Return to Canifis

That’s it! Together we target them, one at a time.

But the man on the enclosure floor still hadn’t yielded-to be the first to do so would be a sign of weakness. So Theodore knew he had to be ruthless. Once the first had given in, others would find it easier to do so.

He swung his blunted tourney sword down, intending to smash the man’s sword hand.

It never made it.

With a roar a hulking shadow filled Theodore’s visor. He caught sight of a black boar on a red shield as it smashed his weapon aside and bludgeoned into him.

Such strength, he thought, his mind reeling. The man is a giant.

Now it was his turn to stagger as his new foe bellowed.

“No knight of Varrock will fall before those of Falador!”

The crowd cheered as the Boar closed the gap. Theodore saw the sweep of his sword as it came in. Lord Hyett wielded a broadsword in just his right hand, though most men would have been forced to use both.

Instinctively Theodore swung his wooden shield up. But the broadsword cut through the lower half, and as it was withdrawn the crowd gasped and cheered, and Theodore saw how the blade glinted.

That is no tourney blade, he realised grimly. It still has an edge. And the Boar means to use it!

He stepped back as the Boar came on. Once more, however, his men heeded his instructions. Three went forward as one. The man on Theodore’s left parried the Boar’s blade and pushed his arm wide, while the man on his right hacked at the red shield.

Leaving Theodore to deliver as hard a blow as he could muster. He brought his sword over his shoulder and cleaved down. Metal rang out against metal as the blade smashed against the Boar’s helm and slid off to impact upon his shoulder.

The crowd drew breath as the Boar staggered, his knees giving slightly and Theodore remembered Lady Anne’s advice.

Attack him from his left. His eye is blurred and his ankle is weak.

Theodore ducked low and lunged with his blade at Lord Hyett’s kneecap. A blow connected with his shoulder and he fell forward, gasping in sudden pain, his lunge only managing a passing hit on the Boar’s leg greave.

But then the fighting opened up, and it was each man against another. Through his eye-slits, Theodore saw that still no one had yielded. He parried a thrust with his damaged shield, feeling it splinter under the impact. A second hack carried its remnants from his wrist entirely.

As he stood, his teeth gritted, the red shield of the Boar swallowed his view. He ducked as Lord Hyett’s sword flashed an inch from his gorget.

That could have killed me if it had struck.

Theodore went cold.

Maybe that is his intention. Here it will look like an accident. I humiliated him when I unhorsed him in the lists, and he is probably aware that Lady Anne and I…

A man in white armour came to Theodore’s rescue, his blow careening off the Boar’s chest plate.

Theodore stumbled backwards, painfully aware of the jeering crowds.

Castimir held his hand to his face. It was terrible to watch. He turned his head and winced when Theodore lost his shield, and he prayed when the giant advanced, hoping that Theodore might save himself. He sighed in relief when one of the squire’s men came to his rescue and gave him time to regain his balance.

The wizard saw William’s eyes upon him. The young noble pursed his lips and shook his head grimly.

Theodore isn’t finished yet, Lord William, he responded silently. He’s been through worse. Give him a chance.

Castimir remembered Lady Anne, and the dismissive laugh she had given after Sir Prysin’s eldest had been so gravely injured. He looked for her now.

To his surprise, the expression she wore was very different.

She looks afraid, he realised. Could she really be so attached to Theodore?

“The first man has yielded!” someone yelled from nearby, under the canopy. Castimir turned back to see that it was in fact two men who had left the enclosure, one wearing the white armour of Falador and the other the black of Varrock.

His eyes fell on Theodore. He gasped as he saw his friend rush in again to confront the strongest knight in Varrock.

Theodore’s saviour broke under the Boar’s relentless blows. The white-armoured man collapsed as his legs buckled, his weaponless hands palm up to show that he had yielded. Blood dripped from under his visor as the Boar gave three heavy blows with his edged sword, ignoring the surrender.

Theodore’s world went red.

Leading with his shoulder, he cannoned into the Boar’s legs from his enemy’s left. He felt the man stagger and then with a heave the squire sent him flying face down.

A sword smashed against his head as he crouched, but he ignored the blow, instead leaping forward to where he thought the Boar must be. He felt a man’s armoured body beneath him, face down, and with a shout he thrust his sword under his helm, pulling it back as he held the edge to the man’s throat.

“Yield!” he commanded as a roar arose from the spectators. “Yield or I swear I will cut your throat.”

The Boar swore in reply, his hand snaking toward his own sword, which had fallen from his grasp when the squire had barrelled into him.

Theodore increased the pressure on the blade, but too late he saw a Varrock knight appear beside him. This one wielded a heavy wooden mace, and Theodore knew he had to avoid it at all costs. With a cry, he rolled free as the mace sailed by.

But it was not a disaster. For his roll had taken him to within range of the Boar’s own weapon. He dropped his own tourney blade in exchange for his enemy’s, gripping the broadsword in both hands. At the same time he lashed out with his foot, his heel connecting with Lord Hyett’s helm with a satisfying crash that snapped one of the Boar’s tusks.

Now I have the edge, he thought. Your edge-and we will see what you think of that.

“He nearly had him!” Castimir shouted to anyone who cared to listen. “Come on, Theodore. Finish the brute off.”

And in fact, I thought you were about to kill him.

From his viewpoint the wizard could easily see the whole enclosure. At least five of the knights were down. From one- the man who had saved Theodore-the ground was soaked with blood. Six more yielded and left the enclosure to join the two who had already retired.

Which gave Castimir cause to smile, for now Theodore’s men had the advantage. Now, it was six against five.

“Come on Theodore,” he muttered. “You don’t need to be a hero today. Your men are doing you proud.”

Theodore fell as a man’s black gauntlet wrapped around his neck and pulled him backward. The Varrock knight fell beneath him, and as he landed Theodore thrust backwards with his elbow with as much force as he could muster.

He heard the man gasp through his visor.

Up! Up! Seize the advantage and force him to yield!

The squire made it to his knees and with both hands swung Lord Hyett’s sword, not bothering to stand, not daring to waste a single second that might endanger his advantage. The edged blade severed the top of the man’s finger and sent his weapon flying from the enclosure to the excited whoops of the crowds.

“I yield! Gods I yield!” the man roared as he crawled to the ropes to be dragged from the enclosure by the waiting stewards.

Theodore stood wearily, his body lurching from one side to the other. The weight of the weapon further threatened his balance.

I am exhausted. Can’t keep going for much longer.

But he knew that his enemies must be in a similar state, and in a rare moment of calm he had a chance to