“This must be a mistake. Surely they do not lend such armor to just any fighter.”
“You are not just any fighter. Lord Rogus himself has given you this to use, and he said if you win tonight, you may keep it.” The armor consisted of fine chainmail and a chest plate made of steel embellished with silver. The arm and leg guards were of the same make as the rest of the armor.
“To accept such gifts from someone I do not know would mean that I owe him something. No matter what he knows of me, I will not accept what I have not earned.”
“Don’t be foolish, Whill, wear the armor. It would be suicide not to.”
Whill raised an eyebrow. “Who says the knight’s blade will get close enough to cut me?”
“It would be an insult not to wear it,” Abram warned. “You owe nothing in accepting this, and it is not yours until won. Come, try it on.”
Whill reluctantly put on the armor. It was of fine make, light and unobtrusive. He was impressed with its flexibility. He attached his sword and flexed his arms. Drawing his sword he made short, circular slashing motions. Satisfied, he holstered his sword and said he was ready.
Exiting through the other side of the room, they entered another hall that led to the tournament grounds. The roaring crowd was deafening. Cheers and stomping feet emanated from the coliseum and shook the ground beneath them as they came to an opening in the hall. From inside, the coliseum looked gigantic. People sat or stood upon cushioned seats of stone that circled the building in thirty ascending rows. The fighting grounds were in a ring at the center of the building. A ten-foot wall separated the crowd from the sand-covered fighting grounds. Directly across and on the top row was a large booth adorned with great banners. One was blue with a white tower topped by a brilliant star. The other was white with a great ship upon a blue sea, with the sun above, its ray stretching out behind the ship. Within the booth sat Lord Rogus and King Mathus.
Beyond the doorway in which Whill and Abram stood was a segregated section of seats. These were the fighters’ seats and were made up of three levels. Whill followed Abram to the top of the three and they sat. Once again the trumpets sounded, marking the address of Lord Rogus. All fell silent and turned to the royal booth as the lord stood and extended both arms to the crowd.
“My dear people of Fendale, and travelers from afar.” His voice echoed throughout the coliseum. “Tonight you will witness the skill and splendor of the great defenders of Eldalon, those who keep our oceans safe from pirates, who keep the dragon menace at bay, and who keep this land free of the Draggard. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you…the Knights of Eldalon!”
The crowd erupted into a frenzy. The coliseum roared like thunder breaking on a quiet day. A shower of roses fell onto the white sand as the entrance gate opened and the knights marched out. At the sight of them the cheers escalated to the point of pandemonium. They marched four wide, with two leaders carrying banners of both Eldalon and Fendale. They wore full armor the color of highly polished silver. At each of their sides, there hung a dark blue sheath holding their swords. A brilliant blue gem rested within the center of the silver hilts. Upon their left arm each knight carried a broad shield of the same make as their armor. The tops of the shields were the shoulder-width of their owners, gradually narrowing down the length into a sharp point at the base. At the center was the emblem of Eldalon.
Whill watched as the knights made their way to the center of the ring. Much like the child he had been, he sat entranced. Knowing the legend of the knights and having read of their glory, they now seemed to Whill like the single most powerful force on earth. Light from the lighthouse gleamed off their armor so that they seemed to glow. As one they stopped and turned to the royal booth. They stood tall, the proud fighters of the free peoples of Eldalon. They numbered one hundred, a small percentage of the Order of Eldalon. As one they drew their swords and raised them high toward the king, and as one they drove them into the sand before them and knelt upon one knee. The crowd’s enthusiasm was rampant. Still more roses rained down onto the sand and the kneeling knights. Whill’s head was light. He felt drunk with excitement. Abram gave him a light elbow to his side. He looked amused.
“Don’t forget to breathe, Whill.”
Whill was surprised to discover that he actually had been holding his breath. He now let it out, feeling slightly foolish.
The knights once again stood tall and holstered their swords as the king stood and took Lord Rogus’s place at the front of the booth. The entire crowd fell silent and bowed before King Mathus as he looked upon his loyal subjects. Whill and Abram did the same. With one knee to the floor and an arm resting upon it, Whill sneaked a look at the king, but then quickly lowered his head again. He was sure that the king had been looking right at him. He quickly discarded the thought as the king began his speech.
“Good people of Fendale, arise, for I look upon you as my equals. I am privileged only by the honor of being your leader. Tonight we celebrate brotherhood, and the joy of life itself. The winters of our lives will always come, and they will seem to linger with the bittersweet cold of remorse, regret, and despair. During such times each of us will question ourselves and this world. We will wonder how such a bleak and miserable time can ever end, the seemingly eternal misery that is our darkest hour. But end it does, for to every winter there is a spring, and to every tragedy there is newfound joy. A cold heart is one that has forgotten hope and knows no love. We will stay warm throughout the most bitter cold and have hope when all else is lost, because we are the people of Eldalon, and we know no defeat, and we are all brothers. No force on this earth or from the heavens will ever break our spirit. It is in love we find our greatest strength, and our unwavering hope.
“So I ask you all now to look upon each other as family, and to put aside differences and petty quarrels. I ask you all to look around at the beautiful city you have created. Its magnificent splendor shines above all things. Without you it would be only stone and dirt. Without the great people of Eldalon, it would be nothing. This celebration honors the light in the darkness, hope in times of despair, and love in the face of hate. It signifies the beginning of an end. May your sails forever catch the warm wind, and may your families prosper.”
The coliseum was as quiet as a forgotten tomb. It had the feeling of the calm before the storm. All eyes shimmered as one in the presence of the king, and upon every face there was a smile. The king looked around at his people, his own smile bright. At last he said, “And now, let the competition begin!”
The crowd again broke into deafening applause. Whill stood with them, cheering. A new and foreign sense of belonging sent a pain through his chest as he clapped vigorously, hot tears welling in his eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
As one the knights turned and filed out of the fighting ring. In their place came men carrying dividers for the first competition, the joust. Within minutes they were finished and the first of the knights entered the ring on horseback.
“Do you remember who won the joust when last we were here?” Abram almost had to holler to be heard.
“Yes, it was Rhunis the Dragonslayer.”
“That’s right.”
“And he’s won every year since.” Whill had heard stories of Rhunis from Abram. Rhunis had lived in Senteal, a small coast town at the southernmost tip of Eldalon. When he was only sixteen he had killed a dragon that had been terrorizing the town. The Knights of Eldalon had been sent to defeat the beast, but instead found it lying dead upon the beach, a spear protruding from its left eye. Rhunis lay next to it, half dead himself, suffering from severe burns. The boy had recovered and been honored by the king, who made him a knight and personal guard.
“Do you think Rhunis will win tonight?” Whill yelled over the crowd, which was now cheering the knights entering the fighting circle.
“I have yet to see him lose to a man or beast, in competition or battle.”
“Does he still ride the white horse or-?” Suddenly he stopped. “Did you say battle? Have you fought alongside Rhunis?”
Abram laughed. “I told you of the many battles with the Draggard in which I took part.”
Whill shook his head in admiration. “You never fail to surprise me.”
