by Duncan Pile
He reacted quickly, drawing more power and preparing another strike, but he was on the back foot now. Brukasi had found a way to divert even his strongest strikes, so he’d have to try and win through cunning and good tactics. Even as a pair of strikes formed in his hands, the warrior woman took two long strides and cracked her whip at Taurnil. From the corner of his eye he saw Taurnil hesitate at the crucial moment. The whip snapped out and curled around his staff, and with a mighty wrench of her arms, the warrior woman yanked it from his grasp. It spun through the air, flying way out of reach. She took another stride forwards, lifting her arm once again to strike out at her now weapon-less opponent. Gaspi knew that if he didn’t defend Taurnil they were as good as defeated. Given little choice, he spun out a shield, interposing it between Taurnil and the warrior woman. Certain that Brukasi would take the opportunity to attack him while he was distracted, he tried to summon another shield, but just as it was forming, a sizzling noise warned him that he was too late. He turned his head in time to see the glowering head of a soul strike filling his vision. It smashed through the beginnings of his shield as if it was made of wet parchment and hit him directly in the face.
It was like being trampled by a herd of cattle. Thrown to his back, he was aware of his elbows banging percussively against the ground as he convulsed, and the back of his head knocking out a similar rhythm, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He felt like he’d been seized in the very depths of his soul, and violently tossed about like a rag-doll in a snarling dog’s teeth. Eventually, the strike lost its grip, and he started to come around. His arms stopped banging against the ground, and just as he opened his eyes he was flooded with pain. His whole body ached as if he’d been stretched out on a wrack. Sharp pain flared in his skull, stabbing him every time he moved his head. His elbows were bruised and bleeding from the repeated concussions.
Groaning, he rolled to his side and vomited, only to discover that Taurnil was on the ground too. The warrior woman was bending over to help him up, giving him an unnecessarily intimate view of her impressive cleavage. She took his hand and helped him to his feet, and even in his tortured state, Gaspi saw his friend glance down her front and look away as if scalded, flushing right up to the roots of his hair.
The patter of feet on the sand announced the blessed arrival of the healers, who placed their cool hands on his head and relieved him of his agony. It flowed out of his body like water, replaced by the gentle inrush of well-being. His disorientation left him too, and soon he was sitting up, thanking the healers as they moved onto Taurnil. He pushed himself to his feet, anxious to talk to him before the next bout began. They lost that bout because of Taurnil’s lack of willingness to fight a woman. It was that simple, and if that didn’t change, they might as well surrender before the next bout even began.
“What the heck’s the matter with you?” he asked, furious with his friend for losing focus at such a crucial stage of the tournament.
“What do you mean?” Taurnil responded, but he couldn’t meet Gaspi’s eye.
“There’s no time to mess around!” Gaspi snapped. “You’ve got to hit her. It’s as simple as that. You’re just as bad as that idiot she beat in their first match.”
“It’s harder than I thought,” Taurnil grumbled.
“Sort yourself out,” Gaspi hissed angrily, earning wary looks from the healers as they tended to Taurnil. “She’s chosen a life as a warrior. You could do with showing her some respect and giving it all you’ve got.”
“I’ll try, honestly,” Taurnil said as he sat up, but he still didn’t sound convinced. The healers were almost done with him now and Gaspi knew there were only a few moments left to stir his friend to action.
“Listen,” he urged, dropping to his knees and placing both hands on Taurnil’s massive shoulders. “What will you do if one of Sestin’s allies is a woman?”
“Good point,” Taurnil said, letting Gaspi help him up as the healers departed. Gaspi thought he could detect a new determination in the set of his friend’s jaw.
“Forget the fact that she’s a woman. Right now she’s your enemy, and you have to bring everything you’ve got to the next bout. Got it?”
“Got it,” Taurnil responded. “Sorry Gasp.”
“You should get your staff.”
Taurnil grunted and jogged over to pick up his discarded staff, and when he returned, the mayor lifted his staff in the air.
“TAKE YOUR PLACES,” he shouted, and they moved into their enchanted circle of light.
Sixty-One
“BEGIN!”
Gaspi sidled into position behind Taurnil, thinking furiously as they shuffled forwards. If Brukasi had some kind of device to disperse his most powerful strikes, how was he going to beat the skilled battle mage?
“Taurn, you lead,” he said, letting his friend know that he was to act as both shield and weapon for now. Gaspi surrounded Taurnil’s armour with a shield and channelled power into his staff, sheathing it with magical force. Brukasi seemed happy with the arrangement, and allowed the warrior to lead as well. For now, the battle would be focussed entirely through the warriors. Gaspi just had to trust that Taurnil had overcome his reluctance to attack a woman.
Taurnil and the warrior woman took a large stride forward at exactly the same time, Taurnil spinning his staff and the warrior woman brandishing her whip. Gaspi braced himself, pouring power into the staff. It was going to be a clash of enchantments, and the stronger spell-work would win. The force-whip snaked out and snapped tightly around the upper end of the staff. Taurnil strengthened his grip as the warrior woman heaved on the whip, trying to wrest the staff from his hands once again. Taurnil pulled hard in the other direction, and instead of losing his staff, this time he pulled his opponent off balance.
Taking advantage of the momentum, he stepped forwards as she stumbled towards him, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her face into his thrusting knee. Her head snapped back as she collapsed, and Taurnil leapt over her, hefting his staff into position and spinning it directly at Brukasi. The diminutive mage backed off in alarm, throwing a force strike at the advancing warrior and summoning a shield to defend against physical attack. Gaspi’s shield was already in place around Taurnil and the strike dissipated to nothing. Taurnil’s powerfully enchanted staff smashed through Brukasi’s shield and smashed down hard against the crown of his head, knocking him unconscious.
“WINNER, GASPI!” the mayor announced, and the crowd cheered jubilantly at the decisive victory. It had taken just a few moments, and now the match was even.
“Nice work Taurn,” Gaspi said, clapping his friend on the back.
Taurnil grimaced distastefully. “If you say so.”
“That was some turnaround,” Gaspi said, repressing a smile. “You went from not being willing to fight her at all to kneeing her in the face.”
“You got what you asked for!” Taurnil growled.
“Only joking!” Gaspi said, raising his hands placatingly. This clearly wasn’t the time for jokes. “You did what you needed to do, and that’s that.”
Taurnil grunted unhappily, watching the healers attend to the warrior woman. “So what do we do this time?” he asked.
Gaspi frowned. “We won that bout because they were overconfident after the first one. They won’t be doing that again, and now they know the force-whip can’t overpower the enchantments on your staff, so I don’t reckon she’ll go head to head like that again either.”
“So what do we do?” Taurnil repeated.
“I honestly don’t know,” Gaspi responded. “We’ll do what we did last time. Keep a tight sword and sorcery formation and focus the battle through you. I don’t know what to expect from them so we’ll just have to be ready for anything.”
“Fair enough,” Taurnil responded.
The healers had finished restoring their opponents now, and the mayor lifted his staff to announce the final bout.
“TAKE YOUR PLACES,” he shouted. They entered their enchanted ci
rcle of light and turned to face their opponents. “BEGIN!”
As Taurnil stepped out in front of him, the warrior woman did the same, but she left the whip handle scabbarded at her waist and drew the longsword from over her shoulder instead. Gaspi nodded to himself as his suspicions were confirmed. In previous matches, she’d been able to rely on the sheer magical strength of the force-whip to overpower her opponents, but Taurnil’s staff was even more powerfully enchanted than the whip, and without that advantage there was less reason to use it. Besides, a staff was the ideal weapon to use to defend against a whip, and Taurnil had already proven himself to be physically stronger than her. She’d taken the sensible decision to fall back on her formidable skills as a swordswoman, which meant that this would be a different kind of fight altogether.
“Easy Taurn,” Gaspi said as the teams started to circle. “She’s good with that thing.”
“I know,” Taurnil responded tightly.
“Gaspi put a hand on Taurnil’s shoulder, urging him forwards. Suddenly, Brukasi stamped on the sand with a tiny foot, sending an earth strike rippling through the ground. The warrior woman leapt after it, bounding towards Taurnil with long, bouncing steps, her sword raised to attack. Gaspi quelled the strike and Taurnil met the warrior woman’s charge, catching her sword on the length of staff between his hands and shoving her backwards with a mighty heave of his shoulders. She landed lightly on her back foot and sprang forwards again just as Brukasi launched a pair of strikes, one at Taurnil and the other at Gaspi. Gaspi flicked both strikes aside and pushed back with a much more powerful strike, but the little magician rolled to the side and avoided it.
The warrior woman thrust her sword at Taurnil’s gut, but he blocked it again, pushing her blade to the side. He pressed down, his staff angled to trap it against the ground, but instead of trying to retrieve her blade she let go of the handle and smashed the buckler she wore on her forearm into Taurnil’s face, shattering his nose. Taurnil staggered backwards, dropping his staff and falling to the ground, leaving Gaspi to fight on alone. The warrior woman scooped up her sword and sprang at him.
Acting on instinct, Gaspi struck out with a fist of pure force and sent her tumbling away. He threw an air strike at Brukasi to keep him distracted, an attack that was particularly effective against the tiny magician. As Brukasi struggled to divert the powerful strike, Gaspi pulled a knife from his baldric and threw it at the warrior woman as she rose to her feet. It flipped end over end and stuck deeply into her shoulder. Crying out, she clutched her wounded shoulder tightly as Gaspi withdrew a second knife and threw that one too. Brukasi had been knocked back a dozen feet by the air strike, and was too far away to help. The knife glittered as it flipped towards her, its polished sides catching the light. Her eyes widened as she saw it coming, and knowing she hadn’t got a chance of getting out of the way, she thrust out her hand to stop it from piercing her gut. The cry she let out as it sliced though her palm was horrible to hear, and she fell to the ground, out of the fight.
Gaspi felt suddenly sick, but he forced himself to ignore the sight of her skewered hand and face Brukasi. The warrior woman might be out of the fight, but the tiny mage was still in it and very much a threat. He was advancing on Gaspi, power swelling at his fists, a look of fury on his intelligent face. Despite his diminutive stature, there was nothing funny about the sight of an enraged Brukasi, brimming with ready power. Gaspi hastily summoned a pair of strikes and formulated a plan. He wanted to end this quickly, and he thought he might just know how to do it. Brukasi was clutching his complex shielding device, which meant that even Gaspi’s most powerful strikes would be useless against him. At least, that was what Gaspi wanted him to think.
He lifted his hand and flung the first strike at the tiny magician. As expected Brukasi channelled power into the device, and his maze-like shield sprang into being in front of him, but as soon as he’d done that Gaspi cast the other strike high into the air. The first strike was still being dissipated by the shield when the second reached a point directly over Brukasi’s head. Gaspi split it into a dozen smaller strikes, sending them curling out around his opponent and bringing them back in towards him. After dispensing with the first strike, Brukasi had the briefest moment to see the multiple strikes rushing at him from a dozen directions. His eyes opened wide and he met Gaspi’s gaze with a look of disappointed acceptance. The strikes collided with him as one, and the small magician fell to the ground, wracked with uncontrollable spasms as the potent energies ran rampant through his body.
“WINNER, GASPI!” the mayor announced, and the crowd leapt to its feet, roaring with approval. Gaspi almost staggered at the overwhelming noise. The crowd certainly seemed to like the bloody battles the best! He glanced at Brukasi as the twitching subsided. It wouldn’t have been as bad as being hit by a soul strike, but it can’t have been nice. He walked over to Taurn and squatted down. His friend’s nose was completely smashed, his cheeks and eyelids swollen with broken blood vessels. If it wasn’t for the healers he wouldn’t be a pretty picture for weeks, if not months!
“Well done Gasp,” he said thickly, and Gaspi realised his friend had lost several teeth as well. Blood tricked from the corner of his mouth.
“Hold on mate,” he said. “The healers will be here in a minute.”
They saw to the warrior woman first, removing the blades from her body and healing her wounds. Brukasi was next, and when he was restored, they wordlessly handed Gaspi his throwing knives back and went to work on Taurnil. It wasn’t long until his friend was looking like his normal self again, his broken bones and teeth restored as if he’d never been injured.
“I’ll never get used to that!” Taurnil said as Gaspi helped him up.
“Er, someone to see you,” Gaspi said, and Taurnil spun around to see the warrior woman approaching, her tight leathers emphasising the curve of her hips as she walked.
“You fought well,” she said to Taurnil, ignoring Gaspi altogether. Taurnil flushed bright red and muttered a few incoherent syllables. Her voice was low and sultry, and purred with the burr of a lilting foreign accent. “Most of these men would not strike me as you did,” she continued. She eyed him up and down appreciatively and leant in to kiss him on the cheek. Taurnil’s complexion went from pink to scarlet as she withdrew. “I am staying at the Conjuror’s Cape tonight if you want to…visit.”
With that she departed, leaving Taurnil gaping like a fish.
“Close your mouth mate,” Gaspi said, unable to restrain a fit of giggles.
“But…she…”
“I know,” Gaspi said, chuckling to himself. “Lydia’s right over there you know.”
That last comment seemed to bring Taurnil back to his senses. He snapped his jaw shut and walked with Gaspi back across the sand towards their seats.
“Er…don’t say anything to Lydia about what just happened,” Taurnil said.
“Course not,” Gaspi answered with one last chuckle. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Gaspi and Taurnil reached the edge of the arena and took their seats. Taurnil steadfastly avoided looking at Lydia, who was giving him a considered look that Gaspi couldn’t begin to decipher. Emmy caught his gaze, her eyes twinkling with amusement, and he shot her a wink in response.
“THE FINAL MATCH OF THE SEMI-FINALS WILL BE BETWEEN EVERAND AND FERAST!” the mayor shouted, and Gaspi’s mood sobered immediately.
“Rand!” he said as Everand stood up, not knowing exactly what he wanted to say.
“Yes Gasp?” Everand asked.
“Just be careful okay. If he does anything dodgy, surrender.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Everand said, grinning. “And if it gets hairy, I know what to do.”
Gaspi had to content himself with that, and along with the rest of the group from Helioport, he wished him and Baard good luck.
Sixty-Two
Everand wasn’t feeling nervous as he walked across the arena floor. The giant, Baard, walked next to him, carrying his
double-headed axe in both hands.
“How’re we goin’ about this?” Baard asked as they approached the mayor.
“Let’s stay together. I’ll focus my spell casting through you. If you attack, don’t go too far.”
“Whatever you say,” Baard responded. Everand was pleased with how deferential Baard had become towards him. It meant he’d earned the giant’s respect, and that meant a lot to him. Just a few weeks previously, he’d lost that, along with everyone else’s. It had been a hard lesson, and even a humiliating one, but he’d learned a lot from it and had finally managed to rebuild those bridges.
When they stopped walking, Everand tried to catch Ferast’s eye. He knew what Voltan had told him, and the strange boy was clearly troubled, but they used to be friends, and that had to count for something. Perhaps this was just one more bridge to rebuild.
Ferast looked up at him and Everand smiled tentatively, hoping to arouse some good feeling from his old friend, but what he saw instantly wiped the smile from his face. Ferast was looking at him with such undisguised venom that he almost took a step backwards. Slowly, Ferast smiled, but it wasn’t the friendly smile Everand had been hoping for. It was the smile of a predator, fierce and confident as it homed in on its prey.
“TAKE YOUR PLACES!” the mayor shouted, making Everand jump. Ferast laughed a slow, drawling laugh and retreated to his circle of light.
“That kid’s a wrong’un,” Baard murmured as they also took their places and prepared to fight.
“BEGIN!”
Everand fell into formation, slightly behind Baard and to the right, power filling his hands as he watched his opponents do the same. They began to circle each other, both teams waiting out the other, seeking an opening.
It was Baard who broke ranks first, launching an attack at Bork with his customary battle cry. Bork shifted position and caught the attack on his broadsword, sweeping Baard’s axe aside and hammering a fist into his face. The giant reeled backwards, blood spurting from his smashed nose. Very few fighters had the strength to block one of Baard’s attacks, let alone hurt him, and Everand knew in that moment that they were in trouble.