Engines & Demons - The Undestined

Chapter 48ii

Grifford's mind was still turning over his thoughts when he reached the arena-field. He had been unaware of the growing noise until he rounded the final curve of the arena's high wall, and the sound broke into his consciousness. The Field was full of people, and it was not just the usual throng of spectators. They stood and sat, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, filling the place from the arena walls to the distant slope beneath the bailey's sentinel tower. Lines of soldiers held the crowds back from the entrances to the arenas, the observation tower, and the chain-carriage station, and from the area around the knight's pavilions and the avenue leading through them into the Encampment.

As he passed down the space the soldiers secured, the expectant murmuring of the crowd filling his ears, Grifford tried to make out Sir Galder's pavilion, but the area around the tents was filled with knights and squires, their presence blocking it from view. The Pride-commander was nowhere in sight, but Grifford could well imagine the look of displeasure on his face when he learnt that his opponent's son had been found and he realised he would still be called upon to fight at noon.

The thought gave him some satisfaction as he left the arena-field and headed further into the Encampment. He told himself he was only walking that way to get away from the tension boiling around the fortress, and from its noise of expectation, but he knew he was lying to himself. He knew why his footsteps had led him there. The avenue through the Encampment was the way north. It was the road his father would return by.

The anticipation at the arena-field had emptied the Encampment. The stalls and entertainments were shut, their doors and counters covered and tied tight. Quiet lay over the place, broken only by a scavenging ruteia and a pair of red crak, squabbling over some dropped morsel of food.

A sudden voice startled the birds and sent them away croaking.

"Well, look who we have here."

Grifford turned to the voice's owner, who was standing in the avenue a few metres behind him.

"Go away, Tasker," he said.

The older boy met his demand with an aggrieved scowl.

"Is that all you have to say to me, boy?"

Grifford frowned. Not at the question, but at the fact that, for the first time in his memory, Tasker's juvenile goading had not triggered any anger in him.

"Where are your friends?" he asked.

Tasker took a step towards him.

"My so called friends have lost the stomach for this fight, but I do not need them to end it."

He still wore his sword at his side, and as he took another step closer he drew it, and its keen edge caught the light of the climbing sun.

Grifford looked into his eyes.

"I will not fight you," he said.

"Oh you will, borak. Fighting is all you know."

Grifford kept his eyes on Tasker and wondered how much honour was left in the boy.

"Did you poison Hakansa?" he asked.

The question seemed to disarm Tasker, but he answered quickly enough.

"No."

"I do not believe you."

The anger was back in Tasker's eyes.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"Yes."

"Draw your sword and fight me!"