by T. H. Lain
She gasped, throwing one forearm across her eyes.
The wind abated instantly, and Nebin stumbled forward. His competitor groaned, then fell face forward into the sand.
"The bout goes to Nebin Raulnor!" exclaimed the judge.
The woman, unable to see anything but swirling colors, was pulled from the circle by a Peloran cleric. Nebin strutted to his next match.
Hennet's first competitor was a salt-bearded fellow called Harper. Harper stood in the circle across from Hennet, darting glances to and fro. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he rubbed his hands incessantly. Hennet's own nervousness faded somewhat on seeing his competitor so shaken. He restrained himself from offering the man encouragement. This was a competition, after all.
"...begin now!" bawled out the judge.
Hennet was ready. A puff of sulfurous smoke from a nearby magical duel half-occluded Harper, who actually mewled in terror.
What's up with this guy? wondered Hennet.
Rather than attacking his already intimidated opponent all-out, he decided to gamble on conserving power for a later match. Hennet opened his mouth and crooned a whispery sound. Infused by magic from his waving fingertips, the sound was transformed. A low growl, as of a lion catching scent of its prey, issued from the center of the hazy circle. When Hennet heard the man take in a deep breath, he knew he'd won already. As his hands moved farther apart, the low growl increased in volume, quickly becoming the ear-shattering roar of a charging lion!
The judge stepped back, nearby competitors stumbled in the midst of their spells, and Harper wet himself as he fell out of the circle. The round was Hennett's. Even better, he'd won with the first spell that he ever mastered, one that stole into his mind on the eve of his thirteenth birthday. He'd used it often since then, but never before with such perfection. It was going to be a good day.
Walking to his second match, Nebin realized something important. In order to win the last matches of the day, he'd need to conserve spells and tricks. The more spells and wand energy he used early, the less he would have available for the final match. And, logically, each new opponent would be more challenging than the ones who came before, as the weakest were weeded out first. Nebin glanced around, looking for Hennet. He wanted to share his revelation, but the constant flash and dazzle of spells restricted his view to only the closest duels.
His next opponent was a diminutive elf, nearly as short as Nebin. The elf wore a simple tunic the color of rose petals. Nebin pegged him as an apprentice who'd recently learned his first real spell, and gave a smug smile calculated to infuriate. Then the duel commenced.
Ready this time, Nebin whipped out his wand and fired off two blasts of rioting color before the elf could do more than blink.
When the color faded, the elf blinked a second time and said quietly, "I'm immune to that enchantment. Are you?"
The elf raised one hand as if cupping something and lobbed it underhand at the gnome. Halfway between the elf and Nebin, the unseen something ignited with a violet whumpf! A sphere of burning purple the size of his head slammed into Nebin. Pain flared through him, unexpected and unbearable. He was certain that his body would be gushing blood from a thousand wounds but for the cauterizing effect of the fiery sphere that was consuming his flesh. Nebin scrambled back, and the sphere fell and bounced away. Gasping for breath, Nebin saw that the elf held one hand forward, gently waving his fingertips. The gnome's breath came even quicker when he saw the sphere respond to the elf's gestures and roll back toward him.
At that moment, Nebin believed with all his might that anything, death included, would be better than being touched by that sphere again. He was so desperate to avoid it that the simplest solution, stepping out of the circle, never occurred to him. Instead, he began breathlessly reciting a long string of harsh syllables. The burning sphere rolled around the periphery of the circle toward him, and Nebin lurched frantically away, trying to stay ahead of it. Walking and casting spells simultaneously was difficult even for arch wizards, let alone someone who hovered just beyond death's grasp. The gnome moved and incanted, chanted and dodged, laboring through magical verses that were far too complex for such a competition. All the while, the sphere narrowed the gap. He could feel the heat groping toward him. Nebin, the sphere, and the elf all moved around the inside of the circle as if pantomiming the face of a sundial.
Nebin smiled as he gasped out the final syllables of his spell. The elf looked confused for a moment when nothing happened, then a shadow swept across his face. He looked up just in time to meet the talons of a stooping hawk with hell-bright eyes. As the hawk raked bloody tracks across the elf's face, its scream was matched by the elf's.
"Not my face!" he shrieked, throwing his hands across his eyes.
Nebin leaped into the air when he saw the flaming sphere dissipate. The hawk that he had summoned from an otherworldly place to do his bidding flapped, screeched, and tore at the elf's arms and head.
Nebin laughed, screaming, "Who's immune now, elf?"
The elf turned and ran, the hawk bedeviling him as he scurried across the floor of the coliseum. Nebin stepped into an impromptu jig but the burning pain in his side stopped him cold.
He called, "Healing!" and a priest moved forward, the sunburst of Pelor on his mantle.
He ran his hands over Nebin's sides. Where he touched, the blackened flesh turned supple and brown.
Then the priest gave Nebin a chiding look as he walked away, saying, "Be not too swift to call dark agents to your side, lest you become addicted to their hate. Seek instead for allies in the celestial sphere."
Nebin ducked his head guiltily. True, the hawk had the taint of the lower Planes on it, but his choices were limited. He did what he needed to win the match and refused to believe that was wrong. It was only a game, after all. But despite his rationalizations, Nebin also knew the priest's words were true. He promised himself he'd remember the warning.
He turned to the standings, which flashed on a large, blank wall in magical glyphs. In the Novice Competition, two rounds remained for those who advanced. Nebin knew that after that, there would be a few days before the finals. The novices competing for the Golden Wand had to wait for the intermediate and grandmaster competitions. But the boards revealed wonderful news: He was getting a bye into the last round! The gnome wondered what he had done that fate was so kind to him. He took the ten minutes at his disposal to wander the field, looking for Hennet. Had the sorcerer already lost? He couldn't find his friend, but did find Aganon, the spellcaster they'd met during the preliminaries.
Nebin called, "Aganon! How fares the day?"
Aganon looked up, saw the gnome, and bragged, "I am at the top of my magic. Stay, and learn a thing or two."
Aganon certainly is sure of himself. Sort of like me, realized the gnome.
Aganon faced off against a dwarf with snow-white braids in his beard and a short, stout staff inset with a crystal. The dwarf aimed a narrow fan of fire at Aganon, who ducked most of it, but not all. Nebin saw a Peloran cleric move closer, monitoring Aganon's fight, along with another match in the next ring where ice bolts were haphazardly flung. Aganon palmed a vial and gulped it down. Suddenly, he burst into frenzied motion, vibrating with quickness. He moved so fast that his movements blurred. The dwarf's eyes narrowed with understanding, and he fumbled for something at his belt. Aganon's form began running around the periphery of the ring, completing a circuit in less than a second. With each circuit, he tightened his course, coming ever closer to the worried dwarf.
The dwarf pulled out a scroll, reading aloud the inscribed runes. A yellow ray flashed away from one of the dwarf's gesturing hands, striking the blurred figure of Aganon. Aganon stumbled. He flailed, cried out, and ran straight into the dwarf. The force of the impact knocked the dwarf completely out of the ring onto his back. Aganon was down, too. Even sprawled out as he was, Nebin saw that Aganon remained completely inside the circle. He struggled back to his feet, gradually blurring back to normal speed.
/> Aganon turned his head toward Nebin and gave the gnome a secret wink, whispering, "All's fair in the duel, eh Nebin?"
"Foul!" cried the dwarf. "He pushed me out! Disqualify him. That wasn't magic."
Aganon looked indignant, saying, "My worthy competitor jokes! I fell, as all could see. It was his ray that caused me to stumble, and he knows it. Besides, I was moving under the influence of an enchantment of acceleration. If striking the dwarf forced him from the circle, it was because the force was magically multiplied."
The judge conferred with another, and after a few seconds, one called, "The bout goes to Aganon!"
The dwarf mage scowled, rattled off a few choice Dwarvish words, and stalked away. Aganon glanced at Nebin again, giving the gnome a satisfied smirk. Several people in the crowd gave a cheer, chanting, "Aganon! Aganon!"
Nebin didn't know how to react. He felt a little strange at witnessing the trick the man had played, if it was a trick. Maybe it was a reasonable, if sneaky, tactic? Before he could make any comment to Aganon, a duel official from across the field called Nebin's name. It was the last round of the day.
Aganon called to him as he moved off, "I will see you, Nebin!"
Feeling vaguely unsettled, the gnome nodded, moving toward his final round.
He thought his final opponent of the day might be a human woman, though her skin had a faint, reddish color. Not that he could see much of it; she was completely wrapped in a shawl of white. She held a slender staff inlaid with runes of glowing pearl. Magical rings clinked on her fingers, and at her belt were girt three wands. Nebin had a sinking sensation. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes.
The judge called, "Nebin Raulnor, wizard, novice, faces off against the White Enchantress, novice. You have three minutes to duel, and they begin...now!"
Nebin fumbled for his wand.
For her part, the White Enchantress beamed a glorious smile at Nebin, and said, "Wouldn't you like to be my very best friend?"
Her eyes sparked with beguilement. And Nebin realized, that yes, indeed, he would like that, very much. He would do much to please this woman, if only she would tell him her desire. He pushed his wand firmly back into place on his belt. The woman smiled more broadly, if possible.
"You're a wonderful little man, aren't you? I can tell we are going to be the best of friends. I have only a small request, between friends. I am so parched! Please, be a dear and fetch me a dipper of water from over there, would you?"
Well, of course he would go get his friend a dipper of water! She was his very best friend, wasn't she? He laughed, pleased by the absurdity of her request. As if he would refuse her. He began walking to the edge of the casting circle.
"Nebin! Wake up! What are you doing?"
Nebin stopped, looking for who spoke. It was Hennet. The gnome was delighted. Fie would introduce his old friend Hennet to his newest friend, the White Enchantress. A pretty name, that.
Nebin called to Hennet, "I was looking for you earlier. How'd you do? Oh never mind, that can wait; I want to introduce you to the White Enchantress. Isn't she extraordinary?" Nebin finished with a sappy grin.
The judge watched the discussion with an incredulous look on his face. Nebin wondered why.
Hennet shook his head. "Think about what you just said; she's an enchantress! You're in the middle of a match, right now! If you fetch her a dipper of water, you leave the circle, and she wins.
What kind of friend would ask you to do that? She's enchanted you, and you'd better shake it off, or you're done."
Nebin pushed his goggles up onto his forehead. Hennet had a point.
He turned back to the Enchantress and asked, "Can I get you that dipper after we're done here?"
Her smile turned to a frown, and she growled, "You're useless! Why would I ever be your friend? Never speak to me again."
The effect of her words on the gnome was immediate. He wilted, hanging his head. Tears of shame welled in his eyes. He had forgotten what it felt like to be rejected. No, he hadn't forgotten, it just had never felt this bad before. Maybe if he explained...He looked up and saw that the White Enchantress held one her wands.
She aimed it and said, "Maybe this will make you feel better, poor guy."
A stupid grin stretched Nebin's lips as a spray of color showered from her wand, washing over him in a buzz of conflicting urges. How could she use his favorite spell against him? What kind of friend would do that? Realization hit him as he tried shaking off the flashing colors. Hennet called it right; she'd enchanted him. But the charm was broken.
A rush of words tumbled from his mouth, long and loud. The spell was lengthy but had worked to great effect earlier. He had a moment of doubt, remembering the priest's words. Should he avoid that spell, try something else? No, time was running out and he needed a powerful distraction. The White Enchantress tried to ensorcel him once more, but he shut his ears to her entreaties. She wouldn't humiliate him twice in a row.
He chanted the last syllable. A roll of noise, like thunder, heralded the appearance of a red-feathered bird of prey. It materialized right next to the White Enchantress. Its beak was stained with blood, and its eyes shone with the fury of Hell. Then it was on her.
The White Enchantress gave ground, crying aloud. The fiendish hawk went for her eyes, beak pecking and talons scratching.
"Forfeit! I forfeit! Get it away," she yelled.
Nebin had hoped only to confuse her with the summoned creature so he could force her out of the ring in some other fashion, but this was even better. With a snap, he dismissed the spell; the cruel raptor faded away, leaving only a wisp of smoke.
The White Enchantress, with the creature gone, regained her composure, though her face remained flushed.
She said to Nebin, "You are a worthy competitor. Good luck to you."
Then she walked away, still the image of poise. Despite himself, Nebin felt a small echo of friendliness toward her. She possessed potent magic, and he hoped he would see her again.
Hennet clapped the gnome on the shoulders and said, "That's it, we're both in. I had a bye this last round; my first three rounds were laughable. I faced one mage named Harper who didn't even manage to cast a spell. I wish you had seen him quaking in fear. Well, it's done. We're both in the finals!"
The judge called out Nebin's win. Hennet and Nebin cheered, as did a contingent in the crowd. Apparently, one or both of them had picked up a small following. It was a good day for dueling.
The mages returned to the Cuttlestone Inn, triumphant. After a drink in the common room, they repaired to their quarters. Hennet felt a flush of guilt when he recalled the predicament of Ember, Brek, and the injured elder. They remained behind in the mages' room while Hennet and Nebin competed in the Duel Arcane.
Hennet knocked, then pushed open the door to their room. "What news?" he called.
Kairoth lay on a cot near the window, propped up with pillows. Ember sat on a stool next to him. The two were in the midst of speaking, but Ember looked up and smiled at Hennet. He realized the smile was the first of real sincerity he had seen from the monk. It's warmth sent a shiver of excitement thrilling through him.
Yes, I have it bad, he cajoled himself.
Brek Gorunn sat at the small table that was now piled with scrolls, a ring, and other oddments they had taken from the mummified creature below the city.
He said, "We're better, thanks to Moradin's grace. How fared your duel?"
Nebin pushed past the sorcerer and said, "Could you expect any less than total victory? Hennet's foes were slipshod; their magic was weak. He could have called light and won his duels. In fact, I think that's exactly what he did at least once. But me! I faced such challenges! Why, one evil shrew took direct control of my mind. If not for a supreme effort of will—something I've practiced—I'd still be in her power. I'm surprised they let someone so awesome compete at our level."
"A supreme effort of will and my help, you mean," interjected Hennet.
"Right, I was coming to that
."
"In any case," continued Hennet, "we're both slated for the finals in two days. But, what about you?" He fixed the man on the cot with his direct gaze, saying, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Elder Kairoth. Ember speaks well of you."
Kairoth's hair was shaved, his features chiseled as if from granite, and he had a wiry build. He wore a ring on one hand, the same ring Ember retrieved from the pile of ashes in the temple.
Ember said, "Elder Kairoth, please tell them what you've told us. These are the two who helped us find and retrieve you from below the city."
The man weighed Hennet, then Nebin, with a look. Apparently, they passed.
The man said, "It is good to make your acquaintance, young friends. You have my deepest gratitude. You have allowed one last chance for redemption for the Enabled Hand."
Kairoth sat up straighter and took a drink from a small cup.
"Brek Gorunn has healed me of my physical hurts," he continued, "but I remain spiritually weakened, for now. My life energy was nearly snuffed out. Others were not saved as I was. The Order was betrayed."
"Betrayed?" asked the gnome.
"I will start at the beginning. Five weeks ago, a student of mine, Adeva Silverhair, disappeared. At first it seemed nothing, but when a search of her quarters revealed the possibility of foul play, I became concerned. It seemed as if there had been a struggle, and I found blood. I was especially distraught because I scolded Adeva for her impudence earlier that day. Perhaps my harsh words left her open to poor choices. I do not know.
"Regardless, when I went to Elder Vobod and told him of Adeva's disappearance, he laughed. He said Adeva had merely gone away on a trip. Then he gave me a terrible look, and told me that if I didn't want to see where she'd gone, I'd better forget about it. Can you imagine, an elder threatening another? That was when I penned my message to Ember. I hid a secret message in the letter, in case the courier was intercepted."