Sir Rowan and the Camerian Conquest Read Free

TOURNAMENTS
     
    Steely blue eyes glared from behind ringlets of sweat-soaked sandy hair. Rowan gripped his sword tightly as the fight paused just long enough for the two combatants to reset their positions and their minds. The riotous roar of the crowd, previously lost in the rush of battle, engulfed them once more in endless concussions of cheers and chants. The two men stepped slowly in a clockwise motion, anticipating their next engagement.
    This fight this day was everything for Rowan. After eighteen months of tournament victories, he had finally been allowed to compete at the grand Laos tournament. Sir Tarrington was the undisputed champion of Laos, the third largest city in Cameria. If by some miracle Rowan could defeat him, his ranking among tournament fighters would escalate. This would mean regional recognition by the Camerian Tournament Council.
    Cameria had elevated the tournament events to a kingdomwide competition that transcended the games of Thecia and rivaled the bloody events of the old days. After the five major cities of Cameria united and battled to bring an end to Sir Adophal’s reign of terror in the southern kingdom, an era of prosperity, power, and peace had dawned, and the people needed something new for which to cheer.
    They were cheering now, riotously, and the roar gave Rowan a surge of energy. He looked into Sir Tarrington’s eyes and saw surprise in them—the champion had not expected this level of competition from such a young man. Three judges watched just out of sword’s reach. Five nonfatal hits would end the fight, but so would one fatal hit. The tally was four to three in Tarrington’s favor.
    Rowan prepared as Tarrington exploded a powerful advance. Rowan held his ground, but not without apprehension. He knew he was stronger than Tarrington, but there was always the element of experience to contend with. This often was the reason for the defeat of a rising competitor. Rowan had nearly fallen to Sir Yalteran in the previous duel because of it. He was determined to overcome that disadvantage now.
    Tarrington’s sword flew faster than ever before, but Rowan caught every thrust and refused to give ground. Their dancing swords arced, cut, and sliced in an endless volley of mastery. Rowan slowly turned the advance of Tarrington into retreat as he gained control of the flow of the fight and increased its tempo. His sword flew with the fury of a vengeful adversary to find its mark. The frenzied crowd roared, sensing that Sir Tarrington’s near-decade reign as the champion of Laos was in jeopardy.
    Then Rowan saw his first real opportunity. A cut from the left had put Tarrington’s sword too far outside his torso and left him unbalanced. Rowan took advantage of the opening. He countered with a diagonal cut, then began a quick thrust that would be nearly impossible for Tarrington to parry. Midway through the thrust, however, he realized Tarrington’s left foot had shifted slightly back, a sign that the champion’s “mistake” had really been a ploy. Rowan pulled short on his thrust and recovered just in time to block Tarrington’s intended victory cut. This time Tarrington truly was out of position, for he had gambled that Rowan would fall for his trick.
    With one quick, powerful cut to Tarrington’s head, the fight was over. Tarrington fell to the ground. Rowan covered him and nearly followed with another cut, but all three judges held up their red flags, indicating the end of the fight. Tarrington’s helmet was dented, and he was dazed but uninjured.
    The arena exploded with cheers and applause—there was a new champion in Laos. It took Rowan a moment to fully comprehend what had just happened. He had defeated the legendary Sir Tarrington in the Laos arena. He had risen from city street urchin to tournament champion, and the people loved it!
    He reached down and offered Tarrington a hand up, and the veteran knight accepted. When he gained his feet, both men removed their