Valiant

Chapter 28: Traitor

I am a blaze of energy, deeply and utterly fueled to the point of overflow. My very being vibrates with restfulness and alertness, and my armor feels as light as a feather. My speed is unmatched and my lance is merciless. I am something for my enemies to fear.

It is this fear that I catch a glimpse of through my helmet in the eyes of Sir Bartemus, The Hunter. Although he is many years my senior, he looks thoroughly cowed. In the first tilt, he drops his lance just before I hit him, and I cannot pull away in time. The score is now zero to minus five in his favor, due to my penalty.

Cursing, I wheel about, eyes locked upon my reigns. I toss my lance to the dust, and grasp a new one from the hands of a serving squire. This time, I am determined. I kick Vindr into a gallop so swift, the wind through my eyeholes brings tears to my eyes. I bend about again, and my lance strikes his granguard with the force of a charging bull and the precision of an archer. A helmeting that brings the score back to two zero in his favor. But, as I wheel around again, Sir Bartemus leans over the side of his ancient, tan steed and falls to the ground, unable to complete the match. I guess he was too senior, I chuckle to myself, basking in the cheers of the crowd.

Sunshine forces giddiness into my body as I think. Two victories, and I remain untouched. Two remain between me and the King, and I am halfway there now! The trumpet cuts through the crowd like a knife through butter, and slashes my thoughts to silence.

Arwick rises in his armor, to take on the voice of Prince John, who glares at me sullenly with his ornery blue gaze. That much at least hasn't changed. He is reclined now in burnished golds and rare silks, with a circlet of silver branches entwined upon his brow. But if he were to stand, he'd be at least six cubits in height, with powerful legs and a chest straining with muscle. A short, scruffy beard of yellow fuzzes his cheeks, and his face seems lengthened. Sturdier. Deadlier.

"People of the Middle Kingdom and beyond!" Lord Arwick begins. Stretching his voice out like a cord of horse hair, the lord of Eagle's Ridge seems utterly unimpressive. He is pale and skinny, and dressed in voluminous feathers and furs that make him look like he is lugging about some fantastical carcass. The heat seems to be getting to him, as his brow is lined with sweat that sticks his hair to his forehead in a pasty, ugly manner.

"The Lord Prince John declares last match void and dishonorable, and claims six marks whole from Sir Bartemus. He also states that Sir NoName is to joust again immediately to offset the cost of such a tilt. Sir Archibald, you are hereby given a bypass until next round, in which you shall joust again for the championship."

I gasp, as Prince John smugly smiles in my direction. I shall not let either of you down again, I vow to myself, and swivel around to the end of the list. This time, I am determined to put on a good show. I turn again to the Stadius. The crowd is booing, and throws things. A common girl has thrown her dress at the prince, and curses him out in her nudity as men around her share shocked silence and gaping mouths. A stern-faced officer in scarlet and gold steps in front of the cloth projectile and makes not a sound as it hits him in the face, pooling at his feet.

After a solid five minutes' riot, the enraged howls of the people decrease just enough that Lord Arwick can speak.

"Please welcome to the arena, the champion of the tourney of six years past! Our very own knight of the Middle Throne, personal guard of Prince John, Heart eater, Soul stealer... Sir Destrius Ultor!

The being that clambers up to the list is not a man. He is a beast, with eyes like the pits of death itself. A pale spiderweb of scars and stitches give the appearance of crags beneath an armor of coarse, black hair and naught but a granguard, a breastplate, and a loincloth. His sheer mass makes his steed- a huge, dark horse with an unkempt mane- shiver and quake unsteadily as he mounts. And suddenly, it is I who is fearful.