Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  Her needs, Elaina realized, were changing day by day.

  It was companionship she sought, the thrill of interaction with others. Seeking to drown out the emotions, Elaina sailed over the city and out into the fields before King's Court. The usually-green fields had been transformed. The Tournament Square had been erected, an elaborate arena surrounded by grandstands where the populace could gather and watch the spectacle—the nation’s greatest warriors contending for the title of Tournament Champion.

  Initially hundreds of warriors entered the field, and over days of intense competition the field was narrowed. The unknown contenders fought in the less-prestigious arenas surrounding the Tournament square, with the grandest bouts in the central arena.

  The duels were fought to first blood. Accidents occurred sometimes, but most of the duels ended without incident. Intentionally causing grievous harm to one’s opponent was frowned upon by the civilized society of Valaar. But civilized or not, there was nothing the citizenry enjoyed as much as watching the cut-and-thrust action of the Tournament.

  Settling on her course, Elaina descended to the grass field behind the grandstands. Elaina assured herself she was unobserved before retaking her human form. After a moment of smoothing her dress and adjusting her hair Elaina was satisfied that no more would be achieved without a mirror, so she rounded the corner of the grandstands and joined the crowd thronging the central arena.

  Over a week of action-packed duels had steadily narrowed the field to two. Two combatants remained out of hundreds of eager participants. Now the citizenry jostled each other as they strove to gain entry into to the Grand Arena for the final bout. Even this grand structure would not house the entirety of the assembled masses—some would miss out. Others had slept outside the arena to ensure they would not miss the Tournament's grand finale.

  Elaina ignored the angry stares of those waiting behind as she joined the line of people streaming into the arena. As she made her way up the wooden steps she could feel the energy of the arena thrumming around her—not the arcane currents she was accustomed to, but the energy and excitement given off by so many people in a single place. Elaina had never felt anything like it in her life.

  With a smile as broad as her cheeks would allow, Elaina stepped onto the landing and gained her first glimpse of the immensity of the arena and the aspiring duelists waiting below. As her eyes settled on them Elaina's jaw dropped in surprise.

  Three

  Standing in the arena before her was the same young man she had seen in the woods outside Greensbrook.

  A shove from behind told her she was holding up the throng of people still seeking to gain admission. Elaina realized she had two options—she could proceed down into the standing pit surrounding the central arena, or climb the grandstands to observe the duel from the seats above.

  Eager to get a closer look, Elaina opted to stand. Slowly she followed the crowd and made her way down into the throng surrounding the central stage. The arena was abuzz with excitement as the two finalists warmed up. Each of the contenders was slowly stretching and preparing for the duel to come. Elaina watched the man from Greensbrook with interest.

  He was just as she remembered, his expression serious as he made a few practice swings with his broadsword. In spite of his obvious nervousness, Elaina couldn't help but think he cut a striking figure in his leather armor. The armor bore the same silver star she had seen earlier.

  Elaina turned her attention to his opponent. The clean-shaven youth had finished his warm up and now stood with his sword sheathed, waiting for the match to begin. He didn't appear nervous at all—quite to the contrary, he appeared accustomed to the attention. Perhaps he has participated before. It was certainly explain his calm and collected demeanor.

  Whispers broke out through the arena. Those about her turned and were pointing into the grandstands. Elaina followed their gaze until she noticed one gallery that was far more richly furnished than the others about it. Those entering it were similarly attired. The Great Families—the most powerful figures in Valaar and the heads of the dynasties. Of the seven Great Families only six remained—Eleazar the heir-less, last of the Great Kings of Valaar, had perished, and his house had died with him. His had been a proud and noble lineage that stretched back to the reign of Kai Valaar, first King of Valaar.

  Now only six houses remained—in concert these august figures ruled over Valaar and strove to keep the peace in the absence of a King. A well-dressed man led his wife into the grandstand, and Elaina recognized him as Alford of the Tanamere. The Tanamere were a seafaring people, and Alford himself was an honest and dutiful man well loved by his people. His courage and luck at sea were legendary, but in truth Elaina had tempered the Elements many times on his behalf. Valaar could use good men, and Lord Alford had a firm heart and a steady hand.

  Next came an immense mountain of a man clad in furs and leather, accompanied by an equally fierce and intimidating woman. Elaina knew these to be the ruling lord and lady of the Sisaron, nomads who wandered the northern expanses of Valaar. Smaller in number than the other houses, they were a martial people with a fierce heritage. It was not uncommon for the Sisaron to triumph at the Tournament.

  The third party to enter the pavilion were clad in black and silver. A long timber wolf pelt identified him easily as Gerwold, Baron of the East and ruler of the Wolf, one of the strongest houses in Valaar.

  After Gerwold came a rotund and jovial fellow, accompanied by his wife. The Baron of Fordham needed no introduction—he was well known in Valaar as a man of fearsome. . . appetites. Fordham's appearance reflected his great love of feasting and he was well known for his elaborate and enduring banquets.

  Following Fordham were the Lord and lady of the Mizumura, as different from Fordham as night was from day—the rulers of the Mizumura were tall and fit. As a people they had a richly tanned complexion and black hair that lent an exotic appearance in comparison to other Valaarans. Most people believed the Mizumura to be descended from the spice islanders. From their appearance it was an easy assertion to believe.

  The last to enter the arena was a regal woman. Well dressed but not overly so, the woman looked a little out of place beside the elegantly dressed nobles. As she entered the pavilion the arena erupted into cheering. What she lacked in ostentatious wealth she clearly made up for in the favor of the people. With the other Great Families present Elaina concluded the woman must be Amarisa, the lady of Listarii. The Listarii were famous throughout Valaar, because the other Great Houses had always existed but the Listarii had been granted their title by Kai Valaar himself, in exchange for services rendered in the war that led to the unification of Valaar. They had won their title by the tip of the sword, and held onto it by the will of their people, who loved them dearly. The lady of the Listarii gave a wave to the crowd and took her seat.

  With the Great Families in attendance and the arena filled to capacity it was time for the Grand Final to begin. A series of trumpet blasts brought the arena to attention and silenced the crowd as a herald made his way onto center stage.

  “Lord and Ladies, people of Valaar . . . I bid you welcome to the Grand Final of the Midsommer's Tournament. This year almost three hundred aspiring entrants competed. Over the past week they have done battle before your very eyes to claim the one place as your Champion.

  “Now all that remain are these two veterans. You know them well, as you have watched them best every foe that has come before them. For those of you who have been living under a rock this past week, let me introduce them again . . .”

  Thunderous applause threatened to deafen the poor herald, who waved his arms appreciatively to the cheering crowd. The herald gestured to the contender Elaina had first seen at Greensbrook.

  “On my right we have Marcus Listar, son of the late Lord Darnale and the lovely Lady Amarisa—he is heir to the Listarii title. Not one for sitting on a gilded cushion, he has proven his prowess in the arena. Marcus will inherit his title as his forebears have before hi
m, at the point of his sword. Show your support for the mighty Marcus.”

  The arena erupted again and Marcus raised his blade high, drinking in the cheers and adulation of the assembled masses.

  “As his opponent, also undefeated in the road leading to the Grand Final, is Dariyen Gardeau. A week ago none of you even knew his name, but through sheer grit and skill with his blade, he's won a place in the finals and in our hearts. One of our very own City Guard, his victory today would see him promoted to the King's Guard, not to mention provide the hundred gold pieces he'll be lining his pockets with. Ladies, he's single, so don't let him out of your sight!”

  The crowd bellowed their approval, and a few wolf whistles could be heard amid the applause. Dariyen blushed red at the attention but quickly regained his composure.

  “Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind . . .” The herald gestured to the center of the arena.

  The two warriors took their places facing each other. Each affected a bow and then assumed his preferred stance. Marcus adopted a high guard with Dariyen opting for a more measured middle guard.

  “Lords and Ladies, without further ado, let us proceed with the spectacle we have all been waiting for. The first of our fighters to draw blood will be victorious. Gentlemen, on my mark. . . . begin!” The herald retreated swiftly from the arena.

  Elaina watched as the two duelists sized each other up. With measured steps they made their way forward into the center of the arena. Marcus was first to make his move, bringing his blade down in a vertical strike at his opponent. Dariyen raised his own blade to block the strike, before stepping back and countering with strike towards his opponent’s right leg.

  Marcus nimbly stepped back and the blade caught nothing but air. Dariyen was quick to recover, bringing his sword back up and delivering a second slashing strike at his opponent’s right shoulder. Marcus met the strike with his own, and the ring of steel on steel rose from the arena.

  Marcus came off stronger and pushed the advantage with a flurry of blows, driving his opponent back. Dariyen fought bravely to stave off the furious attack of the Listarii heir. Slowly but surely, Dariyen yielded ground until he found himself at the edge of the arena. Seeing his predicament, Dariyen planted his right foot mere inches in front of the line and faced down his opponent. He would not yield the title by stepping out of the arena.

  Stepping out was a rookie mistake, often made by those with a low level of situational awareness. Fortunately Dariyen's training and subsequent service in the Guard had taught him well. Those who had no awareness of their surroundings paid the price, and often died as a result.

  Seeing how close he was to victory, Marcus pushed on, launching blow after blow at the young guardsmen. But Dariyen did not yield another inch—every blow was parried, blocked or dodged, and after what seemed like an eternity, Dariyen remained precisely where he had begun.

  Marcus panted with the exertion and Dariyen seized the advantage. Launching off the line, Dariyen delivered his own assault. High, high, low. High, high, low. Each successive strike was designed to test the limits of his opponent’s defensive skills. If Marcus faltered for a moment the singing sword of the guardsmen would find its mark.

  Marcus struggled to keep up. Dariyen was a fine swordsman—that much was clear. But what was becoming increasingly clear was his desire. Elaina could see the fire in Dariyen’s eyes. He knew the goal he sought was within his grasp. The hundred gold pieces that would be spare change to his opponent would change his own life forever. A commission in the King's Guard would be a significant change in station. Instead of walking patrols throughout the city and its surrounds he would live in the barracks at the Palace. His pay would be doubled and his future bright.

  Elaina watched with trepidation as the guardsmen drove Marcus back across the arena. Dariyen delivered a savage strike at his opponent’s shoulder. When steel met steel he drew back and struck at his foe's left flank. Again blade met blade and the resulting din was deafening. Again Dariyen drew back and, rolling his wrist, feinted another strike at his opponent’s leg.

  Mentally Marcus had already memorized the pattern and his own blade was already making its way into a low guard, ready to block the inevitable strike.

  Dariyen saw the premature move and instead dropped his wrist and brought his blade across his opponent’s chest. Elaina's eyes went wide as she watched the steel blade cut through the air.

  Marcus saw it too and knew he would never get his blade back up in time. Taking the only option available to him, Marcus dove to the ground. Dariyen followed him across the arena, continuing his assault without mercy. Marcus managed to stay just outside of Dariyen's reach and sprang back to his feet, but Dariyen was on top of him moments later.

  Marcus recovered and batted away the next blow. With Dariyen off-balance and on the attack, Marcus changed his tack, launching forward with a thrusting strike that threatened to impale his foe.

  Dariyen saw the blade dance toward his stomach. With dizzyingly quick footwork Dariyen sidestepped the strike, but rather than stepping away, he pressed his advantage and stepped into his foe.

  Marcus attempted to redirect his blade, hoping to catch his opponent with the edge of his broadsword, but Dariyen was quicker, bringing his blade down on his foe. Dariyen's blade found the exposed skin at the back of Marcus’s neck but the guardsmen stopped short of inflicting the wound.

  Dariyen had the Listarii heir dead-to-rights. It was apparent for all to see. All eyes were fixed on the duelists in the center of the arena, awaiting Marcus's response.

  The heir to the Listarii dropped his weapon and raised both hands. “I yield.”

  The arena erupted into applause as the citizenry cheered their new champion. Marcus recovered his blade and sheathed it before bowing to his opponent. Gracious even in defeat, Elaina thought. It was a rare trait, particularly in the nobility, whose spoiled children tended to become unbearable when they didn't get their every whim. Elaina found herself more impressed with the young man each time she encountered him.

  As the crowd cheered, Lord Alford of the Tanamere made his way out of the palatial pavilion, past the guard and onto the stage. In one hand he held a tightly rolled scroll, in the other a pouch. Raising his voice Alford called out over the crowd: “Dariyen, on behalf of the King's Council we present you with your winnings.” Handing the scroll to the young man he continued, “And your commission in the King's Guard. Should you choose to accept you will be expected to report the day after tomorrow. You will of course be released from your current post in the watch, and be reassigned permanently to the King's Guard.”

  Dariyen bowed as he received the scroll, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

  “And of course your one hundred gold pieces. Spend them as carefully or as frivolously as you wish. Just remember, if you wish to join the King's Guard you must still be able to stand come the day after tomorrow.”

  The crowd laughed riotously as Lord Alford handed the youth the pouch containing the gold and slapped him on the back. “Well done, m'lad—you've earned it. Don't spend it all at once.”

  “I won't, milord,” Dariyen whispered, taking the advice to heart as he hefted the weight of the pouch. Spent well it was enough gold to change his life forever.

  The nobility stood and were ushered out of the arena ahead of the throng of commoners. Marcus and Dariyen followed close behind. As finalists they would be permitted to eat with the King's Council at the Midsommer's banquet, an honor Marcus would have enjoyed regardless, but for Dariyen it was the opportunity of a lifetime.

  As the masses began to file out of the arena Elaina glanced at the throng of people swarming the grand stands. I could wait, Elaina thought. But why bother? With a thought Elaina assumed her Astarii form and rose out of the arena. The look of shocked confusion on the face of those surrounding her brought her great amusement as she soared out of the arena and into the sky.

  Four

  Marcus and Dariyen became fast friends at once. Something about the g
uardsman that put Marcus at ease. In spite of his newfound status, the champion didn't gloat in the least. Marcus soon found Dariyen’s wit was as fast as his footwork and the pair laughed their way through the Palace.

  A lull between the Tournament and the banquet that followed time allowed the two duelists to get better acquainted but also found the idle youth with time on their hands. After almost an hour in the Great Hall they were looking for diversion. Marcus declared, “Dariyen, I'm glad to have met you. I couldn't have lost to a better man, but right now I'm growing a little weary with waiting. I have half a mind to slip into the city and start this evening’s festivities a little early. Are you with me?”

  The champion glanced about, seemingly worried that someone might overhear their conversation. “I don't know if we should, Marcus. The chamberlain told us to wait here until it was time to change.”

  “Indeed he did, Dariyen, but as you can well see, they haven't even begun serving the drinks here yet, whereas down in the town the ale will be flowing like a river and the festivities will already be in full swing. I say we should join them—there will be plenty of time for us to have a drink and still be back in time for the feast. What do you say?”

  “Mmm . . .”

  “Let me paint you a picture, Dariyen. Right now you are the most eligible man in all of King's Court, you are the young and dashing Champion of the Tournament. Your pockets are full of gold and your future is bright. Beneath us is a city full of women ready to throw themselves at you in the hopes you will catch one of them and whisk her away to a better life. Don't waste these moments. They will pass before you know it.”

  Dariyen's face lit up. “You're right—it would be a shame to while away these hours in the Hall.”

  “Exactly,” Marcus replied, throwing an arm around the guardsman as he steered him out of the Great Hall and toward the Palace gates.