Engines & Demons - The Undestined

Chapter 31ii

From where he stood, high on the hill beneath Klinberg's walls, Maddock was staring in slack jawed wonder. The sun was slowly rising, and though the arena-field was still in shadow, the colourful tents of the knights that surrounded its western edge were struck by its clear morning light, and their brightness was almost dazzling. That band of colour was just a backdrop to the columns of knights gathered before them, clad in their armour, bearing row upon row of raised lance blades, like a field of high plains grass.

Though their appearance was terrifying, Maddock knew the madriel to be creatures of flesh and bone. He had cleared enough of their dung to know just how earthly they were, but watching them from the hillside, their snorting growls filling the air of early morning with an unearthly echo, encased as they were in their armour of dark metal, they looked like something much more than half wild animals ridden by men.

"Impressive, isn't it?" said Karek from where he stood beside him.

Maddock simply nodded dumbly. His body ached. His eyes were still shadowed with dark bruises, and one ear still felt swollen, but at that moment his pains were forgotten.

After he had been released from the Infirmary, Master Sprak had granted him his day's leave, declaring that an injured Field-hand was of no use to him at the Enclosures anyway. Maddock had gladly returned to the farm, but soon found the mood that lay about the place unsettling, and he had been only too happy to escape the talk of the tavern tables that morning. Some, his father included, talked about the war as though its coming was inevitable, and even the words of those who still had their faith in Sir Zembulla sounded like hollow hope. The poor performance of the Pride-commander's squire in the riding-contests had cast a cloud, though for every man and woman who was darkened by it, there was another who would point to the fact that the performance of Sir Galder's squire had been equally bad.

"Impressive," said Larrad, standing at Maddock's other shoulder, though his voice seemed to lack real conviction.

The youngest of his brothers had been livid with indignation when he had first seen Maddock's battered face, and had listened to him tell them about the fight after the riding-contests. He had been eager to find Tasker and give him a beating in return, but Yohef had managed to calm him.

'The boy has done wrong, but it sounds like the punishment that Master Sprak thought up for him will wound him more than your fists ever could.'

'Besides,' Karek had said. 'Our brother must learn to fight his own battles. He is not a child.'

Maddock had looked at his older brother gratefully, through eyes still swollen half closed.

'Which is why you need to carry on with your sword practice. I'll teach you how to beat the boy in a fair fight. Or maybe even an unfair one.'

Karek had grinned and gone to give Maddock a slap on his shoulder, but then seemed to think better of it, and had ruffled his hair instead, which hadn't been much better because his head still throbbed painfully.

It seemed like his two brothers had not left his side since then. Despite Karek's words about fighting his own battles, he and Larrad had insisted on accompanying him to the challenges that morning, and though Maddock was glad of their company, he still wished they would not be so protective. Still, it was not bad, standing with them on the grassy slope overlooking the arena-field. They had brought bags of fried borak skin and kernik seed cake from the farm, and even though the cakes had more rough flour than kernik seeds, he was happy to forget the events of the previous days for a while, and enjoy his brothers' company.

They watched as the six ladies of the Order, who had been standing motionless on the dais, moved from their positions before the empty chairs and went to stand at the head of the dais' steps.