Page 1 of Renaissance Bear

The Black Knight

The sky above burned hot and clear and blue, afternoon heat pounding into the tourney grounds. The knight's horse trembled with impatience, knowing its moment lay just ahead of it: in seconds, they would burst through the gates and pound through the arena—the lists, as a jousting arena was called—to meet their opponent in battle.

The crowd around them was already frenzied: excited voices cheering, toy lights spinning crazily and kazoos buzzing, all kinds of noise-makers that the horse ignored effortlessly. Itlivedfor this: the knight had fallen in love with jousting originally because the horses were so obviously thrilled to participate.

Right now, the beast obviously sensed the knight's own impatience. It turned its head to put its nose on their knee, blowing one reassuring huff that spilled warmth through the seams of their armor. It worked: the knight chuckled, patted the horse's shoulder, and relaxed.

Just in time: the gates opened and with a surge of power, the horse leaped forward, thundering down the tilt barrier toward the other knight, a fighter garbed in plate armor. The air scented of hot metal and rising dust and horses, and it was wonderful.

The impact of slamming together, lance to lance, rattled the knight's teeth, as it always did. But the deep grey burnished armor they wore, almost black, absorbed the worst of it, and there was never any danger of falling off the horse. Their opponent weathered the first tilt equally well, and they nodded at each other as they returned to their starting points.

Screams of anticipation rose from the crowd now, a chant ofBlack Knight! Black Knight! Black Knight!thundering toward the sky. There were some who cheered for the other knight, but everyone was here for the Black Knight today, waiting to see if they would win this tourney, as they'd won five others already this year. Through the cries ofBlack Knight!a few also called out the name they'd bestowed on the mysterious knight:Lord Edward!

It wasn't the name Edward would have chosen, but being likened to the famous commander who had borne the nickname 'the Black Prince' wasn't something to lose sleep over, either. If the people liked it, so be it: that was Edward's take.

Edward met his opponent in battle again, crashing together at speed, and this time the other knight wobbled badly. Not quite unhorsed, but not well-seated anymore, either. As they rode back, Edward lifted a hand in question:surrender?

His opponent shook his head once. Edward nodded in return, patting the horse's shoulder again as they returned for the final time to their starting places. "We've got this."

The horse exhaled again, sounding disdainful. It had never doubted the outcome.

Neither had the shrieking, gleeful audience, whose phones were out to record the final clash, and whose voices were full of the fun and excitement of an afternoon out at the faire. It had been centuries since real knights had jousted for honor, battle, or prizes, but as the horse leaped into motion again, every bone-shaking step felt incredibly real to the participants.

It took a certain set of the shoulder to knock an opponent off their horse, and it didn't always work. Today, though, it did: the other knight took the blow fully, and for a glorious heartbeat seemed to dangle there on the end of the splintering lance, silver armor outlined in sky blue as his horse ran out from under him. Then gravity did its job, and the other knight crashed to the ground in a terrible rattle of metal and earth colliding.

Edward pulled the horse around, gently, and lifted a shattered lance to the sky as if it could absorb the audience's cheers. Grinning beneath the visor, Edward approached the stands and the faire royalty. This was the biggest faire tournament the knight had ever taken part in, with an entire court of 'royalty,' and an arena that held hundreds of spectators. Winning was more than a feather in his helm. It made Edward the uncontested champion for the faire circuit that year. It was also an automatic invite to any jousting tournaments at any Renaissance faires over the next eighteen months.

A beaming princess bent to place her favor Edward's in hand as the king asked what they always did at these events: "Will you not remove your helm, and show us the face of our hero, good sir knight?"

Edward indicated the answer was no with one shake of his head, as always. In response, a groaning cheer rocked the lists. The Black Knight's fans were torn on whether their hero should unmask or not, but Edward had been the faceless Black Knight for nearly five years now. The anonymity was part of the fun. Everyone knew it would take relatively little effort to learn the knight's true identity, but so far, most fair-goers preferred the mystery.

Edward lifted the princess's favor—the only prize the knight ever accepted—and rode away to the cheers and applause of the people. With a pause to shake hands with and appreciate the grooms who took over the horse care once the jousting was done,the knight worked through crowds toward the exit—sometimes stopping to silently sign autographs, but more often simply slipping away before the jousting audience got free of the lists.

It only took a little while to leave the fairgrounds, though walking across what felt like endless miles of parking lot under the sun and in full plate mail armor was probably Edward's least favorite part of the entire performance. After fifteen minutes of sweaty walking, the knight reached the motorhome that served as his base of operations for the faires and climbed inside, finally pulling his helm off in the air-conditioned interior.

A face identical to the knight's own looked up from lounging across the three-seat couch that tucked along one side of the motorhome. "Lo!" she cried. "Cometh Lord Edward, the Black Knight, hero of the realm! Also so, so stinky, oh my god, armor and summer do not go well together, let's get that stuff off you and air it out before I actually die of the smell."

"Thank you. Thank you, Jasmine, that's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me. Help, get me out of this stuff."

Jasmine, grinning, started helping take the plate mail off, and as the last pieces came off, said, "There we go. Edward is disposed of. Did you win?"

Alissandra Capellas collapsed sweatily on the floor and grinned up at her twin sister. "Of course I won. I'm the Black Knight."

Chapter 1

A YEAR OR SO LATER

"Dude, you cannot joust.Ijoust.Youswan around with a lute and beguile the ladies into drinking at the pub while I swing my sword and seduce them!"

Jon Torben's slightly younger brother, Laurie, had been making this argument for at least half an hour. It was true: normally, Laurie did most of the fighting at the annual Renaissance Faire that they'd been going to since they were kids. He was dressed to fight now, in fact. His long hair was tied back in a very practical braid, and his usual Faire garb of leggings and a tunic with a gorgeous teal coat had been put aside for the leather armor that he used for the on-foot sword fights. He looked like a man prepared to defend his lady's honor.

All except for the crutches and the badly-wrenched right knee that required a decidedly non-Renaissancey medical brace. Jon, for the fourth time in the half hour, gestured at his brother'sbrace. "Yeah, but you can't fight like that, Laur, and youcanplay the flute. So this summer you can be the roguish charmer at the pub while I knock some heads together."

Laurie dropped his voice. "You know I'm fine, Jon."

"What Iknowis that fifteen people saw you blow your knee out this morning and four of them carried you to the medical unit where they heard you being diagnosed with a torn meniscus, which means you're benched for six weeks, bro."

Laurie, furiously, said, "My knee isfine! Or it will be as soon as I can get home and—" He broke off, not wanting to sayshiftaloud, because while Renaissance, Colorado had more than its fair share of people who could transform back and forth from an animal form, discretion was still the better part of valor.

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