Engines & Demons - The Undestined

Chapter 28ii

The squires of the third echelon completed their courses and more crests were added to the board, some now hanging near the top most scoring line. The sun was starting to sink towards the western horizon and the shadows cast by the coloured posts were lengthening, creeping slowly over the short cut grass towards the fortress. Maddock sensed a growing excitement in his fellow Field-hands as Master Dramut selected which ones were to provide distraction in the final rounds. As Cirric had predicted, the oldest and most experienced were chosen, and Maddock was not surprised when his name wasn't called. He waved Cirric and the others off, and tried not to let his disappointment show.

Matzurra, squire to Commander Unsaethel, was the first to ride, and he completed the course without fault. His control was meticulous, though it seemed to Maddock that his precision made him slower than some of the squires who had ridden previously. His thought was confirmed when Sir Unsaethel's crest, with the grappling forms of Falsch and the red crak emblazoned on its green and black field, was hung beneath those of some of the lower echelon squires.

Next to ride was Henjin, the squire of Commander Bevrik, and it seemed that he too would complete the course without a mistake, but then he faltered on his return leg as Cirric caught him on the far edge. The Field-hand shouted and made such a noise that Henjin's steed struck its red target post twice, before the squire regained control, and they wheeled away to finish the course. Commander Bevrik's crest was hung beside Commander Unsaethel's, to discontented mumblings from the crowd. The Field-hands around Maddock clapped wildly and called their congratulations to Cirric.

Ince, Commander Zembulla's squire, rode with reckless abandon, attempting to gain a high score for himself through swiftness, but he had already made two minor mistakes before he had even reached the judge's podium. One of his steed's strikes on a post was not clean enough, another not high enough up the post. In his frustration, the squire seemed to lose more control as he returned along the field, and as his course brought him close to the edge of the grounds where Macus stood on the inner perimeter line, his face already held a look of bitter disappointment.

Squire and steed had not even reached their target post before Macus ran in, yelling and banging his metal bars together. Ince had lost concentration, and so, when his steed swerved from his path towards the Field-hand, he failed completely in his control. The madriel lowered its head, and with a quick swipe of its horns, struck Macus a savage blow. The boy had jumped back, attempting to avoid the lowered horns, but the blow caught him on his breast bone and sent him flailing across the grass to land unmoving on the outer perimeter line.

With a savage word of command, Ince regained control of his insubordinate steed, and it struck the final post with an angry claw before returning to the starting line.

Two doctors in white tunics ran out to the still form of the fallen Field-hand and knelt beside him. Master Dramut strode over to them, and a muttering went up among the Field-hands standing behind the service fence.

"He's always been too slow," whispered one to Maddock.

"Do you think he'll be all right?"

"Don't know; that looked nasty."

The muttering went on as Master Dramut bent over Macus to consult with the doctors. Meanwhile, Ince had led his steed away, not even waiting to see where Commander Zembulla's crest would be hung on the board. The assistant herald ran the length of the field from the judge's platform, and Sir Zembulla's crest was hung low, among those of the sixth echelon squires.

Two infirmary porters had run out from behind the stands carrying a pole stretcher, and Macus was loaded onto it and carried from the field, accompanied by the two doctors.