Domains of the Chosen 02 Bloodlust: Will to Power

by C. P. D. Harris

  Regardless, Gavin now felt welcome among the Greens. He and Ravius, after proving themselves on the fighting grounds, were accepted, simple as that. He felt good about earning their respect; much better than if it had been bestowed upon him by a Faction leader.

  o-----

  Omodo powered through his first match, while Gavin, Ravius, Green Sting, and the gathered Hammerhorns cheered themselves ragged. The noble Armodon dominated the fight, and yet showed great respect for his opponent, like a hero from the stories of old. Gavin felt a sense of warm approval watching this. He looked forward to helping his friend in the Dun Loryn Faction tournament, should he prove good enough to earn a spot.

  o-----

  Gavin's second opponent in the tournament was Headtaker, a towering human woman in heavy harness. Her silvered armour was thicker on her left dominant-facing, side complete with an ornate overguarde sheathing her left arm and shoulder. Her main weapon was a long-hafted great-axe with an elegantly curved crescent blade backed by a sledge for extra weight and topped by a long thrusting spike, like that of a halberd. Headtaker outweighed Gavin by at least a hundred pounds, all lean muscle; a physique that only a Gladiatrix could achieve. She was no doubt powerful and aggressive, and Gavin expected to have to weather an early Blitz. Axe fighters had a strong offence, but the weapon was not great for defence.

  Having made the acquaintance of most of the Green veterans in the last two days, Gavin was already somewhat familiar with Headtaker. They raised their weapons to each other, respectfully, after saluting the crowd. Neither of them offered verbal insult, and the trumpets quickly called them to action.

  Headtaker wasted no time moving to the attack. Her ground-eating strides carried her to him before the echo of the brass died out. He deflected her axe with his shield, counter-striking with a jab from his spear to drive her off. She twisted out of the way, nimble despite her size. Sidestepping around him, she slashed at his back. This forced Gavin to turn away from her to get his shield in front of the axe blade. The awkward block sent him reeling. Headtaker took two more swings, coming close to drawing blood before Gavin could fully recover. She was, however, impressed at Gavin's ability to defend himself even when off-balance.

  Gavin bought himself some room with a quick mental blast. He backpedalled. Headtaker did not relent. She cast a Razorwind spell at him as she launched her next series of attacks. He deftly unravelled her spell-weave before the swarm of blades could do more than scratch him. He saw her eyes widen at that. He was getting good at taking spells apart.

  Headtaker attacked with a quick overhand chop. Gavin blocked and counter-thrust. She let her armour take the hit, his spear-blade glancing off the shoulder of her thick overguarde. She then swung at his outstretched arm. Gavin moved to avoid the worst of the strike, but the axe still grazed his elbow. His spear tumbled from his grasp into the sand. He ducked out of the way as Headtaker swung again. Her axe passed over his head. Gavin then put his shoulder behind his shield to block her next attack with some force.

  Headtaker's energy intimidated Gavin. She did not seem winded despite her relentless attack. As he drew his shortsword he decided to try to slow her down with magic. He channelled power, weaving a simple migraine curse spell as he parried and blocked her next two attacks. The vicious pain caused by the curse robbed her of some of that vigour. He could sense power building in her, and expected a strong finishing attack spell of the type Karmal frequently used, Pillar of Flame, Maelstrom, or Incineration. He was ready to counter that type of magic. In fact, she was building power for a rare enhancement spell.

  Headtaker's third attack did not start off any differently. In form, it was similar the first two but this was just a ruse. A graceful shift in her feet and shoulders lent sudden power to her whirling axe. Gavin's keen sense of defence saved him. He recognized the move from training against Sadira and Omodo; an attack designed to channel force through a shield block. Instead of using his shield he fell backwards and rolled out of reach. He began weaving a mind blast spell, hoping that hurt her.

  Closing the distance without pause, Headtaker took the opportunity to attack with a frost snap spell. This was a common Gambit in the arena. When faced with a foe who could unravel their weaves, Gladiators would wait until that foe cast a spell of their own. Then they would pounce with a swifter spell. The defending Gladiator would face the unpalatable decision to stop weaving to counter, or let spell be cast. Only The Chosen and the best spell-casters were supposed to be able to divide their attention so finely as to cast a spell and unweave another at the same moment in combat. It was like writing a poem, being struck by sudden inspiration, and beginning to write a story with the other hand without losing one's place in the poem. Had he considered the difficulty, Gavin likely would not have attempted such a thing. Instead he did it without thinking. He blocked Headtaker's axe-blow, unravelled her spell and wove his own all in a single instant. The significance of that moment was lost on most of the crowd who cheered Headtaker's barrage of powerful, precise attacks and his unyielding defence. However, the other Gladiators and those who understood magic were awestruck. Gavin felt a surge of surprised elation at his achievement. He had done it often enough on the training grounds, but it was different in a real match. He grinned. Far away Sadira could feel his joy.

  “Sweet Ezuis,” Headtaker swore eyes wide. To her credit she did not hesitate, swinging again. Gavin's spell hit her as she swung, like a hammer-blow to the head. It was not truly debilitating to the hardened Gladiatrix, but it momentarily blurred her vision. Gavin parried her faltering axe-blow. Headtaker finally achieved the power need for her spell. Unable to unravel an enhancement Gavin opted to strike with another powerful mental blast, staggering her. Before she could fully recover he thrust his blade at her throat. She did not try to sidestep. He felt an explosion of power as an unfamiliar spell possessed her. His sword met surprising resistance as it slid off her neck. Her skin gleamed in the sun, shimmering with tiny metal scales. A small trickle of blood dripped from her throat where his sword point had stopped.

  “Ironskin,” explained Headtaker. “You're not the only one with fancy spells, Lionfang.”

  The Gladiatrix grinned. She hefted her axe, throwing herself forward. She paid little heed to Gavin's sword and razor edged shield now; with skin as hard as metal and heavy armour she had little to fear from most of his attacks. She concentrated on attack battering Gavin with vicious chops and quick slashes. The Stalwart defender met every one of her swings, mindful of lessons learned defending against stronger opponents like Omodo. Meanwhile he kept up his mental assault, realizing that it was his only chance of doing real harm to her now. A metal shell did not protect her mind. His original plan, to mind grab his spear once she forgot about it, would be of little use against her now.

  They whirled and clashed. Axe blows rang off shield. Gavin was battered by Headtaker's assault, but her Ironskin could not protect her from his relentless barrage of mind blasts, migraines, and mind-vice spells.

  Headtaker's next gambit was to hook Gavin's shield. Using the lip of her axe blade she snagged the shield's edge and pulled it aside. Gavin recognized the manoeuvre. He knew he did not have the strength or mass to resist her. Thus he countered by allowing her to pull him. He used the momentum from her pull, rolling to the side. She elbowed him in the rib as he dove past, but it was much better than facing her axe.

  The match wound on. Headtaker kept up her relentless physical assault, never tiring, but she could not shake off Gavin's spells, and it took all of her magical prowess just to keep his curses from getting worse. Gavin felt his endurance flag, but willed himself to meet every attack as best he could. By the end of the fight he was out of breath and covered in sweat. However Headtaker was obviously bleeding from her nose and ears. His earlier wounds from her Razorwind spell had already healed. The crowd acclaimed Gavin the victor by a modest margin, with the Hammerhorns leading the cheers.

  Gavin wiped the sweat from his brow and gave Headtaker a res
pectful salute. He expected she would be angry at losing. The time limit had beaten her. His fatigue was likely as telling as his mental attacks, though less bloody. Headtaker shook her head and returned his salute.

  “Chosen's Oath, Lionfang,” she said. She grinned unexpectedly; her normal lips and teeth looked oddly out of place next to the metal skin. “I'd heard you were a good defender, but I had no idea your magic was that strong. Few people can stand up to an all-out blitz from me, especially with my Ironskin up. I was ready for something like that telekinesis stunt you pulled on Sting, but I you just out-magicked me this fight. I have not had anyone take my weaves apart like that since I was a little girl. You reputation is well deserved. Well done.”

  Gavin smiled at the praise. “Thanks. If you want, I can show you how to tighten up your spell-pattern to help avoid that sort of disruption. It takes practice, but it helps. In return I'd like to see that Ironskin weave of yours.”

  She laughed. “I'd love that, since you've knocked me out of the tournament and back to my Faction League, I may as well return with some new techniques. It'll help take the edge off of my first loss since I learned Ironskin. Nicely done.”

  Gavin left the field to warm applause, punctuated by a few wild cheers. Most of the crowd was not too excited by the highly technical, nearly bloodless match, but those who understood magic realized that they had witnessed a momentous event.

  Chapter Forty-Four: Ambicogitous

  1146/09/07 AR, Frostbay, Third Round of the Frostbay Green Faction Open.

  “In the end, rather than exterminate them, we showed mercy and integrated them into the Domains. While fearsome, their potential for destruction paled in comparison to the Gifted. Truth be told we were almost happy to have them. Vampires don't eat crops or livestock. Blood was something we could spare. Once a deal was made, they policed themselves.” Chosen Marius

  “Pattern is the language of creation.” Inscription from a ruin in the Sea of Sands.

  True to his word Gavin met Headtaker on the common area of the training grounds the next day. Most of the Greens who were attending the tournament, as well as a handful of other fighters preparing for later matches made use of the commons.

  “Remember back to training when they taught you how to sense and wield magic while still concentrating on the fight,” said Gavin. “If you think about it that is hardest thing a Gladiator learns. We already bifurcate our attention between our sense of the physical and our sense of the magical. We already know how to cast as spell and swing a blade at the same time, without faltering in each. The ability to both fight and wield magic at full efficiency gives anyone trained a Gladiator an advantage over the magic users they encounter outside the Domains. Adding an additional weave is simply an extension of this. I just did it for the first time in a match, but I've been practising it for a while. It takes concentration and training, something we all have in abundance.”

  Gavin described his daily magical training routine. He would practise casting two or three spells at once, following a magical kata that he had invented for himself. After that he would work at unweaving spells, borrowing a partner or a Grey-Robe to assist. Finally he worked every day to improve his weaves, making them more difficult to counter.

  Most of the gathered Gladiators were impressed at his dedication to the magical arts. He proceeded to demonstrate some of the techniques he had learned to his new Faction-mates.

  o-----

  After his demonstration, Gavin took a break. He noticed that Cleothera, who would normally spend her time on the training grounds either socializing or reading, was standing by herself, eyes roaming listlessly over the people nearby. She looked wilted and worn, as grey as her attire.

  “You look like a woman who has a lot on her mind,” said Gavin. “Is it something you can share with me?”

  Cleothera's recent reticence was a source of frustration for Gavin. He desperately wanted to know more about the conflict in the ranks of the Grey-Robes. He wanted to know if his suspicions about Valaran's pet Grey-Robes and the Dwarf who had threatened him over The Keystone in Scorpion's Oasis were true. He knew that a sense of duty and binding oaths prevented Cleothera from sharing. He wondered sometimes if all the secrets that The Deliberative, The Chosen, and the Factions kept actually did any good at all.

  “I keep looking at the other Greys and wondering which of them might be getting ready to stab me in the back.” she sighed. “It is not a good way to live life.”

  o-----

  Gavin's third opponent was Silver Rose, a lightly armoured Light-Elf skirmisher who carried an ornate sabre and a dagger designed specifically to catch and trap an opponent's weapon. Silver Rose's armour consisted of a standard design light harness with a rose and thorn motif, offering protection to vital areas and little else. The thorns on the thick parrying bracers looked to be more than decorative, cunningly wrought to catch blades or cut an opponent. A half-mask gave the man an air of mystery.

  Gavin had met Silver Rose, and seen beneath the Mask. He knew that the Elf practised the Bloodthirster discipline, apparent from his red-flecked eyes and fangs. Beyond vampirism, coupled with speed and grace, he was unsure what tricks to expect from him on the fighting grounds.

  Vampires had successfully sued for citizenship early in the history of the Domains. They argued, quite effectively, that they were far less of a danger than the Gifted and were willing to curb their appetites and abide by binding oaths. They proved to be model citizens for the most part, and prospered greatly. True Vampires cannot develop the Gift, beyond some small skill with necromantic and blood magics. However, a Gifted who accepts a Vampire's embrace develops some of the Vampire's characteristics.

  Silent for a skirmisher, Silver Rose did not offer any parley before the fight. After the trumpets called them to action he bowed to Gavin in a formal gesture of respect, and Gavin followed suit. They began circling each other warily; Gavin wove a clarity spell, something that would enhance his focus, making it easier to spot the tricks and feints that were a skirmisher's bread and butter.

  Just as the crowd started to hint at getting restless, Silver Rose darted towards Gavin. He seemed to float over the white sand, graceful and unhurried, dropping into a perfectly balanced lunge, aiming the bright tip of his sword at Gavin's throat. Gavin opted to meet the blade with his shield, hoping to follow up with a thrust of his own.

  But Gavin did not expect Silver Rose to flow out of his lunge. He was caught off guard as the Elf stepped in close, stabbing at his head with the long blade of his parrying dagger. Gavin jerked his head out of the way, taking a deep cut on his cheek. He felt Silver Rose's sabre draw across his belly a moment later. Adrenalized, Gavin slammed his shield into his opponent's body. His attack sent the elf staggering back a few steps. Although, he felt blood trickle down the side of his face and his belly, he judged them to be a minor wounds.

  Gavin felt a glimmer of power. The blade of Silver Rose's dagger absorbed the blood, hungrily. The elf licked his lips, which suddenly appeared to be quite red, and Gavin noticed his sharp canines seemed to grow in prominence. Bloodthirster was not a discipline he had faced on the fighting grounds. He knew Gladiators who studied the vampiric schools could use blood to heal and power their magic. He had not, however, been expecting a blood-drinking blade. Gavin could sense Silver Rose drawing power from the blood that his sword drunk. He wished he had more time to study the process; he could see that it was dissimilar to many of the methods of Channelling taught to the young Gifted in the Domains. At this level of competition exotic abilities abounded.

  The Channelling was unusual, but the spell pattern was familiar to Gavin: Razorwind. He unwove the spell with some difficulty, pitting his will and lore against Silver's. The Light-Elf danced away from a spear thrust and cast again. This time he used blood to enhance his magic and Gavin was unable to counter his spell. Blades of compressed air sliced Gavin, causing him to bleed in several places. He answered with a spell of his own, an angry mental blast that sent S
ilver Rose reeling back, blood dripping from his ears and nose.

  Now Gavin charged forward, hoping to take the tempo of the fight away from his opponent. His thrusts met empty air, as the skirmisher whirled away, using the Razorwing's Flight war-dance. After a long moment of back and forth, spear and sword, feet moving in blurs, and magic thwarted, Silver Rose's sabre nicked Gavin's arm, opening a vein, and the sword drank his blood again.

  The taste of fresh blood re-energized Silver Rose and he stepped forward again. Gavin watched him carefully, concerned about the skirmisher's deceptively relaxed style. Once again Silver Rose led with a classical lunge, back straight, textbook execution. This time Gavin beat the blade to the side with a deft sweep his spear. Silver Rose recovered with alacrity, aiming a broad slash at his face, Although Gavin ducked under the attack, this exposed him to a short, brutal thrust from the skirmisher's off-hand blade. He shifted, trying to make his shoulder armour would take most of the hit. The feeling of cold steel sinking into his right shoulder, sawing against his collar bone killed that hope.

  A sucking sensation gave a strange edge to the agony as the blade began to drink. Instead of withdrawing, Silver Rose twisted the dagger, caught up in the ecstasy of blood and agony. This, however, tuned out to be a grave misjudgement.

  Gavin threw himself into the Light-Elf, lifting Silver Rose off the ground, unleashing his magic as he did so. The law of strength held true, long enough for Gavin to slam the masked elf into sand, brushing his grip off the blood-drinking dagger lodged in his own flesh. A spurt of crimson squirted from the handle and the sucking sensation ceased. He slammed an armoured knee into the skirmisher's face as Silver Rose struggled to escape. The vampire, momentarily stunned, and still in the grips of blood-ecstasy was unable to defend himself against Gavin's spell. His head bulged and burst. The crowd roared. The fight was done.