Curse of the Forbidden Book (8 page)

Finding the tournament was easy. They had simply followed the flow of people—Patrol members with red armbands, suitors and their entourages, servants, and the occasional bystander who managed to sneak past the guards at the drawbridge. Everyone was going to the same place: the courtyard of the palace.

As he stepped through the gate of the palace, Jesse noted again how strong and thick the walls were. Guards were posted at regular intervals, eyes fixed straight ahead. Unlike regular Patrol, who carried crossbows, these were armed only with short broadswords, more practical for defense in tight quarters.
How are we going to get Rae and the Forbidden Book out of here?

For that matter, even finding Rae would be next to impossible with all the people around. Duke Hale had been right; many people were seeking the hand of Lady Taralyn. Everywhere Jesse turned, it seemed he was blinded by another nobleman in a shiny suit of armor.

“Quit staring and keep moving,” Silas ordered. “You'll get trampled.”

From then on, Jesse stopped looking around and just let himself be pushed along with the crowd. Once past the inner wall of the palace, they stopped abruptly.

Jesse imagined that the governor's courtyard was normally very stately and noble. He had to use his imagination because, from what he could see through the crowd, the entire courtyard had been transformed into a makeshift arena. A wooden barrier, waist high, surrounded it, and the stone inside was covered with a mix of straw and sawdust.

At the far end was a stand, where a few dozen people sat.
Members of the governor's court, probably
. Only one section was shaded from the hot sun by a canopy. Jesse squinted and saw two figures beneath it. One, sitting on an ornamented throne, he guessed was Governor Elias.
But who is the other man?

Jesse was too far away to make out any clear features, but he got the strangest sensation as he stared at the man.
It's almost
like the man is staring back. At
me,
out of all these people.
Jesse's stomach churned.
You're imagining things. Stop it.

Then a taller man shoved in front of Jesse, blocking his view, and the feeling went away.

“Who is the other person in the royal stand?” Jesse asked Silas. “The one dressed in black. Somehow, I doubt it's Lady Taralyn.”

Silas craned his neck to look, then grunted. “That's Chancellor Doran. They say he controls Governor Elias like a puppet. He's a harsh man.”

“And he's the one who writes in….” A glare from Silas made Jesse stop.
He's right. We wouldn't want others to overhear
.

“Look there,” Parvel said, pointing to Jesse's left. “Those must be the suitors.”

Glinting in the sun like a row of golden statues were about four-dozen men in armor. Their shields, displayed stiffly in front of them, bore standards that ranged from a charging boar to an eagle in flight.

Prince Corin, of course, was easy to spot, with his dull, woven armor.

“Look at that fool,” a servant woman in front of Jesse scoffed. “Why, he's wrapped in reeds.”

“He won't last more than a few seconds against one of Elias' men,” another replied, clucking her tongue in disapproval. “You mark my words.”

Jesse started to speak up to defend him, then stopped. What did they really know about Corin, after all? Maybe he was just a bored prince, sailing off for adventure without any knowledge of what he was getting into. Even if he did know how to swordfight, Duke Hale said all of the suitors from District Two were better trained.

“All gathered, hail!” a voice called, cutting through the din of the crowd. Slowly, the excited babble died down. Jesse leaned to one side, then the other, trying to get a better look. A man dressed in a fancy yellow tunic was standing in the middle of the arena, feet planted firmly in the sawdust. He held a large scroll at arms' length as he bellowed at the crowd.

“The crier,” Parvel supplied helpfully. Clearly, he was used to such spectacles, unlike Jesse. “He makes all the announcements.”

“We are gathered here today,” the crier continued, “for the first event of the Grand Tournament of the esteemed Governor Elias.”

Everyone cheered, and Jesse clapped half-heartedly, though he wasn't sure why. He doubted if anyone knew.

The crier gestured to the suitors. “These young men have journeyed from afar to seek the hand of the lovely Lady Taralyn in marriage. The winner will wed her three days from now.”

There was more clapping, even more enthusiastic than before. Jesse wondered if what Duke Hale said was true, that Lady Taralyn really was beautiful.
Probably not. Everyone just wants to marry her because her father is rich and powerful.

“Where is Lady Taralyn?” Jesse asked Silas while the applause died down. He scanned the royal box, but there were no young women in sight. In fact, the only women he saw at all seemed to be servants.

“Anywhere but here,” Silas said. “In District Two, the men are very protective of their women, especially unmarried ones. It would be a breach of etiquette for her to attend the tournament.”

“Today,” the crier continued, “each suitor will fight in hand-to-hand combat against one of the elite, highly trained knights from Governor Elias' own palace. If a suitor defeats the knight, he will continue to the next portion of the competition. If he loses….”

The crier paused to wait for the crowd's booing to calm down. “If he loses,” he repeated, “he will return to his home.”

More cheering. Jesse was getting weary of all the noise.

“Before we begin, a salute to our great and noble ruler, King Selen.”

Most of the people around Jesse straightened up and saluted. Jesse, Silas, and Parvel did not. Jesse's stomach turned, and he hoped no one around them would take notice of their disloyalty.
But we can't honor the man who has killed hundreds of Youth Guard members. It wouldn't be right.

“Long may he reign,” the crier intoned.

No one around Jesse demanded to know why he didn't salute. Everyone was listening to the crier in the middle of the arena, who began to introduce the first suitor. To Jesse, at least, he looked just like all the rest in his silver suit of armor.

The crowd cheered wildly as he entered the arena
. They would probably cheer if
I
jumped over the barrier,
Jesse thought. He probably could, with the use of his walking stick.
Not that I plan to.

That decision was strengthened even more when Jesse saw the governor's knight enter from a door in the palace wall. He was huge, clunking past the stands with a force that made the ground shake. Unlike the suitors, all in chain mail and armor of gold or silver, the knight's armor was a dull dark gray.

Jesse poked his head past the woman in front of him, trying to see the emblem on the knight's shield. It appeared to be a bird, as black as night.
Probably a vulture
.

“The first opponent down on the ground, at the mercy of the other's sword, loses,” Parvel explained for Jesse's benefit.

The two combatants seemed to have a good understanding of the rules. For a few moments, they exchanged blows, their steel clanging together loudly. It was clear that the suitor was out-classed. The knight's blows began to fall harder and faster, and the suitor didn't return all of them.

A few missed blocks and one misstep, and suddenly the knight's sword was locked with the suitor's. The knight pressed down, driving the suitor to his knees. Then it was over; the point of the knight's sword over the suitor's heart.

There was more cheering from the crowd of servants and spectators, with a few boos mixed in. Jesse doubted if anyone cared who won. They were just there for the show.

A servant helped the suitor off, and the knight stepped to the side as the crier reentered the arena. “Next, Prince Corin,” he called out. “Son of King Barcel, ruler of Dagen Isle in the Great Sea.”

Jesse joined in the cheer this time, though he heard others calling out insults. “Who invited him to the mainland?” he heard someone ask.

“Can't he see he doesn't belong?”

“As if one of his kind could marry Lady Taralyn.”

Suddenly, Jesse hoped that Prince Corin was good with the sword. Very, very good.

Prince Corin didn't bother to enter through the gate like the other suitor had. He placed his hand on the top of the wooden barrier and leaped over.
His armor must be very lightweight
, Jesse decided.

The people cheered again, laughing among themselves. “It looks like we have a regular acrobat with us this time!” one man said with a chuckle.

“We'll see how his fancy tricks serve him against a real man,” another shot back.

Since Prince Corin's oddly shaped helmet, round, but coming to a point at the top, had no visor, Jesse could see the intensity in his face as he strode toward the center of the arena. He stood directly across from the knight, giving the same jerky bow he had given Jesse and Silas earlier. The knight returned the gesture, though it looked slightly awkward in his clunky armor.

Then Prince Corin drew his sword, and the battle began.

At first, the knight started slowly, as he had with the first suitor. But Prince Corin didn't slow down. He kept his shield up and his sword moving, never exposing a weakness for the knight to attack.

He's good,
Jesse thought, although he knew his limited experience with sword fighting made him a poor judge. Still, the murmur of the crowd showed they were surprised that the island prince showed such skill.

The knight must have realized this too, because he struck out in a series of blows that made his sword blur to everyone watching. Still, Prince Corin met every strike with his sword, blocking it with a sickening clang of metal on metal.

“He's doing well,” Jesse said, allowing a little hope into his voice.

“It's not over yet,” Silas said grimly. “This knight's a master. I can see it in every move he makes.”

“Did you see how he easily parried Corin's Auctian thrust?” Parvel added. “He probably knows every trick of swordplay in all of Amarias.”

Jesse fell silent. Who was he to comment on a swordfight? Until leaving the inn with Rae and Silas, he had never even held a weapon, much less learned the technique of one-on-one combat.

Now it was Prince Corin's turn to strike. Unlike the knight, he never stayed in one place, choosing instead to use some of his precious energy to dart about, trying to catch the knight off guard.

But, no matter how impossible it seemed with his heavy armor, the knight was always there to block the blow. Only once did Prince Corin's blade connect with the chain mail. That was a mistake, because as Prince Corin drew back his sword, the knight struck at his unprotected shoulder.

The crowd gasped as Prince Corin staggered back, but somehow he still managed to block the next thrust.

“He's going on the defensive,” Silas muttered. “Not good.”

Come on, Prince Corin
, Jesse urged him in his mind. Even though he knew it was selfish, he wanted the prince to win for another reason. If he was eliminated from the tournament, he would go home, and then Jesse and the others would have no way to rescue Rae or find the Forbidden Book.
He has to win. For all of us.

Though his shield and sword still blocked every blow, Prince Corin was being pushed back, toward the wooden barricade. Jesse knew it could be his imagination, but it looked like Prince Corin was slowing down just a little. His reactions were just a split second later, his arm movements just a little heavier.

Like everyone else in the crowd, Jesse could not look away, jerking his head back and forth around the heads of people in front of him as he tried to keep the arena in view. Even the cheering had died down as the fight went on.

It was clear that the knight knew he was winning. He began to hold back, using slower and lighter blows as he drove Prince Corin closer and closer to the edge. It seemed like he was showing off the grace of his swordplay now, placing each step in the sawdust like an elaborate dance.

Prince Corin wasn't concerned with any form at all. He was merely surviving, blocking blindly. Jesse caught a glimpse of his face. It was covered with sweat. He looked exhausted enough to crumple to the sand at that very moment, without any blow at all.

Finally, the back of Prince Corin's foot hit the barrier. His shield slumped down, and the arm with the sword sagged, as if refusing to rise again. Jesse held his breath with perhaps half of the crowd.

The knight knew that this would be the last blow. He paused, then brought his right hand up, spinning the sword through the air to his left.

“Barett's pass,” Parvel said in awe, as it happened. “Never seen it done in an actual fight.”

Before Parvel had even finished speaking, the knight's left hand struck out at Prince Corin.

And found nothing there.

Prince Corin had used the split second while the knight was executing his trick play to leap on top of the wooden barrier, balancing on the edge.

Only it wasn't balancing, not like Jesse and his friend Eli had done on the bridge as children, tottering back and forth. Prince Corin was just
standing
there, as steady as if he was on the ground.

“You were right,” Jesse shouted to Parvel over the noise of the amused crowd. “The knight knows all the tricks of Amarias. But he doesn't know the ones of the island of Dagen.”

After the slightest of pauses, probably from sheer surprise, Jesse decided, the knight was back to fighting as if there was nothing unusual about directing blows at an opponent who stood a distance above you.

The first few blows did nothing at all. Prince Corin danced around them as if they were nothing but a troublesome fly. Finally, with a frustrated shout, the knight drew back and cut the air with his sword as if he were a reaper taking down a sheaf of wheat.