Page 11 of Edge of Yesterday

The crowd shouted as Cailean and Alan pounded back to their starting places and reined around to again gallop along the barrier. A direct clash seemed likely as each horse raced ever faster at the oncoming beast and rider.

“Heatheredge! Heatheredge!” the spectators’ cries filled Cailean’s ears, joining the thunder of Hercules’ hooves tearing up the sanded earth as he barreled toward McMahon.

Cailean aimed his lance straight and kept his eye on the lance racing toward him. Cailean’s lance slammed into Alan’s shoulder with a clash of steel and wood. Alan’s swift up-thrust of his shield arm diverted the impact as they sped past each other.

Racing back to his starting place, Cailean yanked his steed around and tore back along the rail toward Alan, faster this time. Cailean’s lance struck Alan’s side just as Alan’s punched Cailean’s hip. Cailean crashed his shield down so hard onto Alan’s lance that the lance broke with a loud snap. The tip swung crazily, held on by splinters. But Alan remained seated, his helmet in place, as he cast aside his useless lance and galloped back to his end of the tiltyard. Cailean did the same and drew his sword as he raced back toward the center of the jousting field to meet Alan’s sword attack.

“They’ll fight on with blades,” Otto announced over the loudspeakers.

The crowd roared and pressed toward the rail.

“No quarter till one is down—or helmet gone,” Otto shouted.

Cailean reined up at the center point of the jousting rail and swung off his mount an instant before Alan did. They gripped blunted blades, yet Cailean launched himself at Alan as if the swordfight were real. Steel met steel in a resounding clang and the crowd silenced.

“I dinnae see any knickers.” Cailean landed a blow against Alan’s down-swinging blade. The force of his counter-strike almost knocked the sword from Alan’s hand. “No’ a one.”

“You bastard,” Alan laughed, and leapt back as Cailean’s sword whipped through air.

Alan swung his blade in an arc.

Cailean spun and caught the momentum of Alan’s blade, shoving him back. Alan stumbled two paces and righted himself, then parried left, and right. The shriek of steel on steel sent a surge of adrenaline through Cailean. He spun, his sword an eye-blurring slash of silver as its tip successfully caught the chin strap of Alan’s helmet. The fastening popped open. Cailean seized the helmet from his friend’s head.

“Fiend!” Alan staggered backward, expression dark. Then he straightened and grinned. “You fight like the devil’s own footman, brother.”

“So some say.” Cailean thrust the helmet high and turned in a victorious circle.

The crowd surged upward with one unanimous cry. Banners, hats and scarves sailed onto the field.

Alan appeared at his side. “Give my regards to Elizabeth tonight. Guess I’ll have to make do with Lilith at the Red Lion.” He winked then turned to face the female spectators who had reached them.

Cailean half envied him—but only half. The crowd surrounded both of them as Otto’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “The winners of today’s jousting matches are…” He began reading the list of winners as Val Ross and other dignitaries set out the shining silver trophies at the committee’s canopied tent.

“Cailean,” said a man dressed in the fine velvet tunic of a lord, “Thank ye for winning.” He smiled. “I won a tidy sum.”

Cailean laughed. “Always glad to oblige, my lord.”

The man turned away and Cailean caught sight of Randi and Denise pushing through the crowd toward him. Dammit. He’d completely forgotten about them. The spectators pressed in around him and Alan like cattle. There would be no escape. He spotted Hercules being led off the field by a lad. He should have headed straight for the charger once he’d made his first circle with Alan’s helm.

“Alan,” Cailean called.

Alan looked in his direction and Cailean held up the helmet.

Alan shook his head. “Keep it,” he shouted. “It’ll keep you warm tonight.”

Randi and Denise reached him.

Randi flashed a bright smile. “You were awesome.”

“We didn’t see you last night at the Red Lion.” Denise thrust her lips into a pout.

A man dressed as a knight slapped Cailean on the back. “Cailean the Champ. Well played, lad.”

Cailean nodded to the man before he turned away.

“Where are you going to be tonight?” Denise persisted.

“I’ll be taking part in the night’s reenactment.” Bloody hell, had he missed the announcement about which role he would play? Otto was still reading off the winners’ roles.