by Duncan Pile
Everand was slightly less powerful than Isdar, and was forced into a slow retreat, his shields holding but not by much. Gaspi could see the strain in his face as he sought to find a way to break the pattern, but Isdar kept him pinned down through superior strength. Gaspi found himself rooting for Everand, willing him to dig deep and find some hidden reserve of power. At that moment, Baard put the smaller warrior out of action with a blow to the head, and spun round to support his partner. He lifted his two-handed axe above his head and ran at Isdar with a mighty bellow.
Gaspi watched Baard charge, red hair and beard flying wildly behind him, and could only feel sorry for the heavy-set magician. To his credit, Isdar didn’t surrender. He split his summoning into both hands, formed a pair of strikes and threw them at his opponents. One of them stopped Baard dead in his tracks, knocking him onto his rump, but the other was too weak to bother Everand. The handsome boy scooped the weak strike out of the air and flung it back at him, amplifying it with the full strength of his own powers. Because the original strike was summoned by Isdar, Everand could capture and use that energy at no cost to himself, and by adding his own strength to the return strike, he made something more powerful than he could have summoned on his own.
Isdar pulled up a shield, but the sheer strength of the strike was too much for it, and it collapsed on impact. Isdar was flung backwards, and before he could do anything about it, Everand had thrown a net of power over him, and with Baard also rising back to his feet, Isdar did the only thing he could and surrendered.
Gaspi was amazed at how much Everand had learned in the last few weeks. How in the world had he learned how to catch someone else’s strike? He could only assume that after Voltan’s humiliating lesson, he must have worked hard to improve his skills.
Everand was clearly exultant after winning the first bout, grinning like an excited child, but Baard was an experienced enough fighter to keep his head about him. Gaspi watched him speak sobering words to his partner, after which the tall boy restrained himself and adopted a suitably serious expression.
The second bout was abrupt and conclusive. Isdar had obviously worked out that the key to winning the match was to take Baard out of the equation, and threw his initial strikes at the giant, but Everand and Baard had planned for this change of tactic. As soon as the fight began, Baard barrelled through Isdar’s warrior as if he wasn’t even there and chased the magician down, his enchanted armour and weaponry fuelled by a steady flow of power from Everand. The enchantments in Baard’s armour were such that he was surrounded by Everand’s strongest shield, which absorbed the strikes Isdar flung at him. When he reached the magician he smacked him with the flat of his blade and knocked him out cold. After being announced as the winner, Everand left the arena with a grin of pure elation, accompanied by Baard, whose enthusiastic clap on the back almost knocked the young magician off his feet.
Gaspi cheered loudly along with the rest of the crowd. Everand and Baard really did make an excellent team, and as far as he could tell, stood a genuine chance of winning the tournament. If he and Taurnil faced them, he could easily overpower Everand’s magical strength but how would Taurnil handle Baard? If Baard beat Taurnil, would Gaspi be able to deal with both of them at once?
“Nice one Rand,” Gaspi said as he and Baard sat down next to him.
“Thanks,” he said with a grin.
Jonn clapped Baard on the back. “You’re a beast,” he said, which Baard took as a compliment.
The last few matches in the third round were all of a high standard, but even among the skilled teams, Gaspi thought that Brukasi and the warrior woman who fought alongside him were the most impressive. Despite the obvious skills of their opponents, they won their match conclusively, and as he watched the warrior woman brandish her force-whip, he reflected that beating them would take every last bit of his skill and power. Not only was Brukasi a powerful magic user, but they were skilled and inventive, and that weapon was truly formidable.
The mayor announced the end of the third round and there was a short break before the fourth began. Only sixteen teams remained, including Gaspi and Taurnil, and Everand and Baard. During the break, Gaspi considered the increasingly likelihood that he would face Ferast on the arena floor. Most of the matches would be difficult now, but instinctively he felt that fighting against Ferast and Bork would be the hardest of the lot, even harder than Brukasi and the warrior woman. As well as having to contend with Ferast’s newly acquired magical strength, there was the added nastiness of his malevolent attitude towards both him and Everand. Maybe they’d get lucky and someone else would knock him out, and then neither of them would have to deal with him!
The fourth round began, and Ferast was called to fight after only two matches. As the bird-thin boy fought, Gaspi watched him intently for any sign of dark magic, but as in the previous round, there was no evidence of foul play, and Ferast defeated his opponents through advanced neuromancy and impressive magical strength. He had clearly perfected the art of disappearing, and used it to his advantage to win the first bout. In the second bout, he dispensed with trickery and simply overpowered his opponent with sheer strength. Bork fought savagely in both bouts, dealing blows that, if not blocked, may well have taken the other warrior’s life.
Everand was called to fight in the third match, and though he and Baard were harder pressed this time, they won through by a combination of good tactics and Baard’s total lack of a self-preserving instinct. He was quite happy to take grievous wounds if it won them the match! Brukasi and the warrior woman won their match, and then it was Gaspi and Taurnil’s turn.
They were facing a swarthy southerner called Samos, who fought alongside a muscular, long-limbed swordsman, wearing a heavy coat of chain mail. Once again, he could sense agitation in them before the bout even began. He could understand why any opponent might be uneasy about fighting a magician with access to powerful gifts they couldn’t use themselves, but he hated fighting desperate magicians who might concoct some wild, dangerous plan to finish the bout early. His fears were realised the moment the first bout began and Samos threw the most powerful soul strike he could summon right at Taurnil. Filled with anger, Gaspi blocked the strike and slammed both his opponents with a wall of force. It was a serious case of overkill, but the crowd was clearly on his side, cheering loudly as both Samos and his warrior were knocked senseless.
The healers managed to get them in reasonable shape for the second bout, but Gaspi wasn’t about to give them a reprieve. Taurnil rammed the butt of his staff into the ground, throwing them to their backs with an earth strike that made the first row of benches shake and sand fly up all over the arena. Gaspi drew on the billowing winds in the skies above him and summoned a gale. Clouds formed around it, black as night and crackling with lightning. With a sharp thrust of his finger he sent it boiling towards Samos and his warrior, bundling them up along with tonnes of stinging sand and tumbling them halfway across the arena. When he opened his hand and let the energies disperse, Samos and his warrior lay in a heap on the ground, blood oozing from abrasions all over the exposed skin of their bodies where the sand had scoured them raw.
“WINNER, GASPI!” the mayor announced, and the crowd cheered with wild abandon.
“Sheesh Gasp!” Taurnil said as they walked back to their bench. “That was brutal!”
Gaspi looked at him sternly. “No-one will try and hit you with a soul-strike again though will they?”
“Trust me, I’m not complaining!” Taurnil said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Gaspi wondered if Emmy might be disapproving, but when they got back to the benches, she leant over and kissed him on the cheek. She looked pale, but a tightly bunched muscle in her jaw line showed she shared something of his sternness.
“I see you’ve given up any notion of refraining from using your gift,” Voltan said.
“He attacked Taurnil with a soul-strike!” Gaspi said defensively.
“I’m not criticising,” Voltan clarified wit
h a small smile. “It was more of a massacre than sword and sorcery but under the circumstances I think it was merited.”
“Oh,” Gaspi responded, the wind leaving his sails. “Thanks.”
Everand clapped him on the shoulder. “Mate, if we end up facing each other, take it easy okay? No storms, no lightning, no fire!”
Gaspi laughed, letting himself relax. “Okay, deal.”
Fifty-Nine
There was another short break after round four, and then the mayor called the beginning of the fifth. There were only eight teams remaining, including Gaspi and Taurnil, Everand and Baard, Ferast and Bork, Kusar and the tall, braided warrior, and Brukasi and the warrior woman. The other three magicians were of lesser strength, and in Gaspi’s opinion two of them were lucky to have made it through the last round. It was coming down to it now. His desire to win was mounting with every round, but it was starting to make him feel anxious as well. Taking a moment to relax, he forced himself to breathe deeply and let go of the tension he was carrying. It was a struggle at first but he closed his eyes and made himself concentrate until he felt the tightly wound knots in his shoulders relax. It wasn’t a true meditation, but it helped clear his head, and when the round began, he was in the right state of mind to compete.
Brukasi was the first to fight, facing one of the weaker magicians, and he won the match convincingly. Gaspi sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for the next set of names to be called. Some instinct told him it would be him, and sure enough, the first name out of the barrel was his, and the second was Kusar’s. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and looked at Taurnil to see how he felt about the draw. Kusar was a serious opponent, and the warrior he fought alongside was equally formidable. Taurnil looked back, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He was obviously relishing the challenge of facing such a skilled team. They stuck to a pure brand of highly sophisticated sword and sorcery, and although Kusar wasn’t magically strong, he’d outclassed every magician he’d faced through skill and outstanding teamwork.
“No funny stuff Gasp,” Taurnil said as they left their bench, urged on by the well-wishes of their companions. Gaspi knew exactly what he meant.
“I agree,” he responded. Against such skilled opponents it meant there was a very real chance of losing, but at least they’d have done so honourably.
They reached the centre of the arena and unusually, Taurnil stepped forwards and shook hands with the braided warrior. Following his lead, Gaspi offered his hand to Kusar, and then to the warrior as Taurnil did the same with Kusar.
“Just so you know, Gaspi won’t be using nature magic.” Taurnil said.
“Sword and sorcery, straight down the line,” Gaspi confirmed.
Kusar looked at them with interest and then surprised him by dipping into a bow. He bowed to him first and then to Taurnil, the action mirrored by his warrior. Gaspi and Taurnil returned the unfamiliar gesture and stepped away.
“TAKE YOUR PLACES!” the mayor shouted, and the teams moved to the enchanted circles of light.
“Attack or defence?” Taurnil asked, deferring to him.
“Attack,” Gaspi answered quietly. “If we let them take the lead we may struggle to take control again. All or nothing Taurn.”
“Good choice,” Taurnil responded, the sand crunching beneath his feet as he shifted position.
“BEGIN!”
Gaspi sidestepped as Taurnil shuffled forwards, his staff spinning slowly in his hands as he led the attack. Kusar and his warrior did the same thing, and the two teams approached each other in identical formation. To the observer’s eye it might look like the two teams shared a strategy, but Gaspi knew better. He was a much stronger magician than Kusar, but Kusar was a warrior mage, skilled in physical as well as magical disciplines. Whatever happened, he had to keep him out of range, because if it came to a fist fight, he wouldn’t stand a chance. At that moment he was holding three times more power than Kusar could possibly command, and he intended to use it.
Taurnil took a sudden step forwards, striking out at the braided warrior with a hard thrust of his staff. The warrior blocked him, counterattacking with a vicious swing at his head, which he blocked in turn. Soon the arena was filled with the staccato clack of wood on wood as the two warriors surged back and forth, exchanging a bewildering series of blows. Gaspi fed a steady flow of power into Taurnil’s staff to lend it extra force, while maintaining a strong shield against physical attacks in case Kusar did anything unexpected. Kusar would know that attacking him while he held the shield in place would be pointless, so for the time being, the battle was focussed entirely through the warriors.
Gaspi watched Taurnil carefully as he fought. The other warrior was probably a little more skilled with the staff, but not by much, and the sheer strength of Taurnil’s blows meant that his opponent had to work that much harder to defend himself. The enchantment on Taurnil’s boots was working in his favour as well, his feet shifting effortlessly from position to position and keeping him from having to expend too much energy manoeuvring himself. Overall, the fight was pretty even, and although Gaspi thought it may tip in Taurnil’s favour as tiredness set in, he didn’t want to play it that way. Summoning a strike in his left hand, he dropped his shield and threw it at Kusar. It was just a tester. Kusar’s only weakness was his lack of raw magical strength, and Gaspi wanted to know how he’d handle a moderate strike.
Kusar saw the strike coming and drew up a shield. Gaspi could tell he put all his strength into it, but it held up against the strike, repelling its energies without collapsing. Quick as a flash Kusar struck back, throwing a pair of strikes in his direction. Gaspi drew up a hasty shield and caught them just in time, but he wasn’t prepared for the dagger that flew at him in their wake. His shield was only of use for magical attacks, and it sailed right through. Spinning aside, he managed to get his body out of the way of the sharp blade, but it grazed his arm as it flew past, slicing through his robe and making a shallow cut on his arm.
Reacting instinctively, he pinched off the flow of energy going to Taurnil’s staff and spun out a quick shield against physical attack, throwing it up between him and Kusar. He was just in time. He’d expected another dagger but it was Kusar himself who slammed into the shield and fell back to the ground, stunned by the impact. The magician had pulled out his staves and run at him, attempting to seize the moment and overpower him physically, but Gaspi’s instincts had not only saved him from defeat, they’d given him the advantage. He sprang into action, throwing a containing net over the warrior mage while he was stunned. He spun to face Kusar’s warrior, clapping his hands together and releasing a potent air strike. It ripped through the air and whipped into the braided warrior. He stumbled sideways under its influence, and Taurnil took advantage, slamming his staff into the warrior’s ribs. A loud snapping sound heralded the end of the bout as the warrior collapsed to the ground, clutching his broken ribs.
“WINNER, GASPI!” the mayor announced. While the crowd cheered, Gaspi held a hurried conference with Taurnil, talking through their strategy for the next bout.
“Do we need to do anything differently?” Taurnil asked.
“I don’t know,” Gaspi answered. “Kusar almost had me there. It was a very close thing.”
“I don’t think we can predict what they’ll do,” Taurnil said. “We’ll just have to stay sharp.”
“Yup,” Gaspi said, as a healer came over and tended to his arm. Cool healing power flowed into him, and in moments the sharp sting of his wound was gone. The other healer had finished seeing to the tall warrior’s broken ribs, and the mayor was ready for the next bout to begin.
“TAKE YOUR PLACES!” he shouted, and they entered their enchanted circle of light.
“Go on the attack again,” Gaspi muttered.
“BEGIN!”
As in the first bout, both teams shuffled forwards, and began to circle each other, but this time it was Kusar who attacked first. Bouncing once on the balls of his feet, he sprang forw
ards, pulling the pair of short wooden staves from within his robe. The braided warrior attacked Taurnil at the same time, spinning his staff around his body as he advanced, pirouetting from foot to foot. Taurnil backed off from the fearsome whirlwind of spinning wood, readying himself to block the other warrior’s staff. He managed to catch it on his own staff once, twice, and then again, but on each occasion he was forced to retreat a step, and soon he and Gaspi were separated by a gap of several yards.
Gaspi knew he couldn’t let Kusar get in close with those staves, or he’d be knocked out before he could draw breath. Reacting quickly, he threw an enormous force strike at the approaching warrior mage, but it sailed right through him and dispersed into the air. Illusion! Panicking, he thrust out in all directions with an expanding shield. If Taurnil had been near it would have hit him too, but luckily, he was battling against the braided warrior over twenty feet away by that time, and the only person it hit was Kusar. The warrior mage materialised right next to him, stunned by the force of Gaspi’s shield. His hands were lifted to strike with both staves, but Gaspi had stopped him just in time. He staggered backwards, and Gaspi sought to push his advantage, throwing another strike at the off-balance mage, but Kusar was too quick for him. He twisted to the right and disappeared again.
Gaspi shielded himself, caught in momentary indecision. He’d promised not to use nature magic, so he couldn’t just tune into Kusar’s living energies to track his invisible presence. His mind made up, he started casting about with great waves of sand, whipping them off the ground with swathes of moving force. It was much less efficient that summoning wind to do the same thing, but he’d already decided to stick to his promise! The sand scattered about him, and he turned left and then right, looking for any sign of Kusar. Just for a moment he saw him, when a big slap of sand fell against him, outlining him for the briefest second.