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A.R.Yngve

DARC AGES
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Chapter 8


Then, from both sides of the jousting pit, the knights marched out of their tents and stood ready. Their armor sparkled like polished silver in the clear, high midday sun. They made about as much combined noise as a stable of five-ton trucks, Darc thought.

On the pit's left side from Darc's point of view stood Dohan, flanked by Azuch Fache and the Orbes brothers.

On the right side was Kamo Yota, standing visibly apart from Tharlos Pasko... who was accompanied by some unknown knight. Both Tharlos' and his companion's eyes were hidden by their helmet visors.

The rules, as Awonso and Librian had explained them to Darc, seemed flexible yet simple:

"Rule One: The Joust is a succession of a one-on-one, or two-on-two duels between able-bodied men of noble birth.

"Rule Two: To increase the odds for new contenders, a current champion may choose a rookie to join him in a two-on-two duel.

"Rule Three: If a winner is unhurt, he has to beat another winner until one knight remains standing.

"Rule Four: If the joust injures a spectator, or one knight threatens to kill another, the hosting City Lord may command the fighting to stop.

"Rule Five: The competitors are allowed to use new improvements of their weapons, as long as these do not risk the lives of spectators nor knights.

"Rule Six: The hosting City Lord may disqualify a winner at any time after the joust, if said winner is found to have broken the rules."

Awonso had mentioned that the forming of dueling teams served as a political barometer, showing which families were on good terms with each other. The jousts were obviously not "fixed" -- their purpose was to show and improve combat readiness, and demonstrate the knights' prowess to the people they were sworn to protect. A cheater would quickly lose all stature. By this time, Darc's initial skepticism had shifted into awed admiration of the combatants. They weren't mercenaries, draftees or plain celebrities, but honest-to-God knights in shining armor -- even more so than their medieval ancestors. The helmeted knights turned toward Bor, who was still standing up in the lodge.

"This year's competitors are..."
boomed his loudspeaker-enhanced voice, "Sir Dohan Damon, first-time champion of last year!"

The crowd cheered loudly; so did Darc. Dohan waved and grinned at his home audience.

Bor resumed: "And -- the second-ranking winner of last year and three previous years, champion of eight consecutive jousts -- the hero from the battle of 930, Lord Azuch Fache!"

The people cheered again. Azuch bowed toward the noble's lodge, then raised his sword and shield and shook them triumphantly. It took a full three minutes for the crowd to stop cheering.

"And -- Sir Kamo Yota, upcoming contender since three jousts, third-ranking winner of last year, son of seven-time champion Lord Ue Yota!"

The crowd gave him a hearty applause, though not as big as Dohan's. Kamo bowed courteously at the lodge audience; Ue Yota clapped his hands enthusiastically, his family joining in. Bor nodded approvingly to Ue Yota, then continued.

"And -- third-ranking winner of two years ago, son of two-time champion Lord Bes Orbes -- Sir Saburé Orbes!"

The crowd greeted him with a long, loud applaud -- perhaps not commending his skill as much as his spirit. The young fighter made a little premature jump up in the air, supported by his whining backpack jet, and thumped back down. He ended the show-off by rotating his sword above his head, the family flag tied to the blade. Everybody, except the Paskos, cheered heartily.

"And we welcome this year's new contender, also son of Lord Bes Orbes -- Sir Kensaburé Orbes!"

Bor urged his family to stand up and applaud the newcomer, which they did without hesitation. Darc and the other guests joined in. Kensaburé made a turn on the spot, threw his sword up in the air, let it spin around, and caught it perfectly with one hand. The crowd responded by waving flags in the Orbes colors -- checkered blue and black. Finally, Bor came to the last pair of competitors. Was there a hint of reservation in his voice? Darc could not tell.

"And -- also second-ranking winner of last year, one-time champion and outstanding fighter in four consecutive jousts, the son of Lord Migam Pasko -- Sir Tharlos Pasko!"

The crowd applauded, but ceased a little too quickly to sound truly enthusiastic. Bwynn Damon's spouse Sir Andon Pasko, who sat next to Darc, frowned and threw a brief glance at Lord Migam Pasko. The city lord did not even look in his younger son's direction. The relations between the Paskos and the Damons remained frosty, despite the arranged marriage between Andon and Bwynn. Andon was caught between two sides, and not really belonging in either family. He caught Darc's eyes, giving him a pleading look. Darc lowered his gaze -- he could not risk getting entangled in petty palace intrigues, nor did he want to. But he felt a vague solidarity with Andon's plight, them both being outsiders.

Bor went on in the same ebullient vein: "The second contender of this year is unknown, but is said to be a relative from the lower nobility, in search of glory. He wishes to be anonymous. Thus we welcome -- the nameless one!"

The crowd's response was uncertain, but the people kept murmuring and whispering about the new stranger for a while. Tharlos nodded at his nameless comrade, who responded by raising his arm and sword once. He did not say a word; his mouth only moved to breathe. Dohan, already sweating in his artificially cooled armor, was hit by a dreadful thought: Could that be the yellow knight in Azuch's dream? Or the blue one? Dohan knew his father would have shamed him for doubting the moment before a fight. Nevertheless, he could not shake the feeling that this was a special day, with more at stake than just the champion title.

He whispered a prayer to himself: "Great Goddess, give me strength and I will attend all masses, sing your praise every day. Singing King, I pray for your return, your name is my shield, your voice is my sword."

He was not the only one to pray for victory that day.

Tharlos summoned the support of another deity. "O Koban-Jem," he whispered, "help me destroy my enemies and I swear to honor you, and wreak destruction on all your foes. Death to all enemies!"

Bor signaled silence, and declared: "And now, the knights may choose a fellow fighter to join him in combat! The opponents will then be matched."

The knights teamed up; it was rare for a fighter to go it alone. The Orbes brothers, as expected, formed a team, as did Tharlos Pasko and the nameless knight. Azuch Fache chose Dohan Damon as his fighting partner; Dohan bowed in gratitude. He had been beaten by Azuch in a past joust, but considered it an honor to be defeated by one of his heroes. This left Kamo Yota alone; he did not seem to be looking for a team member anyway.

Librian, sitting just behind Bor's chair, wrote down the team settings in the protocol. His aged eyes could hardly tell one knight from another, so young Eveli Damon had to whisper the settings in his ear. The opposing teams were now matched by Bor Damon: He announced that first, the Orbes brothers would meet Kamo Yota. They would decide themselves whether to fight Yota one at a time, or together -- though the second option would be regarded as gross cowardice. They opted for the first choice, but did not have to say who would fight first.

The winner of the first duel would be ranked Contender to the championship, and get the chance to challenge the champion in one year's time. After that, Azuch and Dohan would meet Tharlos and the nameless one -- the winner of that fight would become this year's new champion. The audience applauded his decision; it was widely known that Tharlos claimed the right to a return match against Dohan. If he won this year, his humiliating defeat of last year would be forgotten.

The musicians played a new fanfare. A prolonged drum roll accompanied the first match of fighters, as they ignited their whining jetpacks and hovered down into the pit. Tharlos' nameless companion lagged behind, and landed last of all. Darc noticed that the dirt walls and floor of the pit were recently hosed down with water. He assumed the reason for this was to keep the armor dust-free, so that it would deflect laser-beams for as long as possible. He also observed, that many of the nobles put on mirrored eye shades -- even Bor himself. Darc had no eye protection. He grew a little nervous, when he saw the three knights touch down on each sides of the fighting ground.

Bor called out: "Begin!"




"Stop, little brother!"

Saburé Orbes stretched out his sword, blocking his eager younger brother's attempt to step before him. He wanted to try and wear down their opponent first, before giving Kensaburé a chance to fight the much more experienced Kamo Yota.

Kamo, remaining still fifty meters away, immediately went into position. He took cover behind his high shield, and aimed his right-arm gun at the elder brother. He fired -- one, two, three quick pulses with one-second intervals. The brothers deflected the fire with their shields and charged forward.

Two pulses missed, one hit Kensaburé's shield and bounced off into the dirt wall. The audience applauded the first hit of the day. The Orbes brothers continued their charge, clanking and thumping at a running-speed of almost three meters per second. Kamo waited, taking occasional potshots. Kensaburé's clumsy false start had indicated the brothers' strategy: confuse Kamo by charging both at once, then let Saburé attack while Kensaburé retreated to the background.

Less than ten meters away from Kamo, the brothers split directions. In the same instant, Kamo flew up above their heads; dirt sprayed all over them. The two brothers ignited their jetpacks and followed -- but the younger brother was not quick enough. Suddenly, Kamo dived feet-first at the ascending Kensaburé, who panicked and fired up at him. Too late -- Kamo swung down his shield and struck Kensaburé´s helmet. His ascent was stopped dead, and he crashed backwards into the dirt. The crowd half gasped, half cheered.

Darc winced at the nasty noise of the crash-landing knight; he feared the victim's neck had snapped, despite his cushioned armor. As Kamo swung around and hovered down to the ground, he was ready to meet the elder opponent. Saburé was thrown off balance now, furious at the sight of his injured brother -- and forgot his self-control. He gave a blood-curdling battle cry -- distorted into an inhuman roar by his built-in amplifier -- and flew straight onto the standing enemy in a barrage of laser pulses. Kamo dodged him by launching upward into the air again, with an impressive sideways movement that caught Saburé by surprise -- and before Saburé had managed to turn and block, Kamo had scored several laser hits in his right side. One of the hits caused Saburé's laser-gun to explode in a puff of smoke -- the impetus made him spin away from Kamo and almost fall. The audience gasped collectively. In the last instant, Saburé caught his balance and landed, nearly stumbling on his fallen brother.

He raised his shield, and his enhanced voice echoed across the pit: "Wait! Lord Damon! I must see to my brother!"

Bor held up his arms.

"Hold the fighting."

Bor was accustomed to such spectacles, and knew that Saburé's plea would awake the sympathy of the commoner audience. Kamo consented and stepped back, lowering his guard. Saburé kneeled down and unscrewed Kensaburé's helmet. The younger brother was conscious, but dizzy.

"I'm fine," he lied -- and groaned when he tried to sit up. "I can't get my armor going."

Kensaburé's neck was protected by a shock-absorbent collar, but it was evident that the fall had caused a whiplash or minor concussion. His movements were too weak to activate the armor's response.

Saburé asked: "Can you feel your legs?"

Kensaburé tensed his muscles, then said: "Yes."

"Do not move! If you try to rise with the help of the motors, you risk permanent injury. Lie still, wait for the doctors."

"But --"

"You did well, little brother. There was nothing shameful about your first battle."

Saburé grinned grimly, patting his brother's armored shoulder: "Now let me beat the crap out of the bastard who hurt you."

Without listening to his brother's objections, Saburé stood up and disconnected his useless laser-gun.

"I challenge you with sword only," he shouted at Kamo. "You dare to accept?"

Without a word, Kamo quickly loosened his gun and threw it to the ground. He held his shield in a diagonal position, and raised his broadsword -- ready to strike.

"Continue!" said the judge.

Saburé moved sideways, away from his brother; Kamo followed from a distance of several meters. When they were in the middle of the pit, the fighters stopped for a moment. The audience was dead silent; Lord Orbes and his wife held each other's hands, their round faces pale white. Darc realized that he himself was in a cold sweat. And the knights attacked, launching up above ground level like huge robots, jetpacks screeching at an ear-grating pitch. In mid-air, their swords met with a resounding, sharp clang. They bounced off each other, regained their balance, sank down in wide arcs, touched the ground -- and took off again.

The combatants crashed into each other, shields first -- Kamo lost control, spun away at a sloping angle, shot away -- when he broke his fall, he had to land at the far corner of the pit.

"He must be out of fuel now," Bor said aside to his neighbors. "If Saburé saves his last drops and walks the distance, he cannot lose."

But to their disappointment, Saburé failed to see the opportunity. He spent his last jet fuel flying across the pit -- running out of it just before he could reach the retreating Kamo. Shielding himself from the enemy fire, Saburé sank heavily to the ground -- and Kamo suddenly lunged forward. Just before Saburé's metal feet could touch down, Kamo slammed shield-first into his body and tipped him over. A quick blow from Kamo's sword-hilt smashed the visor of the fallen man's helmet -- and his face was exposed.

Kamo put one armored hand on Saburé's bloodied jaw, ready to crush his throat.

"Yield!" he snarled.

"I yield," gasped Saburé -- he had no choice.

Bor seemed a little dazed by the brutality of his ally's defeat, but he knew what to say. He took off his eye shades.

"The duel is over. I hereby declare Sir Kamo Yota the glorious and honorable winner!"

The crowd was jubilant. Kamo bowed to his fallen opponents; then he fastened the family banner to his sword and waved it over his head. Lord Orbes was white-faced but nevertheless bowed to Lord Yota, acknowledging his son's skill. Ue Yota, a slightly built, gray-haired man, bowed deeply.

"Excuse my son's violent behavior," Ue said tersely over the noise of the crowd, "but he is not yet fully taught. I will send my best physician to see to your children's injuries."

Orbes and his wife gave the Yota family their mute thanks. The Yota and Orbes teams hurried down the ramp to the pit floor. The injured Orbes brothers, still in armor, were carried away on electrically powered carts. Kamo followed them up and away from the arena.

"And now," Bor announced, "the second match of fighters may enter the pit."

He put his shades back over his eyes. Darc stood up, shocked. Was Bor going to risk his only son's life without hesitation? He couldn't believe it.

He asked little Eveli, who only seemed excited by the fight she had witnessed: "Is your brother really prepared for this? How many jousts has he fought?"

She looked up at Darc with thinly disguised contempt.

"This is his second joust. He beat Tharlos last year, and he will do it again."

"I hope so, girl. I really hope so."

"Don't you dare speak that way to me, commoner!" she snapped, her blue eyes giving him a fiery glare.

"Excuse me, Your Universal Highness," Darc said with a deadpan expression -- and sat down before the stunned girl could react.