Author's note: Thanks to all the lovely reviews so far. I don't want to be labelled as an ingrate but I would really, really appreciate longer and more constructive reviews! Thanks again; and volfan, if you're reading this chappie, you're Katie, aren't you? ;P P.m. me back!
Chapter 7: Duels Won and Lost
Rum, Rumil, and Mallory took part in the first leg of the tournament like good sports, so as not to disappoint Susan. The event that was held on the first day was swordplay, and it was a sport that was, fortunately, much delighted the three of them. Rumilia signed herself up for the archery event, as it was just about the only sport that she could properly excel in.
The wide plain that lay just outside the sandy path of Cair Paravel was transformed into a magnificent tournament area. A grand, open tent was set up on one side. Inside it was placed a dais for the Narnian monarchs, and seats for the audience were arranged on both side of the dais. The tent was as big and as long as a pavilion and it was decorated richly in crimson and gold.
Just as the audience, which included the honoured dignitaries sitting in the pavilion and Narnians crowding the border of the tournament area, took their places, Tumnus called all the participants into the middle of the field. Mallory was not pleased to find out that she was the only female contestant; she had tried to persuade Lucy to join but Lucy insisted that she would join only the sprinting event. It felt incredibly odd to wear armour and not take part in a battle. Beside her, Rum and Rumil stood, alert and listening with their helmets tucked in their arms. She was also pleasantly surprised to see Peter and Edmund take part in the event as well.
"I thought that you were the celebrated ones," said Mallory upon seeing them approaching, decked in full armour.
"Oh, come on, Mallory," said Edmund with a grin, "you can't seriously think that we'd rather sit in a stuffy tent than have all the fun in the world beating the living daylights out of our guests?" He eyed Prince Rabadash.
"May I have all your attentions, please?" said Tumnus. The contestants gathered around him at once. At first, the Faun looked rather intimidated to have the complete attention of dignitaries higher-ranked than him, but at a clear of the throat he found his voice, "I thank you all. Now we may proceed with the contestant listings, if you please? For the qualifying round: King Peter of Narnia versus Lord Eldimiar of Galma; Prince Rum of Archenland versus Duke Cardamon of the Enchanted Isles; King Edmund of Narnia versus Prince Rumil of Archenland; Lady Mallory of Archenland versus Prince Deviath of Terebinthia; Prince Rabadash of Calormen versus Lord Symalion of the Enchanted Isles; and Prince Artshush of Calormen versus Prince Ghiath of Terebinthia. The winners of the qualifying round will move to the second round, whereupon those who win will proceed to the semi-finals, and then the finals. Good luck!" The contestants murmured thank-yous and proceeded to take their seats on the benches provided at the foot of the tent.
As Tumnus made his long, elaborate and flowery greetings at a podium below the dais, Mallory felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around, and lo! who should she find but Firumel the Eagle!
"Firumel!" she exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement.
"Aye, it is I, Mallory!" replied the Eagle with the click of a beak. "By Aslan, I never expected to find you here – waiting to fight in the tournament! You are a Lady of Archenland!"
Mallory laughed. "How've you been Firumel?"
"Fine thank you, though I must admit that my feathers have been terribly ruffled by the absence of a letter from a certain 'friend', inverted commas intended!"
"Oh dear, Firumel; I'm terribly sorry that I haven't written to you. I was extremely busy."
"I should think so; what with all the Calormene threats."
"Well, what are you doing here, Firumel?"
He cleared his throat and clicked his beak. "Taking a break from guarding Lantern Waste; today is my day off after all – and such luck too to get a holiday today!"
"Lantern Waste! The Eagles are watching Lantern Waste?"
"King Edmund set us to guard Lantern Waste and the Centaurs to patrol the Northern border, both as a precaution against the Ettinsmoor Giants. If anything happens, at least we, fast creatures that we are, are able to alert the Kings of Narnia in time to limit any extensive and unnecessary damage."
"How clever of Edmund!" said Mallory.
"Yes, he's the clever one; so is King Peter, but King Peter's mind is sharper in battle stratagems. Well, I shan't bother your concentration anymore, Mallory. Good luck!"
"Thank you, Firumel! It was lovely to see you again, and I mean it!"
A horn was blown by a Satyr and the event officially began. Peter's match was up first. His opponent was a big and bulky man seemed like someone who excelled in strength but suffered from agility. Peter put on his helmet and shut the visor much to the cheers of the Narnians and picked up his shield. The scarlet, rampant lion on the shield seemed to shimmer in the sun.
He walked confidently into the middle of the field and met his opponent. They exchanged bows and shook hands. Then, as was Narnian custom, they slammed their shields on the ground and charged at each other with roars. Mallory held her breath as they slammed shields, clashed swords, and once, Lord Eldimiar brought his sword crashing down on Peter's shield with a deafening clang. The match lasted for about fifteen minutes before Peter ended it with a clever sleight of hand that left the Lord of Galma stripped of both his shield and his sword. The Narnians cheered and shouted, "Long live King Peter!" in celebration of his victory. Peter removed his helmet and helped his opponent up.
Next was Rum's turn. "Good luck!" said Mallory, grasping his gauntleted hand tightly. "And while you're at it, break his leg will you?" joked Rumil with a wink. Rum smiled wistfully at both of them and put on his helmet. Mallory could see by the tenseness of his walk that he was absolutely nervous. She crossed her fingers.
Duke Cardamon was just about Rum's size, but his demeanour showed that he was perfectly comfortable with the situation. They both unsheathed their swords, slammed their shields onto the ground and the match began. At first, Rum seemed to be awfully clumsy; he kept parrying and not attacking, and often his shield was the one that saved him. But after a while, the Duke changed his tactics by trying to disarm him, and that was where Rum excelled. He quickly avoided his sharp thrusts and backfired his attempts. Then somehow, Rum got the better of the Duke and managed to pin him down onto the ground and knock the sword out of his hand. The match had already ended when the Duke was disarmed, but nobody knew exactly why, the Duke rammed his shield right at Rum's knee and, with an agonised yell, Rum fell onto the ground.
Mallory and Rumil were the first to rush to his aid. She quickly removed his helmet and his kneecap and saw that the knee was all right, just a little bruised. "Good thing the kneecap is hardy," said Rumil.
"Are you all right, Rum?" asked Mallory.
Rum nodded, a little dazed. "I'm – I'm fine. A little shocked though."
"It doesn't make any difference," said Rumil with a grin. "You won, Rum!"
Tumnus rushed towards them with a panicked look on his face. "My goodness, by the Lion's mane, Prince Rum, are you all right?"
Rum stood, with help from Mallory and Rumil. "Yes, I'm all right."
"Can you still fight?"
Rum inspected his knee. "I think I can. I just need some ice."
"No fractures?"
"Oh, bother, Tumnus, didn't you hear what the Prince say?" said Rumil. "He's all right. He can fight."
"Rumil, his well-being is worth more than your pride," said Mallory disapprovingly.
"What's going on?" said Susan as she strode towards them. "Are you hurt, Prince Rum? The guests are getting restless. Should we take you to the infirmary?"
"I am, but not too seriously . . . I'll be all right, Your Majesty."
"I'll take your word for it. Please don't force yourself, will you?"
"I won't, Your Majesty."
"Rum," whispered Mallory with a sigh.
"I'll be fine," he whispered back as they walked back to the bench.
"You being stubborn is the last thing we need."
"I said I'll be fine," he said with a smile. Then, he surprised her with a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for worrying about me." She blushed and looked away.
Edmund and Rumil were up next. Rumil gave them both an enthusiastic thumbs-up as he marched to the centre.
"If I know Rumil," said Rum, "he's not worried about this at all. He's not called the Mirthful for nothing."
"But it's Edmund," said Mallory.
Rumil, however, did not show any signs of distress, nor did he seem too confident. He fought casually, blocking Edmund's moves as if he and Mallory were practicing. Once, Mallory thought she heard him laugh, but he never taunted. Edmund, on the stark contrary, had a dead serious face. Rum frowned as he nursed his bruised knee with some ice wrapped in a cloth. "What is he doing?"
"I don't think he really means to fight him," said Mallory with a heavy sigh. She knew him all too well. Rumil would only fight like he meant to when pitted against someone he really hated.
Rum shook his head.
In a few minutes, the match was over. Edmund had disarmed Rumil. It was a Narnian victory, but the applause was not as keen as Peter's, probably because Rumil was too easy to defeat. Edmund returned to his bench, the expression on his face far from elated. Rumil came back with a grin on his face and a shrug. "How's your knee holding up?"
"Well."
"I'm glad," Rumil removed his helmet and drank deeply from the leatherskin of water provided.
"What were you doing, Rumil?" said Mallory. "You could have tried harder."
"I guess it's up to you next, little sister," he beamed at her. Mallory rolled her eyes and put the helmet over her head. When Tumnus announced her name, she stood and gripped her shield, which had the pattern of the emblem of the royal family of Archenland. She marched as steadily as she could to the middle of the field to meet her opponent, Prince Deviath of Terebinthia. He wore the signature red sash of the royal house of Terebinthia. As they faced each other, he said to her in a low voice, "I do not actually enjoy fighting women."
"I'm sorry then," she mouthed back. They slammed their shields onto the ground and he lunged for her. She dodged him and waited until he picked himself up from the ground. He was much taller than her, and Mallory found that she could use her height disadvantage to gain the upper hand. He swung his sword to attack; and every time Mallory didn't block them, she avoided them. Each time she avoided his attacks, he would lose his balance and stumble. This was the best time to attack him.
However, once, he brought his sword to meet her too fast so that she could not avoid it but had to meet it with a shield. The impact was heavy and brutal, but having had her shield-arm used to many blows such as this, it didn't quite shake her.
The Prince, though, seemed to be quite inexperienced in such matters. Mallory quickly did a side step and swung her sword at him; he raised his shield and her sword clanged loudly off it; Prince Deviath took a shaken step backwards and Mallory saw her cue. She moved in for the kill, hammering blows on not him but his shield, and once even bringing her shield to slam into his, which absolutely threw him off his balance. With the similar sleight of hand that had been employed by Peter, she disarmed the Terebinthian Prince.
The following two battles were fought without Mallory paying much attention, mostly because she was exhausted and extremely thirsty. Prince Rabadash fought like a skilled warrior; his rival was down within mere minutes, and Mallory was sure that she had never seen anything so superb or so fine than his scimitar. After the final match was over, a short break was called and the guests were treated to refreshments. The contestants were offered lemon squares and iced water by a troop of Satyrs.
Mallory took her lemon square and goblet of water and relished in them. The lemon reminded her of her school days in England, and she envisioned that this was a tennis match in her school, and she was going to wield a tennis racquet instead of a sword. But after the lemon was gone the unmistakable reality did not do much to comfort her. Rum declared that he would very much like to duel with Prince Rabadash.
"Are all our guests refreshed? Are you ready for the second round?" he announced, a hint of excitement in his voice. Mallory adjusted her gauntlet. She wondered who she would be pitted against.
"In the first round, the field goes like this: King Peter of Narnia versus Lady Mallory of Archenland; King Edmund of Narnia versus Prince Rabadash of Calormen; and Prince Rum of Archenland versus Prince Ghiath of Terebinthia. Very well, let the second round begin!"
Mallory had barely had time the digest the fact that she was going to face Peter when Rumil, who had the fortune to sit beside her, gave her an ungraceful push. She stood and hurriedly jammed her helmet onto her head as she saw Peter stride towards the centre of the field. She tightened her grip on her helmet and unsheathed her sword the same time he did.
He gave her a taut smile and shut his visor as they prepared for the match. Mallory shut her eyes and wished desperately that this wasn't happening at all, but when she opened them, nothing had changed at all. She lifted her shield; so did Peter; and as they hit the ground, Mallory lost track of time.
They circled each other warily, like predators biding their time to decide what was the best way to attack their victims. Here, now, her fighting skills kicked in full gear. Peter made the first move. He thrust his sword at her. She parried it and twisted his attack into her attack, but he was quicker than she thought. He slipped out of the tangle and charged at her with his shield at the fore. She raised hers as well and the impact of the slam bounced off each metal surface, making both of them teeter. He recuperated from the impact quickly, returning to rain attack upon attack upon her until she grew tired herself of blocking them. But in a sudden twist of fate, she managed to throw his attacks off for good when she deliberately raised the angle of her shield higher when the surface of his sword met its surface. The force was too much for Peter. She knew that he would take a short time to recover so she moved in to finish him off. Mallory aimed her thrusts, her blows and her moves, but, she didn't exactly know how it happened either, Peter's shield somehow got between her shield-arm and her shield, and in a stupid effort to break free, they tripped, stumbled, and lost their balance. Mallory fell most disgracefully, hitting her head against his shield while Peter landed on his back. As he was the first one to get to his feet, the victory was his.
"Mallory?" She could hear his voice calling her name faintly. The world spun, then focused, swam, then focused. Her head throbbed painfully and she moaned from the pain. Never! she thought miserably, never had she been defeated in such a way! She was sat up by a person and her helmet was removed. Her hands at once moved to touch the spot where her head had met the shield and brushed with another set of fingers, but right now, she didn't care who it belonged to. It hurt most terribly even at the slightest touch.
"Thank Aslan that it's not bleeding," said Peter, making his presence felt for once. "I'm terribly sorry, Mallory."
"What?" she exclaimed despite her wooziness. "No – please, you've got nothing to be sorry about."
"I banged your head up."
"I banged my head up, not you."
"But still – the shield is mine."
"Don't fuss, Peter," she attempted a smile, "I don't think I'm going cuckoo anytime just yet." He smiled back at her. "That's good to know. Come on, I'll help you up."
"All right, thanks," she said as he helped her up. Her head still wobbled a bit from the incident, but Mallory refused Peter's offer to help her up to the infirmary. However, several steps later, she found herself stumbling even on the most even surface on the field.
"You obviously need help," he said.
"I – don't."
"Mallory, don't be an ass. You're not helping by being unco-operative."
"It's my choice."
Fortunately for Mallory, Rumilia had descended from her seat in the tent and now she rushed at her. "By Aslan, are you all right, Mallory? Come on, I'll take you to the infirmary." She smiled graciously at Peter. "Thank you very much for having helped her up even though it was not your duty."
"No matter," said Peter with a smile, "we should help whenever we can." He returned to his bench.
Rum and Rumil asked Mallory how she was doing, and when Mallory barked at them when Rumil ventured to ask if she had done it on purpose since it was a King of Narnia she was fighting, they left it to Rumilia to take Mallory back to the castle's infirmary. A Dryad accompanied them, so did a Nymph and they both carried Mallory's helmet and shield
"Rumilia?" said Mallory.
"Yes, darling?"
"Are – are you still angry at me?"
"No, of course not. Why should I be?"
"No – no reason."
