Fourteen days of sport and merriment was to be had by all. Warriors one and all came to participate in the contests of skill and cunning. Tests of archery, jousting, strength, endurance, and melee were all the skills tested to determine who would be deemed worthy of a position of honor. Down in the staging area the contestants were getting ready for the first day's events. The Candidates seemed sturdy strapping men that had different reasons for being there. For some it was a family tradition to compete, and for some it the means to an end.
The Captain of the city elite, the Spectrum Guard, was said to be the champion of the seven-day event yet again though there were several in the tourney this year that look to give him a worthy challenge. He was a well-conditioned man that stood than other contestants. A most imposing looking man he was. His steel gray eyes told of his age though his body did not.
Michus, of house DePonterel, is said to be an expert swordsman and his brother Dalleo was no slouch in archery or swordsman ship. Both were participating on their father's orders. Their sister was could handle a sword as well but their father would not permit his daughter to compete so she sat by her mother and waited for the day to begin.
There were more participants than the previous tourney five years ago. But times are changing, as were traditions. Each individual had his own agenda, as did the small figure readying his equipment for the days to come. Each participant was offered the assistance of a squire but this one refused.
"This is the first time I am entering, how about you?" a young man asked. He received no answer. "Well anyway my name is Bertram. Pleased to meet you." He offered his hand to the silent swordsman. No hand was returned only a glance. "Not to friendly are you? Well good luck anyway. Winning this Tournament will help my family. The gold I will win will help out a lot." Still no reply came from the masked one. Bertram was not getting annoyed by in fact he was just happy to have someone to listen to.
Each man did his own preparations for the games in win his way. Some had good luck charms others had rituals they did before major events in their lives. As the hour approached, Michus and Dalleo both recited a lyric from a song that their mother used to sing to them when they were nervous or scared. Bertram paced thinking of what he was going to do with in melee round, if he even made it that far.
The masked one just sat with his arms folded.
All things stopped as a trumpet sounded. The day was finally beginning. The two hundred contestants were all going to the first qualifying event, archery. Each man was given ten shots to make a bullseye or as close as possible. The points would be tallied and the highest and the thirty lowest would be dropped from the tourney.
Several hours later, there were twenty-five fewer contestants. Bertram not at all surprised that he made it to the next round. His skill with the longbow was quite exceptional but he knew the next is test will definitely be harder.
Over the course of the next nine days, their number dwindled from two hundred to forty. Each man then had to pick a numbered tile from a box. Each man would then have ample time to get ready before his match. Bertram stepped to the box and picked his tile, number twenty. He looked to the board and saw that his opponent was number forty. "Wonder who has forty?" as he finished his thought he was dwarfed by a mountain of a man stepping to the box his tile. I hope he doesn't pick it I can handle myself but he'll probably kill me. This man was two full heads taller than Bertram. His forearm looked to be as big as Bertram's thigh. HE picked his tile. Bertram got pale and slack-jawed as his saw the tile read 40. The giant looked down at the fear in the young man's face smiled and walked away.
The masked figure picked his number just as Michus DePonterel picked his. The shrouded one picked twenty-five, Michus picked five. Michus looked down at his smaller opponent, "May the best man win," he said extending his hand. It was accepted. The masked figure walked to the readying area. Dalleo picked his number it was the number one. Now I show Michus who the better swordsman is, Dalleo thought to himself with determination in his eye. On the field where the melee portion of the tourney, the jesters were performing to the song of the minstrels while the remaining contestants were getting ready. When it was time the horns blew and the announcer came to the field.
"Welcome one and all to the second round of the Tournament of Honor. Where dreams are made and boys become men." The crowd applauded. "For the match of the first round we have Dalleo of house DePonterel meeting Seth of Dalewood." The tension was high as they stood facing each other. Dalleo saluted Seth and Seth returned it and stepped into a battle stance. The duel was one that set the pace for all the matches to come. Dalleo showed his prowess as did Seth and they both did their tutors proud. Seth lunged overextending his strike and Dalleo capitalized by leading the oncoming blade making the wielder fall to the ground losing his sword.
The crowd applauded as Dalleo was declared the winner. As he stepped back to the ready area he was congratulated by friends that were lucky enough to make it this far in the tourney. Michus stepped to his younger sibling and patted his back, "Well done, brother, but why did it take so long?" Dalleo didn't like his older brothers sarcastic tone and snapped back, "I suppose you could do better?" "When the time comes watch and learn, dear brother, watch and learn."
One hour and four losers later, it was Michus' turn to duel. He stood facing his opponent with a look of inquiry wondering why this person hadn't taken of his mask. Why hadn't this person been seen around in the taverns after the days end of the tournament? Whoever you are, you are about to lose swiftly. They saluted each other and immediately began. Years of training went into training the DePonterel brother and Nathan, their teacher was in the stands next to their father cheering them on in silence. But something caught his eye. Michus' opponent was using an unusual technique that he hadn't seen in a very long time. A technique that was used on him by one that was more skilled than him. The last time he saw that method of swordsman ship he was on the receiving end. He was about to go and make Michus forfeit his match but his young lord would never forgive him. He smiled inwardly. I am going to enjoy seeing him taken down a peg. Or three.
For all the years he had trained under Nathan was a credit to his mentor. His technique and skill were impeccable but it was all for naught. The match ended two minutes after it had begun. Michus' sword was removed from his hand and he was staring at the tip of a blade. Nathan watched with an approving eye as the older of his charges was utterly defeated by one whose skill was far greater that any on the field. Who is that man? Nathan thought to himself as his dejected pupil left the field glaring at his opponent.
Bertram stood motionless before the tower of a man that was his adversary. He swallowed hard thinking of what his father told him about facing down his fears. You have to look fear in the face and tell it that YOU are in control and take it by the horns and use it to the fullest. His father was a wise man and winning this tournament would mean a lot to him if he were still alive. This was for his mother and sisters so they would be taken care of. He wanted to give them something better than a life on a farm. He saluted the mountain and was returned the salute.
The duel was on. Bertram started in with a ferocity that had taken this giant back a few steps. Each thrust was meant to keep him off kilter because he know he would lose if he did not come at him with his all. Thrust. Thrust. Dodge. Parry. Thrust. He moved at an exhausting pace thrusting and parrying. It proved to be too much for him to keep it up he slowed down. The larger more experienced fighter capitalized on this colossal error made by the youth. He ended it quickly by sidestepping knocking the youth cold with the hilt of his blade. He stood over the youth for a moment until the priests and clerics came to the field to attend to his youthful foe.
He walked from the field.
Over the next four days the contestants were whittled down to the remaining two. The Captain of the Guard and the masked one.
The crowd tensed as the duel was set to begin. Silence rang through the coliseum. The combatants saluted the judge then each other as they began their dance of death. The larger of the two circled to the left sizing up his opponent. A seasoned veteran this one. His stone expression of intimidation was enough to make a full-grown bear think twice before attacking, but it had no effect on his masked adversary. The smaller combatant took the lead with a series of thrusts that were easily parried.
The larger took charge forcing his adversary to backpedal hoping to drive the smaller off balance. To his surprise, the smaller seemed to be picking up the pace with each thrust that was parried and countered with blinding speed, equally matching his advances. The larger was impressed with his younger opponent, as was the lord of the city, Jon the Gray, keeper of Astyer, the City of Lights. "My lord, the young ones skill is impeccable, " remarks Sedric, the aged commander of the Spectrum Guard. "He will surely be an asset to the Guard." The gray one nodded in agreement. "Sedric, I haven't seen anyone who has bested him yet. Though Beauregard has certainly lasted longer than the rest. Each has bested sixteen of the other contestants and it looks like old Beau is soon to falter."
Beauregard, somewhat agitated, takes up the offensive once more, this time grabbing the other combatant after thrusting forward and being blocked. Being bigger than his adversary, he used his weight and strength to his advantage and throws the much smaller warrior toward a large tree stump. As the flight came to a close, the agile warrior shifted his weight and flipped so he could land on his feet. He landed rolling into a kneeling position and raised his sword to block the cheap offensive strike from his blind side. He then deftly dove to the right rolling to his feet facing his opponent with renewed vigor.
This big brute needed to be taught a lesson.
The smaller warrior began a volley of strikes that Beauregard was not able to fully counter. He countered one strike then was slashed across he chest. He countered another then received the counter slash forming a perfect X. Then he parried the wrong way. Upon noticing the mistake, the aggressor issued several cuts to warn the sloppy adversary of his error. The deadly aggression continued until Beauregard made one last, desperate thrust which was just what small one needed. Their swords crossed. The smaller took control of the Beau's sword throwing it from his hand then dropped low to the ground sweeping him off his feet. Beau hit the ground hard and was stopped from rising again by the tip of the younger one's sword between his eyes.
The crowds roared in excitement and appreciation of the show that they were given. Sedric and his lord looked at each other in approval of the soon to be acquired member of the Guard. A hand to help him up replaced the sword in Beauregard's face. "Thank you. You handle yourself well young one," he states, "Why don't you take off that mask so I can look at the face of the man who defeated the Captain of the Spectrum Guard."
Sounds of approval changed to those of shock and disdain. Sedric and Jon both stood looking with slack jaws.
"Well I'll be damned," Beau said with a voice of approval. The mask was removed revealing long strands of silver and white hair that flowed down the back of a female elf.
"I knew it!" Sedric shouted as he looked at the victorious female.
She proudly stepped toward the Lord's platform saluted and bowed. "I have bested all on the field of honor rightfully claiming the title as champion this day." She knelt on one knee before the Lord as he descended the stairs. Jon stood before his champion with an eye of inquiry and respect. "What is thy name?" "Mortiyah. Mortiyah the Silver," she replied bowing her head. "Proving your skill on the field of honor, you have earned the right and privilege to sit at the table of the elite defenders of the City of Lights. Rise, Mortiyah the Silver, member of the Spectrum Guard." The crowd cheered as she stood to face her lord and except his hand in congratulation. As she turned to leave the field she was once again facing Beauregard. Here stood the only person that has ever bested him and it was a woman. This was certainly going to be an interesting time. He sheathed his sword and took her hand bending forward to kiss it. "My lady," he stated "we will have to do this again sometime."
Smiling lightly she replied, "I look forward to it."