Chapter 43: Blood On The Sand
Location: Aether Kingdom.
The atmosphere in Aetherclaws Kingdom was filled with joy and happiness. The sun was shining brightly in their well decorated festival grounds. The open field was where their annual ceremony was held every year. The air was buzzing with different anticipations as many of them made their way to the betting table to place their bet on who is winning the fighting tournament.
Some of the crowds walked into the arena and into the tiered stages on the two sides. The villagers crammed on the left while the right side was meant for the royal families and the elders.
At the center of the stage was the high dais, decorated in banners of black and gold.
Queen Hadassah climbed down the hall leading to the grounds, her green gown was trailing behind her like she has tail. The fabric of her gown was embroidered with small skreel inages.
She let out a heavy breath as she clutched the skirt to keep her pace steady. Her mind were already turning to the day’s rituals, but before she reached the open field, Captain Vor appeared from a side corridor, his armored boots echoing in the hall.
"Your Majesty," he said, rushing forward to meet her halfway, not wanting to make her wait. He bowed low, then raised them up shortly. "A word, if I may."
Hadassah nodded, her eyes narrowing. "Speak quickly, Captain. The ceremony is about to start."
Vor leaned in, his voice low. "Word from my men at Wyrmwood Academy. They have found a cure for the toxin. The cadets are stabilizing now."
Queen Hadassah eyes almost pooped out of their sockets as confusion filled her face. She had the look that clearly says, how could they have find a cure so fast?
She was quick to masked her confusion with a cool nod. "And the girl? The one your men tasked to unleash the toxin, was she affected?"
Vor shook his head. "No, Majesty. She escaped the backlash untouched."
Hadassah’s lips thinned. "Then tell your men to kill her quickly. It’s just a matter of time before they find out she did. By the time they trace it back to her, i want her already gone. I don’t want any loose threads leading back to us."
"Understood," Vor replied with a quick nod. He turned on his heel and vanished quickly into hall.
Hadassah adjusted her expression as she lifted her chin as she stepped into the open field.
The crowd immediately stood up as one when she ascended the dais steps, the atmosphere suddenly became silence as a sign of respect.
Queen Hadassah took her seat at the center throne and rested her back on the carved wood. On her left was Keturah. She was wearing a royal blue gown that was made with beads.
Their eyes met. Seeing Keturah’s little worried face, Hadassah let out a small, knowing smile. "I am fine," she murmured as she settled.
Keturah reached over, her fingers brushing Hadassah’s hand where it rested on the armrest- a gesture of concern. "You sure you’re alright? You seem... distracted."
Hadassah nodded firmly, squeezing back once. "Yeah, i am fine."
She then shifted her gaze away from Keturah and glanced over her shoulder at the guard stationed behind her throne. The guard quickly stepped forward at her subtle wave. "Inform the master of ceremonies," she murmured. "He can begin now."
The guard bowed and hurried down, passing the message to the burly man in charge, who stood at the field’s edge with a scroll in hand. The man cleared his throat, his voice booming over the grounds and then followed by a simple horn.
"People of Aether! Royals, elders, and villagers. I welcome you to the Iron Talon Ceremony! For generations, our warriors have proven their mettle in this sacred trial, honoring the strength that guards our borders from the skies we dare not claim. Today, the Iron Talons ride once more!"
The crowd erupted in cheers as the warriors lined up at the field’s far end. Twenty riders were already in their leather armor and was mounted on warhorses, each gripping a long lance tipped with blunted steel.
The field was very wide with a central demarcation line of packed earth dividing it into lanes, ensuring the charges stayed true.
"The first challengers!" the master called. "Sir Harlan of the Eastern Guard, to the left lane! And Lord Thorne of the Royal Vanguard, to the right!"
Harlan, a broad-shouldered veteran with a grizzled beard, spurred his black horse to the left end, he raised his lance high as the villagers roared in happiness.
Thorne look more younger and leaner, with a scar across his cheek. His horse trotted to the right, nodding curtly to the royals’ side.
A trumpet sounded, signaling the start.
The two riders kicked their horses into a gallop, making dirt to fly under hooves as they thundered toward each other.
Harlan leaned low, his lance aimed at Thorne’s shield and the wind whipping his cloak.
Thorne kept his eyes locked on Harlan and did not look away.
They moved their horses faster and faster. In the middle of the field, they hit each other with a loud CRACK!
The long lances hit their heavy shields. The wood broke into a thousand tiny pieces that flew through the air.
𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞
For a moment, it looked like one of them would fall. Harlan’s horse tripped and was shook from the heavy contact. Harlan himself was pushed back on top of his horse back, his body feeling the pain of the hit. But he held on tightly and did not fall to the ground.
Both men rode to the ends of the field and turned their horses around. Their helpers ran out quickly and took the broken lances away and gave them a new and strong one.
Thorne and Harlan breathed out heavily, getting ready to run at each other again.
The trumpet sounded again. This time, Thorne charged quickly, as he brought his lance down to a low to Harlan’s thigh guard. While Harlan went for the shoulder. The clash echoed making the crowd cheer.
Thorne’s lance landed on Harlan’s pauldron, making Harlan to grunt.
Harlan’s strike landed on Thorne’s chest plate, buckling it inward, but Thorne held his seat and letting out a frustrated hiss.
The crowd gasped, then cheered. The villagers chanting Harlan’s name.
Even their horses were breathing very hard now. White foam came from their mouths because they were running so fast. Thorne and Harlan, were also tired. Their breath was also fast.
They started the third run. Harlan tried to trick Thorne. He pointed his long wood lance high, but at the last second, he moved it down low. His lance scraped against the side of Thorne’s seat.
But Thorne was smart. He quickly moved his body so the hit did not knock him off.
At the same time, Thorne hit Harlan right on the helmet. There was a loud DING sound, like a giant bell. The hit was so strong that Harlan felt dizzy. He almost fell, and red blood started to come from his lip. He rode back to his side of the field, shaking his head to try and see clearly again.
The loud trumpet blew again for the fourth run. Thorne was very focused now. He wanted to win it in this fourth run. He kicked his horse to make it go more faster. He held his lance very steady.
Harlan was still hurt from the last hit, but he was a fighter with experience. He charged forward with all his power. However, because his head was still dizzy, his aim was not good.
The two men crashed together. Thorne’s lance was perfectly straight. It hit Harlan’s wooden shield so hard that it broke a hole right through it. The force was too much for Harlan. He was lifted out of his seat and fell to the ground
Harlan hit the ground and rolled in the dirt and finally stopped moving. His horse, now empty, kept running away down the field.
Thorne won.
The right side stood up and clapped their hands loudly for Thorne, while the villagers groaned.
Harlan pushed to his feet, waving off the help and then he bowed stiffly to Thorne.
Thorne climbed down from his horse and extended a hand. "Well fought, brother," he said respectfully.
Harlan clasped it. "The field favors the bold today. Next year, it will be mine."
Harlan chuckled then raised his lance. The crowd on the right cheered.
Meanwhile, Hadassah’s mind was back to Captain Vor message. She leaned toward the guard at her back. She murmured something into his ear and the guard nodded.
Just then the announcer voice sounded.
"Next pair!" the announcer yelled.
Two more warriors rode out. Jaren and Silas. Jaren was a young boy, maybe only nineteen. Silas was older and looked much stronger.
"Ready!"
The trumpet sounded. They charged at each other. The first hit was loud, but they both steady their selves on their horse.
In the second pass, Jaren’s horse tripped slightly on a hole in the dirt making him wobbled, but he didn’t stop.
On the third pass, Silas hit Jaren’s shoulder. You could hear the bone pop even from the stage. Jaren groaned but gripped his lance tighter. He wanted to win in front of the Queen and prove himself worthy of being her bodyguard.
They both pushed their horses to go as fast as they could. Jaren was leaning too far forward, trying to get more power. Silas aimed his lance high.
Suddenly, Jaren’s horse shied away from the wooden fence. Jaren lost his balance just as Silas thrust his lance towards him.
The wooden lance did not hit the armor, because Jaren had slipped, the end of the heavy lance caught him right under the helmet, in the soft part of the throat.
The lance snapped into his throat.
Jaren was thrown into the air and landed on his neck. His body made a weird, jerking movement and then went completely still. His helmet rolled away from his face.
The entire arena went silent immediately.
The villagers on the left gasped. Keturah stood up, her hand over her mouth. Even Hadassah leaned forward, her eyes wide.
The young boy’s eyes were open, staring at the sun, but he was not breathing. Blood began to soak into the dry sand of the arena.
The boy was fu*king dead.
The cheerful arena suddenly turned cold.
Hadassah looked at the body, then slowly turned her head to look at the guards.
"Take him away," Hadassah said calmly, though her fingers was gripped the arm of her chair. "The tournament must continue."