposite end.
The next six seconds seemed to go by in slow motion. Siv raised her lance just enough to deflect Rand’s, and she lunged forward. Her lance speared into his chest muscles straight through his scapula. Ghy’s right wing struck him across the forehead. Her tail lashed out, sending Rand’s dragon into a tailspin.
The impaled lance caused Rand to lose his balance. He slipped from the saddle and began the fall toward the void. His dragon swooped to catch its rider.
For a second, Rand hesitated. With his injured arm, he caught the pommel just in time and heaved his body back into the saddle.
Despite the injury, he pulled himself upright. He guided his dragon on one flight around the jousting field with the lance still protruding from his body.
He met Siv in the center. “Your lance, Grand Sentinel, Ma’am.” He pulled the spear from his shoulder and handed the bloody, broken shaft to Siv. He forced her hand upward to hold it aloft. The crowd went wild. A furious-looking Tudoriax gave a fling of his arm as he pointed to Siv and then stormed from the stadium.
Stomps and cheers rocked the arena.
“You’re a worthy opponent, Siv,” Rand said with a bow of his head. “Congratulations.”
Siv’s gaze drifted to the void below their feet, then to Rand’s shoulder. “As are you, Rand. You should get your wound tended to as soon as possible.”
“I will.” Rand winked and let his gaze travel to the crystals on her suit. “If I come to you after the victory celebrations, will you wear this suit, if you can prevent it from turning into body-chewing armor?”
“Are you willing to take the risk?”
Rand paused and grinned. “Yes, I’ll take that chance.”
She smiled and said, “I’m glad you decided not to die your glorious death today. See you tonight.” Siv nudged Ghy, and the pair flew into their victory dance. Impressive bolts of lightning flashed silver and blue, winds blew away clouds to clear the sky. Misting water formed arcs of rainbows.
Ignoring the display of elements, Rand studied the amazing crystals covering Siv’s form.
Some days, other things were more important than a glorious death.
About Allie Marie
Award-winning author Allie Marie grew up in Virginia. Her passion for genealogy inspired her to write the True Color Series. Her other stories patiently wait for their turn.
Her debut, Teardrops of the Innocent: The White Diamond Story, was a 2015 New England Readers' Choice Award (NERCA) Finalist in paranormal. The second, Heart of Courage: The Red Ruby Story earned two “Best Book” awards at the 2017 Indie Romance Convention Awards. The fourth, Hands of the Healer: The Christmas Emerald, garnered a 2019 Rocky Mountain Best Cover Award as well as finalizing in the 2019 NERCA. Child of Time released in 2019.
Plans for 2020 include a WW1 time-travel mystery, and the True Spirits Trilogy, a spin-off of her original series.
Besides family, her passions are travel and camping with her husband Jack.
Also By Allie Marie
THE TRUE COLORS SERIES
Teardrops of the Innocent: The White Diamond Story (Book 1)
Heart of Courage: The Red Ruby Story (Book 2)
Voice of the Just: The Blue Sapphire (Book 3)
Hands of the Healer: The Christmas Emerald (Book 4)
Child of Time: The Pearl Watch (Book 5)
Tis The Season
It’s a Wonderful Life After All
Resistance by Felicity Brandon
The Demonology Series
Chapter 1
Cathy
The piercing panic of the alarm startled Cathy, and still half-asleep, she stumbled out of bed. Her heart raced as she moved from the bedroom into the blackness of the hall, tracing the wall with her hands until she found the light switch, but she didn’t allow it to cloud her emotions.
Who had triggered the alarm at this time of night or, more specifically, what?
Cathy swallowed as the question resonated, though it was futile. She already knew what it was—there was only one thing hiding under cover of the night in her home, and as her fingers finally found the switch, casting the landing into bright light, there was only one answer she expected the illumination to reveal.