-a/n- Nanowrimo is relentless! I'm about 4000 words behind :S But at least there is another chapter for you :D (And much sooner than usual!) I've started the next, very exciting chapter so that I don't fall even further behind, but it'll be a few days before I finish, spell-check and tweak to my satisfaction...
Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time; I'll try to answer your questions when I find the time…
I hope you enjoy this chapter (it took me HOURS to write!!)
Confusedknight xxx
Kel thanked Lalasa for the tea and stood up, ready to leave. She had been passing through Patten district and had popped into the dress shop to enquire after Lalasa. She had only meant to drop in but ended up sharing pasties and tea with Lalasa and her friend Tian on the threadbare rug of their tiny room.
'Are you sure that you wouldn't like anything else?' asked Lalasa earnestly. 'I'm sure we have some spiced apple juice in the cupboard.'
'I don't think that I have room for anything else,' Kel admitted, patting her full stomach.
'You're welcome to stop by anytime,' said Tian shyly, and Lalasa nodded fervently, unable to do enough in her eyes to repay Kel's kindness.
'That would be nice,' Kel replied. 'And if you ever need me, leave a message at the Jugged Hare Inn on Palace way.'
They said goodbye and parted, Kel stepping out into the late afternoon sun's balmy rays. Warily keeping a hand on the purse at her belt, Kel slipped through the crowds of bartering shoppers and friends exchanging news.
Kel had decided that, at least for the duration of the tournament, she would stay in a tent in the palace grounds along with all the other visiting competitors. It would mean that she would be nearer to the courts and would allow the Jugged Hare to let out her room to wealthier customers who had come to watch the tournament. She'd already spent several months in the Inn, celebrating her fifteenth birthday only last week, and now Kel felt like she'd stayed there for long enough.
The tent-maker's stall was situated in a shady corner of the marketplace, displaying tents that ranged from basic shelters to those with five separate rooms. Feeling that five rooms would be a little extravagant, Kel settled for a medium-sized tent with a removable partition that could split the tent into a tiny bedroom and living area.
She bargained fiercely with the Tyran assistant who was trying to sell her the tent at an extortionate price. Eventually she settled for a cost of five silver pieces and walked away with a heavy bag slung over her shoulder.
Perusing the stalls purposefully Kel also bought some new thongs of leather for her hair and a bedroll that she could lay on the floor of her tent.
Laden with more possessions that she'd had for a long time, Kel returned the short distance to the Jugged Hare and found Karlah sitting on the empty bar, swinging her short legs happily.
'Hey Lia,' she called. 'Ma says you's gonna be in the big competition with the soldiers.'
Kel nodded, shutting the door behind her.
'Can I come watch?' Karlah asked. 'I ain' been inta th'Palace before.'
'I'll talk with your ma,' smiled Kel, ignoring the slightly sick feeling that filled her stomach with ever mention of the King's tournament.
'Talk with me about what?' asked Yvenne as she bustled in through the door, carrying a tray of clean tankards.
'Can I watch Lia in th' tournament?' asked the young girl, careful to watch her language around her mother.
'Only if it's after school,' agreed Yvenne, now hanging the steel tankards on hooks above the bar. 'It's very important that you don't miss any school.'
Karlah pulled a face, but her eyes shone excitedly nevertheless. 'When you get an afternoon match can you come and get me?' she asked Kel.
After agreeing to this, Kel made her way upstairs, leaving the girl's excited chatter behind her. She dumped her purchases in the cool, shady room and stripped off her sweaty shirt. Kel sponged herself hurriedly in an attempt to feel a little cleaner, and pulled on an old, much looser shirt. Her fingers still fumbling at the shirt lacings, she left the room.
By the time Kel crossed the lounge once more her shirt was fully tied and loosely tucked into her breeches. She left the pub breaking into a dogged run, treading the familiar route to the practice court.
The centre was quiet when Kel arrived and she opted for an indoor court. Able to shut the door behind her, Kel was able to practise shielded from curious eyes.
After a thorough warm-up she launched into the drills and patterns that her body knew better than her mind. Kel didn't have to think about what she was doing but let her arms lead the beautiful blade in its deadly dance.
Even after an hour, despite the sweat that beaded her forehead and dampened the back of her neck, Kel was not breathing heavily. The moves that she was performing were faultless. She was ready, for the tournament and all that it could throw at her.
The smooth fields that lined the palace grounds were near unrecognisable. For several weeks labourers had toiled to construct ten courts on the main field for matches, not to mention numerous practice and warm-up courts.
There were also six brand new jousting lanes and several archery ranges, built for use in the less popular competitions.
Although jousting was usually the main competitive sport enjoyed at such events, the King's tournament was wholly about swordplay. You didn't have to be a noble or even a soldier to enter. Roughly hewn iron swords would be provided for those without their own weapons and each year hundreds of the city lads entered, trying to impress their sweethearts or peers.
Due to this large entry, running the tournament was a logistical nightmare, one that had tumbled into the reluctant laps of Raoul of Goldenlake and Wyldon of Cavall. Unfortunately for Lord Wyldon, who had just retired from the King's Own after almost four years of service, his fellow organiser had managed to escape from the Palace to aid a village attacked by bandits.
Scowling at the older man's luck, Lord Wyldon rubbed one callused hand over his ravaged forehead. If only it wasn't so damned hot! Wyldon blamed the weather for his heads current fuzzy feeling.
'My lord, we've just had a further twenty-seven late entries,' chirped a clerk, dumping a sheaf of paper onto his already over-flowing desk.
'How many more hours have we got until registration closes?' Wyldon asked tiredly, his severe face not showing any signs of stress.
'Four, my Lord,' replied the zealous clerk, 'and if things continue the way that they have been, I would estimate another forty entries at least.'
'Thank you,' Wyldon dismissed the clerk and sank into his chair, only to stand up again and remove a pile of paper that had somehow made it's way onto the seat.
Why couldn't the King have agreed to let the entries close at least two days before the tournament started? Wyldon thought grumpily. How on earth am I meant to construct draws until all the entries are in?
Unfortunately the King had insisted on running the tournament in a traditional fashion; one that involved the competitors being able to enter right up until the eve of the tournament. He couldn't even organise the jousting lists or archery matches yet because they, being smaller contests would only start in the second week. This meant that, in accordance to tradition there was still over a week left in which entrants could register to compete.
Exasperated, Wyldon set about shifting mounds of paper, shuffling them into more tidy piles.
When this is all over, he decided, I'm going to return to Cavall for a well-earned break.
With thoughts of his wife and daughters clear in his mind, Wyldon set about sorting out yet another preliminary draw.
Kel surveyed her newly erected home with satisfaction. It was humble enough, blending in nicely with the other three-hundred or so tents that carpeted the field in ordered lines.
Because she was a competitor it had only cost her a silver noble to pitch the tent for the duration of the tournament. She had been given a wooden tag carved with the royal crest on one side and the number two-hundred-and-forty-three on the other. She would have to show the token at every match to prove her identity.
As yet Kel wasn't sure when her first match would be, but she hoped it would be soon. All this waiting was making her restless and she wanted to do something, to start proving herself as a fighter.
The opponents that she came up against would be decided by the fate of the draw. She could meet a kitchen boy who didn't know one end of a sword from another in her first match, or she could be up against a fully-trained knight. No matter who she would face Kel knew that she had to win, for a loss constituted immediate removal from the competition.
Anxiety rested in the pit of her stomach like a vile parasite, eating away at Kel from the inside. She desperately wanted to do something to distract herself from all the 'what-ifs' that rampaged through her mind.
She wished yet again for Dom to return. Before she'd left the Jugged Hare, she'd left a message with Yvenne, so that if Dom came searching for her then he would learn that she was camped up at the Palace.
Kel had left Prince in the stables of the Jugged Hare, even though she'd moved out. She was paying the stable boy a few coppers a day to make sure that Prince always had enough hay and water.
Thinking of Prince, Kel decided to take him out for a vigorous ride. There was nothing else to do and some wild galloping might help to ease her nerves.
The Banquet hall at the Palace was stuffed fit to burst with visitors and guests. Not only had the Yamani delegation attracted many nobles who had come to view their future queen, but the sudden influx of knights who had returned from far away places to enter the tournament, meant that every table was full, and that the palace staff were desperately trying to cook and serve enough food for everyone.
Ilane of Mindelan, seated next to her husband was immersed in conversation with Lady Haname noh Ajikuro. They were discussing the differences between Yamani and Tortallan social occasions, Lady Haname keen to know if they were all such large and rowdy gatherings. Mid-sentence Ilane looked up and caught the eye of one of her favourite sons. Inness, who had grown to be a giant of a man, was sitting with his squire soon-to-be-knight. The Kennan boy had seemed nice enough when Ilane had met him at Mindelan earlier that year, and according to Inness he had been friends with Kel.
Ilane felt a tiny wash of sadness pass over her at the thought of her youngest, lost daughter. Of all her children who had moved on, some to families and others to the university or the warrior arts, Ilane missed Kel the most. Perhaps because she knew that it was very unlikely that she would ever see her daughter again.
Please Great Goddess bring my daughter home to me,' she prayed silently, feeling slightly guilty that she had not thought of her missing child recently.
'Ilane dear,' called Piers of Mindelan, 'Hastefa was just asking your opinion of the comparison of Tortallan and Yamani cultures. Which would you say allows it's history a larger role in the current society?'
Drawn into polite conversation with one of the University professors, any lingering thought of Kel slipped from Ilane's mind.
Kel looked down through the darkness to the city of Corus, whose many lamps and windows glowed orange, permeating the night with their gentle glow.
Even from her spot high on the hill she could almost feel the excitement growing. Snatches of sound carried to her on the wind were full of music and shouting. Although the blanket of darkness obscured the campsite from her vision Kel knew that down in amongst the tents there would be partying, singing and story-telling. In the palace there would be banquets and dancing for the nobles to enjoy, and raucous celebrations in the mess halls and barracks of the soldiers.
Once again Kel had separated herself from the city, preferring to sit alone in the dark. Not completely alone however, Prince was settled on the ground behind Kel, and she leant back against his warm body, soothed by the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest.
Crickets and cicadas buzzed and clicked noisily in the undergrowth. Like the people in the city below, they too were unaware of who Kel really was and what she had set out to do. Unlike the people in the city below however, they were not about to be shown over the following two weeks the extent to which determination could mould a girl into an unbeatable warrior.
When the lists were put up the following morning Kel was one of the few up early enough to actually watch the tournament official pin them to the board. She scanned the documents anxiously and eventually spotted the number two-hundred-and-forty-three under the list for court twelve. She was to face competitor number three-hundred-and-seventeen, whoever that might be, in the fourth match of the day.
These qualifying matches did not have allotted times and the hope was that in doing so they could cram as many into one day as possible. It did mean however that the warriors had to hang around the court just in case the matches were running particularly early.
Kel wandered into the city and bought herself a pasty for breakfast. She wasn't very hungry, but forced the steaming snack down anyway.
Returning to her tent, Kel tied her hair back forcefully, so that every strand was secured tightly by a new leather thong. Just to be certain that her hair would not flop in front of her face, Kel tore a strip off an old headscarf and fashioned herself a bandana similar to those worn by traditional Yamani warriors.
She checked that her boots were tightly tied and her belt fastened securely.
These were only friendly matches in that you aimed to make your opponent yield, rather than trying to injure or kill them. Kel had therefore decided against wearing her mail because as light as it was, the weather was too hot and Kel hoped that she wouldn't need it. Besides, she was missing the helm, having left it somewhere on the blood-soaked plain of Somalkt.
After a moments consideration Kel slipped her wrist guards on beneath her shirt. They would not provide any real benefit but after Kel's last fight over one year ago, the snug wrist guards provided some comfort.
Kel began to stretch out, bending and extending her limbs to loosen and warm her muscles. When the bell signalling the start of the tournament rang, Kel ducked under the tent flap out into the gorgeous summer's day. With her competitor's identity token clutched in one hand and the other resting reassuringly on Courage's hilt Kel wove in and out of the milling spectators to reach court twelve.
By the time she had done so, Sir Waldram of Henleigh had already beaten his opponent, a blacksmith from the Lower City, and the second match was about to begin. This too was over in a matter of minutes, one man vastly outmatching the other.
Kel kept glancing about, wondering who would be her first opponent. She didn't have to wait long. The third match lasted for less than two and a half minutes and then Kel was summoned onto the court.
Her opponent was a soldier. He was taller than she was and had a rough, stringy look about him. He drew his palace issue sword and Kel mirrored him, letting Courage's blade gleam in the sunlight. A murmur ran through the crowd; perhaps this match would last longer with two proper fighters.
To the spectators' disappointment however, Kel's match was to be the shortest yet. She allowed the soldier to swing one blow before pulling off a complex manoeuvre to separate man and sword. Courage snaked to his neck before he'd even comprehended the loss of his weapon.
The whole thing hadn't even lasted twenty seconds. Stepping away, Kel sheathed her blade and signed the official's document. Kel shook hands amiably with the slightly put-out soldier and left the court.
She had survived the first match.
The second match passed in much the same way as the first. Kel beat the boy, who had clearly never held a sword before in his life within a matter of seconds.
In a way these easy matches were useful because she never drew any attention to herself. The last thing Kel wanted was for people to start talking about her.
Her third and final qualifying round came on the fourth day of the tournament. With Karlah in tow, for it was an afternoon match, Kel waited at the side of the court, stretching and settling her mind into a calm place, devoid of all her worries and emotions.
'Competitors two-hundred-and-forty-three, and eighty-nine,' called the court marshal.
Kel stepped onto the hard earthen court, acutely aware of the way her muscles were tensed, ready to react at a split-seconds notice. She bowed low to her opponent, her back muscles flexing smoothly. Kel bought Courage up in her right hand.
Since the injury to her right wrist, her left arm was probably stronger than her right, but Kel had decided to fight the tournament for the most part using her right hand; it was less conspicuous and it also meant that she could switch to her left hand for situations where she really needed an advantage.
'You may begin,' called the official in a deep baritone voice.
Kel stepped forward warily, waiting for her opponent to make the first move. He struck, and there was force behind the attack, but the way that his muscles had bunched and his stance had changed meant that Kel was able to prepare a defence and counter-attack even before his blow had struck her sword.
Courage glitter through the air, an extension of her arm and sliced cleanly through a dangling shirt sleeve that hadn't got out of the way in time. The foreign man took half a step backwards to buy himself some time.
Kel didn't take her eyes off of the man, waiting again for him to make the next move. The man's second attack came in a reign of blows that effectively prevented Kel from using her previous move again. The foreigner obviously knew something about swordplay. It didn't matter though; Kel blocked each and every blow easily, knowing exactly where the blows would land.
Not deterred, the dark-skinned warrior prepared for a third attack, obviously believing that he was dictating the fight. Without warning Kel sprung forwards, her sword arcing in a blur of metal. It caught the tip of the man's long sword and with an artful, strong twist, the sword was wrenched out of his hand and it spun away, coming to rest with a clatter on the wooden barrier between court and crowd.
Now the blue-tempered blade of Courage rested gently on the man's collarbone, the tip not even wavering as it was held in Kel's steady grip.
'I yield,' the man replied with a thick Carthaki accent.
Kel stepped back and bowed again. She wasn't even out of breath. Still focused, she slide the blade back into its plain scabbard and turned to the side of the pitch looking for Karlah.
It was only when she saw mouths open and hands moving, did she realised that the crowd was cheering for her. Noise suddenly filtered back in as though Kel had removed mufflers from her ears.
'Tha' was amazing,' shrieked Karlah, practically jumping up and down. 'You're gonna win, then I can tell ev'ry'ne tha' I know the winner.'
'Impressive,' said a voice that Kel had longed to hear for several weeks.
Kel spun on the spot and came face to face with a smiling, slightly sun-burnt Domitan of Masbolle.
'Been keeping busy then?' Dom's eyebrows rose comically.
'So, so,' replied Kel, not bothering to hide the grin that was creeping up her face.
'I'll jus' go,' muttered Karlah, 'See ya Lia.'
Kel was about to protest when Dom stepped forward and kissed her sweetly. All thought left Kel's mind, every worry and anxiety seemed to fade away.
When they broke apart, Kel couldn't help but dart her eyes sideways, convinced that everyone must be staring at her. They weren't. There was another match on, and as quickly as Kel had become their hero, they had found another one and were screaming for him to beat his adversary.
Now that she was only inches from his face, Kel noticed a fading lump and a shallow cut on Dom's forehead.
'What's this?' she asked. 'I said you should be careful.'
'It's nothing,' Dom brushed her fingers away.
'It's simply a reminder of this dear Sergeant's incompetence,' drawled a voice that was heart-breakingly familiar. 'I mean, how many of you had that bandit surrounded?'
'Shut up Meathead,' said Dom turning slowly. But Kel didn't hear him. Her eyes had flown from the bruise to a face that had materialised behind Dom's.
Emerald green eyes that were set in a fair-skinned face twinkled with mirth. The man ran a hand through light brown hair that was swept back from a widow's peak. Tall, though not as tall as Dom, he was lanky and stood casually, amused at the sight of the scowling Dom.
'Lia meet my cousin, Nealan of Queenscove,' sighed Dom. 'He was dropped on his head as a child and unfortunately-'
Dom was interrupted by Neal's louder voice proclaiming, 'Just because I have risen intellectually above my family's expectations…' he sniffed dramatically. 'You of all my cousins under-appreciate me.'
Kel had to use all three years of subterfuge and her many years of the Yamani lifestyle to hold herself together. Neal was standing in front of her, a real and so wonderfully alive Neal.
He had the same lazy grin splayed across his face but he was taller than he had been as a page. Now a man of twenty, lounging easily in his tall frame, a well-used sword at his hip; he looked every bit the son of a ducal household.
Looking at them both together, Kel estimated Dom to be slightly older than Neal, but there couldn't have been much more than two years between them. Kel wondered how she hadn't spotted Neal in Dom before. They both shared the same nose and wide arched brow. They were even more alike in character though, both displaying the same confidence and flare for the dramatic. Perhaps this was what had drawn Kel to Dom in the first place?
'That was a tidy fight,' remarked Neal lazily, looking at Kel.
Kel was sure that every resident in Corus must be able to hear her heartbeat as it thudded frantically in her chest. Her eyes widened involuntarily, searching for any spark of recognition in Neal's eyes, any sign at all that he realised his best friend of four years ago had finally returned.
Still desperately trying to act normally Kel ducked her head at the compliment and asked 'Have either of you entered?'
Dom shook his head, 'I've only just returned and you have to enter before the tournament begins. Squire Meathead has though.' He gestured to Neal.
'You're a squire?' asked Kel innocently.
'I started training late,' explained Neal, 'when I was fifteen. Although believe it or not I can name-'
'Three or four pages who were older than you,' Dom butted in, evidently having heard this speech as many times as Kel had done. 'Come on Meathead; you won't be in the tournament for much longer if you miss your match.'
Tucking his arm comfortably around Kel, Dom escorted his cousin to court seven. Fortunately they didn't have to wait long before Neal stepped up to fight one of the male Rider captains.
'Why do you call him Meathead?' Kel asked.
'Trust me when I say this,' said Dom with emphasis, 'you will never meet anyone more stubborn in your entire life.'
The duel started and Neal blocked the first two blows easily, sidestepping round a third. He attacked in a simple manoeuvre that the rider parried and they broke apart, circling each other slowly. They exchanged a few more blows, seemingly well matched, until Neal, in a burst of speed changed the direction of his sword, pulling it low, beneath the blade of his opponent. He brought the tip of the blade up to rest on the rider's nose.
The rider yielded and the match was over.
'Well tie me up and ship me to Carthak,' said Dom, sounding mildly impressed. 'That knight-mistress of his has managed to teach him something at least.'
'Knight-mistress?' asked Kel.
Dom gestured to the far side of the court where an incredibly short woman with fiery red hair was gesticulating as she talked to Neal.
'That's not?' The question died in Kel's throat.
'Oh yes,' said Dom cheerfully. 'My cousin got landed with the Lioness whose temper is sharper than her sword. If Neal learns to keep his opinions to himself, it'll be more than any of us were ever able to teach him.'
It took Kel a moment to digest this information. Before she had come to the Palace she had often daydreamed about riding across the land with the Lioness, rescuing people and fighting great battles. It stung slightly that she had taken on Kel's former best friend as her squire. If Kel had been allowed to stay could that be her discussing fencing techniques with the famed swordswoman?
Seeing that the Lioness had left, Kel allowed Dom to lead her over to where Neal was stood, all the while arguing and inside her head. She was trying to fend off disappointment and slight jealousy by reasoning that if she had been allowed to stay then she wouldn't be able to fight like she could. In her own way Kel had ridden into battle alongside heroes, the unsung fighters of Sekholm and Somalkt. She wouldn't have met Alex, Tor and even Rhonda. Knowing that her twisting speculative thoughts were entirely useless, Kel tried to push them to the back of her mind and focus on Dom, on the current moment. What had happened had happened, regardless of whether it was the best path for Kel to take.
'You're very quiet,' said Dom, looking down at her.
'Just thinking…' mused Kel as they approached Neal.
'Copper for your thoughts?'
'Are they worth so little?' Kel shot back, fixing a grin into place.
'So dearest cousin and Lia, is it? Shall we find some luncheon?' asked Neal.
On their way into the city, they bumped into Seaver of Tasride wearing the burgundy and maroon colours of his knight-master. This was not as big a shock as seeing Neal had been, but Kel was still amazed to note how different he looked four years on. Her memory was having trouble equating the skinny ten-year-old with the slender youth in a squire's uniform.
They found a quiet eating house without major incident, and met no more of Kel's long lost friends along the way. The three friends spent the rest of the afternoon engaging in easy conversation, Kel gradually getting over the reappearance Neal in her life.
The withered official, Billius of Mandash returned to the tournament office at the midday bell with his sheaf of papers.
'Oh hello Wyldon,' he squeaked. 'It's very hot out there today.'
Wyldon grunted, not looking up from the document he was reading.
'Competitor two-hundred-and-forty-three is one to look out for I think.' The old man wittered, collecting some more match slips. 'Just a young lass mind you, but she's got speed and handles the blade like a veteran warrior.'
'Mmm' muttered Lord Wyldon, still absorbed in his work.
'Well I'll see you at the feast tonight.' Billius tottered out once more, leaving the frowning conservative to his paperwork.
Block, parry and block once more, Kel cut upwards and very nearly forced her opponent to yield. At the last minute he stepped backwards and to the side. Kel pressed her advantage and their swords locked. The Knight from Disart was a lot larger than she was, but her muscles screaming, Kel managed to hold her ground. The knight's dark eyes widened, amazed that his young opponent was not budging.
Without warning Kel twisted round to the side, and not expecting her daring move the Knight stumbled forwards. Before he had even regained his balance Kel's blade was pressed to his throat.
'I yield,' he croaked, shock evident in his eyes.
Kel stepped backwards and bowed.
'Competitor two-hundred-and-forty-three will progress to the quarter-finals,' announced the official, writing the result down on an official-looking document.
Dom offered Kel his water gourd and she accepted it hastily, gulping at the contents. This match had lasted for a lot longer than Kel's previous fights, but she had kept her nerve and her skill and speed had won out in the end.
Interlinking her small sweaty hand with Dom's large callused one, they set off through the crowd together.
The Knight had been the eighth person to leave the tournament at Kel's hand. His predecessor's faces flashed through Kel's mind; two city boys, a squire, a Carthaki warrior, a rider and two fully decorated knights.
By the time that the sun set over the thriving campsite Kel would be one of sixteen competitors left in the tournament. It was inevitable she supposed for people to start noticing her. Up till now it had suited her purpose to maintain a low profile, but her next match was scheduled to be held on court one, watched by several hundred pairs of eyes.
Kel tried as hard as she could not to worry about the match the next day, knowing that worrying would do no good. She also discovered just how hard it was to let go of anxiety. The best remedy for her affliction was Dom, who seemed to find amusement in just about anything or anyone.
They went for a ride in the afternoon and passed the evening in a slightly seedy tavern in Highfields district, Dom drinking slightly more than Kel thought sensible.
'Victory to competitor two-hundred-and-forty-three,' cried the reedy voice of an official whom Raoul doubted could even heft a sword, let alone fight with one.
The victor sheathed her sword and bowed respectfully to the dark-skinned Bazhir warrior whom she had just beaten in less than five minutes.
She would progress, along with three others to the semi-finals.
Since the Shang Owl had been knocked out in the fourth round, this young competitor, whoever she was, had been the last surviving woman fighter. She's quick, I'll give her that, thought Raoul, though he doubted that she'd beat the Shang bear in the following day's match.
Raoul watched her signing the documents, her brown hair concealing her face. He wondered vaguely where she had come from; it could be from anywhere, the tournament certainly drew in competitors from all corners of the lands…
The tournament had been a nightmare to organise, even if the brunt of the blow had landed on Wyldon. Fortunately, with so few contestants left, the organisation had scaled down somewhat, leaving Raoul with ample opportunity to walk around and observe the people he'd sworn to protect until the day he died.
Suddenly realising just how high in the sky the sun was, Raoul made his way, with some difficulty due to his bulky frame, through the jostling crowds and up the quieter paths to the Palace. He was due to joust against Conal of Mindelan at one bell past midday and Drum would need readying, something that Raoul liked to do himself where possible.
Just over an hour later the large knight thundered to victory, sending the younger knight of Mindelan flying onto the hardened floor of the jousting lane.
Raoul, though not an arrogant man, wasn't surprised with the result. He had won the joust at the King's tournament for as far back as anyone could remember. Only one summer, twelve years previously had he conceded the title to Wyldon of Cavall.
With Wyldon having not entered this year, everyone expected Raoul to take the title, just as they expected Lord Imrah of Legann to win the archery contest. It was the outcome of the swordplay that had everyone guessing. Most expected Layton of Anak's Eyrie to win; at least he was the favourite with the gamblers. The other competitor believed to be in with a good chance was the Shang Bear.
Dismounting heavily, Raoul took Drum's reigns in his hand. He waved at the small crowd, acknowledging their cheering politely. At the front of the stands he saw a band of men that he recognised from the King's Own. Flyndan was there, as unsmiling as always, as was Quasim, Balim and several others.
As he walked past, smiling at the comments from his comrades he suddenly noticed that standing close to Dom, intimately close, was the girl who had qualified for the semi-final of the fencing. Resolving to ask Dom about her the next time they crossed paths, Raoul led Drum back to his stable for some well earned treats.
Dom looked across at Kel's supine figure. She had propped herself up on her elbows and her eyes were closed against the glaring rays of the sun. Her skin was tanned and littered with small freckles, suggesting that she spent the majority of her time out of doors.
He's eyes slide lower to the blade that he knew rested behind unassuming brown leather. He longed to know more about the woman that had entered his life …
Kel cracked one eye open. 'It's rude to stare,' she commented, smiling lazily.
'I can't help it,' Dom replied, 'you shine like a-'
'Okay,' interrupted Kel in a disbelieving tone. 'Do you think I should be getting down to the court yet?'
Dom shrugged. With an effort Kel sat up and stretched forward, reaching down to beyond her toes, resting her forehead upon her knees. She continued to stretch, letting thoughts filter slowly out of her brain, beginning to focus on the task ahead.
When she felt limber and supple, she made her way to court one, Dom trailing behind, sensing that Kel needed to concentrate.
Her opponent was the Shang Bear, famous, or so Kel had been told for his skill with the blade.
She unsheathed Courage, taking comfort in the perfect fit of the hilt in Kel's hand. This would not be different from any other fight, this was what she had trained for.
'Fencers take your starting positions,' instructed the official.
Looking up at last, she focused on the Shang's blade only, not even glancing at his face or bulging muscles.
The Shang began to circle her, trying to intimidate her. Not in the mood, Kel decided that now was as good a time as any and whipped her sword around for the first blow of the semi-final.
She followed it up with a reverse butterfly sweep that changed direction at the last moment, cutting diagonally upwards. It was blocked swiftly, just as Kel had expected it to be.
Not losing his nerve, the warrior calmly attacked with all of his fifteen years of combat experience. For minutes they moved in synch, swords clashing left right and centre. She discovered quickly that although the Shang Bear was fast, he was no faster than Alex and Kel had been trained, drilled into moving fast.
For ten minutes neither gained the advantage, awing the crowd with the relentless speed with which they exercised. The Shang was evidently trying to wear Kel out, but all of her hours training kicked into play and Kel refused to let the bulky warrior gain an advantage.
After repeating many blows and attacks Kel built up a picture of the man's weaknesses. Whenever the Shang blocked to his left-hand side, it took him slightly longer to bring his sword back around in time to attack again. Using this to her advantage, Kel rained blows to the man's left hand side and suddenly with the precision one would've thought impossible at such speeds she shifted her sword into an impeccable Scanran attack which slide past the Shang Bear's defences. Courage came to rest on the man's collarbone.
For a moment the whole scene stilled, the crowd seemingly immobile.
'I yield,' the man's sword dropped and Kel stepped backwards.
A cheer rose in the crowd, swelling and emulating until Kel's ears were ringing with the noise. She glanced round and for the first time appreciated just how many people had turned up to watch the second of the semifinal matches.
Faces jumped out at her from the crowd; Karlah leaping up and down, cheering wildly. Dom standing near the entrance a grin spread from ear to ear. Kel caught his eye and his smile widened further than was humanely possible.
Shyly and suddenly feeling quite overwhelmed by the crowds of people cheering, she went over to the official to confirm the result. Wiping her damp forehead with the back of her sleeve.
She left the court Courage still resting in her hand, walking back to her tent before the masses of people leaving the stands made such movement impossible.
Twenty minutes later Dom managed to fight his way over to her tent and duck through the flaps.
'That was unbelievable!' he exclaimed. 'How did you learn to fight like that?'
Kel paused for a moment before answering; not wanting to lie directly to someone that she liked so much.
'I learnt that if you want something done,' said Kel slowly, 'then you're best doing it yourself. I wanted to be good so I just practise a lot… I was taught mainly by my friend, the one that gave me my sword.'
Without another word Dom pressed his lips to hers and kissed her thoroughly. Kel caught herself thinking that if this was a reward for beating the Shang Bear then she would have to fight him more often…
-a/n- As you've probably noticed I've been experimenting with this chapter, writing sections from the perspectives of different characters. What do you think? Does it work?
Please review :D
Confusedknight xxx