The thunderous cries and stomping feet of the spectators shook the rafters of the old arena. Rheyn watched as a trickle of dust float through the air before settling on the dark mane of her steed. Argento, the six year old Echasian stallion shook his head and brayed in irritation.
“Easy fella,” Rheyn whispered as she patted his neck with a gauntleted hand. “We’re both eager to get started.
Rheyn’s stomach somersaulted as she waited for her turn to enter the arena floor. The nervousness spread throughout her body and left her unsteady. Once the overwhelming force of a static-electro lance slammed into her chest, sucking air from her body, Rheyn will be okay. However, that first hit always took forever.
To distract her mind, she did a systems check via internal display of her visor. Each command followed her eye movements and clicks of tongue. Her lance charged; bio-systems read normal, and armor plating intact. All systems green. Rheyn took a slow deep breath and ticked off the passing time. She ran another diagnostic test when the announcer called her name.
“Facing off with the lord, Sir Gregory Sheldon glen’Lovalett, is her ladyship, the Lady Rheyn Ignazio glen’Sola of the Echasian Highlanders!”
“Showtime, my lady,” a gruff voice cracked over her helmet com.
“Now or never,” Rheyn breathed, as she switched the visual display to a combat configuration.
Strike zones appeared over her opponent's form, showing high value areas, low value areas, and forbidden zones.
“Major, are you sure this guy’s gonna be easy?” Rheyn said.
Major Wayne Higuera, captain of Rheyn’s personal guard and crew chief of the Echasian Highlanders Tournament Company grunted in replay.
“Don’t worry, my lady,” Higuera said, “Stay on your horse, strike hard, fast, and on point. You cannot be defeated.”
“That’s what you said the last time, Major,” Rheyn said, “And I landed on my back three times.”
Not waiting for a reply, Rheyn prodded Argento forward as the crowd erupted at her appearance. She muted the sound as it interfered with her concentration and switched any communications to visual text display. Unlike her opponent, Rheyn never took off her helmet and showed her face only after the joust. She watched Sir Gregory wave to the crowd paying special attention to those with the green-gold-white banners of the Glen Lovalett.
She looked up into the seated throng. There was no hint of cardinal and gold among the waving banners. Rheyn chuckled. The Echasian Highlanders were not well known away from their home sector and the Solheim star system. Glen Sola was a minor great house with little power and prestige. But that didn’t bother Rheyn, she was here for the money anyway.
The reckless stewardship of step-father had left the Household cash poor while holding one of the most pristine untouched natural worlds in the Union. Although confirmed as the lord-elect of Solheim, she still had a couple years to go before she could assume her title as the Countess of Echasia. In the meantime, her step-father ruled as Lord Protector and Rheyn competed in Tournaments across the Union. She needed to raise much needed funds for her House, her people, and herself.
“Are you ready, my lady?” Higuera asked, interrupting Rheyn’s train of thought.
“Yes…yes,” Rheyn uttered, bringing herself back to the moment and the task at hand.
She reached out to her weapons specialist who helped place the ten-foot-long lance in position. As it snapped into the slot, Rheyn activated the electrical generator and waited until the low vibrating hum of deadly electrical current come to full power.
“I’m ready, Major,” Rheyn said as he moved Argento to her side of the list. “Light him up.”
Besides serving as crew chief, Major Higuera was also the senior strategist for the Tournament company. On Rheyn’s display, he showed the best placement to aim her lance and score the maximum points. There was one place a combatant could strike, the checker patterned heraldic shield bolted to the reinforced pauldron and chestplate of the opposite shoulder that held the lance.
Rheyn's shield displayed a large golden-yellow chevron surrounded by a trio of suns as mobile charges on a field of cardinal red. Her opponent's shield sported a thick bordure of green and gold with green triple chevrons on a field of white.
The strategy was in the control and discipline of the horsemanship, the accuracy of the strike, and how much force one could absorb from the opponent’s strike.
Rheyn took slow, deep breathes, and concentrated on her striking points. They were all in situated around the center left position of the grid--inner most of her opponent. That meant she and Argento would have to move quick to cause Sir Gregory’s strikes to glance or miss her completely.
“Remember Rheyn,” Higuera cautioned, “Strike hard, fast, and accurate…if we can get him in the first half, the second half will be a cake walk.”
“I know,” Rheyn said as she received the signal to move into position and ready for a pass. “Four quick strikes and then let Argento do the work in the second half.”
Argento ears twitched at the interchange. He listened through his own commlink. The stallion brayed and stomped a foot in acknowledgment.
“See, we both know what we’re supposed to do,” Rheyn said before turning serious. “Game time.”
Rheyn tightened her grip on the lance and at the signal, horse and rider took off at full gallop. Each breath was in rhythm with Argento’s gallop as they raced down the list. The only thing she saw was the green, gold, and white of Sir Gregory’s shield that bore her holographic strike pattern.
The collision was felt before it was heard. Sounds of thunder accompanied a shower of sparks that burst high in the air. Shards of wood and coils of copper wiring flew in all directions from both combatants, creating a dazzling shower wood and fireworks for the crowd to enjoy.
Rheyn grimaced at the pain in her neck. Her helmet seemed off kilter that made her wonder if Sir Gregory struck her in the head. She hissed and opened her eyes to see the combat results on her visor display. Sir Gregory’s lance broke on her helmet while he took her strike full on in the spot she’d been aiming for. She smiled as he was being helped back on his horse.
“Serves, him right, that bastard,” Rheyn said aloud this time.
“I always said you had a hard head, my lady,” Higuera replied with a rumbling chuckle.
“It’s not funny,” Rheyn said, struggling to keep the pout from her voice.
She nudged Argento with her knees and hurried back to her side. A fresh lance and an armorer stood by to fix her helmet and the attached gorget. If it weren’t for the massive neck guard, the three thousand pounds of force created by a charging horse and a knight would have took her head clean off.
She snapped her fingers and motioning to her attendants to hurry.
“At least I knocked the bastard down,” Rheyn said, “Ten points for me and negative five for Sir Gregory.”
“Aye,” Higuera said as he fed her information for her second pass. “Alright, my lady, once again, the same spot, I think we found a weak spot.”
“Right,” Rheyn said, as she lined up for a second pass, “Down you go, little man.”
At the go signal, Argento once again took off like a rocket and streaked down the list. Rheyn moved with him, closing her eyes at the last minute as her lance it struck home.
This time, there was a tug in her shoulder muscles. Battle results showed that Sir Gregory made a glancing blow on her gridded grand guard to score a point, while she placed him on his back for a second time.
Rheyn dared a smile, knowing Higuera was watching her and he disapproved of showing any excitement during a competition. The pair trotted back to their side, both elated over their respective performances and sporting a health lead of over twenty points.
“Wipe that smile off your face, my lady, this is no time to mess around.” Higuera’s said.
“Aww, come on, Major,” Rheyn said, “This guy’s a creampuff. He barely touched me this time and I put his ass in the dirt for striking me in the head.”
“Don’t you dare think this is over by any means,” Higuera barked, “You have six more passes to go and anything could happen.”
Rheyn brooded as Argento pawed the ground and whinnied as attendants brought him some water and Rheyn another lance.
The Major was right, Rheyn thought. While she was in the lead with a large margin, nothing could be certain, not at least until the half way point. The next pass results could be her ass on the ground. Rheyn smirked. She liked her ass right where it was and where it belonged, atop her mighty steed, Sir Argento.
“Right, ready for another pass?” Rheyn said to her mount who yo-yoed his head to give an affirmative. “Let’s do it.”
As will all Tournament jousts, each successive pass was quicker than the later. As knights and horses settled down, became comfortable on the list, each opponent quickened their pace and increased speed. A Tournament horse is bred to move fast down the list. The Echasian breed like Argento, were of a rare bloodline that produced stock of superior pace. Rheyn and her team relied upon that speed to serve as an advantage for there were few other mounts that could move as fast and maintain their agility.
The third pass resulted in Rheyn breaking her lance and Sir Gregory striking her head once again. It gave Rheyn another five points to add to her lead and causing Sir Gregory to gain another negative score. Bio-sensors sounded an alarm as the second blow to her head registered signs of trauma. Concussions and complete loss of consciousness was commonplace and one danger of Tournament combat. Rheyn had her fair share of them.
“The bastard knows he can’t beat me and is aiming for my head instead,” Rheyn said, biting back her temper.
Higuera grunted before speaking. “I know. I had a chat with the marshals. They are issuing a warning. The next head shot will cause disqualification.”
“I don’t want to win on a disqualification!” Rheyn shot back.
“Then I suggest you learn to duck, my lady, because the bloody glenlord is looking to take your head off for knocking him down,” Higuera said.
Rheyn grunted in reply and moved into position for the last pass of the first half. She watched Sir Gregory’s lance, seeking to adjust her position to prevent from being struck in the head again. She had no memory of what came next. When she opened her eyes, all she could see was the bright starry-night of the open air stadium. She sighed, expelling a loud breath. Her body ached in forty-seven places and her shoulder cried out in pain.
Faces appeared over her, one she recognized as Major Higuera. She gave him a wry smile and saw him frown in concerned worry and displeasure. They were saying something, but it didn’t register. Then, they picked her up and carried her off to her pavilion.
Her valet undressed her, guided her into the misty pool of hot water and pentavera. The healing potion washed away the filth, grime, and pain, leaving her skin to tingle. With her hearing restored, Rheyn exhaled and sank lower, allowing the soothing bath to wash away her embarrassment.
A fanfare soon announced the second half of the joust. Refreshed, hydrated, and armor repaired, Rheyn was ready to resume her competition. She climbed on her horse and patted his huge neck as he brayed in response.
“Our boy is ready,” Higuera said as he helped Rheyn onto her the stallion. “He had to be forcibly separated from Sir Gregory’s mare.”
“I see,” Rheyn said as he snapped her helmet in place before holding out her hand for the lance. “I’m sure Argento is ready to put things to bed as much as I am.”
The result of the last pass of the first half tempered Rheyn’s confidence. As they approach the list for the second round of combat there were no smiles. Four more passes and they would leave the field victorious and with much-needed cash in their pockets.
Rheyn was tiring of living from competition to competition, just keeping up with expenses. Poor performances dominated the last tournaments Rheyn’s tournament company had entered. They were long overdue for a victory, Rheyn thought. Perhaps today would be their lucky day.
“Alright, my lady,” Higuera said over the comlink, “Just stay on the horse, that’s all you have to do, and we should be able to take home the prize.”
The prize was a crimsonite inlaid gold trophy and a million crowns. Rheyn preferred the money over the trophy which she would melt it down to cash in the crimsonite. The valuable organic ore had much greater uses than spend its time being on a trophy. Impresarios rose and fell on how much crimsonite they could harvest.
“I know, Major,” Rheyn said as he concentrated on the combat situation report on her heads up display. “Little Georgie’s gonna fall…”
“Whether he falls or not, my lady, you better watch yourself.” Higuera admonished.
Rheyn grunted, tuned out any further communication, and gazed down the list to Sir Gregory. She focused on the holographic bullseye that her combat systems painted on his gridded shield. At the signal, both competitors thundered down the list and their lances slammed into the targets. And both knights stayed on their horses.
“Negative points,” Higuera said.
Rheyn could hear the irritation in Higuera’s voice and sucked her teeth. The battle result showed that she’d struck Sir Gregory in the head while his lance once again scored a hit on her shield.
“He hit me in the head,” Rheyn complained, “At least I got him back for that.”
Higuera growled low in Rheyn’s comlink as she received another lance. The second round of competition also increased level of power of the lances and made them heavier than the ones used in the first round. As a result, Rheyn sometimes dipped her lance to low, or overcompensating for the weight and raising the lance to high. The later was the case on this pass.
“Your lance is looking a little limp, my lady,” Higuera said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rheyn said in response and prepared for the sixth pass.
Determined to get a score, Rheyn picked her spot and grunted, lifting the heavier lance into position. To add to her grief, Argento was stomping and jerking on the reigns, and she had a hard time keeping him under control.
“Easy, big boy,” Rheyn soothed and dropped the reigns free before tightening her grip on the lance.
Her stance was unsteady as she and Argento thundered down the list. While she was sure she hit her mark, she knew that Sir Gregory had hit his too—if he intended to spear her through the ribs. The protective armor that each knight wore did well to disperse the electrical charge emitting from the cornel of the lance, but it did little to absorb the force creating by a Tournament bred horse and a thirty-pound lance.
Sucking air and holding her side, Rheyn held on to the reigns as she trotted back to her side. She struggled to inhale and exhale much less talk as medics came to her aide.
“I’m…okay,” she hissed in reaction to pain injection.
She emitted a groan as the combat results showed another negative scoring. Her own mistakes were whittling away her lead. If it weren't for the meager scoring of Sir Gregory, Rheyn would be more concerned than she is now. The only thing on her mind now is to finish on her horse and with her pride intact.
“You can’t sustain hits like that, my lady,” Higuera said.
Higuera appeared in front of her vision plate taking a visual assessment of her person. She bristled at the personal attention and waved him away.
“I’m okay, really, I’m okay,” she said, trying to move away from him. “Two more passes and we’re done.”
Higuera grabbed the reigns and turned her helmet towards him, causing Rheyn to look him in the eye.
“Listen Rheyn,” He said. His tone serious and without anger. “Stay on your horse. That’s all you have to do…and break a damn lance!”
Brake a lance, Rheyn thought as an attendant helped her with another one. She had been breaking lances. The only difference is that the last two were fouls. They didn’t count. Rheyn ignored the pain, the irritation, and everything that broke her concentration, Rheyn geared up for two more passes. Major Higuera was right. All she had to do was stay on her horse. While she lost ten points from the last two passes, she still held a sixteen-point lead. Sir Gregory would have to knock her down twice to carry the day.
“Fat chance,” she said aloud and moved into position to charge.
As with the previous passes, the competing knights and their mounts charge forward. Clods of dirt and sand kicked up as they thundered down the list. Streaking for another head on collision. Rheyn had a much firmer grip than her earlier passes and the results bore with a shattered lance and a tremendous display of sparks for the crowd. Sir Gregory wasn’t so fortunate as his lance made contact to score another single point.
“Ha!” Rheyn cried out, wincing as she threw what remained of her lance to a weapons specialist. “I think rattled his mare.”
She patted the massive neck of the stallion to show her appreciation. Argento brayed and yo-yoed his head.
“Be as that may, my lady,” Higuera said as he reviewed the previous charge, “There is still one more pass and you don’t want to end it flat on your back.”
As Rheyn moved towards the list she sat up straight in the saddle and saluted the herald, the judges and Sir Gregory as is required on the last pass of the competition. The victor was not in doubt as Rheyn held a comfortable lead, but she did not want to end up on her back and endeavored to make sure that Sir Gregory would not get in the last shot.
“Do not worry, Major,” said before the trumpet sounded for the charge, “I shall endeavor to put the glenlord flat on his ass.”
It would take every ounce of concentration and skill to hit her opponent just right at this late in the contest. By now, the horses would have gotten used to the speed and constant pounding and force of the electro lances would have taken its toll. Rheyn checked her own physical status, she tried not to let the throbbing pain in her ribs affect her.
“One more pass, Argento,” Rheyn said to her partner-stallion, “One more pass and I’ll let you have that mare.”
A responding bray said that the stallion thought it was his prize and just due. Rheyn knew he would dominate her as she dominated the mare’s rider.
At the sound of the charge, Rheyn leaned forward in the saddle and held a tight grip on her lance as it crackled and sparked before making a direct hit on Sir Gregory’s shield and shattering into a shower of sparks and wood.
The crowd, having warmed up to Rheyn’s performance and chanted her name and put away their Glen Lovalett banners. She smiled and raised her hand in acknowledgement and had Argento make take a victory lap around the arena. Here and there, she spotted the cardinal-gold checker banner of her homeland, stopped in front of them to allow Argento his own victory celebration.
After the spontaneous victory lap, Rheyn rode over to the center of the arena and presented herself to the glenlord whom sponsored the event. She awarded Rheyn the champion laurels and a flowered wreath to Argento. The money prize would be deposited into her account, at least Rheyn hoped it did. Sometimes, these regional tournaments had a habit of withholding payment while they scrapped together the cash.
“So…you survived.” Higuera said when Rheyn returned to her camp.
“Yes, I did,” Rheyn responded as she slid down off her horse before the groomsman took him away to cool down.
“And the money?” Higuera asked.
“There was a promise of payment,” Rheyn said.
She removed her helmet and ran a hand over her tightly braided corn-rolls, flinging sweat in it's wake. Rheyn wrinkled her nose as the scent of sweat, horse, and dirt drifted up. Tired and sore, Rheyn headed for a much needed a bath.
“Let us hope that Lady glen’Kales has enough in her treasury to keep her promises.”
“Mmmhmm,” Higuera said as he held Rheyn out of her armor, revealing her gossteel skinsuit. “And if there is no record of payment?”
Rheyn shrugged into a tunic before replying. Thinking of the many ways get back at the old crone if she didn’t pay.
“Well, we’ll forget to deliver the stud and mares she ordered from our farm, and keep her payment as services rendered.”
Higuera chuckled and shook his head. “That woman has been after one of our stock for years. She’ll be livid.”
Rheyn turned around and flashed hot eyes at her bodyguard and armsman.
“Echasian horses are not something to be owned or shown off as some piece of art or a trophy. These are trained athletes bred to fight and compete in the Tournament!”
Knowing that the he wasn’t the cause of her wrath, she turned and marched off, casting off pieces of her protective gear as she went along, leaving her attendants scrambling to clean up after her.
“If I had it my way, no one could own an Echasian breed without an active Tournament Order or fighting company,” Rheyn said.
“But it’s not up to you yet, isn’t it, my lady?” Higuera said.
At that Rheyn stopped and turn around. The wear and tear of the day showed on her face and he could tell that her ribs were causing her great pain. She shook her head in resignation and what Higuera might have thought defeat if he didn’t know her so well.
“And that, my dear Major, is the problem.”