Moonlit Passions

Chapter 3

Tried in Combat

"What are the crucial aspects of the tournament?" asked Kirder. He spoke cautiously. He had decided to conceal his real agenda from his colourful friends.

Cassie flicked a strand of red hair away from her face. "The first round will almost certainly be against a laphowurm. It is a monster bred for its grotesqueness more than its fighting prowess. You will be allowed a weapon in the first round. Then once it is dispatched, you must take part in non-lethal combat with the other contestants. I will describe them and their weaknesses. Then afterwards when there is time enough, I can tell you of all the secret passages and hidey-holes. There is even a spyhole to watch the men's swimming event."

"What could a spyhole show that the spectators cannot see?" asked Kirder.

"Is the lady referring to the young men's event?" piped Tek.

"I always thought it indecent for a man who was either old or not in great shape to wear so little as the contestants in the middle years swimming event," said Kirder.

Cassie rubbed her shiny green cheek. "Hum… poor men of middle years to receive such a judgement. Now to business," she clapped her hands suddenly brisk, "you have a tournament to win."

The noonday sun beat down. The walls of the amphitheatre reared around Kirder as he brandished the brand new sword Cassie had given him. Forged by magic, the blade was wickedly curved and the edge had the thinness of a butterfly's wing. This was the first round.

At the far end of the amphitheatre a portcullis creaked slowly upwards. The laphowurm oozed into the arena, a huge amorphous blob of pus. Cassie had been right. It was clearly meant for grotesqueness. It was just sitting there festering. Kirder warily strode towards it, brandishing the sword. Suddenly the laphowurm split open down its middle, a long vertical crack opening up in the folds of its sagging flesh. A mass of blood red tentacles burst forth, like a scarlet serpent. But Kirder was ready. He timed his stroke just right. His sword sliced cleanly through the red probosces and they fell to the sandy area floor.

General Krugar, head of the kingdom's armed forces surveyed the proceedings from his vantage point of the silver stand, high above the arena and the common seats. The General really wanted this show to be spectacular. The King himself had consented to view this tournament and would be awarding the victory prize to the winner. The most noble monarch now sat in the prime seat – the golden stand opposite. Set apart from and above his subjects, as he should be. The General was of course not alone in the silver stand. Lady Bellatores was pacing round and round. The girl was judged to have roughly equivalent status to his own – he had the most fighting prowess in the kingdom, but she was top mage. Certainly magic had left an indelible mark on her. Her skin was lurid green, like certain horrors from the accursed desert… Even so, she had great good looks. Her whole body was so lithe and shapely. Her face still showed a child-like beauty with round cheeks, dimples, a charmingly formed nose and soft brown eyes. Her fiery red hair hung loose today and glinted in the sunlight. She was an enchantress who was truly an enchanting sight. The previous year she had participated in the contest and won easily. She couldn't keep her eyes off that boy… the ward of the hero, Ithric. Was that anxiety in her gaze? The contestants had each passed the first round and killed a laphowurm without having to be rescued. Now the boy was to face one, Maella Lyss.

"Fight well my tall, pale handsome champion," murmured the emerald enchantress as she gazed into the arena. "Make me proud. This round, you will not be pitted against a lady…"

In the arena Kirder awaited his first opponent. The Laphowurm had been easily overcome. Now he would have to deal with what other humans could throw at him. Lethal weapons were barred from this round. Instead they had to fight with bamboo canes padded with leather for a soft strike. Waiting only increased his tension. He glanced up at the silver stand. Even at this distance, there was no mistaking Cassie's shining green face. He took comfort that at least one human subject in the audience cared what happened to him. As for the rest of them… they were not worthy subjects of His Excellency, the King who had graciously consented to honour this event with his presence. His Majesty in his wisdom could see them expecting him to act like some trained fighting monkey… and that Horstman, he was the worst, probably skulking somewhere, out of sight. He couldn't take part in something as manly as a fight. Undoubtedly he was preening himself somewhere… or applying unguent to his creamy white buttocks as he mashed them together to form a whole… Kirder thought that to apply his stick to that backside would be a satisfying response to Horstman's backbiting and cowardice, but of course, he could only think on such things.

The announcement rang out at that moment: "Round One – Kirder Stonehelm versus Maella Lyss."

Cassie had warned him about this Mae character. That she would try to distract him with her odious insults and that he should tune it out. And there she was, striding fearlessly across the arena. A girl with long blond hair wielding a leather stick. She appeared to be dressed in some kind of leather armour as well which fit her very tightly. That must be uncomfortable… Kirder could not guess why she chose that attire. She glared at him and swished the leather stick as she approached. It looked like it was some kind of leather riding crop.

He stood, wary.

Mae sneered. "Think you will impress with that shiny armour, orphan? No beastly little tick of a charity case can impress me. Such a case is as worthless as a cripple or a broken thing." Her hateful voice struck his ear like the sound of a nail on slate. She lunged at him and he countered her strike with one of his own. The leather canes thudded against one another. It irked him… Mae Lyss should not use one of these.

She lunged at him again. He expected her to strike. "I suppose you're sticking your male thing in the top mage and think that she will reward you," Mae crowed and instead of striking at him, flung her arms around him. He pretended to struggle against her awful, gripping strength. She stuck her tongue into his ear and he cringed in revulsion as she hissed at him "you won't have such a pretty face to fool her with now…" She attempted to swipe at his face with her sharp nails, but he knew to anticipate this move. He had learned how to slip out of someone's grasp early in his fencing training and now he slid to the sandy ground and seizing a handful of sand, flung it in Mae's face. As she screeched in fury, he tripped her and she fell face down.

"What a pitiful performance, young harridan," Kirder crowed, placing his boot on her shoulder, "this charity case stands proudly above you."

The crowd cheered Kirder and jeered at Mae Lyss, but Krugar took special note of how the enchantress whooped and cheered Stonehelm, twirling around in a kind of victory dance so that her long red hair blew into her face and only the tip of her shiny green nose was visible. She brushed it aside and beamed, her pearly white teeth a stark contrast with her brightly coloured face. "Kirder deserves to be the champion. The harridan was not fit to kiss his boots."

Krugar felt annoyance for some reason he could not understand. "There are many worthier contestants."

"You have not gazed into his eyes and seen his nobility of spirit," breathed the emerald girl, her expression unaccountably dreamy. "It shines there despite his troubles – a diamond in the rough."

Now Kirder was to be pitted against Linksor, the venerable fencing instructor and one of Kirder's old tutors. His dark hair was now streaked with grey, but he cut quite a dashing figure. Those lean muscles were still very much in evidence and he wore armour with what Kirder would have called a casual elegance. He bristled a little around his strong jaw, but that only added to his fine manliness.

"You would require about a hundred years further training in order to best me, my student."

Kirder wondered if this was correct. "It will be my honour to be pitted against you, master. Let the gods award the victory to the more deserving."

They bowed to one another and then struck one another's staffs in a flurry of blows, the motions becoming more and more complex. With a thrill, Kirder realised that skilled though his old trainer was, he himself had even faster reflexes and knew all the moves to make... finally he anticipated that Linksor would defend his head and leave his ribs unguarded. He attempted a light tap on the old man's ribs and Linksor had to change stance quickly in order to counter it.

Sweat began to break out on the venerable tutor's brow as he realised his student could best him. Sensing his advantage, Kirder struck at his ribs again. Linksor had not expected a second strike at his ribs. The staff dealt him a gentle tap.

There was a scattering of applause and some murmuring from the crowd.

"Sir, you have taught me so well, no student could ask better of you," said Kirder bowing low.

"Make me proud, my star pupil," said Linksor. "I suspect your trials are just beginning.

Throughout the tournament, the General would watch as Cassie's green face would light up whenever Stonehelm was in the public eye. When he was fighting Linksor, the venerable fencing instructor it looked as though he was going to lose and she gave a little cry and clenched her fists, but then as the boy triumphed by some fox trick, she lept into the air cheering, "oh well done Kirder, capital!" Her strident voice carried over the hubbub of the motley crowd of spectators in the common stands. Probably the king himself heard her. Why was she really so interested in Stonehelm? Had she set her heart upon taking him as a husband? If the King gave her his blessing, that stuffed shirt of a hero could not say anything about it. The thought gave the General no pleasure at all.

Next, Kirder was to be pitted against Wilhelmijn Seeveld, a mage in training, though obviously not as accomplished as Cassie.

Wilhelmijn strode proudly into the arena, tall for a girl, her long brown hair rippling gently in the breeze. She smiled at him. She had a strong jaw and face, sculpted and perfect like the statues in the grounds of the people's castle. Certainly her whole demeanour did radiate a certain power. Surely such a strong woman ought to excite him... he wondered why thoughts of Horstman's luminescent torso were troubling him instead.

"Well met mage. Do you feel you could enchant me?"

She smiled more broadly and tapped her long nose. "I know a lot tricks Kirder, but now you must concentrate - draw on your reserves of cunning and skill."

Wilhelmijn held her hand close to her face and Kirder could see that she now held a mound of shining dust. She blew and the dust formed a mist which coalesced into the gleaming forms of many jewel bright beetles that buzzed angrily as they hovered around her.

"They will try to take your staff, so be on your guard," urged Wilhelmijn.

The beetles' buzzing grew even louder as they flew around Kirder in a circular motion. Quick as a flash, he struck out at them, one by one and they all fell to the sandy floor.

"Very good," said Wilhelmijn, "but now take care..."

She was making circular motions with her hands and gazing at him with intensity. Suddenly Kirder felt a strong wind grip his staff. But Cassie had prepared him for this spell. Following her teaching, he closed his eyes and envisioned an aura of calm. An image both tranquil and impersonal - the dunes of the great desert seen at a distance at sunset, where they appeared bathed in a fiery glow. The scene soothed his inner turmoil. It was his destiny to go there. As he felt calmed, the pull of the spell melted away.

"Aha! Well countered," said Wilhelmijn, "now for more powerful magic."

And then shadows seemed to erupt from the sand around Kirder. They whispered to him and one began to take a form. It took the form of Ithric!

"It is my greatest trial, being saddled with you," grumbled the hero, that old sullen look in his grey eyes, "only deepest reverence for the goddess makes me tolerate it. Some daft woman might have agreed to such a burden willingly. Now give me the staff."

"No, the staff is mine," said Kirder, "and there are things that only a heroic man can teach a boy. Things which no lady, however well-intentioned, could impart."

At this ready answer, the shadow of doubt evaporated. But then another formed. It took the form of Mae Lyss and it had her grating voice. "Beastly waif, hanging onto a hero's coat tails. You are not fit for polite society."

"Excellent, I wanted to defeat you again," said Kirder, cleaving the shadow in two with his staff.

As the shadow of Mae Lyss dispersed its voice came one last time, "you should go the same way as your stupid parents..."

And then the shadows all coalesced, towering to a great height and a blood curdling hiss sounded as twin points of glaring blood red formed...

"No!" Suddenly the shadows dispersed. Wilhelmijn was making gestures of banishment. She looked quite pale. "I forfeit!" she declared for all the arena to hear. Then softly, to Kirder, "beware of your own greatest fear. The worst of those self-doubts that lie within you. It could kill you. I hope you never have to face it." Shaking her head, she brushed her long brown hair away from her face. They shook hands and she left the arena.

At last came the final. The General was disquieted to see that Stonehelm had somehow reached the end of the tournament and that now it was between him and the pirate captain, Valkrynlax. The tournament was open to any fighter with an eye on the grand prize, but some had had reservations about the old ruffian Valkrynlax being allowed to compete. Now however it would be satisfying to see that little upstart finally lose.

The beautiful green maiden put her hands to her mouth and stared down as the pirate strode into the arena. He was a massive old brute, built like an ox with a dirty, bushy beard. It was hard to see him from this distance, but the General knew he had a livid scar down his face and was always sneering or baring his teeth.

"If this brute tries any foul play - I will intervene General, make no mistake," said Lady Bellatores, her voice trembling a little, "and the consequences will fall on me."

"If you do not doubt the boy's courage then there is nothing to fear," said the General, hoping to answer with his most stale platitude, "the gods always favour the brave."

She sniffed and gazed down into the arena again. "Strike true, my heart," she whispered.

Down in the arena, Kirder felt queasy as the horrid, beast of a man came shambling towards him. How much grime and filth clogged that beard? The scoundrel stank, even at this distance. And how powerful he was, built like an ox. Was he really prepared for this. And yet he remembered suddenly how Cassie had reassured him that morning… she had placed her slender hand to his forehead and murmured, "my heart will guide you in dire need." He hadn't given it any thought until now. But now he seemed to feel as though she were holding his hand. He felt his courage return.

The pirate growled, "I'll kill you, mis'rable land rat." And ran forward brandishing his heavy stick of dark, stained wood. But an aura of calm entered Kirder and he ran to meet his opponent. Although the brute struck down hard, the blow never came. Instead the pirate staggered bawled with all his foul breath as he dropped his stick and staggered backwards. His ugly face was bruised and his bloodshot eyes rolled upwards. Kirder struck at the villain's knees with all his strength and his opponent's legs gave way beneath him.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

The people surged forward as Kirder emerged from the arena victorious. There was the flapping of wings and Tek alighted beside him. "Congratulations, Master. If only My Liege Lord could have been here. But look, the public come to give you the acclaim you so rightly deserve."

Cassie dashed forward, her long red hair streaming out behind her. She flung her arms around him and he leaned down so that she could kiss both his cheeks and they did a little celebratory dance together. He was glad that the crowd had to approach in an orderly fashion, in deference to Cassie. He was not sure how he would have handled being mobbed.

Many wished to offer him their sincere congratulations before the King made the presentation. As they waited in line, Kirder's gaze alighted on a boy near his own age. He was a very handsome boy, with an open face and a graceful figure. A younger boy with golden hair was with him. Kirder beckoned to him, aware that Cassie's brown eyes flickered between them.

"You fellow, I daresay you wish to offer your congratulations on my stunning victory." Kirder found that an airy tone came naturally to him.

"Indeed I do sir," said the boy, his cheeks flushing prettily. Kirder gazed at him for a moment, taking in his freckled nose and cheeks, his iridescent blue green eyes and beautiful rose blush. For that moment he forgot what he should say next.

"And what are your names, my dears?" Fortunately Cassie did remember to ask that.

"I'm Walter, most noble lady and this is Artie," said the handsome boy delivering a slightly awkward curtsey. He had a strong jaw. A fine specimen of budding manhood all round. "We are in training to be skilled fighters for the kingdom."

"Walter helped me persist in the training even when I felt that I did not fit in," piped Artie, "he helped me believe in myself." Walter put an arm around Artie's shoulder.

"Oh that's so adorable," said Cassie, her eyes shining. Who could fathom the feminine mind?

It was time for the presentation itself. Kirder knelt down on both knees before his King. His heart thudded. He must not look up until invited to.

"Kirder Stonehelm, ward of the Hero Ithric, We commend you, Our loyal subject and present to you a royal sword and a prize of twenty gold pieces," rumbled the Monarch. "You may stand."

To the uproarious cheering of his assembled subjects, the King presented Kirder with an ornamental sword of fabulous beauty. The hilt was studded with opals, the blade was a burnished rose coloured metal. All in all, a very fine sword. It slipped into the silver scabbard perfectly. Kirder had never felt such pride in himself. Now he was more than just a musician. He was a mighty warrior who could wield an unflinching blade.