Back The Exiled Heir
Chapters (31)
  1. D EDICATION
  2. P ROLOGUE
  3. O NE
  4. T WO
  5. T HREE
  6. F OUR
  7. F IVE
  8. S IX
  9. S EVEN
  10. E IGHT
  11. N INE
  12. T EN
  13. E LEVEN
  14. T WELVE
  15. T HIRTEEN
  16. F OURTEEN
  17. F IFTEEN
  18. S IXTEEN
  19. S EVENTEEN
  20. E IGHTEEN
  21. N INETEEN
  22. T WENTY
  23. T WENTY O NE
  24. T WENTY T WO
  25. T WENTY T HREE
  26. T WENTY F OUR
  27. T WENTY F IVE
  28. T WENTY S IX
  29. E PILOGUE
  30. A CKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  31. A BOUT THE A UTHOR

Soon, Grand Master Lackcomb and four of the Knights Sergeant took their places on the platform. They were dressed simply in wool tunics, lacking the armor and finery displayed at the funeral, but they were armed as ever. Yewly the Salted and Mallander Smokebeak wore swords, Worm Chewer bore a monstrous maul on his shoulder and the Old Goose leaned on his spear. The Grand Master carried his heavy pole axe, but of Coalspur’s sword there was no sign. There were no stools or benches, not even a chair for the Grand Master, so Lackcomb and his officers stood just like the crowd on the ground. Lackcomb spent a moment surveying the field and the two teams of squires, his dead eye sweeping over them and then he nodded to the Old Goose. The aged coburn stepped forward, his head and neck devoid of feathers, his comb shrunken and blackened; the effects of a horrible burn suffered during a siege, Pocket knew. In commanding tones he addressed the squires, announcing the conditions of the melee.

Twenty-five per side and only the last four standing would go on to the knight’s tourney. Lack of consciousness or a declaration of yield removes a combatant from the contest. Killing blows, thrown weapons, dishonorable attacks to the back and the use of spurs to injure were all prohibited. The squires listened intently and with respect, but Pocket had little doubt they had been told all this before, likely more than once. The Old Goose wished them all skill in battle and the courage to fight with honor.

The squires formed up and Pocket felt a tightening in his gut. The squires in green aligned in a block, five ranks of five, while their opponents, the black surcoats, formed a tight wedge. At the head of the wedge was a large squire, brandishing a mace in each hand. Pocket did not know many of the squires by name, but he knew Gulver. Thick of neck and shoulder with feathers of a brown so deep they were almost black; he was big even by coburn standards, towering above the others behind him. He smashed his maces together and waited for the signal.