Chapter 1943: The Contest of the Lance

When Reynold rode out of the stables astride Star Chaser with his lance held high, the crowds erupted in cheers and applause.

"Lord Reynold!"

"The Lark of Aleese!"

"The Meadow Lark!"

His brightly polished armor shone like mirrors under the shifting, colorful streamers of light above, and his personal crest, the Meadow Lark bearing a lance, stood out plainly against the sage green of his tabard.

For this contest, Star Chaser dressed to match his lord with a brightly polished steel faceplate that covered his signature blaze, along with shining, articulated plates of armor that covered the destrier stallion’s powerful neck. Under the saddle, Star Chaser wore a sage green caparison to match Reynold’s tabard. And, just like the tabard, the caparison was emblazoned with the Meadow Lark and lance, leaving no doubt to those watching as to the identity of the knight beneath his great helm.

"Win for us, Lord Reynold!" someone on the hillside shouted, their voice sounding faint and muffled by the layers of his arming cap, chainmail coif, and the steel plates of his helm. "Win for us and prove we can still beat the demons!"

Whether anyone corrected the man in the crowd for calling the Eldritch ’demons’ or not, Reynold couldn’t say. The shouts of the crowd were a distraction, and as he rode towards Empress Ashlynn at the stone platform, he let them fall away. Few voices mattered now. Erling’s loss didn’t matter, and neither did Aspakos’s upcoming match.

All that mattered was the opponent ahead of him and the narrow view of the world he could see through the slits in his visor.

That world had changed in the time it took for him to make his preparations.

The Frozen Forest had vanished as if it had never been there in the first place. In its place, a long wall of ice, tall enough to reach the shoulders of a warhorse, ran most of the length of the field at the center of the race-track.

The wall of ice wasn’t a smooth, polished thing; rather, it looked like a hedge made of ice, as if it had grown there and been shaped meticulously by the shears of gardeners. Along its length, countless small ’berries’ of ice glowed with a color-shifting radiance that matched the streamers of light above.

The area around the track had changed as well. While the Frozen Forest had vanished, the track was now ringed with thin, spindly trees made of ice, resembling birch, aspen or alder trees. The crowns of those trees looked stunted and barren, as befitted winter, but each and every one of them had a long branch that extended out over the race track.

While Reynold nudged Star Chaser toward the stone platform where the Evergreen Empress awaited him, another figure emerged from the Imperial Box, clopping down the hillside in his own brilliant, polished armor.

There were no crests to mark Taghai’s allegiance, nor decorative elements to the practical, lacquered armor he wore. He’d added a strange helm to the outfit, one with slits that accommodated his long, bronze-tipped horns and relied on sweeping guards at the cheek rather than a single steel faceplate.

Looking at the structure of his helm, his visibility would likely be better, but the protection it offered would be much worse. It was if he had no fear of splinters or broken lances. Or perhaps he prized his vision so greatly that he was unwilling to compromise it to improve his own safety.

It wasn’t hard to see where that confidence came from. Lord Dirar and Khorijin both looked small next to the towering bulk of the champion from the Long Horn clan, and even Star Chaser felt like a pony next to a warhorse when Taghai drew close enough to fall in beside Reynold.

"Have you said your last goodbyes, little man?" Taghai asked. He spoke the king’s common tongue with a heavy accent, and his words sounded like they’d been rehearsed several times, just for this moment, but Reynold refused to let the simple taunt pierce the armor around his heart.

"No, I haven’t," Reynold replied smoothly. "Goodbye, Taghai," he said, smiling behind his visor. "You’ll be missed when Lord Iriso puts you to work hauling carts in his granite quarries. If there’s ever a real battle to fight, I’ll be sure to write to you to let you know how it ended."

Reynold wasn’t certain that Taghai knew enough of the king’s common tongue to understand the insult he’d been given, but from the way his opponent’s nostrils flared and his cloven hoof stomped on the frozen ground, Reynold suspected enough of it had been understood to make the point land.

"Gentlemen," Ashlynn said, doing her best to keep her expression neutral in the face of Reynold’s taunting. "Tonight, your contest is simple. Two things determine a victor in the joust. Accuracy and power," she said, gesturing to Hauke behind her.

"These shields are formed of Eternal Ice," Hauke explained as he stepped forward, presenting a heater shield to each of the men. While the straps of the shield were ordinary leather with metal buckles, the shield itself was made from a single piece of ice, broad at the top and tapered toward the bottom.

Embedded in each shield was a glittering, hooked rune that held no meaning to Reynold but seemed to please Taghai when the long-horned warrior noticed it.

"Shatter your opponent’s shield and preserve your own and you’ll be declared the victor," Ashlynn explained. "Strike your opponent solidly enough that he can no longer continue in another round, and you likewise win the contest."

"This alone would be enough to test your accuracy and your power, but a fair contest demands more," Ashlynn continued, gesturing at the trees around the race track.

Beside her, Heila held up a wreath made of ice, glittering with glowing ’ice berries’ that lit up the leaves and branches of the wreath. The wreath was large enough for a man to wear as a crown, but small enough that it would be difficult to thread the tip of a lance through without extraordinary accuracy.

"Each wreath contains a small portion of my power," Ashlynn explained, taking the wreath from Heila and holding it up for everyone to see. "The more you collect, the swifter you may run and the more powerful your lance will become."

"Each of you will begin at opposite ends of the track," Ashlynn said. "Race halfway around and collect as many wreaths as you can with your lance. Then, when you reach the tilting-barrier at the opposite end from where you started, turn and charge your opponent."

"If we cannot determine a victor in a single clash," Ashlynn added. "We’ll go again until we either have a clean victory or one of you can no longer continue. Do you have any questions, gentlemen?"

"Only one," Taghai said. "Do I have to hit his shield with this stick?" Taghai asked, holding up the lance in his right hand. "Or can I aim for his head? I would see the whole line of his family die tonight!"

"You’re welcome to try," Reynold said, smiling broadly behind his visor. "But if you do, don’t blame me for doing the same."

"It’s your contest and your feud to settle," Ashlynn said with a sigh. "Take your positions, and on my signal, charge."