by K R Sanford
“Good, wonderful, Marco," said Devin. "You can sit down now. Have a seat. The Knights are about to go at each other for a second round,”
“Simiquin has a fresh lance, a red one this time,” said Captain Clairy.
“Did everyone hear this,” said Devin. “Stand up, Captain, they can’t hear you. For heaven’s sake Clairy, get up and proclaim your truth like a man or you’re going to rust onto the bleachers.”
Elsinor and Lucia were laughing. “Whatever you do, don’t give Devin any more ale.”
Devin replied in mocking laughter. “Ha, ha, ha, quick Elsie, look over and see if Clairy is smiling.”
“Yes, he’s smiling,” said Elsinor.
“How can you miss those white teeth,” answered Lady Lucia.
“Vito,” called Devin, “five credits, Walters falls off his horse before the end of the match.”
“No bet, Your Majesty” replied Vito. “He will.”
Hodges turned to Stiller and spoke in a hushed tone. “Marty, these people think your assistant is some kind of spaz.”
“He’s enthusiastic, Sir. He’ll be fine,” replied Stiller.
“Humph,” retorted the General.
The flag got raised off the field for the second time. The horses sprang forward. The riders leveled their lances like two synchronized clocks. They leaned forward in an all-out-charge. They were picking up speed.
The General was on the edge of his seat. Vito craned his neck to get a better look. Devin was turning his head right and left like he was at a badminton tournament. Queen Elsinor was clutching her chin with opened mouth.
They hit, rider against rider, full on, square in the chest. Their bodies struck lances with a straight on blow. Splinters were everywhere. Their necks whipped. Their heads got thrown backwards like toys. Both riders laid out flat over the backs of their horses. Pieces of the lances floated through the air. Wood splinters were spewed out over the runway.
They were both mounted square in the saddle. They were stunned but no worse for wear. Their feet were still in the stirrups. Captain Walters brought up the rains and adjusted his helmet. Simiquin sported the lower remains of his lance and pranced off the field.
“Humph,” grunted Vito.
“These boys are tough,” said the General.
The announcer reported, “Simiquin: One point for a total of two points. Captain Walters: One point.” His voice boomed while he held up his index finger in dramatic exclamation.
“Well,” said Devin surprised. “We still have a match!” said Devin mocking the announcer’s voice.
“Captain Walters looked a hell of a lot better this round,” said Chris.
All eyes turned on Chris.
Vito, grinning from ear to ear, replied. “He certainly did. Yes, that’s right, Chris. He found his stride.”
“So, who’s going to win?” said Devin.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Your Majesty,” replied Vito.
“The smart money would go on, Simiquin,” said Marco.
“Okay, Colonel, you know Walters best. Can he pull a rabbit out of his hat?” said Vito.
“I guess we will soon find out,” replied Colonel Stiller.
Hector, a stein of ale in one hand and a pouch of chicken strips in the other, “I think we have a joust.”
“Did you see the last pass, Hector?” asked Devin.
“Yeah sure, I was right down in front when they broke lances,” replied Hector.
“Alright then, come up here and sit with us. If you are going to hold out those chicken strips,” said Devin. “Sit right here, Hector.”
“Does Simiquin remind you of Hector?” said Elsinor. “Prancing off sideways like he owns the tournament?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Devin. “Hear that. Elsie’s perception is as sharp as ever. You made that connection before I did, Elsie.”
“I can see the spunk, and the guts,” replied Elsinor.
“Hector would be out there if he had a mount,” said Marco.
“You guys are something else. I would break my neck out there,” said Hector. “No way, I’m not getting on a horse for some damn fool run, at someone I don’t even know.”
Marco with a cocksure grin replied. “You have someone in mind, Hector?”
Hector fell silent. His eyes darted back and forth. His shoulders drew tight around his neck. “If I had someone in mind, I wouldn’t talk about it,” he said. “But, there are a couple people I wouldn’t mind impaling with the end of my lance.”
Devin laughed. He turned to General Hodges. “What would be a just cause for impalement, General?”
The General contemplated. “This is a tactic designed to impale the living. It's not a question for the one executed. We are talking about execution. A method of discipline aimed at managing the living. We don't discipline the dead. This type of fear is most effective on society. This is rule by fear, Your Majesty.”
“Yes, General; that’s right,” said Devin. “What say you in the case of the individual? What would you say, if someone takes it upon them self to impale another as they see fit?”
“What do you say, Your Majesty,” replied the General, “about those taking the law into your own hands?”
“I would say, General,” said Devin. “That it is criminal. We don’t allow that here in the Corsi Star System.” Devin turned to the game field.
The groom and page were settling Simiquin’s horse on the mark. Captain Walters moved in position and waited for the flagman to start the charge. Both riders were at the ready. King Devin nodded and the flagman raised the coat-of-arms upright. They were off.
Captain Walters set his spurs in the flanks of his horse. The stallion sprang to life. He reared his head and snorting for a fight. They charged the center field along the rail.
Simiquin’s mount was on his hind legs. His front legs struck its hooves at the sky. They leaped into the air, kicking up a cloud of dust. Simiquin’s helmet was lying flat against his horse’s mane. The red feathered plums were flapping in the wind. His lance got straight and horizontal to the ground. Captain Walters loamed large in the narrow slit of his helmet. Timing was everything. He cradled his lance tighter under his arm. In the last second he raised above the neck of his horse. He threw his shoulder into the silhouette of Captain Walters.
Captain Walters shifted in his saddle. He stood up in the stirrups then threw his body forward. His lance shattered into Simiquin’s chest.
Simiquin shot backward on his horse. He recovered to see his lance intact, no evidence of the tip striking its mark. He halted his horse tossing his lance into the hands of a groom. He turned to view the grandstand.
The white pendent of Captain Walters got slipped into the mount above the black shield and white star. The official score was two for Simiquin and two for Captain Walters. The match was a tie declared by the Marshal of the Tournament. The crowd stirred. The applause clapped halfhearted.
“Well, I mean, it’s a tournament,” said Devin. “Anything can happen, right Vito?”
“As far as I’ve got no bets to cover, anything can happen for all I care. Your Majesty, I’ve got no dog in this fight.” Vito shrugged and pressed his lips. “I’m a little happy for Walters, being he didn’t make a fool of himself. The kid did well.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” said Devin. “He made a good show. What do you say, Colonel?”
“He’s going to be impossible to live with,” said Captain Clairy.
“Hell, he’s already impossible to live with,” replied Colonel Stiller. I’ll have to transfer him back to sick bay.”
“Leave him here, Colonel,” said Devin. “We’ll find something for him to do. And you take Simiquin. His basic training was under Gonquin the Great.”
“You may have something there, Your Majesty,” replied the Colonel. “This mountain air does seem to agree with him.”
The band hit the drum. An electrified blues riff ripped over the game field, ‘Blues Boogie Jam’ (Just can’t help myself: O
h, yeah, yeah . . . and it go . . . like . . . disss).
“Sweet,” said Commander Ryan, "An endearing chime, one of my favorites.”
“Ryan is an old blues man, sho nuff,” said Marty.
“Spent many a time listening to this genre, half way across the galaxy,” chimed Captain Clairy
“That would be your roots, then, Tomas?” said Vito.
“Yessa, sho nuff dat, Massa Vito,” replied Captain Clairy.
“Oh, you do that too well, Tomas,” said Vito. “You say that in a way that is amusing, Tomas. Only, why is it, bigotry dies a slow death?”
“Bigotry is the propaganda of fear,” said the King. “It’s a bad fruit with a systemic problem.”
“How do you solve race issues under your command, General?” said Marco.
“People can feel how they like,” replied Hodges. “When they violate other’s rights, the courts can step in and order the set treatment. Otherwise, I have to agree with the King. Someone plays the fear card. They spin propaganda to create hysteria. The intelligent quotient gets reduced to a crippling percentage.”
“Hatred gets used as a weapon,” said Chris.
“Anything can get weaponized, Chris,” said the King.
Devin stood to his feet. He strained to see through the trees to Village Main. Horses were galloping onto Castle Road. Cheers erupted from the crowd.
“That could mean only one thing,” said Devin. “A Vallian is out in front.”
The Kings Guards were yelling, “Make way for the King’s Guard.” Heads picked up.
Anyone on the road heading to the bleachers got cleared to the side as if fire was raging their way.
A white horse appeared from the shadows of the trees. The rider, determined and relentless was charging out into the sunlight. The silver helmet and red feathered plumes of Gonquin brought the crowd to their feet.
“Is that Faragorn?” said Elsinor.
“No, couldn’t be, wouldn’t be,” said Lady Lucia. “Faragorn is grazing at my farm. This horse is Val-O-War, son of Faragorn. He came out fighting from the womb, Elsie.”
Val-O-War and Gonquin crossed the finished.
“Stand up, Elsie,” said Lucia. “The other riders are coming in. You don’t want to miss this.”
“Who was he fighting?’ said Elsinor.
“What?”
“From the womb, Lucia,” said Elsinor, “Val-O-War.”
Lady Lucia turned her head facing Faragorn and Gonquin. She stared for a moment, then a moment longer. Turning back to Elsinor she said reaching out her hand, “Elsie, I forgot to ask.”
“That’s not a problem, Lucia,” said Elsinor. “We’ll march right down there and ask Gonquin.”
“What a wonderful idea, Elsie,” said Lucia.
“Are you coming, Devin?” said Elsinor.
Devin smiled. “Just waiting for you ladies,” he said stretching an opened hand toward the stairway. “To the Grandstand everyone, let’s give these winners our interstellar show of support.”
Hector stuffed the last chicken strip in his mouth. He grabbed his stein of ale and followed on the heels of the royals. He towered head and shoulders over the king. His lanky body moved awkward down the stairs. With Macro at his side he spoke. “We have caught a menacing eye from the group of soldiers at our three o’clock.”
“I saw that,” replied Marco. “Do we know who they are?”
Hodges offered a sketchy scenario without apology. “They are a faction of tares within our ranks,” he said.
“Tares?” said Elsinor, stepping from the bleachers and onto the game field.
“It’s the tale of the wheat and the tares,” said Devin.
“What type of tare, General Hodges?” said Elsinor looking to Devin with a knowing smile.
“Some tares attract predators that eat the pests; others are invasive and need to be up rooted by hand.”
“We call that a transfer to a less hospitable post, Your Majesty,” said the General.
Elsinor slipped her arm through Devin’s.
Devin gave her a slight turn of his head. He immediately turned her away from the main group. They picked up the escort of two Royal Guards. They flanked them with swords and lances.
“General,” said Vito. “We need you to be more specific.”
“Who are they, General?” asked Captain Miller.
Colonel Stiller, spoke into the comlink on his index finger. As if appearing out of nowhere, twenty Elite Guards surrounded the group of soldiers.
“Okay, they are my extraction team,” said the General. “May I speak to them?”
“I think not, General” said Stiller, “No. This does not look good. And, I have to assume this public show of yours is a distraction.”
“Cheer up, General,” said Marco. “You are going into the custody of the Amedans.”
“Where are you taking me?” asked the General.
“Not far,” said Marco. He gave a quick nod to the Colonel.
Colonel Stiller gave an order to his Elite red team. Four armed soldiers came to his side. “Restraints, Sargent,” he commanded.
General Hodges was bound with metal straps in military precision. Colonel Stiller and the red team led the General off the game field and around to the front of the castle. Another group of soldiers were standing guard in front of Stiller’s awaiting shuttle.
The Amedan Lao hovered eight feet above the ground. He emitted a fiery red glow. Intense white energy bolts raced around his core. The sound of his mad demeanor was unmistakable. His cruel intent bit the air with a vengeance. He snapped at every movement in the General’s face.
Hodges could feel the razor sharp heat of the Amedan High Ruler looming above his head. “I have come here for a mission,” said the General, his voice calm but his body shaking.
Lao went vertical. In an instance he was out of sight. A whirling howl trailed off in the distance. The howl sent hissing shrieks back over Shrine Lake. He returned less than two meters off the surface of the waters. Lao’s shock wave hit. His supersonic speed sent a vertical wake shooting hundreds of meters in the air. The wake formed a veil of white. It draped like satin stretching across the center of the lake from one end to the other. The veil descended in cascades of rainbows. The veil showed the Amedans’ the universal symbol for peace.
“Release these men, Sargent Barnes,” said Marco.
“Are you sure, Captain?” said the Sargent.
“He’s sure,” replied Hector
“Aye, aye, Captain Blackstone,” said the Sargent. “We had a warning things might get a bit dicey down here. If you can guarantee there will be no further trouble.”
“You know I can’t do that,” replied Hector. I don’t have a crystal ball.”
“Okay, I can’t let them go and be a menace to the festival,” replied the Sargent.
“Yes I know that, Sargent Barnes. “But they have done nothing wrong,” said Hector. “Unless you think, giving goofy looks to the Colonel is suddenly a crime.”
“Of course not,” said Barnes.
“Well, Sargent, let me reassure you of what we are trying to do,” said Marco. “No one could have missed the water show out on the lake and the rainbow cascade a few minutes ago. That creation was by Lao, the Amedan High Ruler. And if peace is good enough for him it should be good enough for everyone here.”
“I’m not arguing Lao’s intention,” said Barnes. “I’m looking for the General’s security team to be patient and less problematic while at Festival. Can I get that assurance, Captain? If not, I’ll have to take them into custody.”
“Here that, men?” said Hector. “He’s not giving you much alternative.”
“We will wait to hear from the General,” said Warrant Officer Heiser. “But we are going to ask for your cooperation in realizing our mission to secure General Hodges.”
“Now you’re talking,” said Hector. “What say you, Sargent Barnes? Can your two squads work together for a few hours?”
Sargent Bar
nes chuckling said, “Of course, Captain, as you wish.”
“Come on, Marco. Let’s see if anyone is loitering around the winner’s circle,” said Hector. “Your daughter is likely to be around there somewhere.”
Marco nodded. “I haven’t seen her in several hours,” he replied.
“Lot of folk showing up today; lot of catching up to do,” said Hector with concern on his face. “After we check on the winner’s circle, we can take a walk to Tildanfin’s Inn. We'll ask the folk on the way if they've seen Shanna.”
“That’s a good plan,” said Marco. “I’ll see if Lucia wants to join us.”
* * * *
Marco and Hector found Devin standing in the winner’s circle. He was talking over the finer points of Simiquin’s and Walter’s tie score.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” said Marco. “Have you seen─
The sound of Shanna’s gasping got deeper and deeper. “Oh that feels so good,” she screamed.
“Shush down!” said Pawdell, “They can hear us out on Main Street, you know that?”
“Can’t you go any faster? Wait a minute,” she said panting. “I’ll turn over and you can do me doggie.”
Pawdell flipped her over. “Oh Yeah,” she screamed. Pawdell laughing gave Shanna a reach-around.
A woman screamed from the third floor. “Oh yeah,” Shanna shouted. “Come on, come on
“Have I seen what, Marco?” said Devin.
Marco, staring up at a third floor window searched for words. “Oh, ah−
“The next contestants,” said Hector.
“I’m sorry,” said Devin. “I’m afraid this is my fault. I told her not to stray too far because of so many folk in the village today.”
“Well,” said Hector, “at least we know where she is.”
“That’s true,” said Marco. “Excuse me, fellas.” He turned to Lady Lucia for a private talk.
Devin placed his hand on Hector’s shoulder, “Will you do me a kindness, my friend?”
Hector leaned forward. “What’s going on?”
“One of the young ladies inside has been working sense early this morning. During Festival, this is unacceptable. Having anyone not enjoying the annual party is unthinkable. Hector, Festival can be a difficult time. Memories can haunt and even torture some folk’s hearts.”
