The Chronicles of Ahlissa - Book 1 - The Midnight Maiden - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Down the Tilt

Lord Zogrev Yarol berated the two young squires who were doing their best to help dress him in his armor; while they were doing most of the work while he constantly criticized their efforts. Lord Yarol's chainmail hauberk was finished in copper and his plate armor was covered in copper and trimmed in gold. Over his armor, Yarol wore a bright purple tabard trimmed in scarlet with a wide scarlet chevron across the chest. His helm was a wide bucket plated in copper, trimmed in gold and with a bright scarlet plume coming out of the top. Zogrev's mount, a white courser, wore copper and gold barding with the same bright purple coverings.

The two squires brought a set of steps next to the horse and Lord Yarol steadied himself on their shoulders as he walked up the steps and sat astride his courser. The two boys handed Lord Yarol his shield, which matched his harness and contained several gemstones. As he rode out of his tent many people in the stands commented that a great peacock had fluttered down and landed at one end of the tilt. Lord Yarol was a man who clearly relished the trappings of his station. One of the squires handed his Lord a lance and then took Yarol's mount by the bridle and led the horse to the end of the tilt. The other squire ran to the far end. Lord Yarol then nodded toward the Earl who had his arm upraised.

Zogrev tried to peer through the early morning fog to see his younger opponent at the far end of the tilt. The fog, however, clung to the ground and was thick with watery mist, making it impossible to see more that a few feet in front of him. 'More than enough to unhorse that insolent whelp' he thought smugly. As Lord Yarol watched William Moffitt, Earl of Walworth dropped his arm and Yarol dug his spurs into his mounts' ribs. The courser jolted and began to gallop down the list.

As his white horse charged forward, Lord Yarol looked left and forward of his horses' head searching for his opponent in the fog. Suddenly as if out of nowhere a great black demon with horns and red wings that fluttered in its wake riding the largest red-eyed hell horse he had ever seen came charging directly at him through the fog! He hastily lowered his lance to stave off the demon's hellish spear! The two wooden shafts twisted between the riders and then shattered in an explosion of splinters, causing Lord Yarol to lean to his right putting him off balance.

As he came to the far end of the tilt his horse slowed and its bridle was quickly grabbed by his other squire. Zogrev cursed aloud and hoped that his awkward blow was enough to weaken the horrible creature. The squire handed him another three-quarters lance and took a hold of the horses bridle and began to guide the horse back to the list. Yarol lifted himself in the stirrups to look down the tilt to see if the creature was lying in wait for him. The fog had lifted enough for him to see the great black steed rear onto its hind legs and turn towards the tilt. He watched as his other squire handed a lance to the demon just as the fiend turned his hell horse back to the tilt.

The coal-black horse reared again and began another charge down the list, Zogrev had enough presence of mind to ram his spurs into his mount and begin his own charge. As he began to close with the demon again, he realized that it was no demon at all! It was Lord Brion astride the ebon destrier! Now his rage welled up inside and he felt as if he had been made a fool of. Lord Yarol lowered his lance and in his anger he did not aim it well. The lance glanced off of Brion's shield, while Lord Brion's lance landed a solid blow in the center of Yarol's shield. The blow knocked him back and to the right, Lord Yarol desperately reached for the reins and gripped his saddle with his knees. In spite of the horses' movement he managed to pull himself upright by the time he reached the far end of the tilt.

This time the squire handed Lord Yarol a one-half lance and guided the horse to the list for his Lord. Again he saw the great black horse rear onto its hind legs and turn in place as the other squire handed Lord Brion a similar lance. Zogrev knew that if he were going to unseat his opponent this was his last chance. Again the great sable horse reared and began to gallop down the tilt; Yarol dug in his spurs and charged. No longer terrified that a dark hell fiend was trying to kill him, Lord Yarol lowered the lighter lance at just the right time and landed a solid hit on Lord Brion's shield. However, luck was not with him and the carefully placed lance shattered off of the black shield. Brion's lance however struck Yarol directly in the center of his ornate breastplate. This sent Yarol head over heels across his horses' back. Zogrev landed on his back and his squires rushed out to help him stand. As soon as they had Lord Yarol back on his feet they placed his sword in his right hand and his mace in his left.

Lord Brion approached Lord Zogrev Yarol, himself still astride the mighty Armageddon. Wanting to infuriate the man even more Brion struck him twice more in the chest with his lance, each time knocking him back. Each time Yarol was knocked backward, he struggled to maintain his footing; the embarrassment of the lower position enraging him.

"Coward!" he screamed. "Dismount and face me!"

"Yield Lord Yarol, I have the advantage!" Shouted Lord Brion, deciding he had shamed the older warrior enough and wanted to end the contest quickly.

"Never!" shrieked Lord Yarol as he knocked the lance tip aside with his sword.

Brion steered Armageddon back towards the tilt and dismounted. He retained his shield, and drew his sword as he approached Lord Yarol. The two men lunged at each other; they turned and exchanged blows in a whirlwind of purple, gold and black. Their swords deflected each other's strikes while Lord Yarol's' mace blows crashed against Lord Brion's shield. Brion again taunted his challenger.

"Is that the best you can do? Your mace blows fall on my shield like water on rocks! You wield your sword as skillfully as an inept squire! Allow me to instruct you!" Lord Brion unleashed a flurry of sword strikes that sent Lord Yarol stumbling backwards. Brion slashed, parried and stabbed with practiced ease while his feet seemed to dance around his opponent. It was all Zogrev could do to use his mace and sword to block and parry Brion's slashes and stabs. Yarol swung his mace wildly and Brion dipped his longsword and came up and over Zogrev's left hand. The curved crossguard of Brion's sword locked with the mace handle and with a deft twist sent the mace flying out of Lord Yarol's grasp. The mace landed several feet behind Lord Brion; he smiled to himself behind his visor.

"Once again Lord Yarol, I plead with you to yield. Do not force me to draw your blood!" Brion shouted over the cheers of the crowd.

Lord Yarol gave a battle cry, raised his sword above his head and charged forward, clearly unhinged at the way the younger knight seemed to be toying with him. Lord Brion deftly sidestepped and then drove the point of his sword into the area underneath Lord Yarol's upraised arm. Lord Brion's sword sliced through the chainmail and cut into Zogrev's flesh, blood ran down Brion's sword and Yarol's golden armor. Lord Yarol stopped and fell to his knees. He looked at the blood, and could feel as its warmth flowing slowly down his right side. Zogrev stood and turned to face his opponent. Brion could see the hatred in the man's eyes through the slits of Yarol's helmet.

"You bastard, I will have your head for wounding me as such! You think to defend the honor of that flirtatious wench? I will make you regret your decision!" Yarol gripped his sword with both hands and closed the distance with Brion. Throwing his shield aside Lord Brion gripped his hand and a half sword with both hands then stepped to his right circling Lord Yarol.

"Yarol, you pompous swine, I will cut out your heart for that remark! I shall see you hung from a gibbet for the sport of crows!"

The two warriors circled each other, Lord Yarol resplendent in shining gold and purple, Lord Brion magnificently dark in black and crimson. One might have thought that a celestial of Elysium had appeared to do immortal battle with a demon from Hades, such were their colors. They circled each other for long moments, each sizing the other up, the next melee might determine the victor. Brion knew that one more strike would win him victory, but receiving a wound would give Yarol hope of winning. He decided he would goad Lord Yarol, hoping the other man's rage would cause him to make one last mistake. They advanced on each other, testing the opponent's defense - strike, parry, strike, parry, with neither combatant gaining the upper hand.

Lord Brion shouted to his opponent. "Let us end this, you depraved old buffoon! It is obvious the depths that you will sink to, preying upon young girls. Let's reveal you for who you really are!"

"You impertinent youngling, it's about time you were taught to honor your betters!"

Again they came at one another in a clash of steel, each vying for the advantage. Lord Yarol stabbed, and Brion dropped his guard. He felt Yarol's blade slice into his upper thigh, it bled profusely. Brion fell to one knee and threw off his helmet so that he might breathe more freely. There was a loud gasp from the onlookers in the stands as the odds in the contest seemed to change in an instant. All watched as Lord Brion tried to stand but found that his injured leg could not bear his weight.

"It seems that I have the advantage now young fool! Prepare to meet your end!" Lord Yarol bellowed as he threw off his own helm. He raised his sword high both hands griping the hilt as he charged in for a killing stroke.

Just as Lord Yarol was directly in front of Lord Brion in mid-stride, Brion stuck his sword into the ground and shifted his weight, coming up from under Yarol and threw Lord Yarol completely over his head. Zogrev went head over heels behind Lord Brion and landed with a loud thud, the force of the blow knocking both his sword from his hand and the air from his lungs. In a flash Brion took a hold of his own sword and knelt on Lord Yarol's chest, his right knee pressing onto Zogrev's left arm and his blade at Yarol's throat.

Lord Brion brought his face close to Lord Yarol's and he spoke quietly yet firmly. "Yield now" he hissed, mere inches from Yarol's face.

"You... you tricked me! You only played at being injured!" Lord Yarol whispered, a look of shock on his face.

"Yield now you bastard or I will slit your throat, spill your blood and feed your carcass to the wolves." Lord Brion said again, pushing the edge of the blade to his victim's throat.

"I... I yield! The Lady is innocent!" Yarol shouted in fear for his life.

The duel over, he stood and sheathed his sword. Lord Brion turned to face William the Earl, Lady Eryca and his father; he bowed deeply then turned to where Yarol lay. Lord Zogrev Yarol stood on his shaking legs, having just escaped certain death. William rose and declared that no vengeance was to be taken on Brion or any member of his house, and that Lord Yarol was to be given two days in his rooms to recover, pack and appoint a successor from his delegation. On the third morning he was to leave for the journey home. Yarol hung his head in shame and with a few words to his squires withdrew from the field; Lord Brion gathered his belongings, mounted Armageddon and rode back to the stables.

Continued in Chapter 10