Boom.
A large kettledrum was hit, the deep sound reverberating across the stadium. The crowd grew quiet.
Rupert nocked his arrow.
Boom. The second strike sounded.
It was the following morning, and the archery contest had begun. There would be a total of ten drum strikes, and within that time all six contestants needed to shoot one of their arrows. Each of them had a target one hundred yards in front of him.
Rupert drew back his bow and waited.
Boom.
One, Two, and Five released their arrows. With a resounding thud, all three arrows hit the red center of the bull’s-eye.
Boom.
Rupert smiled to himself. With three perfect hits, it wouldn’t matter if he added one more. He glanced at number Five, who stood beside him. The northern Tourinian appeared to be more than an inventor. He handled a bow and arrow as well as any soldier. If there were more men like him in the north, could they be counted on if Rupert needed an army?
Boom.
Three and Four shot their arrows. Each one hit the target, but an outer ring.
Boom.
Rupert let his arrow fly. It zoomed straight for the bull’s-eye, striking it with a loud thwack.
The crowd roared, and some began to shout. Seven! Seven!
He glanced over at Stefan, who was in the stands along with Brody in human form. Brody’s gaze was scanning the crowd as if he was searching for someone. Stefan crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at Rupert.
He sighed. Being tied for first place with three other men wasn’t showing off. He glanced at the golden box where Brigitta sat next to Gunther. Today she was dressed in gold and purple. How long would he have to wait before he could see her again?
A trumpet blared to signal the beginning of round two.
Boom. The first strike of the drum.
Let’s just get this over with. Rupert nocked an arrow and let it fly. When it hit the outermost ring of the target, the crowd grumbled. They’d expected better.
Boom.
One and Two hit their second bull’s-eye. The crowd went back to cheering.
Boom.
Three and Five just missed the center circle. Four muttered a curse when his arrow fell to the ground three feet away from the target.
Rupert winced. It looked like the Eberoni farmer was going to lose today’s contest.
The horn gave a short blast to mark the beginning of the third and final round.
Boom.
Several arrows flew. Four’s arrow fell short again, but One managed to hit his third bull’s-eye. The crowd roared as he pumped his fist in the air.
Rupert snorted. So Captain Mador thought he was going to be the winner. Didn’t he realize number Two, the general, could hit another bull’s-eye and tie him?
Boom.
Rupert took aim and hit the ring next to the red center. There, that should make Stefan happy. He was neither winning nor losing.
Boom.
He glanced over at number Two. For some reason, the general was still aiming and hadn’t taken his shot.
Suddenly the general turned toward Three and fired his arrow straight into the admiral’s chest.
As the admiral fell onto his back, the crowd shrieked and jumped to their feet.
Blood spread across the admiral’s white shirt, completely covering the number pinned to his chest. He lifted a trembling hand to the arrow, then his arm fell slack at his side. His head turned slightly, his eyes glazing over.
Damn. Rupert caught Captain Mador and General Tarvis exchanging a smirk. So the first two had planned this together. And since the competition allowed for the top two contestants to remain alive at the end, they probably figured they had it made.
Stefan gave him a pointed look and Rupert nodded. Message received. Don’t be a threat to numbers One and Two, or they will remove you.
* * *
Brigitta suppressed a shudder when the admiral’s body was unceremoniously dumped on top of the third trapdoor. The other contestants took their places on the platform.
“Announce Captain Mador as today’s winner,” Gunther told Lord Argus.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lord Argus smirked. “I guess it’s obvious who the loser is.”
Gunther nodded. “I suspected something like this would happen, but I thought it would take longer for them to bare their claws.” He chuckled. “Mador and Tarvis have definitely impressed me.”
“Quite so,” Argus agreed. “You’ve taught them well.”
Gunther waved a dismissive hand. “I can’t help it. I’m naturally a good influence on people.”
Brigitta pressed a hand to her mouth. She didn’t know whether to cry or throw up.
“Finish it,” Gunther ordered.
Lord Argus scurried off to give instructions to the trumpet player.
The blast of his horn echoed through the stadium, and the crowd responded with a shout. “One!”
The second blast. “Two!”
A third blast. “Three!”
The third trapdoor opened and the admiral’s body fell through.
As the crowd cheered, Brigitta tried not to think about the murder she’d just witnessed. Instead, she focused on Rupert. He was watching her. Slowly, he lifted two fingers to his lips, then smiled.
A kiss. She smiled back.
“I see you’re enjoying it.” Gunther chuckled. “Wait till tomorrow. I designed the obstacle course myself. It’s going to be very exciting!”
* * *
The next morning, Brigitta rode to the stadium with Lord Argus. He explained that King Gunther had left before dawn to oversee the completion of the obstacle course.
“We started building it yesterday after the archery contest,” Lord Argus explained. “I haven’t seen His Majesty this excited in years. There will even be a wild boar!”
Brigitta gasped. “A boar?”
“Yes!” Lord Argus’s beady eyes gleamed with excitement. “We’ll just have to hope that one of the contestants falls into the boar pit. I’m sure the crowd would find it very entertaining.”
“Of course.” Brigitta swallowed hard. “I’ve never seen an obstacle course before. How does it work?”
Argus smiled proudly. “Even though His Majesty designed the course, I came up with a way to determine the winner. The drummer will pound out a steady beat. Then I have servants who are assigned to each of the five contestants. They will count how many beats it takes for each one to finish the course.”
“So the fastest one wins the contest?”
Argus nodded. “Yes, but it’s more than a test of speed. There’s strength and agility factored in. You see, there are three main walls. To reach the top of the first wall, the contestant must climb a rope. Between the first and second walls, there will be a grid made of ropes suspended ten feet over the ground. The holes in the grid are large enough that a man could fall through. The ground below has been made into a giant pit of mud, so if anyone falls through—”
“He gets all muddy,” Brigitta finished.
“Exactly.” Argus chuckled. “It should be very entertaining.”
Brigitta nodded. “So where does the boar come in?”
“The boar pit is between the second and third wall. There will be nine stone columns, three rows of three, and each column will be seven feet high and topped with a small wooden platform. The runner will leap from one platform to another. If he goes in a direct line, he’ll land on only three platforms before jumping to the third wall. Then he climbs a pole and rings a bell to finish the course.”
“I see.” Brigitta took a deep breath. This sounded like something Rupert could do. After all, he had years of experience climbing ropes and maneuvering down yardarms.
“The winner will be the one with the fastest time,” Argus added. “And the loser will either have the slowest time or fall into the boar pit and be gored to death.”
She winced. Clutching her hands together, she sent up a silent prayer to the twin goddesses to keep Rupert and his companions safe.
* * *
He’d pulled a long straw.
Rupert glanced at the other contestants to see what they had ended up with. Since the obstacle course couldn’t handle five at once, they would be running it in two teams.
Numbers Two and Five had short straws. They would do the course first. Numbers One and Four had long straws like Rupert. The three of them would run the course together.
Number One shot an arrogant sneer at him and his companions. “Before the day is done, one of you will be feeding the boar.”
Rupert drew Four and Five aside. “Watch out for One and Two. Stay as far away from them as you can.”
Five frowned. “You think they’ll try to throw us into the boar pit?”
“Only if you’re close enough that they don’t have to sacrifice too much time. Remember, the winner is judged on speed, so do the course as fast as possible. That way they won’t have time to deviate off course to attack you. They’ll be forced to go straight through in order to beat you to the bell.”
Four and Five nodded.
“Run across the grid if you can,” Rupert continued. “If you go too slowly, you could lose your balance and fall through. Use your forward momentum to your advantage.”
Five gave him a wry look. “You don’t sound like a guy who grows grapes.”
Rupert smiled and shook his hand. “Good luck.”
Five lined up beside Two and waited for the trumpet blast that would signal the start of the race.
The horn sounded and the general dashed for the middle rope hanging from the wall. Five ran to the one on the left.
Boom. The kettledrum sounded the first strike.
Two and Five climbed, walking their booted feet up the wooden wall as they hauled themselves to the top.
Boom. Second strike.
The men started across the grid.
Rupert gritted his teeth. From his vantage point on the field, he could no longer see how Five was faring. All he could make out were the two poles at the end of the course, since they were higher. The cheers from the crowd remained at a constant level, so it appeared that nothing drastic was happening. Still, he didn’t trust Two to behave honorably. The general had committed murder yesterday.
He counted the number of drum strikes, and on the twentieth one, he saw Two climbing a spike-studded pole to ring the bell. Five started up the second pole.
“He did it!” Four exclaimed with a grin.
Rupert heaved a sigh of relief. Five had gone fast enough that Two had been hard-pressed to beat him. Indeed, Two rang his bell only a few seconds before Five.
And Rupert was now more convinced than ever that Five had been well trained for combat.
The officer in charge on the field told the second team to line up. Rupert made sure to place himself between One and Four. If One wanted to cause trouble, he’d have to go through Rupert first.
The trumpet blared, and they took off.
Rupert reached a rope at the same time as One, but he climbed faster and was the first to reach the top. He glanced at Four to make sure he was climbing all right, then took off, running across the grid, his feet landing firmly on one rope after another.
The crowd roared, then started to chant Seven!
He was almost across when the ropes suddenly heaved underfoot, throwing him off balance. He fell forward and landed facedown on the grid, which was now undulating like waves on the ocean.
A yelp sounded to his left. Four had fallen through the grid, but had caught a rope with his hands, leaving his feet to dangle over the mud pit.
Rupert glanced to his right. One was behind him, facedown and jerking the ropes on purpose to make the grid unstable. Asshole.
He looked back at Four. The Eberoni farmer was dangling underneath the grid, but still managing to move forward, hand over hand, as he made his way to the second wall.
With the grid heaving up and down, the best Rupert could do was move forward on all fours. Luckily, he didn’t have far to go.
He reached the second wall. One was now frantically trying to catch up.
Rupert scanned the pit in front of him and spotted the boar running about, desperately searching for a way to escape. The strange surroundings and the noise of the crowd had agitated the animal to the point it was ready to attack.
He jumped to the first platform. Then the second one. And the third. By this time, he had too much momentum built up, and he nearly skidded off the edge of the platform. He fell back and grabbed on.
The crowd resumed its chant: Seven! Seven! He rose to his feet. One more jump and he’d be on the third and last wall. A simple climb up the spike-studded pole to ring the bell, and he’d be done.
He glanced back to check on Four’s progress. One and Four had both reached the second wall. Four was focused on a platform, preparing to leap, when One ran at him and pushed him into the pit.
With a screech, the crowd leaped to their feet. The boar reacted to the noise, snorting and scurrying about.
Four ran for the first column to try to climb up to the platform, but the columns were smooth stone and there was nothing to hold on to.
Dammit. Rupert moved toward him, jumping from one platform to another. While he was going in the wrong direction, One leaped across the platforms, headed toward the third wall.
Four cried out in terror as the boar spotted him. Rupert reached his column and lay flat on the platform, hooking his boots over one end as he stretched an arm down to Four.
“Grab on!” Rupert shouted.
As the boar started to charge, Four latched on to Rupert’s arm.
Seven! Seven! The crowd chanted.
Rupert strained to pull the man up onto the platform.
Seven! Seven! The crowd erupted in a cheer when Rupert hauled Four safely onto the platform.
“Are you all right?” Rupert asked.
Four lay there, breathing heavily. “You saved my life.”
“We’re not done yet. Can you jump?”
Four nodded. “I’ll be fine. You go first.”
As Rupert stood, the bell rang. One had finished the course. He waved his arms in victory, but the crowd didn’t seem to notice.
As Rupert leaped across the platforms, the chanting started again. Seven! Seven!
He landed on the third wall and glanced back to make sure Four was all right. When Four made it to the wall, Rupert scrambled up a pole, rang the bell, and jumped down.
The crowd went wild.
Holy shit. He ran a hand through his hair. Stefan was going to be pissed.
* * *
Up in the royal box, Brigitta heaved a sigh of relief while her brother let loose a long string of curses.
“Who does this Seven bastard think he is?” Gunther growled at Lord Argus. “Mador and Tarvis had excellent runs, and no one even noticed!”
“We could disqualify Seven for going backward on the course,” Lord Argus suggested, then his skinny shoulders slumped. “But we might end up with a riot on our hands.”
Gunther snorted. “The crowd acts like he’s some sort of damned hero.”
Because he is, Brigitta thought. As the crowd continued to shout Seven, a shocking thought jumped into her mind. The Telling Stone marked with the number seven! All this time, she’d thought it referred to the contest of seven men competing for her. But it meant much more than that. It meant Rupert, himself, for he was number seven.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Surely if the stones had predicted Rupert, that meant he would survive and they would have their happy ending.
Her skin suddenly prickled with an odd feeling that she was being watched. She looked around, but couldn’t spot anyone.
Her attention snapped back to Lord Argus when he told her brother, “The crowd already knows that number Four had the worst time. They could get violent if we don’t make him the loser.”
Gunther huffed. “Seven must be a damned idiot. Why did he bother to save Four’s life? All the losers will end up dead, anyway.”
Argus nodded. “It was a ridiculous waste of time.”
Gunther waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had enough of this Seven. What is the contest tomorrow? A swordfight?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Argus replied. “The four remaining contestants will be paired up for two swordfights. It will be Captain Mador and General Tarvis against numbers Five and Seven.”
Gunther smiled. “Tarvis is the best swordsman in the country. Make sure he’s paired with Seven tomorrow.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Argus’s eyes gleamed.
Brigitta’s breath caught. She would have to warn Rupert.
Gunther chuckled. “And tell Tarvis that I have grown tired of Seven. He can take care of Seven just like he did the admiral.”