A Quest of Heroes (Book #1 in the Sorcerer's Ring)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Thor did his best to keep up with Erec's squire, hurrying to catch up as he weaved his way through the masses. It had been such a whirlwind since the arena, he could hardly process what was happening all around him. He was still trembling inside, could still hardly believe he had been accepted into the Legion, and he had been named second squire to Erec.

"I told you, boy—keep up!" Feithgold snapped.

Thor resented being called "boy," especially as the squire was hardly a few years older. Feithgold darted in out of the crowd, almost as if he were trying to lose Thor.

"Is it always this crowded here?" Thor called out, trying to catch up.

"Of course not!" Feithgold yelled back. "Today is not only the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, but also the day the king chose for his daughter's wedding—and the only day in history we've opened our gates to the McClouds. There has never been such a crowd here as now. It is unprecedented. I hadn't expected this! I fear we will be late!" he said, all in a rush, as he sped through the crowd.

"Where are we going?" Thor asked.

"We're going to do what every good squire does: to help our knight prepare!"

"Prepare for what?" Thor pressed, nearly out of breath. It was getting hotter by the minute, and he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"The royal joust!"

They finally reached the edge of the crowd and stopped before a king's guard, who recognized Feithgold and gestured to the others to let them pass.

They slipped under a rope and stepped into a clearing, free from the masses. Thor could hardly believe it: there, up close, were the jousting lanes. Behind the ropes stood mobs of spectators, and up and down the dirt lanes stood huge warhorses—the largest Thor had ever seen—mounted by knights in all manner of armor. Mixed among The Silver were knights from all over the two kingdoms, from every province, some in black armor, others in white, wearing helmets and donning weapons of every shape and size. It looked as if the entire world had descended on these jousting lanes.

There were already some competitions in progress, knights from places Thor did not recognize charging each other, clanging lances and shields, followed always by a short cheer from the crowd. Up close, Thor could not believe the strength and speed of the horses, the sound the weapons made. It was a deadly art.

"It hardly seems like a sport!" Thor said to Feithgold as he followed him along the perimeter of the lanes.

"That's because it is not," Feithgold yelled back, over the sound of a clang. "It is a serious business, masked as a game. People die here, every day. It is battle. Lucky are the ones who walk away unscathed. They are far and few between."

Thor looked up as two knights charged each other and collided at full speed. There was an awful crash of metal on metal, then one of them flew off his horse and landed on his back, just feet away from Thor.

The crowd gasped. The knight did not stir, and Thor saw a piece of a wooden shaft stuck in his ribs, piercing his armor. He cried out in pain and blood poured from his mouth. Several squires ran over to attend him, dragging him off the field. The winning knight paraded slowly, raising his lance to the cheer of the crowd.

Thor was amazed. He had not envisioned the sport to be so deadly.

"What those boys just did—that is your job now," Feithgold said. "You are squire now. More precisely, second squire."

He stopped and came in close—so close, Thor could smell his bad breath.

"And don't you forget it. I answer to Erec. And you answer to me. Your job is to assist me. Do you understand?"