As Caitlin walked out the castle, dressed in her sparring gear, she held Caleb’s hand as they crossed the expansive castle grounds in the cold October morning, Scarlet and Ruth right behind them. In the distance, Caitlin could see the entire coven was already out and waiting—dozens of Aiden’s vampires, mixed with dozens of McCleod’s human warriors. Standing among them were also Sam and Polly, beaming as they watched them approach. There must have been a hundred warriors in total, forming a large rectangle on the tournament field, all dressed in full battle gear, standing quietly, waiting.
Clearly, Caitlin and Caleb were the guests of honor today. Two warriors sounded a trumpet at their arrival, and the crowd parted ways as they walked through, and were prompted into the center of the open field. As Caitlin and Caleb stood there, Aiden slowly stepped forward and faced them.
The crowd remained silent in the early morning, the only noise the slight rustling of the wind, and the flapping of banners.
“No vampire wedding may begin without a full day of tournaments. It is an ancient ritual. The tournaments are our way of keeping in mind that a vampire union is a union based on blood.
Husband and wife are also a warrior team. Which is why we begin our day with you two fighting together. You will fight as a team, back to back. Against you will be pitted our best warriors.
Together, you must protect each other, and fight your way through.” Aiden stepped back out of the circle, and slowly nodded to his men.
Caitlin stood in the center of the circle, back to back with Caleb, and felt a nervous rush as they were each suddenly thrown weapons. She caught hers in midair: wooden swords. She was relieved that they wouldn’t be using live, deadly weapons; she wasn’t worried about her own fighting skills, or Caleb’s, but she was worried about hurting someone else.
There was little time to think. Within moments, they were charged by a dozen vampire and human warriors, coming at them from every direction. They, too, wielded wooden weapons—
spears, swords, shields, lances, and other weapons she couldn’t recognize at first. She felt Caleb’s back flush up against hers, felt his muscles tense up, and felt reassured to have him at her side.
Within moments, the first attackers were in her face, swinging, slashing.
Caitlin’s instincts took over. Her vampire speed and reflexes, all her years of training with Aiden, took. She found herself parrying and slashing back, kicking and dodging and rolling. As three vampires charged and brought down their swords at the same time in a well-coordinated attack, she spun and slashed all three swords away as she came back around, and kicked one hard with a spinning roundhouse kick, knocking him hard into the other warriors—who all landed on top of each other.
Caitlin looked up to see another warrior—this one a human—charging her with a large, wooden battle ax. He brought it down with two hands, aiming straight for her head, and she could tell that if he’d hit, the blow would really hurt. She was surprised at these human warriors’ speed; if she hadn’t been looking, he would have caught her.
But Caitlin’s reflexes again kicked in, and she dodged out of the way at the last second, the wood whistling by her ear. As the warrior rushed past her, she leaned back and kicked him hard in the ribs, sending him to the ground.
Caitlin turned just in time to see a long wooden chain and mace being swung right for her chest.
She jumped back, and it missed by a hair, as it grazed the tip of her clothing. She imagined what that mace would have done to her—even though it was wood. The warrior swung again, and this time, she could see he was aiming for Caleb.
Caleb, his back to her, had his hands full, slashing and parrying with two vampires and one human warrior. He didn’t see the mace being swung right for him. The mace was coming down hard, and it was about to strike a hard blow on his shoulder.
Caitlin reached her sword high in the air and intercepting it before it reached Caleb. The chain, instead, wrapped several times around her sword, entangled in it. She then yanked it hard, and as she did, the warrior was pulled close to her; she then leaned back and sidekicked him hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him.
Caitlin turned and leapt into the air, somersaulting over Caleb, and landing a double front kick on the chest of his opponent. She then reached down and grabbed his sword, swung around, and cracked one of Caleb’s other opponents hard behind his knees, buckling him to the floor. Caleb followed up by kicking him in the chest, and sending him to the ground. The third warrior swung around and was about to crack Caitlin hard in the back with his wooden sword. She had made a stupid mistake—she had been too preoccupied with Caleb’s other two warriors, and now she braced herself for a blow.
But at the last second, she heard the sound of wood on wood, and spun to see that Caleb had blocked the blow for her, then reached over and kicked him, knocking him to the ground.
Caitlin looked at Caleb with gratitude, and he exchanged the same grateful look. She could really feel that they were in this together.
Dozens more warriors prepared to charge, but suddenly there was the blow of a loud whistle, and everyone stopped.
Aiden stepped forward.
“Well done,” he said, as Caitlin and Caleb stood there, out of breath. “Now, we switch to jousting.”
The warriors immediately repositioned themselves, as servants brought out horses from the castle grounds. These horses were beautifully bedecked, covered in jewels, and the kings’ men, wearing chainmail, handed out several shining lances.
Caitlin found herself led to a horse, which she mounted, then found herself handed a huge lance.
On the far side of the field, facing her, a vampire warrior mounted a horse and scowled back at her. She recognized him immediately. Cain.
Another whistle sounded, and Caitlin’s horse charged forward at a gallop. The warriors all cheered, as the two galloped right for each other. Caitlin could feel the wind in her hair, out of breath at the speed of the horse, doing her best to wield the heavy lance. She saw the expression in Cain’s face, bearing down on her, and tried instead to focus not on his eyes, but on his chest. On where to place the lance. He was taller than her, and had the advantage. But she decided not to rely on her senses.
Caitlin closed her eyes, and tuned in. She sensed the spirit of the horse, felt its minute movements, its breathing; she sensed her opponent’s horse, her opponent’s weaknesses. She felt every muscle in the horse as they ran, felt the indents in the terrain, the cool feel of her lance’s hilt.