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Writer
Join Date: Apr 2008
Location: The Wall
Gender: Male
Posts: 30
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Now, this chapter isn't as good as the others, (in my opinion). This may be because it is written from a girl's POV, and I'm not a girl...but this chapter needs to be in so the story makes sense. So, it's not as good, but that's why I'm here, to get advice and critique. So here goes..
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Chapter III
MORGAN
It was the day she’d been waiting for all her life. Morgan Brakker glanced down the balcony at the huge tournament grounds below. Peasants and nobles alike rushed to get seats in the giant stadium. Merchants rode into the grounds, carrying carts full of exotic foods from the south, beautiful weaponry, and the newest batch of flamestones. Priests of every faith wandered throughout the fair, wearing colorful robes adorned with gold and silver and crystals. And most important of all, the greatest knights in the entire world were coming to the Great Tournament. Royal knights from Kaliber, Tallus, and Martel would come in their splendid steel armor, the white-cloaked Curonians; even the barbarians of Sigurn would have some representation.
“Quiet a sight, my lady.” Lucian said, gazing out the window.
“Yes it is! I’ve been waiting for this day for so long!” Morgan smiled, her face flushed with excitement.
“Well, it might be best if you got ready, Morgan. You want to look beautiful for all the handsome knights out there, don’t you?” teased Lucian.
“Lucian! You know there’s only one knight I care to look beautiful for,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Morgan! Be careful! You know anyone should see us…”
“Stop being so uptight!”
“But, if we should be found, we could be—“
“Oh stop it, Lucian!”
“But my lady, I…”
This time she kissed him for real, straight on the lips. He quieted and ran his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer. She wrapped her arms around him, reveling in the smell of him, his dark, curly hair that clung to his face when he was sweaty. Suddenly, he pulled away from the kiss.
“I….that was ill done, my lady. I’m sorry.” Lucian gently pushed her away and headed out the door. “You’d best get changed, Morgan.”
He slammed the door shut, leaving Morgan alone.
“Why does he have to do that?” she asked. “I love him, but he keeps insisting on being honorable, and noble…what’s more honorable than love?”
Suddenly the door burst open, admitting a young girl with long, blond curls.
“Morgan! You’ll never believe it!” Princess Raelyn cried.
“What is it?” she asked. The Princess was thirteen years old; and acted like it. She would constantly tell Morgan everything about her life, even things she wished she didn’t hear. Morgan was the daughter of a lord, not a particularly powerful one though, but a lord all the same. But somehow Raelyn had taken a fancy to her and requested, or demanded, really, that Morgan stay with her and be a friend to her. Morgan had no real choice but to obey, and aside from her occasional childish attitude, Princess Raelyn wasn’t that bad. Morgan even got nicer clothes than she was used to, and she got to sit with the princess to watch the tourney.
“Father is working out an arrangement with the King of Curon for me to marry his son!” she exclaimed.
Morgan feigned incredible excitement, congratulating the princess and hugging her. Prince Leaf was a young man of sixteen years, with a face as pretty as a girl’s. He had even danced with her at a ball last year.
“Is Prince Leaf going to be at the tourney?”
“Yes, but he won’t be riding; he’s too young. But his uncle, Lord Levail, will! Lord Levail has never lost a joust, not ever!”
He may have never lost a joust, but that was before my Lucian was riding, thought Morgan. Suddenly, the room began to spin and Morgan fell to the floor.
“Morgan!” the princess cried, grabbing her hand and pulling her up. Morgan moaned and blinked a few times. After a few moments, the room went back to normal, although she could have sworn that there were two Raelyns in the room.
“I’m…I’m sorry, Raelyn. It seems I’ve been having these fainting spells lately.”
“Oh. Well, I get dizzy when I’m near a truly handsome knight. Is there someone you fancy, Morgan?” asked Raelyn in her usual childish manner.
Morgan swallowed. She couldn’t tell Raelyn that she was in love with the princess’s sworn knight, it just wouldn’t be right. She grasped for an excuse.
“No…not really…I think I’m just not eating enough…”
The two girls heard a knock on the door.
“My ladies, the tournament is about to begin!”
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Morgan had never seen anything like it. She sat next to the princess in a box seated high above the immense stadium, with thousands of cheering men and women. The box was ordanately furnished with large, dragon-emblazed rugs. The first round of the joust was about to begin.
“How exactly do the jousts work? asked Raelyn. She had only been three the last time she saw the Tournament.
“I was only seven the last time I saw one, but I think I remember. If a knight breaks his spear upon an enemy, he gets one point. The knight receives three points if he can knock the other knight off his horse.”
The heralds announced the riders, proclaiming to everyone that Prince Leon Tallus would face the Oragothian rider do’Carros. The knights saluted each other, and the match was on. do’Carros rode well, but ultimately fell against Prince Leon. In the next match, Raelyn’s brother Talaris defeated a Sigurnian barbarian named Borik the Axe. Raelyn went wild with cheers when Borik tumbled off his horse.
The next match was between Prince Samuel Martel and Lord Levail Curon. The two could not have looked more different. Samuel was a short man with close-cut hair. He had a freshly-grown beard and wore the green-and-brown colors of Martel. Levail was tall, with the flowing white hair of the Curon royal family. He wore a silver winged helm and a brilliantly white cloak. Both riders seemed evenly matched during the first four charges, each breaking their spear twice and earning two points apiece. But Prince Samuel was unhorsed on the fifth charge and Levail won.
The rest of the day consisted of more battles, with Lady Celes Curon, called the Battle Maiden, Lord Gerik Galavor of Tallus, and a barbarian named Siegfried winning the next battles. Only two more remained of this day’s festivities.
“‘My lords, ladies, and all others at this tournament, I have the incredible privilege to introduce you all to the amazing, the spectacular, Sir Bryant Slade!”
“Who’s this knight?” asked Morgan.
Raelyn shrugged, but King Beyard spoke up. “He is Bryant Slade; Prince Leon Tallus’s sworn man. He has more talent than I’ve seen in quite a while.” Beyard was a middle-aged man with short, blond hair. He had a bird-like nose and a thin, barely noticeable scar beneath his left eye.
King Beyard was right, thought Morgan as she saw Bryant’s enemy unhorsed.
As Bryant rode back the stables, two young men approached him to congratulate him. One was brown-haired and very ordinary-looking, but the other was stranger. He was tall, with long black hair and long limbs.
“Raelyn. Does that man look strange to you?” she asked.
“What man?”
“The tall one. With the black hair.”
“I don’t see any tall man with black hair.”
Strange, thought Morgan, she can’t see him.
As the knights left and the new heralds entered, Morgan held her breath and all thoughts of the black-haired man were wiped from her mind. This was the match she had been waiting for. Sir Lucian Darkwall, her Lucian, versus the mysterious Knight of Flames. Lucian looked so handsome in that blue armor and helm. The Knight of Flames rode in on a black stallion, his shield painted black with red flames. He had lit his lance on fire.
“Can he do that?” cried Morgan.
King Beyard chuckled under his short beard. “There’s no rule against it.”
The heralds announced the riders, and the day’s final match began. Lucian kicked his horse, urging it to charge at full speed. He aimed the lance towards the Knight’s helmet and prepared to strike. When the two passed each other, Lucian darted forward and smashed his lance against the Knight’s face.
Raelyn and Morgan leapt out of their seats and cheered.
The Knight of Flames’ squire, a young boy with curly black hair, handed him a lance with relative ease. When the Knight gripped the lance, it burst into flame.
Both riders charged at each other once more, but this time, the Knight was ready. He struck Lucian on the chest with his flaming lance, knocking him off his horse.
This time the entire crowd erupted in a huge cheer.
How dare they cheer for that monster! He hurt Lucian!
Lucian managed to mount his horse again, blood trickling from his mouth. He said something to the Knight, but Morgan couldn’t hear from so high up.
“Can he win now, Father?” asked Raelyn, clutching the king’s arm.
“It’s possible, but only if he knocks the Knight of Flames off his horse in this next round. Otherwise, I’m afraid Lucian will lose.”
The two knights readied their lances and charged. The smoke from the Knight of Flames’ lance obscured Morgan’s view of the battle. Suddenly, she heard a loud crack and a sickening thud. Lucian tumbled off his horse, his chest impaled with the flaming lance.
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I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.
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