Tom Lloyd - The stormcaller

Isak let his eyes drift over the crowd. High in the far stand he saw the Devoted major, sitting alone and scrutinising the royal box. When Isak met his eye, the man nodded slowly and deliberately and though Isak made no gesture back, the major appeared satisfied, for he rose, wrapped his plain brown cloak about his body, and quietly departed.

A cheer broke from the crowd as the king's herald stood. Vesna pushed himself to his feet and strode purposefully towards his horse. He ran a hand over the horse's jousting armour, tugging at straps and the saddle until he was satisfied that all was in order.

Resting his arms on the worn saddle, he looked down the jousting fence to where the Sunbee was being helped to his feet. Once upright, the cocky youth took a turn before the public stand, waving to an adoring public with Tila's scarf fluttering from his arm. Vesna looked down at his own favour, touching the red silk, then looked to the royal box, where he locked eyes with Tila. Her steady gaze told Vesna that she'd been given no choice, and he accepted that – but he still intended to teach the boy a lesson.

Once he was in the saddle, Vesna's eyes didn't leave the golden knight for an instant. The first pass decided nothing. Both lances glanced off their targets without troubling the riders. On the second, the Sunbee came close to unseating his opponent as his lance exploded in a shower of splinters on Vesna's shield. The count was rocked back in his seat, but he had years of experience behind him and managed to keep his seat – although he was pretty sure that if they had not been using tourney lances, Vesna would have found himself lying in the mud with a shattered shoulder.

As the Kingsguard champion waited for a second lance, Vesna studied the ground carefully and carefully guided his horse a little further away from the rough fence separating the clashing riders. The Sunbee took a moment to collect a few last cheers from the gallery behind and then snatched his lance from the air as his page tossed it up.

Vesna smiled. The boy was undeniably good, but he was careless when it came to watching his opponent. In a contest of narrow margins, victory was in the details. His horse responded perfectly to his touch, sprinting forward to close the ground faster than normal, and the younger man wasn't able to react in time. Vesna felt only a glancing impact on his shield as he watched the padded tip of his own lance slam squarely into the Sunbee's midriff.

Screams and cheers erupted all around as the Kingsguard champion was catapulted over his horse's rump. The pandemonium made Isak reach for his sword, even as he rose to cheer the victory. The foreigner might have triumphed, but still the people gave him thunderous applause. Raising his lance high above his head, Vesna turned and

saluted each section of the crowd individually before trotting to the centre of the arena and formally saluting Isak and the king.

That done, Vesna dismounted and hurried over to where his opponent was lying flat on his back. The king's doctor was kneeling at the man's side, but as the count reached them he took the ashen-faced Sunbee by the elbow and gently helped him up. His wrist was broken and his pride bruised quite as much as his stomach, but he had the good grace to shakily offer the white scarf Tila had given him.

Vesna laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder, his black mood dispersed. 'Don't worry, boy, you'll mend soon enough,' he said cheerily. 'It'll remind you to pay more attention to your opponent next time.' He turned his attention back to the adoring crowd, who seemed completely indifferent to the fact that their own champion had been humbled, and by a foreigner at that. Even the noblemen and the well-to-do townsfolk clapped and threw flowers at Vesna's feet.

They only began to quieten when the king's herald rose from his seat. Isak noticed the White Circle looked unmoved by the swell of sentiment. Sitting at their heart, Herolen Jex was eyeing the Parian hero intently.

'Your Majesty, my Lords, Ladies, gentlefolk,' cried the king's herald, rising from his seat, but he was cut off by the king, who touched the man on the shoulder. He jerked around in surprise as the king gestured for him to sit.

King Emin moved forward and began, 'My fellow citizens of Nar-kang,' pausing as a fresh cheer came from the public gallery, for the king was well loved by the common folk; for the prosperity he'd brought to the city and the pride he'd given them in it and themselves. Narkang had been little more than a town when Emin Tho-nal took control – and now the Krann of the Farlan, the Chosen of Nartis, came begging for their friendship. It was easy to cheer the handsome king whose genius had been proven on the battlefield, a man who never shirked the danger of his own bold schemes.

The king looked around at his subjects, basking in their enthusiasm for a few more seconds before raising a hand to calm them. 'Since this Parian rogue has badly inconvenienced my purse, I do not find myself much inclined to let him catch his breath. There is an extant matter of honour between Count Vesna and Herolen Jex – it will be decided here and now by knightly combat.'

All heads turned to the opposite stand, where Herolen Jex was lounging in his seat, sipping from a tall silver goblet. He made no reply, but watched Vesna as he collected his blade from a page and strapped it on. The count remounted and stood ready.

'I thought the melee was still to come,' Jex replied at last, pausing for long enough to make it insulting before adding, 'your Majesty.' His voice was deep; more measured than Isak had expected from a pirate. A sharp intake of breath ran around the pavilion.

'It was, Master Jex, but I have changed my mind. I believe I have that right since I am king and this is my kingdom.' His voice had become significantly sterner.

All about the arena people gripped their seats and looked anxiously at the Kingsguard below, but the soldiers didn't move. Jex appeared to consider the king's words, then shrugged and tossed his goblet away. Standing, he let his cape fall back to a flash of fantastic colours as the sun hit his armour. The cuirass, shoulder plates and mail had been etched into a pattern of scales that glittered blue and green in the sun; it looked like a reptilian second skin, as arresting and ornate in its own way as the Sunbee's dazzling gold-plate. The pirate straightened his sword-belt and then raised his helm to place it on his head. 'In that case, your Majesty, I think I will amend that small detail.' Jex gave a dismissive flick of his hand and a woman screamed on his right.

Out of the corner of one eye Isak caught sight of a man levelling a crossbow. As the assassin fired, Mihn dived in front of his lord with his shield raised, while Coran, moving even faster, brought up a large rectangular shield from behind the throne. His huge arm shuddered as a pair of loud thwacks echoed out.

Isak watched the moment of realisation on Coran's face as he focused on the steel bolts in front of him; one was only a whisker from his eye, having almost passed clean through the steel plate. There was a moment of perfect silence, then chaos erupted everywhere.

Eolis leapt joyfully into the sunlight. As Isak pulled on his helm he felt a growl rumble up from his gut. Now was the time for bloody murder. He cast off his humanity and replaced it with a cold silver face. Magic ripped through the air from all sides as people scattered and ran or drew weapons. Bursts of light flared around the royal box as Emin's mages defended them, giving them time to retreat – but already Isak was preparing to attack: his fingertips were prickling with rushing energies.

Through the thin eyeholes of his helm, Isak could see people mov-

ing like leaves in the wind. He sensed where the first attack would come from, even before the man rose from nowhere to swat aside the nearest Kingsguard with a mace. The bulky mercenary laughed as the soldier crashed down and, wiping the blood from his face, he raised his weapon high to call his men to him. Isak leaped over the rail separating them and on to the lower platform where the mercenary stood triumphant. He stabbed Eolis down into the man's throat, then kicked the corpse away and waited for the next man to come at him.