The Prophesy: Book 1 - Cave Lupus

 

Mage Marlin walked slowly, accompanied by his wolf escort, to the cart reserved for his use by order of King Harold. He was reviewing what he had learned from his brief encounter with the King of the Wolf Throne, when suddenly he heard in his mind:

«Stop acting as a sheep, or the wolves will see you as one!»

A slightly older one immediately replaced the youthful voice:

«Who smells like a sheep, acts like a sheep, and wears sheep's clothing, is a sheep!»

By then the mage was terrified, but a third voice, almost a teen added:

«I think we broke him! He smells even more appetizing!» The comment was immediately accompanied by a burst of giggling voices.

« Ah, lamb chops,» followed by « Harp!» A protesting voice replied «But I'm hungry! All this talk of sheep has opened my appetite,» and a counter-protest of «Not again!»

The mage hurried to his cart, took some camomile from his herb bag and quickly prepared a cup of hot water to make tea. He needed the calming effects of the herbs and the ritual of the tea to recover his wits or he would totally lose control over his emotions. It took the mage until matins to calm down enough to try and communicate with his order. The appeasing effects of yoga, and of the mantras had been long to take hold.

At the ongoing dance, the burst of giggling brought an interrogatory look from Harold. Informed of the four terrors' actions he couldn't help but join them in their laughter.

"You are four little terrorists, do you know that? Now he'll think we can read his mind!"

"He already does, dad," piped up Harp. "We do not actually need to read his mind, he broadcasts so loud we were going deaf from his noise as he was sitting here with us!"

"Harp is right, dad," completed Paschal. "The man smells of fear so much it is intoxicating! He may be a mage, but he lacks control, and this is not good."

"On the other hand, he is so transparent to us he cannot hide any though. He will never be able to betray us without crying it out loud enough for us to hear him," added Sitar. "No wonder he gets so tired when he does this mind speech, he is like the sun, it goes in all directions with equal force. He needs to learn to focus his thoughts."

"What makes you think he will join us?"

"Remember the Seer," replied Paschal. "She said that three were missing: the Mage, the Dwarf and the Sorcerer. I do not really know the difference between a Mage and a Sorcerer, but there must be one, since they are labelled differently."

"That's a good point we will need to ask of Marlin, when he is a little less shook up. We could eventually read it in him, but I believe it would be impolite to do so."

"And it's only now that you think about this, after pulling that trick on him, Enron?" scolded Samson.

"It was so fun! And all that talk about lamb " At that moment a resounding noise came from Harp's stomach. " Has opened my appetite!"

After another bout of hilarity, Sitar remarked, "He is lucky we did not project to him how a wolf sees a sheep! He would have made a running dash for the river and tried to swim across. His diner would come flying out."

"Maybe I should do it," suggested Harp.

"No, Harp," replied Sitar, "the man needs his food in him not on him."

"You're not fun, big brother!"

***

As matins came, Mage Marlin sat on the ground, to root his mind deeply and directly to the Earth's magic field. His wolf escort sat around him, at about twenty paces, as if they knew their too close proximity would interfere with the flux of the field. It had taken Mage Marlin about an hour to find a strong flux in the field. His nervousness, due to the presence of the wolves, had greatly hindered his search.

Unknown to him, the boys kept watch from the Tree, monitoring his displacements with both the wolf escorts and their own enhanced night vision and hearing.

Finally relaxing as the flux traversed his body and revived him, Mage Marlin began to call out to his Order. Feeling the connection establish with a known entity, the boys heard him yell, at least it seemed to them, the conversation.

«Grand Master Michael, this is Master Marlin. I have found what you sent me out to find!»

«Report.»

«The disturbance was created by the re-forging of Excalibur, the Singing Sword, now in the possession of the King of the Wolves. He also welds the Katana Mitsuko, the Sword of Light. You certainly noticed the magic space resonate with ever more powerful thunder. His family, the Royal family of the Wolf Throne, and the royals of the Throne of Nature are very powerful, a power I have yet to find the limits. For instance, they talk to the wolves using telepathy, and according to one of the princes, over distances in excess of two hundred miles. They are probably listening to this report, and they can read my mind without me ever feeling it. Our only salvation is they are of the Light. Had they been of the Dark, none of us would survive. I have been hearing things about the royals of the Wolf Throne I find hard to believe, but there were so many eyewitness accounts that corroborated each other I have no choice but to accept them as facts.»

«Example?»

«The youngest, Harp, aged 4 springs, well maybe five now since spring is nearing the end, disposed of one Albert the Snake in a poniard battle in a Judgement of Arms, and escaped unscathed. The healer who first told me of this said that the Snake should have used his own knife on his heart, for the humiliation and pain would have been less.»

«Albert the Snake dead in the hands of a mere babe? Incredible! But it can only be a good riddance! At least my little brother got avenged! What else?»

«I knew this news would please you, Great Grand Master. King Harold disposed of the finest blade of the Elven Kingdom, Archduke Franz of Sophia, in the most humiliating way. This was how the true nature of the blade used by the King of the Wolves came to light. It sang a song of triumph! I inspected the blade and found its name inscribed near the hilt. Furthermore, the katana Mitsuko behaves as described in our Book of Sacred Blades. It heals and dispenses death with equal ease. It has been put to use as a truth-seer, which has led to the weeding out of a lot of bad apples in the Court of Nature. I saw quite a few beheaded corpses tied to their chairs under their respective colours. The Crown of Nature has recovered a lot of its former power through the elimination of those that were worming it from the inside.»

«This is very interesting. A strong ally in the coming years will be welcomed. And I am glad that this scorpion, the archduke, met his match. What else?»

«Let me beg you to consider carefully how you approach the Throne of the Wolf. It is we that come asking for allies, not them! Their powers far surpass our combined capacity, and we stand to gain nothing by grandstanding them because of our history. Furthermore, they have with them the powers of the Universe; according to another source, the Day of Dawning has passed; unfortunately, I was stuck in a cave fighting a band of orcs when the equinox arrived.»

«The Day of Dawning has indeed passed; it was the next task I was to assign to you, to find the baby. But how did you know?»

«Their seer told me so.»

«The Royal Seer of the Throne of Nature said so? And what else did this venerable lady say?»

«That she had seen the baby of the Moon. Is that the baby you wanted me to find?»

«She has? And yes, it is.»

«And how can I recognize the baby of the Moon?»

«It has a silvery, moon-shaped, mark on the heart.»

«Like Prince Ian, heir to the Wolf Throne!»

«What? You found the baby?»

«Well, I followed the matrix, and I was guided. What now?»

«Protect the baby at all costs!»

«You need not worry; if ever a baby is protected, it is this one! He has a she-wolf as milk nanny, the four princes, and a plethora of wolves around him day in day out. His dad has gained a reputation for fury in battle that scares me, and, for that matter, so do all the princes, including Harp, the near five years old.»

«A she-wolf as milk nanny? That clarifies this tidbit we had not figured out in the prophecy, about Rome reborn. If you remember, Rome was founded by Romulus, who was breast-fed by a she wolf.»

«What shall I do?»

«Ask to accompany them.»

«What if they ask me to swear fealty to the Throne of the Wolf?»

«Swear. Obedience to the Throne of the Wolf has absolute precedence over the Oath to this Order. Absolute! He welds the Sword of the Light therefore he is the light! It is we that shall need to swear fealty to him, and the faster the better! We exist to serve the Light, and its bearer! Any more issues?»

«The issue of the Enron inheriting the Throne of Nature has been solved.»

«The Wolf King disposed of the weakling?»

«No, he healed him. And from what I have seen, Prince Enron has gained the same powers as the Princes of the Wolf Throne, and can communicate with wolves. In fact, it seems to include all the members in immediate proximity to the King of the Wolves, including his wife, King Samson, and Williams, a mere carpenter.»

«And everyone accepted the new Enron without an eye blink? That is so not elfin!»

«Franz contested and it was King Harold who championed Prince Enron. That is how this cockroach got crushed.»

«Anything else?»

«Yes, be very careful as to how you analyse the situation, I had formal proof they can listen in on us without our knowledge, but also read our minds without us being aware of it. The boys demonstrated it clearly during my conversation with their dad, and later on as I was going back to the cart King Harold has let me use. Be aware that distance is no object to them.»

«Thank you for the reminder. I hope they are satisfied with how this exchange went.»

«Yes we are,» both men heard clearly, as if it had been told right besides them.

«I told you they were listening in. I need to rest. I will not be able to communicate for the next three days or so, being totally washed out by the effort.»

«I understand, the members of the Order have heard your report, mage Marlin. Rest.»

«Mage Marlin, stay where you are. Dad is coming with Mitsuko to heal your fatigue. The emplacement you choose will heal you faster even without Mitsuko, but the focalisation of the field by the sword will greatly enhance both the depth of the healing process and its speed. It is too bad the dolmen erected by the natives at this place got destroyed by religious fanatics of old. It focussed the energy of the Earth and could heal the wounds.»

«How do you know these things?»

«We are ageless!»

"Poor Marlin! He swallowed the bait, hook, line, and sinker!" laughed Harp.

"How long will he believe that we are ageless, as you so expertly hinted, Enron?" asked, deeply amused, Sitar.

"As long as we let him believe so!" replied Enron.

"If only he knew we get the information from the wolves! They have been around far longer than men, and know of these things. Their collective memory shows us the construction of the dolmen, and its destruction by the black robes," expressed, regretful, Paschal. "Narrow-minded idiots that destroyed what they did not understand!"

"I wonder what we will learn from our brethren in Europe, once we have fused our consciousness with them. The passage to Asia is difficult, and must wait next winter, for our messengers to cross on the ice bridge, if it is practicable."

"We will know when we will know, Sitar. For now, our wolf conscience expands at the speed of their running paws, as they meet other packs. The amount of destruction on this land mass is disturbing, and our friends need to be careful not to cross into any dangerous forest, or water. It means finding safe passages, and sometimes, days of detours to get across a river," commented Paschal.

"Tomorrow is escort duty for the messengers Samson wants to send to the camps. We need to rest too, because we will need to monitor closely what is said at each meeting between the camps authorities and the messenger, to prevent any disagreeable surprises for both the messengers and us."

"Agreed, Enron. Bedtime!" piped Harp.

The boys climbed down the tree and were escorted by the pups back to their cart.

***

The next few days were busy for the boys. As each messenger left for a camp two wolves accompanied them. Their horses were nervous because of the wolves, but gradually got used to their presence.

Arriving to a camp with two wolves was not something normally expected by guards, especially after they had seen their messengers being pushed back by wolf packs. A typical meeting between the messengers and the guards and camp authorities went like this:

"Stay where you are, and dismount!"

After obeying, the messenger was interrogated

"Who are you?"

"I am a messenger from Archduke So-and-So. I bring a message for the camp commander!"

"What about the wolves?"

"They are my escort!"

"Wolves as escorts? Are you trying to take us for a horse ride?"

"No, they are my escorts. Now, get your commander, so I can deliver the message!"

"You can deliver the message, but the wolves stay out of range of our bows!"

"Are you cowards? They are with me! Get your commander, now!"

By then a superior officer would have been alerted, and a message sent to the camp commander.

"Hold your position, while we wait on the commander."

"Fine." The wolves would sit quietly besides the messenger, clearly indicating that he was under their protection.

Sometimes it took half an hour before the commander showed up, and the whole time, the wolves would wait patiently, to the amazement of the watching guards and the officer of the watch. Finally, the commander would show up on the barricade, and take control of things.

"You have a message from Archduke So-and-so? What is it?"

"It is in this sealed envelope. May I come to handle it to you?"

"Yes, but what about the wolves?"

"They cannot fly yet! You are safe up there, and I will throw you the message for you to catch it. I am more worried about the safety of the escort than yours, given how nervous some of your archers are! Order them to remove their arrows so the wolves and myself feel safe."

"Good point. Relax the bows!"

The messenger would come close to the barricade and throw the message, wrapped by a ribbon, to the commander. It generally worked fine except for some who couldn't catch anything even if their life depended on it. Seals were examined and confirmed by scribes, broken and the message read.

The next step was more delicate.

"A joust and tourney offered by the King of the Throne of Nature in honour of the King of the Wolf Throne? Who is the King of the Wolf Throne? I never heard of him!"

"Does it matter? You have your orders!"

"It does matter since I came here to fight a war, not battle in a tourney or a joust!"

"Orders change! Obey them!"

"And it says I am to pick the three best men for that and deliver them to you for escort back to the site? The Archduke must be nuts! Have you seen the number of wolves around? I am surprised you weren't devoured!"

"I am escorted by members of the Royal Guard of the Wolf Throne. No wolf would ever intervene with a messenger escorted by these Guards. Rest assured, your men will be safe!"

"What if I decided to come charging down on that place?"

"None of your men would be alive by sundown. There are literally thousands of wolves around, what you see is but the tip of their numbers! Do not be foolish!"

"It says this will be held the first day of the next full moon. That gives me some time."

"It does and it does not. We have to get back and you have to pick up your champions!"

"What will be the nature of the competition?"

"Archery, swordsmanship, and joust! Pick the best in each category."

"Will you come into camp?"

"Only if my wolf escort is allowed in. You must guarantee safe passage for them as for me! Otherwise we will retire to these bushes, out of sight of your nervous archers!"

Most commanders were too nervous to trust wolves in their camp, or did not have enough confidence in the discipline of their men, but whatever the reason, the vast majority of the messengers spent the next few days in the bush, waiting on the selected individuals to be ready.

Finally the three selected champions would come out of the camp, on horseback, and join the messenger on his way back to the King's Court. The whole process of getting the horses to accept the wolf escort would begin anew, with three times more trouble as before, so it was not rare for a horseman to get ejected by a nervous horse if a wolf came too close.

***

Things did not always go as well, especially for the camps that were supposed to be under orders from the short-headed nobility. Some recognized the seal, but not the writing, and refused to obey. Others just ignored the command coming from their allies. And some acted brash and tried to violate the messenger's immunity. Those found rapidly that the threatened messengers were accompanied by a far larger group of wolves than they had estimated. These camps were considered lost cause and would be disposed by the Royal troops in short order. King Samson was in no mood to tolerate disrespect of the Royal Immunity guaranteed to each messenger. All in all, the wounded amounted to four wolves and two messengers. The others had contended themselves with warning shots.

King Samson summoned the recalcitrant commanders, under threat of breaking their Oath of fealty to the Crown, and face summary execution. The messengers did not even need to go back to the Court. The wolves reported each failure or incident to the boys telepathically. Again a few were reticent, but, this time, a crossbow man, whom carried the Arrow of Execution, a red arrow with a black fletching, accompanied the messenger. Upon refusal to obey the Royal decree, the commander found his neck pierced by the arrow without further ado. It never took another to get the message across that the King did not like being defied. The second in command obeyed without further objections.

The two camps that had physically harmed the Royal guards and messengers were not so lucky. Two centuries came down charging their gates and set siege to the hastily erected fortifications. A few well directed fire bombs later, the camps were ablaze and the defenders trying to escape an attack on two fronts: a fiery one and a steel and blade one. Harold himself led the charge, on his destrier, Mitsuko in one hand and Excalibur in the other. The palisades fell under the swift blade of the katana, which let the cavalry penetrate the burning camp right behind Harold. The fury that inhabited the King of the Wolves for the harm done to his messengers was so fearsome that only the hardiest tried to stop him.

Its not that the wolves had been severely wounded, two getting hit in the right shoulder as they jumped to intercept an arrow destined to the messenger, and the other two getting in their hind quarters as they were pulling their wounded charge to cover. The boys had accompanied their dad to help him deal with the panicked wolves and find their hideout. After healing the wolves, they were left under guard of a decade of legionnaires and the boys while Harold dealt with the offenders.

It did not come as a surprise that the two camps that needed a full cleanup were those that were commandeered by Archduke Franz of Sophia and Archduke Ferdinand. The real surprise came in Archduke Franz' camp. His youngest son, Germanicus, was present, but seemed to be there under the orders of a brute of a man, the real commander of the men in camp. The boy, barely twelve, seemed to have been physically abused by the commander, under the order of his own dad! A short enquiry revealed that Archduke Franz wanted to make a man out of his boy, and had already disposed of the elder son for failing to meet his expectations. Further enquiry revealed that the men in camp were mercenaries, for the most part. Harold quickly dispatched the commander for child abuse, and then proceeded to deal with the others. He told them in no uncertain terms that mercenaries were not welcomed, and that they had a choice: join the regular army, or try to outrun the cavalry. There were few takers for the second option.

As for Ferdinand, it was his wife that commanded the camp, like she commanded the duchy, kicking butts, including Ferdinand's, around. She offered tenacious resistance, showing remarkable strategic discipline and even attacking Harold on a destrier, fully dressed for battle. Harold, although king, did not have the same restraints nobility had in the face of the harpy that came charging on a battle horse. He met her head on, and cut her in half using Mitsuko.

The last camp cleansed, Harold returned to pick up his boys, to find them cleaning their swords and poniards. Apparently, the Archduchess had wind of the boys or it was simply a question of bad luck, but a group of scouts had fallen on the boys' camp as Harold was disposing of her. Fortunately, the boys' acute sense of strategy, combined with their new wolf senses and the prying eyes of dozens of wolves hidden in the tall grass, had won the skirmish. None of the attackers survived, and only one legionnaire got hit in the thigh by a wayward arrow. That Harold rapidly dealt with problem, and everyone was more than happy the incident had been dealt with so little cost.

King Harold administered the Oath of Fealty to the remaining, surviving officers of each camp. Those that failed forfeited their lives, while those that survived were promoted. Orders were given to stay at the disposal of the Crown in camp, clean up the mess, and also select three for the upcoming tourney.

Germanicus, Franz of Sophia's son, was taken back to the village when Harold returned. Although Mitsuko healed the physical injuries, it was apparent to the king that the boy would need more than that to be functional. There was something that was troubling in the boy's constant cringing, fear and distrust of even the noises made by the birds. He figured that the four terrors would do with him what was required to get the boy back to normal, if it was ever possible. Enron, albeit dismissed as a negligible quantity by others, had been deeply loved by his dad; Germanicus, on the other hand, seemed to have been abused by his own family from the start. Something was definitely underfoot there, and Harold was determined to find out what.

The commanders that had been invited to the village by the Royal Summons of King Samson were greeted by a collection of heads on spiked at the entrance of the village, and invariably recognized their lord in the lot. They were brought, under strong escort, to the thrones room, and were told in no uncertain terms that it was either swear fealty anew or die.

The return of the expeditionary force led by King Harold coincided with the swearing-in and led to another collection of spikes getting decorated at the entrance. This time, the bodies were brought back to the camps were they originated and catapulted over the palisades with a warning from the King's Herald:

"Failure to honestly engage in an Oath of Fealty to the Crown results in death. Surrender or be eradicated!"

The resistance dropped considerably, and only another camp needed a cleanup by the legionnaires.

"The hell with stiff-necked elves!" exclaimed Harold after the third battle in as many days. "I figure the boys are right: the higher a person climbs in a hierarchy, the more stupid it gets due to their blood turning blue from lack of oxygen!"

"I must agree with your boys, Harold," replied Samson, who had decided to accompany him in this last punitive expedition. "Are you aware that in the last few days, we all but beheaded the entire collection of would-be kings? What is left had next to no chance of getting near the throne, much less sitting on it! All the families that had any semblance of legitimacy to claim the Throne of Nature have been decimated and forfeited their titles due to high treason."

"I'm sorry it came to that, Samson. I feel we lost some valuable men with this mess."

"Do not feel sorry for them. They made their beds; let them sleep in the thorns."

"But your kingdom is weakened by this."

"No, it is now stronger. We weeded out the bloated incompetent dimwits, and those that survived are the best. We will rebuild from them, and this time, I will not put up with the blue-blood nonsense that has brought this situation on my kingdom. Although titles may be of value for some but I value competence over them any day. This is the most important lesson you taught me, Harold, and for this, I am forever in your debt."

"I still feel dirty."

"Wash up then!" replied Paschal laughing from behind. "We did what needed to be done, and it cost us a lot less than it would if we had let these morons in charge of troops in a battle. Their lack of wits could well have cost us crucial victories."

"You talk like you expect a lot more of the same?" asked, disgusted, Harold.

"Yes I do, dad. First we have to help Samson re-establish his authority on his kingdom, clean it of orcs, and possibly of priests; then we have to resume our travel westward. A kingdom is like an omelette, it needs some broken eggs to spread!"

"I'm hungry!" piped up Harp, whose stomach let out a clear signal.

"Not again!" replied the others, groaning.

"But you talked about omelettes! And that is food!"

"Harold, that boy will turn into a blue whale, if he continues."

"As long as I don't turn into a blue-blood cretin, I won't mind! What's a blue whale?"

"An extinct animal that lived in the seas; it kept eating all day and grew to measure a hundred and fifty feet long, Harp", informed King Samson.

"How did it eat lamb chops? I didn't know sheep lived in the sea!"

"It did not eat lamb chops, Harp. It ate tiny creatures called krill. It spent the day swallowing huge volumes of seawater to filter its food out of it."

"I don't want to be a blue whale! I hate fish!"

"Ah, could it be I found something I could protect from your voracious appetite?"

"You can protect all the voracious you want, as long as I'm not hungry!"

The last comment got everyone laughing.

***

The preparations for the tourney and joust were begun a week before the actual event. The easiest part was the arena for swordsmanship, which amounted to little more than a glorified circle of Judgement. It was forty paces wide rather then the usual twenty. There were twenty of those.

The jousting arena was a series of ten hundred yard list separated by fences. Each fence was segmented and could be reassembled, should a chevalier fall off his horse and dismantle a peculiar section. Williams and the carpenters of the village helped build it, along with Paschal, who, for a while had returned to apprenticing carpentry. Once the fence was assembled, a group of men carried sand and made sure a thick layer was set on both sides, for the whole length of the list. At each end of the list a tent was mounted, where his squire would dress the knight, his horse similarly readied, and the squire would help the knight get onto saddle. The tents were large and high, if only to dissipate the heat of the day and let the horses and knight move around in them freely without overheating. Also found under the tent were ale, beer, wine, water and juices fit for all preferences, kept cool by a constantly replenished supply of water from a nearby stream. There were medical carts available at both ends, along with a collection of ready to use stretchers. The lances, or spears, were little more than glorified saplings, cut to a normalized length, pointed at one end and guarded at the other. Hundreds of trees were cut to satisfy the needs of the upcoming joust.

The third sets of preparations were destined for the archers. First, a square area forty-two yards wide by four hundred yards long was prepared. The first range marks were set at one hundred yards, the next fifty yards further, and the next twenty-five yards further downrange. Then the markings became noticeably closer as the maximum range of an arrow was closing in, dropping in to every additional ten yards until the two hundred yard mark was reached; whereupon it fell to every five yards until the two-hundred-twentieth yard mark, and then every yard after that until two hundred and fifty yards was reached, marked by a red flag. Both longbows and crossbows were to use the same range as performance were too close to justify building an independent range. The targets for the contest were of two types: first, static bulls eyes would be rolled into range; and the second type was a pendulum, which would swing the target left to right and back. Each firing station was separated from its neighbour by a yard, which gave forty stations, with a safety margin of a yard on each side at the extremities.

The tourney was to last four days. The first day would be the Archers' Day; the second would be the Swordsmen's Day; the third day would be the Knights' Day; finally, the fourth day was the Champion's day, the melee⁴⁸⁴⁸ ("Melee: From the French mêlée, mix up, a free for all fight."). Each competition would begin at prime and be completed by vespers.

The Champions' Day was the cherry on the cake for the spectators. The melee was a free-for-all no holds barred engagement of groups of individuals, where the last standing was the winner. It was as close to a real war situation as one could get without actually being at war. Whereas the previous three days had pitted individuals against each other, the melee involved the use of group tactics, albeit limited in size. Some restrictions were imposed: all involved would have to be on foot, and no bows would be allowed. A royal banquet was offered at the end of the day, in honour of the Champions and the best of the best for the demonstrations that had concluded that day.

As the opening day grew closer, an issue was raised: who would represent the King of the Wolves and the Throne of Nature? After some considerations, it was proposed that the first centurie, under the command of Queen Annabelle, would be reserved for the melee, Harold would handle the Archers' competition, his captain of the guard, Yamato, would handle the Knights' day, and, who would have thought? Harp would deal with the Swordsmen's day. Enron, Sitar and Paschal would team up to represent King Samson. Enron would deal with Archery; Sitar with the swordsmanship, and Paschal with the knights, being the most experienced with horses. He would be riding King Harold's destrier, which had developed quite a close connection to the boy. What horse could be insensitive to apples and carrots? As for the melee, King Samson decided to lead his personal guard himself in the battle.

"I need the exercise, or else I'll catch up with Harp on the blue whale scale!" he said as he laughed.

"I am not a blue whale!" replied Harp, stomping his feet.

"Not yet, but you will be getting there soon, Prince Harp!" replied King Samson.

The selection of mere boys, babes in the eyes of many, to represent the two crowns was seen as insulting by many, as a giveaway by others. Only the ironic smiles of the elves in the village and the humans in the caravan made some think there might be something amiss in their evaluation of the situation and kept them from laughing openly at the kings' faces.

As for mage Marlin, he was totally baffled. He informed the Grand Master of the developments, and was told to monitor but not intervene.

***

The first day of the tourney opened with a magnificent sunrise. Prince Ian, his milk Nanny Samantha, King Samson and Queen Annabelle sat on cushioned seats placed in the center of the bleachers, under the protection of the shade offered by a colourful tarp. On each side were the members of the Royals not immediately involved in the day's competition. Besides Samson, his herald was ready to call in the competition by name, as each was to enter the field, and its colours unveiled. Two trumpeters would signal the arrival of the contestants and also each stage in the competition.

The first order of the day was an introduction to the assembled crowds of those sitting on the royal dais. Everyone recognized King Samson, at least from descriptions, but who was the lady sitting to his right, slightly more forward than the king himself, thus placing the king in a relationship of fealty to her? If most remembered King Harold for he had been at the forefront of the cleanup, most had forgotten Queen Annabelle. Her introduction as Queen of the Wolf Throne created a wave of stupefaction, especially those who had not been at the original cleanup. The second surprise was the introduction of the heir to the Wolf Throne and of his three brothers. Why was he the heir if he was quite apparently a baby in diapers, and not the oldest? As the introduction concluded with Dunbar, Williams and finally Mage Marlin, the level of whispering rose dramatically. Quite a few questions fused about the whereabouts of Prince Enron, the possible coupling of Samson and Annabelle, and the placement of a Grand Master of the Road and, even worse, a companion carpenter before a Master mage in the introduction order. Tongues sharper than butchers' knives were dissecting the entire process, to the amusement of the royals, who were having a lot of fun at the speculations.

Finally, Queen Annabelle stood, and the trumpets rang out, bringing order to the multitude. She invited with the hand King Samson to take the front and introduce the competitions.

"Ladies, gentlemen, nobles, bourgeois, and peasants, it is with great honour that the Throne of Nature offers this tourney for the enjoyment of our Liege⁴⁹⁴⁹ ("Liege Lord: The primary lord of a vassal who holds by <a href=\"http:\/\/www.aedificium.org\/Glossary.html#military%20tenure\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><span style=\"text-decoration: underline;\">military tenure<\/span><\/a>. The liege lord and vassal each have responsibilities to one another; the vassal must remain loyal to the liege lord above any other lords, while the liege is the vassal's principal protector. If a vassal holds land by such tenure from more than one lord, his or her liege lord is generally the one from whom he has held the longest. This definition is taken from <a href=\"http:\/\/www.aedificium.org\/Glossary.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><span style=\"text-decoration: underline;\">this site<\/span><\/a>.") Lords, the members of the Wolf Throne!"

The recognition of his vassal bond to the Wolf Throne stunned everyone to total silence. A fly would have made more noise.

"Queen Annabelle will give the signal to begin the festivities!"

Annabelle rose and, taking a white tissue, lifted her right hand at shoulder level. She waited thirty seconds for silence to set, and then she released it to the wind. As it delicately came to rest on the railing in front of her, the trumpets rang again and the competitors involved in Archery walked in to the beat of the legions' drums, taking their respective positions in the line leading to the firing row.

Four hundred archers were involved in the competition, which gave a depth of ten archers on the initial round. The order of firing for the first round had been selected at random from forty baskets containing ten numbers each. Harold would fire third in his row, while Enron would fire sixth. The two were in different rows, and would likely not know the others' score until later in the competition, if they made it both to the finals.

The competitors while good, where highly mismatched. The first row lost a third of its competitors at the initial range because none of their ten arrows even entered the outer edge of the bull's eye, which was a four-foot radius circle. The other rows of competitors did not fare any better, so by the end of round one, one hundred and thirty-three competitors were history. Both Enron and Harold scored perfect tens, which were recorded, in case there came a need to tabulate hits later in the competition.

The arrows removed, and replaced by new ones, the targets were moved to the one hundred and fifty yard mark. Another third of the marksmen were eliminated at that range, but, again, Enron and Harold scored perfect bulls eyes.

This left one hundred and thirty four competitors. The process was repeated at one hundred and seventy five yards. This was getting pretty close to the maximum range of a long bow, which is two hundred and fifty yards under the best conditions. Another fifty archers did not make the cut leaving eighty-four for the next distance, one hundred and eighty-five yards. An additional 44 did not make the target and were eliminated. Those left, which included Harold and Enron, sole survivors of their row, made up the cream of the cream of the Archery competition that day. Neither Enron nor Harold had missed a single shot so far, systematically letting their arrows slide effortlessly directly in the center of the bull's eye.

At one hundred and ninety-five yards, the trimming continued mercilessly, as another twenty did not make the cut to reach the two hundred and five yard mark. At that distance, the cut was radical, only five archers made the target, including Enron and Harold. All five made the distance to two hundred and fifteen yards, but as each additional yard was added thereafter, Enron and Harold's competition dwindled until, at two hundred and twenty yards, only they were left in the field!

As the targets were being readied for the two hundred and twenty one yard mark, Harold asked that it be moved further, to the two hundred and thirty yard line; this is allowed in this high level of competition to speed up the conclusion of a competition. Enron followed suit and requested the same range.

Both fired their ten arrows and made a perfect bull's eye at that distance, to the astonishment of the crowd! The next distance selected by Harold was the two hundred and thirty-five yards, exceeding the nominal maximum range of a long bow by fifteen yards already. Enron again followed suit, to the astonishment of Harold!

This time both Harold and Enron missed the bull's eye with three out of ten arrows. It was apparent from the arrows' placement in the target that Enron was closer to his maximum range as the arrows barely made it to the lower edge of the bull's eye. Harold too was reaching his limit, as his arrows were dropping slightly below center.

Harold looked at Enron who signed 'five' with his fingers. The targets were moved to an astonishing two hundred and forty yards! No one in the annals of Archery, had ever fired an arrow at that distance, much less hit anything!

The arrows flew, and Enron missed the target nine out of ten times. Harold did not do any better, but his arrow was dead center this time, whereas Enron barely made the edge of the outer ring of the bull's eye.

The announcement of who the last competitors were raised as much awe as their performance. The herald announced the results in these terms:

"Champion at the Archers' still target, King Harold of the Wolf Throne! Vice-champion at the still target, Prince Enron of Elvin Throne! The competition with mobile targets shall begin one hour after sext, to give competitors time to restore and refresh themselves!"

The announcement made sensation, and, as every member rushed to wash up, fetch something to drink or eat, the results were hotly discussed. Most discussed, through, were the performances of Enron and the King of the Throne Wolf.

King Samson was elated by the performance of his son at the archery range. Harold and Enron kept exchanging glances and smiles, as if there was a secret between the two. It finally caught the eye of Samson, who got suspicious.

"What are you two smiling so much about?" asked Samson. "I want a straight answer, right now!"

"Should we tell him?" asked Harold.

"I don't know I hate deflating dad's views of me!"

"What are you two talking about? Spill!"

"I'm sorry dad, but I think I cheated somewhat. King Harold lent me his strength, so I could compete with him. He told me he wanted to make sure no one ever dared defy me again for my rights."

"But you did shoot with your own eyes, Enron. I only gave you strength. Not precision, that was all yours. So, please, so not let yourself down for less than you really are. Given time, you will be an archer that will present a serious challenge to me!"

"It certainly reached its goal!" said Dunbar, as he walked into the royal tent from getting himself some food. "Everyone is ecstatic at Enron's performance, and he is the talk of the day. I am a bit surprised no one found it funny that a child could compete to the level of a man. But I guess that viewing too many miracles dulls critical sense!"

The afternoon archery competition, which was the movable target shot, cleared the field at a much faster rate than the static target of the morning had done. By one hundred seventy five yards, only Harold and Enron remained, and at one hundred eighty-five, the only one to score a hit was Harold.

The evening festivities included some acrobats and fire-eaters, gymnasts and other artists of the circus. Everyone was joyful and enjoying the afterglow of a good day.

The mage did a quick report on the results, but did not expand much, saying to the Order he would draw up a more exhaustive report once the competitions were finished.

***

The next day was Swordsmen's day, and the arrival on the field of Sitar and Harp was regarded as cause for immense hilarity. The competition again included four hundred competitors. This time, the attrition rate would be half per round, giving a maximum of eight rounds, as there were likely to be draws were both contestants would be left on the field.

Since there were twenty circles, forty combatants could battle at the same time. On average, the exchange lasted ten minutes, which meant that, two hours after prime, the first half of the combatants would have been weeded out. A break until tierce would let combatants refresh and get patched up, and the next round would proceed.

Sitar and Harp were in the same wave, but fought different opponents. Sitar quickly slipped between the legs of the dumbfounded attacker and disposed of him by sliding his blade across the back of the knees, effectively disabling the man.

Harp's opponent was not so lucky. He had ridiculed his diminutive opponent and this riled Harp considerably. As the man kept laughing and laughing, Harp lost it and dealt the man a hit that terminated his life, by sliding the rapier he was using in a rapid upward motion as he rolled on the sand, evading the mail and piercing the heart from below. The man fell backward eyes wide in shock and blood to his mouth. He was dead before touching the sand with his head.

The second round lasted less then an hour, and, again, Sitar and Harp passed to the next level. It was now one hour past tierce, and another hour break was given, so the next round would start an hour before sext.

This round, Sitar disposed of his opponent by breaking his left knee cap with a quick swing from the side of his blade, while Harp made the guy turn around so much as he tried to keep facing the running little devil he got disoriented. That was what Harp had been waiting for; the moment the man did not keep up, he struck behind the knees in two quick stabs and the man fell face down on the sand, unable to stand anymore.

By third round, the reputation of the two boys was spreading like wildfire, and the next opponents were a lot more cautious! Nonetheless, the two boys dispatched their opponent cleanly, this time changing tactics and literally bouncing up to stab their inner thighs as they tried to evade an attack from the rear that never materialized.

Sext brought a well-needed rest and food for all the contestants, including those still in condition to fight. Most showed the effects of one or more important shavings by blade, except the two boys, which seemed to be enjoying the whole affair immensely.

The next round started an hour after sext and the day was getting pretty warm. The men of arms were sweating profusely under their chainmaille, while the boys, wearing next to nothing, were still fresh. The sand was growing soggy from the blood and sandals were also proving a disadvantage, as quickly learned their opponents; while the barefoot boys still had traction both their opponents fell on their ass trying to evade the boys' pinpricks. Both opponents forfeited when they found a blade to their neck from behind, out of reach of theirs. A couple of opponents went at it with such ferocity both ended up dead, thus bringing the number of contestants down to twenty-four.

An hour later, round five found the last twenty-four combatants in really messy rings, which reeked of blood, and other less appetizing odours. This time Sitar hit his opponent with the side of his blade on the elbow, removing any strength in his arm, while Harp passed his rapier through his opponent's wrist.

Round six was expedited as quickly as the previous one; the boys used to their advantage the superior grip bare feet gave in the slush of blood and guts. Harp simply pushed his opponent on the ass and the man fell on his own blade, unable to keep his balance; Sitar tripped his and held him face down in the muck with his blade at his ear.

Round seven, at nones, again saw a couple of combatants send each other out of the competition, while Harp and Sitar, fresh as roses in the morning, ridiculed their opponents by dancing around them. Unable to even get near the boys, the two men forfeited.

Last round would pit Sitar and Harp against each other! Who would win? The crowd was hollering with enthusiasm and bets were running high on either boy.

After some refreshments and a quick cleanup, the boys returned to the arena to fight it off in the last engagement of the day.

The battle was ferocious, and the boys were evenly matched, even if they had some years in age difference. The blades moved at blinding speeds, and the boys used the entire arena to fight it out, jumping, sliding, rolling, paring with such grace the entire crowd grew breathless just watching them. The first engagement lasted ten minutes without any of the boys even being able to penetrate the other's defences. A ten-minute break was called, where the two combatants received encouragements and support from their supporters, and refreshments from the healers. The second and third engagements were no more conclusive than the first. Apparently, each boy anticipated the other's moves and countermoves to perfection and nothing could be gained. At this point, Harold and Samson called a halt to the fight and declared it a draw.

The crowd erupted in cheers at the announcement; those that had fought the boys, and survived, thanked their lucky star! No one in his right mind would ever write them off again! The fight between the two brothers was the talk of the evening, with everyone commenting on each and every move, as typical bleachers managers would do.

Vespers had arrived and the first comment Harp did after disposing of his breechcloth to take a well-deserved bath was "What do we eat for supper? I'm hungry!"

The Royal families retired to the cart after the supper for a well-deserved break from the crowd that wanted to express their admiration to the two boys.

***

The next morning saw the knights prepare for the day's activity. Again, four hundred knights were to be involved. The rules of engagements were simple: stay on your horse or be disqualified. This rule of engagement was different from the middle ages, where the battle would continue on the ground until one combatant could no longer fight. Nonetheless, the risks were enormous, even with all the armour the knights were wearing. Did you ever consider how high a horse is? And being ejected by a lance that could break and splinter in unpredictable ways was not a piece of cake either.

The first round started at prime, in the cooler, windier day that was dawning. The luck of the draw pitted Yamato against a huge seven-foot man that looked more like a walking mountain of steel than a knight. Archibald, Knight of the Realm, had never experienced defeat since his adoubement⁵⁰⁵⁰ ("Adoubement: the girding of the military belt, the most important element of a knighting ceremony.").

The two men rode towards each other, smashed their shield against each other at midcourse, and then proceeded to the end of the run to turn around. This would be the ritual of Recognition. The horns of engagement were blown from the kings' tribune, and the two men galloped at full speed towards each other. Both men stood up on their stirrups at the last moment, lowering their lance to hit the center of the shield of their opponent. Both lances broke and both men stayed on their horses; thus arose the need for a repeat engagement, and the process was renewed, minus the Recognition ritual.

At the third pass, the lance of Archibald broke again, for the third time, but Yamato's resisted, bent and then recoiled like a spring, lifting Sire Archibald right off his horse saddle and ejecting him backwards! Sire Archibald, for the first time in memory, tasted the blood of defeat, as he fell off his horse and landed badly on a leg, breaking it! Sire Archibald was brought to King Harold for mending with his healing sword. Even if Mitsuko did repair the leg and other bumps and bruises of the Knight, his self-confidence was severely shaken.

The luck of the draw placed Paschal as part of the last pair of the first round. He had a small round shield to the colours of King Samson, and a simple, light chainmaille to protect his body; his helmet was non-existent, because no one could find one small enough for him, so he had simply put a band of tissue around his head to prevent sweat from dripping in his eyes. No stirrups could be shortened enough for his size, so the boy simply had two leather straps tied to the side of the saddle.

His diminutive figure was almost invisible to see from the other end of the list, and the Knight first thought the horse had decided to come forward on his own. It was only when he saw the figure behind the shield that he recognized there was indeed a rider on the horse! When he passed Paschal for the Recognition ritual, he only saw a child, and was astounded. But then he remembered what he had witnessed the day before, and fear settled in! If that one was as terrible as the two he had seen fight it off, he was in for a very bad day indeed! He considered forfeiting, but decided that this would be even more dishonourable than losing to the child.

The first charge found both lances broken, and Paschal still in the saddle; the public marvelled at this, as they had expected the boy to take a beating. People never learn it seems.

The second pass saw the Knight ejected! But how could that be? The rumour mill began to flow again, and the words mage, sorcerer, and other far-fetched ideas began to roll around. The rumours got to Mage Marlin, which ran to the competition site from his cart, were he was still resting from his last contact with his Order. Unfortunately, he arrived too late to see much, since the customary hour-long break was in effect. All he could do was to listen to the awed reports of the eyewitnesses. Marlin decided to stay around and watch the butchery, as he called this, vowing to himself not to miss another opportunity of seeing the princes in action.

The second round began at tierce, again with Yamato and the winner of the second pair of the previous engagement going at each other. This time, Yamato won at first pass and retired for the next round. The rule for this was simple: Winner from odd pair met winner from even pair, in such a way that both had maximum rest between engagements.

The Mage was waiting for the last engagement, for he had learned it was where Paschal would again fight. This time, he watched King Harold use Mitsuko to heal the wounded, and had confirmation that this was indeed the Sword of Light.

Finally, Paschal, sitting on King Harold's destrier, moved into the list for his engagement. Marlin was appalled at the parsimony of protection compared to the heavily armoured knights, and the diminutive size of Paschal on the huge destrier. How could a child even be noticed by the stallion, much less get obeyed?

The Recognition ceremonial gave a tip as to what was going on to Marlin, as he saw, in his peripheral vision, a powerful spark as the Knight tried to knock Paschal off his horse, which would have forced forfeiture on Paschal's part. He began to focus in an effort to see beyond vision, at the field of magic.

The two horses came riding towards each other at full gallop, and suddenly, Marlin saw the bright, powerful halo of magic encircle both the horse and Paschal! The boy was collecting the force lines as he ran towards the Knight, and his kinetic mass was being multiplied a thousand times by the magical energy he was collecting from the field. The Knight might as well have charged a mountain cliff when his lance collided with the boy's shield! It splintered right to the guard, breaking his arm; meanwhile the boy's own lance bent but refused to break, collecting enough potential energy to eject the knight thirty feet behind his horse! So that was how the boy did it! He was an innate user of magic! A powerful user at that! Suddenly, the mage looked at the royals, and gasped! How could he have been so blind! There, all around them was the most powerful halo of magic he had ever seen in his two thousand years of existence. They were innate mages, mages so powerful they could hide their capacity if they so choose! And the baby was one of the most powerful of all, blinding white in the magic field! Who else was using magic? He looked at the nanny and saw her bright halo. A wolf was using magic! Then he saw Greywolf, and he too was doing so. In fact, every wolf was showing magic use at that very moment! And the dogs, even the pups! And the Queen, the Kings, the princes! Even the captain of the guard, Yamato, who was resting, was surrounded by a halo! Dunbar and Williams too! The mage decided to stay with the Royals for the rest of the day in order to further his study of them and their attitudes and behaviours.

The final round placed Yamato in opposition to Paschal. This would be interesting, thought the mage as the two took position for the first engagement. The Ceremony of recognition went as expected for those of non-magical capacity, but Marlin clearly saw the two magic fields recognize each other in a blinding flash that resonated in the Magic Space like thunder.

The first engagement resonated with such fury in Magic Space that the mage shivered at the power that was being expanded. The lances literally exploded into wood shrapnel that created a cloud around the shields of the two combatants. If the forces involved awed the casual observers, Marlin was terrified! The other engagements grew in intensity to the point that mage Marlin could no longer see the combatants and their destrier, but only white opaque halos enveloping them. It was no longer a confrontation by lance, but by pure magical field and shield! The Magic field resonated and convulsed at each collision, and Marlin felt he was riding a ship in a hurricane, yet sitting on bleachers!

Finally, after ten minutes of this, the horns called for a pause; King Harold and Samson agreed this had gone far enough and declared a draw, much to the relief of Marlin, who was greener at the gills than a rotten fish!

The day of competition drew to a close and everyone returned to get ready for the evening meal. Everyone? Not really. Marlin sat in the bleaches, encircled by his wolf escort, too shaken to even realize where he was, unable to stand and walk. By matins, the boys found the Mage, still stunned, sitting in the bleaches, and called for their dad to come with Mitsuko. There was not much that the blade could do, since the issue was psychological shock, nothing physical. The boys had the healers bring the mage to the magic field's focal point, and lay him down on the ground.

"The problem is shock, and the only real solution is to let magic heal him by placing him in a focalized magic field," explained Harold to the healers. "He will be safe with his escort here tonight."

***

The last day of competition, the melee, opened under cloudy skies, and the rules were simple: the last unit who had a member standing won. There were close to one thousand and four hundred combatants involved, including the royal guards of the Elves, and the first centurie of the Wolf Throne. Many spent the night negotiating alliances and establish strategies. A disproportion of forces involved became rapidly apparent, as the two kings' forced occupied one end of the engagement field and the rest occupied the other end.

"How will we deal with this?" enquired Samson, looking at the densely packed end of the field.

"You need not worry, Samson," explained Annabelle. "Use your guards to protect my rear and we will penetrate their defences using our classical arrow tactic. I am sure they have never confronted a centurie on the charge, pila down behind their shields. Once we have both reached the end of their depth, we will turn around and charge again. Just make sure your guards run in behind us! Let's just pray these assholes aren't stubborn enough to engage us on the return charge, because your kingdom will be losing a lot more fine fighters today!"

"If I knew who they selected to command them, maybe I could answer your question. I suspect some have not really digested their defeat, or that I have sworn fealty to your throne."

"Too bad for them, then. There will be another bloodbath!" laughed Annabelle.

The opposing force began walking into the field, in a disorganized manner, trying to occupy the center. The centurie walked in step, shields interlocked and pila sticking out in row after row, which gave the impression of a porcupine walking in step to the drums. At twenty paces, the drumbeat increased to a run and the centurie charged the already short-breathed contenders. Queen Annabelle, which occupied the center of the centurie, encouraged her troops to progress ever deeper into the ranks of her opponents. King Samson kept his guards right behind the centurie, protecting its rear with his unit. The centurie gradually slowed its charge as it penetrated deeper and deeper into the opposition, but finally it burst through the rear, having crossed the entire field to the opposing camp! The assault had left a considerable swath of broken and bleeding bodies on the opposing side, while Samson's guards had suffered the most on the royals' side, as the contenders tried to close in on the rear of the legionnaires.

The legion split in half by the middle letting Samson's troops pass through and regroup. As soon as the last was past, the legion closed back did an about face and charged again, totally taking by surprise the contenders! Their rear guard, which had not yet recovered from the shock of the first assault, collapsed immediately and was overrun without much ado. Meanwhile, King Samson had regrouped his forces and came charging in behind the legionnaires, effectively hammering those foolish enough to stand between his forces and the rear of the legion. It took five passes in all for the commander of the contenders to lower his colours, thus terminating the melee.

The mage had watched from the sidelines, and saw no apparent use of magic; quite evidently, superior discipline and tactics had won the day for the Royals. As he accompanied Harold in his tour of the wounded, he found out that the number of wounded on the royal side was minimal, amounting to about ten elves! On the other hand, the opposing party had lost three out of four men! The number of broken legs, arms, and chests was astounding. It took the entire afternoon for Harold to do the rounds, but, finally, the number of losses was minimal amounting to less than thirty dead, a minor cost considering the amplitude of the melee.

Suddenly he looked at the pila that were being stored by the legionnaires. None were broken. None! This just did not make sense. Then the morning played back in his mind. The engagement had started very classically, but why did it not degenerate into the usual swordfights so typical of melees? Then Marlin thought back about what he had observed in the royal guards of King Samson. Something was not right! There should have been a lot more blade wounds! But what was the nature of the wounds suffered by the guards? Mostly twisted ankles due to the uneven ground, and a couple of bloody noses due to elves colliding with each other while running! Not a single knife, sword or other wound! There had been use of magic, on a vast scale that effectively had protected the royals! Yet it had been used so subtly that he had not detected it, even if he was looking for it!

Mage Marlin retired for a while to clean up and refresh for the upcoming supper and ball. This time he wanted to see the wolves dance!

***

«Grand Master, this is Marlin, ready to report!»

«Report. What has kept you silent?»

«I have lots to tell. I went into magic shock, and it was the princes that helped me recover.»

«You are lucky! We all felt powerful waves of magic, shock after shock. Do you have any idea of the cause? We have yet to establish where it originated, and what caused it.»

«It originated here. Prince Paschal and Centurion Captain of the Cavalry Guards Yamato engaged in joust, using magic. The impact of the colliding forces was such I felt sick. Prince Paschal is only ten, maybe eleven, but he used magic of such magnitude and power I feel like a newborn. So do all the royals, for that matter. What you felt were the impacts.»

«Is that all the magic you have seen used?»

«Isn't it enough? But no, there is a lot more! I used mage sight to look at them: all, and I mean all, are powerful, including the wolves and the dogs! I saw use of magic on such a vast scale but applied with such delicacy I could not detect its application immediately, but only after looking at the results!»

«What are their plans?»

«I have no idea. The only thing I know is from talking to the members of the caravan. They plan to go westward later.»

«I see. Thank you for your information. Do what you think is best for the light!»