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Chronicle II, Chapter 5 The Challenger By William Black The day was as bright as the previous one, though the temperature was warmer. The vendors of goods were doing a fine business despite the more solemn atmosphere caused by the previous day's disappointments. The aroma of food and drink were more pungent due to the heat. To keep cool, the knights were keeping their armor off until just before their turn to defend the honor of the realm. Morgan, Ann, and the wizard found their seats and waited for the competitions to begin. They could hear the people nearby placing bets. This time the odds were in Gardain's favor. Many a citizen tried to recover from the previous day's losses. Morgan wanted to scream at them for their unfaithfulness to the Realm, but something insider her took compassion on their plight. She knew all too well how poorly the Protectors of the Dark Crystal were fairing. The thought occurred to her that they too might even be betting. Well, let them. I lay odds on Robert, she thought to herself. Her pride and confidence in her lover were great, and she knew well justified. She smiled at the notion. Tonight she would reward him regardless of the outcome. She sat daydreaming about what that entailed when it suddenly occurred to her that Lady Morion had not yet arrived. Morion did arrive a little later. She had been giving her knights the best pep talk she had ever given and forgot about the time. Her knights however were ready to take on the world and then some. Each loved Morion in his own way. And each was willing to die proving it. The field had been groomed into fine shape. All horse print being raked away and the field smoothed down. Morion thought more banners would bring a feeling of hope and life to the day. The flags flapped gently in the summer breeze. Their colors making a strange rainbow over the stadium. Some folk from other kingdoms had come and swelled the already large crowd. They had come either to cheer on Morion's men, or to cheer the challenger. Though few knew who the challenger was really. Morion, though loved by most, was envied by others. They wanted to see her humiliated. They would have cheered the Devil himself if Morion were brought down a peg or two. Yes, Morion had her admirers, but also her detractors. "Well," she started to say to Morgan and Ann, "have you heard? Gardain's squire is dead." Morgan bowed to her Lady. "Yes, my Lady. We know. The wizard told us. He came to get us and find if we had had a chance to the boy. Unfortunately, when we saw him last night, he appeared to be in a trance or drugged. He could not tell us anything." "Morgan, that is only the start of the bad news. The men that fell at the hand of Sir Gardain? They are all gravely ill. My physicians don't know what to make of it either. I'm confident they will figure something out, but it worries me. Some have broken bones, others just serious bruises. But all appear to have given up on life. They don't seem to have a will to live anymore. It's like their souls are being drained away, drop by drop." Morgan looked at Ann, who just shrugged. "I may have a few things I can try, my Lady. Medicines the Druid taught me to make. Let me go back and get the ingredients. I can deliver them to your doctors. They would know how best to find the right compounds." "But you'll miss your love's match against Gardain. No, you stay here to be moral support for Sir Robert." "Oh, thanks for reminding me. I want to talk with him before the match. Please excuse me?" "Of course. Hurry. The time for the first joust of the day is near." Morion waved her friend on. With this Morgan got up and turned to go. She heard a voice, but didn't know where it came from. "Be honest with him." Looking around she saw Ann and Morion watching her closely. "Did you say something?" The two women shook their heads. "Go! Before the meet begins." Morion urged. Morgan ran down the steps as fast as her dress allowed. Crap, why couldn't she wear her riding trousers? She knew the answer, but wished desperately for a day when she didn't have to dress-up during these social occasions. She ran down to the entrance to the field where all the knights, squires, and soldiers were gathering. She found her lover's tent and went inside. He was sitting on the ground by himself staring at his hands as if in meditation. He didn't look up when she entered, but instead contented himself by saying, "Beloved? I am truly sorry. I know I say this a lot, and I would not blame you for not forgiving me. But I do love you. Sometimes I just act like an idiot." "Yes, my love, you do sometimes. But sometimes I do too. More often than I would like to admit. I forgive you." Then the gentle voice came to her again, "Be honest with him, you might be surprised." "Robert, I also must ask your forgiveness." She didn't know why she had to say this, but she had to get a few things off her chest. Now was as good of time as any. He looked up from his hands and into her face. "Why should you ask for my pardon?" "Because..." Damn, this was harder than she thought. "Because I dreamed of William last night. I dreamed of him and not of you." Robert began to laugh. A genuine healthy, loving laugh. "Oh beloved, you have dreamt of him time and time again. It's okay. I have come to terms with your love for him. You are with me, and that is all that matters. Please don't fret of this again. "But I do worry. I can't help loving you both. But I chose you first. You I love and honor. I would not give this up." "I know you wouldn't, even though I gave you reason to, time and again. You are mine. I know this. Stop beating yourself up because of it. By the way, I love you." He stood up and took her into his arms. His kiss was at first gentle, then became more passionate with his growing desire for her. It was a little while before his joust with Sir Gardain, and he made good use of his time with Morgan. It was the trumpets that roused them from their tender embrace. "Love, I must prepare. Please say a little prayer for me. With you on my side, I cannot loose." He kissed her deeply once again, and stood up to get dressed. It did not take him long to get into all his gear; Morgan helping more adeptly then any squire could. Once he was ready, he kissed her again and strode out to the stable to fetch his horse. His squire would have it all outfitted by now. All he had to do is climb on. Morgan made her way back to the stands and her seat by Morion. She noticed the crowd's downcast expressions. It was not going well. This day was worse than the previous one. Ten knights, more seasoned than those the day before, had fallen victim to Gardain's skills. This man seemed invincible. No amount of skill or training seemed to be able to stand against him. Morion was concerned. Her face, normally devoid of all wrinkles, had heavy furrows over her eyes. She glanced up as Morgan took her seat. "Where have you been?!" she said with more vehemence then she intended. "My Lady, I was with Robert. We were..." "Don't tell me! You were distracting him from his duty. I don't need to hear anymore." Then after a brief pause, "Damn-it woman! Can't you control your hormones for once in your life!" With that Morion turned to the list, her mood darker than ever. Morgan, her own anger rising, turned to Ann who just shrugged. Morion had no right to say the things she did. She belonged to Robert, and she had every right to be with him whenever she chose. The trumpeters sounded their instruments again, announcing the next joust. It was late into the afternoon and this would most likely be the last contest. The people were drifting away, one-by-one, certain of the outcome of this next joust. Sir Gardain could not be beat. They were certain of it. Besides, it was getting hot and it was time to find refreshments and drown sorrows. Morgan watched them go. She felt angry with them for giving up hope, for not considering the skills of her beloved knight. She looked down the rows of seats and then to the fences. Only a third of the original crowd remained. Then she noticed a lone knight standing with his back to the main field apparently enthralled with Arrow. The great eagle was perched on the fence and sitting very still. He faced the list, but periodically would look at the knight as if conversing with him. How odd, Morgan thought to herself. Arrow was not that friendly to people he didn't know. She wondered who the knight was. From what she could see of his outfit he must be rather poor. His dress was simply. He wore chain-mail covered by a light grey cuirass. Only soft deerskin trousers protected his legs, and he wore deerskin boots. He held a plain helmet with visor under one arm, and a blank shield was propped idly against the fence. This meant the knight was not attached to any Lord or Order. He was on his own. Attached to his belt, he wore a plain double-edged sword. Either this knight was indeed very poor, very foolish, or not from around here, Morgan thought to herself. She leaned over to Ann to see if she had noticed. "Yes. I watched him as he came on the field. I didn't get a good look at his face, but from his stride he reminds me of royalty. Whoever he is, he's been well bred." Morgan caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Sir Gardain, looking fresh, was taking his place at the end of the list. His armor and helmet were as dark as ever. He urged his mount up to where Morion was seated and tilted his lance her way in mock respect. She gave him a smile that could have been interpreted by some as a snarl, but in reality she was just worried sick and quite tired. Gardain just chuckled to himself. The crowd let out a hearty cheer as Sir Robert took the field. Morgan grinned. They were still rooting for him. Her knight's sorrel-colored horse pranced with excitement for the battle to come. Robert rode up to Morion's box and bowed deeply. "My Lady, I will bring you honor this day. And to you my love." He nodded to Morgan; "I will not fail either of you." Morgan tied her blue scarf around the tip of his lance, then blew him a kiss. He winked at her as he turned to take his place at the end of the list. Morgan noticed that the grey knight conversing with Arrow still had his back to the crowds. However, at the moment the trumpets blared the start of the joust, the knight signaled the eagle to take wing. The judge appeared reluctant to come out and signal the two combatants to engage one another. Morgan felt irritation towards him for his apparent doubts in her beloved. But he did come out. He lifted his hand as he looked both to the right and left to make sure the two opponents were ready, then his hand fell. The two knights spurred their mounts racing towards one another. Lances were lowered and shields poised. As the two men crashed together, Gardain's lance glanced off Robert's shield, though striking with sufficient force to cause both horses to rear wildly. Robert missed entirely. He appeared dazed as he galloped passed, but held his seat. Both men moved off to take another go at it. Sir Robert was the first to turn and did not wait for his opponent to get ready. He set his lance and shield, spurring his mount like a madman. Gardain urged his war-horse forward. His lance was aimed a bit too high and again it was deflected from its mark by his opponent's skill. Sir Robert was gaining confidence. One more go and Gardain was his. He could feel it. Gardain wheeled his horse around and headed back towards Sir Robert. Both men determined to unseat the other. Both men filled with hate. This is just what Gardain hoped for. As he neared his victim he seemed to lean back slightly, but just as Robert closed on the target, Gardain shifted his weight full forward. His lance extending out a foot farther then usual. The lance struck Morgan's knight in the shoulder. The force twisted him around and out of his saddle. He did a cartwheel in mid-air before tumbling in a heap to the ground. He writhed in agony as squires and Morion's physicians made the all too familiar trek out onto the field. Morgan ran down to her lover as they gingerly placed him on a stretcher. "Beloved? Can you hear me?" Robert became still. He was unconscious and his body was in shock. "Get him to our tent," Morgan ordered. "My Lady," one of the physicians named Ambros started to protest, "He should be sent to the hospital tent. All of our medicines and equipment are there!" "Did you hear me?!" Bitterness laced her words; "I want him in our tent. You know that the surroundings where he is to be healed are as important as your medicines and equipment. You will treat him there! Do I make myself clear?" Morgan was unmoving in her demands. "Yes, my Lady. I will do as you wish." "Yes you will. See to it then." She spoke with authority, but inside she was frightened. If Robert were seriously wounded, what would she do? She remembered then that he asked her to pray before the tournament. She had forgotten to, but now her heart sought that which she seldom called on. "Oh please, let him be all right. Please!" Tears filled her heart, but she kept her gaze study. She followed the doctors into the tent and stood by while they made their initial examination. Outside the people were cheering once again, but Morgan could not understand why. Certainly it was not for Sir Gardain. Some other protector of the realm must be being fool-hearty enough to challenge the Dark knight of Lord Banon's. Sir Gardain was invincible. Morgan was now certain of it. The crowds continued to cheer as a lone grey knight rode unto the field mounted on a spirited palomino. His visor was as grey as his armor but shown bright in the afternoon sun. He wore his visor shut. The knight's lance was light in color and without decoration. He rode up to Sir Gardain and stopped. "I would like to challenge you myself, my Lord," he said in a soft low voice. Gardain laughed. You would challenge me? You're dressed like a woman. Go away. I fight only men! The knight bowed, then turning his horse to face Morion's stand, he said in a loud clear voice. "I have challenged Sir Gardain to fair and manly combat and he has refused. Therefore, I need your endorsement as Lady of the Realm. Would you accept me as your protector to challenge this upstart of a knight?" "I protest!" Sir Gardain dismounted and stood in front of Morion's stand, his arms raised in emphasis. "We don't even know this fellow or where he comes from. He hasn't even signed the contract. Send him on his way!" Morion silenced him with a look. She peered into the eye-slits of the new knight hoping to find out a bit more of this man standing before her. But the openings were too narrow to let much light in, not to mention reflect it out. She could see nothing of significance. "What is your name?" The knight looked at his horse for a moment, then giving it an affectionate pat on the neck he answered, "Aspen". She looked at him, raising one eyebrow in doubt, "Well, Sir Aspen, I have lost many a good knight during this festival. What makes you think the outcome will be any different with you?" The knight looked at his opponent, and there was laughter in his response, "No reason, dear Lady, but you have little to loose if I win. And much to loose if I don't. Even though you don't know me, I ask you to trust me. For the sake of all life and your realm." Something in the knight's plea struck a familiar cord. Turning to a servant who was standing near by she said, "Bring me our copy of the contract." Then to the knight, "Sir, are you willing to sign a binding agreement with me and Sir Gardain that magic will not be used in this contest or during the remainder of this festival?" "I am most willing to sign this contract, if it means protecting this realm from the arrogance and treachery that threatens it." The knight dismounted and walked over to the stand. He stood beside Gardain who was fuming, but ignored him. One of Morion's pages brought her copy of the contract. "Sir Gardain," Morion stood to face the large knight, "Please allow one of my pages to retrieve your copy so that this agreement can be consummated." "No need, Lady. I have it right here." Gardain produced his copy, neatly folded, from under his chest plate. Morgan still had the crimson bottle of ink Gardain had left her with for knights to sign their agreements with. She handed it and a quill to the Grey knight. He in turn signed the copies with a flourish. But before anyone could read the signature, he turned on Gardain. "Okay, you big ugly over-grown bloated sack of human waste, let's see what you're really made of! With that the knight jumped to his saddle laughing. He wheeled his mount around, shouting, "let the games begin!" "Great! Just great!" Sir David leaned over to Morion shaking his head; "You just signed up a fruitcake! We're doomed." She looked at him, then back at Aspen as he galloped down the field. "I hate it when you're right." She whispered to herself. Aspen turned and waited for the judge's signal. "Run true and sure," the knight spoke reassuringly to his horse while patting him on the neck. Sir Gardain turned and waited also. But fury reflected in his eyes. Those dark eyes that sucked light in and gave none back. Gardain shouted a taunt, "Illegitimate son of mortals, you will die this day! I will not play with you as I did the others, but will spread your entrails from here to the next kingdom!" Just then the trumpets heralded the beginning of this new match and the judge stood with his arm held high. He silently prayed this would be the last match. He was growing to old to watch such slaughter even if it was not real combat. It might as will be. The crowds fell silent; each individual praying as best they knew how that this newcomer would have better luck then all the rest. But secretly doubting also. The signal came none-to-soon for Gardain who spurred his horse mercilessly. Deep gouges were made on the great war-horse's flanks. It responded with huge lunges of fury and pain, hurtling it and its rider down the field at the ill-armored knight. The Grey knight urged his mount forward. The palomino was quick and flexible. The knight lowered his lance, aiming squarely at Gardain's shield. But just before impact, he thrust his lance out catching Gardain off guard. The lance hit its target with a loud clang of wood on metal; the lance splintering as Aspen passed. The knight turned his mount around at the end of the list. Not waiting to grab another lance, he spurred his horse forward. Sir Gardain too wheeled around for the second round of this challenge. "What the hell is that fool doing!" Morion was on her feet shouting at the top of her lungs. David tried to calm her down, but he too wondered what was going on. Ann and all the other people in the stands were on their feet as well. The wizard however was looking past it all. His eyes seeing the unseen. A slight grin crossed his weathered face then was gone before anyone noticed. He knew. Morgan heard the shouts and came out of the tent so she could find out what was going on. She could just barely see the contest by peering between two spectators standing at the fence. She was not certain, but the Grey knight appeared to be fighting without a lance. As the two combatants rushed headlong towards each other, Gardain was certain of victory. His lance was lowered and aimed directly at the throat of the unknown knight. A few yards to go and it would all be over. Morion watches as the warriors sped towards each other. She saw her new protector feint to his right, leaning so he rode sideways. Gardain's lance passed over both knight and horse, but as the two men were almost parallel with each other, the newcomer swung up sharply, catching Gardain under the chin with his shield. With a scream of outrage the Dark knight lost his balance and fell backward off his mount. A large dust-plume rose where Gardain landed. The big man struggled to his feet, his sword drawn. Morion's protector jumped from his horse to meet Gardain's challenge. He approached warily not wanted to make a mistake now that he had gained the upper hand. Gardain watched him approach. The knight was smaller and lighter than he was. He wouldn't be able to use his lance to finish the young fellow off, but he would kill him nonetheless. The two opponents circled like cats ready to strike. It was Gardain who led, his heavy broadsword hammering down at the Grey knight's head. The newcomer parried, bringing his blade quickly around and twisting to return his own blow. Gardain caught the strike with the edge of his sword, thrusting forward with all his weight to knock the smaller man off balance. But the newcomer danced away, parrying all strikes, yet attacking when Gardain was open. The knight's thrust didn't have a lot of power behind them, but their effectiveness was clear. Gardain was tiring. Morion's protector continued his hit-and-run strikes, trying to get a clear opening to Gardain's unprotected throat or spaces between the breastplate and shoulder plates. But for each attach, Gardain fought back. The smaller man could not afford a misstep. Metal on metal continued to ring out as the two men fought, each trying to get a clean strike at the other. Gardain finally got his chance. The newcomer had stepped too close. Gardain grabbed the knight by the arm and tried to thrust his blade through the knight at close range. Morion's knight stepped forward, placing one leg around the outside of Gardain's, and then twisted quickly sending Gardain to the ground. Yet Gardain held tight bringing the young warrior with him as both fell heavily to the earth. The Grey knight rolled over the larger man, wrenching away as he did. Then in an instant he was on his feet. Before the big man could react, a booted foot pressed heavily down on his neck. Morion's latest protector stood sword in hand, looking down at the fallen knight. "Surrender to me," the young knight said trying to catch his breath, "or I will put an end to your days here and now." The knight emphasized his threat by pressing the point of his blade into Gardain's unprotected throat. "Who are you?!" Demanded Gardain with a hiss of hatred. "I think you misunderstand something! I am the one standing, which gives me the right to ask the questions. But all I ask is that you surrender. You can have your horse, armor, and sword. All I want is that lance of yours. Now surrender!" The knight pressed the sword more firmly unto Gardain's throat. A trickle of blood appeared where the point pricked the skin. "Damn you! Damn and curse you to hell!" Gardain cursed. The young knight's sword pressed harder. "Okay! I surrender." Gardain hissed. The knight released his foothold on the Dark knight, and went over to where the lance had fallen. "Thank you, Sir. You are too kind. I am sure I can make great use of this lance of yours." Something in the knight's voice made Gardain shudder. "By the way, you and I will meet again. I guarantee it. But as for now, you are out of this tournament!" With this the knight whistled to his mount, the palomino immediately responding to his master. Once mounted, the knight guided his horse over to Lady Morion's stand and presented the lance's tip to her. "I am in your service, Dear Lady." "And we are all in your debt," she said glancing around at her court and people. "But who are we really indebted to?" Morion continued to try and peer into the visor hoping for any hint to this odd knight's identity. Sir David was less polite. "Who the hell do you think you are. I can't believe the stunt you just pulled. You could have gotten yourself kill!" David's face was livid. "But I didn't. And need I remind you that none of your knights faired very well? Sometimes unconventional challenges require unconventional means of combat." With this the unknown knight chuckled. "I still want to know who the blazes..." David was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. Morion gave him a look of warning that brought him quickly to heel. "Sir," she began again. "Tell me who you are. Have we met?" The young knight looked at her through his visor. She had a right to know, but not yet. The battle had been hard and there were greater dangers to face. He could not tell her everything, not at this point. Though he said, "Yes, dear Lady, we have. But just in passing. I doubt that you would remember one such as I. Especially with," and here he looked directly at Sir David, "such noble knights at your disposal. You see, I have no wealth, no Lord to serve accept in Heaven, and no lands to call home. Nor have I been officially granted knighthood by one as yourself." The knight looked at those around him. He could see doubts reflected in their faces, and a look of utter astonishment in Morion's eyes. Gardain slowly edged his way to the front of the crowd, a look of fierce hatred in his eyes. "You mean to tell me that this 'nothing' beat me? This, this..." "This fellow dressed like a woman?" the knight in grey taunted. Gardain approached, his fists clenched in rage, "You are not even a soldier, is that what you mean to say? You came here this day to humiliate me before her Ladyship and all of her court? I'll break you in two! "Sir Gardain! You'll do no such thing." Morion was on her feet and motioning to her guards to intervene. "Sir Aspen beat you in a fair and honorable fight. If his not being a knight disturbs you, I can easily remedy that." Turning to her wizard she commanded, "Bring me my sword." The old man motioned to a guard to follow him, and both men left to get the Sword of Morion, which was the official sword of office. They were soon back, the wizard carrying a cumbersome broadsword, whose blade was fashioned out of morion quartz. The hilt was of solid gold with runes carved into its handle. He handed the heavy blade to Morion. When she took it, all noticed that it did not appear to be a burden to her. She held it effortlessly in one hand. "You see, magic!" hissed Gardain. "No one but a very strong man could hold that blade up with such ease." "You forget what I told you, Sir. I mentioned that there are others in my realm not directly under my control. If magic emanates from them, I cannot do anything about it. Take the Sword of Morion for example. I use it, but I do not summon the magic or control when or how it is used. It responds to need, that is all." Gardain fell silent, but looked on with anger and frustration. "Sir Aspen, would you kneel before me." Morion said turning to her new protector. But to her surprise, he remained motionless. "My Lady, it would be a pleasure to do as you command, but there is a problem. Though I wish to be your knight with all my heart, I cannot bow down to any creature. Though I may not be an official knight, still I have committed my life by certain vows." "Then I will just have to grant knighthood to you whilst you stand." William Black (c) Continues... Chronicle II, Main page |