by Corey Soreff
As Eucibous socialized with his companions, his heart stirred, and he knew who he would see when he turned to the other side of the room. The Goddess, Anania, stood in the hall talking with another female. The woman to whom she was talking had been in the hall the entire time, and was presumably a combatant. But she did not look like a fighter, sporting a long white robe with golden trim. Eucibous was surprised to find himself feeling jealous that Anania was not there to see him. At one point, Anania turned towards him and rewarded him with a smile, then continued to talk to the other female.
“Oi! Open your ears, boss!” Jarec joked.
Eucibous turned back to his group. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“Should we realize we are matched against the liche, what are our orders?” Jarec asked.
Eucibous scratched his chin in thought, instantly reminded of his poor friend Ginin. “Don’t take unnecessary chances. I have faith in all of you, but we cannot underestimate this liche. Remember, he ruled unchallenged for many centuries. If you think you might be fighting the liche, be on your guard, and hold up one finger in our direction. If we see the signal, the tournament then loses all priority. We attack the liche and destroy him where he stands, before he can take too many lives. Disqualification does not concern us.”
“The liche is surely not alone, either.” Lok added. “We must be wary of any backup he has in hiding.” Everyone agreed, assuring they would keep an eye on their surroundings. Except Eucibous, who was again staring across the room at the woman who could not escape his mind.
“The next match will now begin! In the blue corner, we have the mage Lienir! On the red side, a priestess of Anania, Krystalia! What will prevail, sorcery or faith?” The announcer yelled.
That makes sense, thought Eucibous. She’s her priestess.
The gates opened, and the combatants stepped into the arena. The mage Lienir was outfitted in long blue magus robes, holding a staff equipped with several jewels, most likely enchanted. He was a human, a middle aged man with long dark hair, and he strode into the arena with a blank expression of confidence.
Krystalia stepped out of the gate, holding up her white priestly robes so that they would not be dirtied by dragging on the ground. She bowed slightly to her opponent, and began praying to her Goddess. The mage did not return her bow, and merely stood awaiting the start of the match.
Jorge the battlemage observed the fight from the small windows in the combatant hall, taking particular interest in Lienir. Those with the ability to wield magic would be his most formidable opponents. Kilan the elf ranger stood next to him, also watching, having recovered from his loss.
“Not to doubt the prowess of magic users, but my coin is on the priestess. From what I understand, she is the champion of the Goddess herself.” Kilan spoke his mind to Jorge, who merely shrugged.
“Having the gifts of the Gods might be an asset, but assures nothing. The more skilled fighter will prevail,” Jorge replied in a monotone voice, sounding wise beyond his years.
Kilan looked at Jorge, wondering just how many years that was. Even though he stood right next to the battlemage, he could not even catch a glimpse of the man’s face, so well was it hidden beneath that cloak of his. It seemed as if the darkness within the hood was almost too dark. He probably has a constant spell active to hide his face…creepy bastard. Kilan thought.
In the red side’s combatant hall, Sir Brennan also looked on. Many had feared him dead when he was carried away from his fight unconscious, but apparently Jorge had been merciful after all. Both he and Kilan secretly hoped a combatant would drop out of his or her fight so one of them could get a wild card to reenter the tournament with a second chance. He screamed out Krystalia’s name, cheering her on. He knew her, for his own God was a close ally of Anania. She had often visited Darnath as the voice of her Goddess.
Marcovis sat in boredom at the camp, hidden within dimensions, when his King’s voice entered his head. “Is it here?” Seth’nerak asked telepathically.
Although Marcovius could not use such skills himself, he merely had to think of his responses and the Liche King would pull the thoughts from his mind. “Yes, the team has returned with the body you requested, it was simple with all the possible guardians away for the tournament.”
“Excellent,” Seth’nerak replied. “Bring it with you when the operation begins.”
And then the telepathic link was severed, leaving General Marcovius back to his boredom. He sighed. “My blade waits for blood, let’s get on with it!” He yelled, and all the nearby soldiers agreed.
“Begin!” Yelled the announcer, and the combatants immediately began casting their spells in preparation.
Lienir casted several spells on himself including stone skin, mirror image, spell reflection, and a spell of concentration.
Likewise, Krystalia prepared to fight by casting on herself spells of health regeneration, spell absorption, and stamina. Krystalia was nervous; she had never quite been in a life or death situation. But the impending war and the rumors of the liche required the champions of good to be present at the tournament. And where better to assist from, than the arena itself? A healer was needed to assist the strongest of fighters on their side when the liche made a move.
Krystalia floated into the air, her hair blowing in the wind, and a radiant light encompassing her. A blast of holy energy shot forth, flying towards the other end of the arena.
Three Lienirs could be seen, a product of the mirror image spell. First her spells would need to find the right target, and then they would have to make it through the right target’s spell reflection. The blast slammed into the body on the right, which faded away on impact. Two mages remained.
Both of the Lienirs then began chanting in unison, careful not to give away anything that might reveal the correct target. “Burn,” both of them whispered.
The sky darkened, and five giant tornadoes of flame rose from the ground. One in the middle of the arena, and one on each side. Dirt was pulled from the ground to join with the tornadoes, and the onlookers in the audience held tight to their seats as the powerful magic beckoned them forth.
Krystalia found she was no longer able to control her levitation spell, the storms attempting to rip her out of the sky with every breath. She was surprised to see this level of magic, an incredibly high ranking spell that only the best of wizards could manage. And so early into the fight…
“Anania guide me.” Krystalia allowed herself to be pulled into the swirling mass of fire in the middle of the arena, relying on her magic and her faith to keep her safe. She disappeared within the madness, and the audience froze with suspense.
Lienir was not a fool to stand by, hoping his enemy was defeated. He uttered another spell, and the clouds above shook with fury as thunder echoed throughout the city of knights. Countless lightning bolts from every angle shot forth, striking every possible spot within the tornado. But he was not done.
Raising his arms to the heavens, he chanted a third time. It seemed as if he stood on an ocean, for water rose out of nowhere as he called a sea to do his bidding. The water began gathering in front of him in the form of a gigantic tsunami. When the spell was complete, he dropped his hands down to his side in a controlling manner, and the enormous wave rushed forward. It crashed through each tornado, extinguishing the flames, and continued forward with such power that anyone in its path would feel as if they were struck by a moving wall of stone. It smashed against the arena wall on the opposite side, and the water fell to the ground, disappearing into the soil once more as the magic of the spell faded.
Eucibous peered through the viewing area, his interest in the battle made extremely obvious. “Lok…those spells.”
Lok nodded. “I’m no wizard, but yea, he does not look old enough to wield such magic. But then again, look at you.”
“There are always exceptions. But I feel like I would have heard of this man’s power if he was this strong. It could be him.” Eucibous’s gaze did not leave the co
nfident mage standing in that arena.
I’m…still alive. Krystalia panted from exhaustion as she gathered her breath in the corner of the arena, hidden by a spell of invisibility. Her powerful spell absorption had taken in much of the fire’s damage, and her regeneration and stamina spells helped her to maintain her health throughout the rest of the brutal attacks. But those spells were diminished now. She could see cuts all over her own body from the sand in the tornadoes, for only others could not see her form. Spell absorption didn’t protect against non magical damage. She prayed to her Goddess and warmth flowed throughout her body, easing her wounds and lifting the pain. This won’t be easy, she thought.
Lienir still stood showing no emotion aside from his calculating expression, the mirror image was no different. Lienir was no fool. Staring ahead, he spoke the words to a negate magic spell. A wave of energy poured from him, sweeping across the entire arena. When it had finished its search, Krystalia could be seen standing in the corner, annoyed she had lost the element of surprise. The crowd was surprised she still lived, and wagers increased among the betting men. She looked tired, but she looked confident, and it seemed as if the sun itself was beating only upon her.
“Not good,” she whispered. She looked to the heavens and drew a deep breath, then snapped her head back forward, her eyes locked on the two mages that stood before her. “I will not be defeated so easily. And if I am, then I must at least live to assist in the war.” She studied her opponent’s demeanor. This man was so calm, as if a fight that could result in death was nothing new to him. He performed incredibly powerful attack spells that could have easily slaughtered a lesser fighter, and did not hold back at all. A thought occurred to her.
Krystalia folded her hands together, locking her fingers in a specific design. “Heaven’s judgment,” she said softly. As the words escaped her lips, she kept her gaze focused on the two bodies at the other end of the arena. She concentrated all her energy, all her soul, into this one spell.
Lienir realized that the priestess had something up her sleeve, and acted quickly to quell it. He extended his hands forward and spoke the ancient words to one of the most deadly attack spells a wizard could learn. The fireball.
But he didn’t act quickly enough. The dirt beneath the mage’s feet trembled, and within a mere heartbeat two golden cages had sprung forth from the ground, entrapping the mage and his mirror image within. The gold that made up the bars of the cage shined with incredible brilliance. Lienir did however act quickly enough to cast the spell, though not to his advantage. The fireballs were still cast by the mage and his clone, but they exploded against the walls of the cages that held them. The blasts encompassed the entire cage, and those watching could see only flames and smoke inside those bars.
Krystalia beamed. So I was right, she thought. Heaven’s judgment was a holy spell that trapped evildoers within. Evildoers. Only a man with sin in his heart could be affected by the spell. For a good person, that cage would not even rise. Although coming to this conclusion had aided her, this also presented more complications. Only so many evil fighters would attend a tournament in the holy city of the knights, where there might even be warrants for their arrest. She stared ahead and wondered if she was actually doing battle with him. But the brief fear that swept through her was pushed aside by her determination. If it is him, then all the more reason I must defeat him, she decided.
Eucibous watched with a grin, wondering how this powerful mage would deal with the new problem before him.
So she noticed, Lienir thought. Perhaps I should have faked some emotion. Oh well, nothing that can’t be dealt with.
The smoke cleared, and Lienir was seen standing in one of the cages. One of the cages. The other was empty, and almost immediately after everyone realized that fact, the cage sunk back into the ground. There remained no mirror images. Lienir’s robe was also torn and dirty, and it could not have taken damage unless the spell reflection had been defeated. His own fireball had exploded on him, activating the spell reflection, which did not help considering all the magic stayed trapped in the cage anyway. This repeated until the spell was broken, and whatever magical fire remained resulted in a damaged robe and singed skin. All he had left for defense was the stone skin, and he didn’t expect many physical attacks to come from this opponent.
Only a few spells could work in conjunction with Heaven’s Judgment, anything else would dispel the cage and set the mage free. Even if such was the case, it still proved useful to get rid of the defenses Lienir had in place. But Krystalia didn’t plan on that being the case.
She raised her arms to the skies. “In the name of Anania, Heaven’s Fury! Smite he who bears sin!”
A light brighter than any fire appeared from nowhere, filling the cage with blinding holy power. Then rods of light shot down from the clouds, piercing the cage from each direction. The audience cringed and imagined a mage stabbed in a dozen different places.
The light died down, and this cage was now also empty. It too then collapsed into the ground.
Every spectator gripped their seats, wondering if the spell had actually cremated the mage, turning him to dust. Would a priestess of Anania kill a man in the tournament?
Krystalia panicked. “Was that one a mirror image too? What did I miss?”
“You missed nothing,” a voice calmly said from behind her.
Krystalia shook with a fear she had never known, and she slowly turned her head to look at the speaker. It was indeed Lienir. The moment she saw him, she realized too late that fire had been forming in his hands the whole time. She should have turned faster.
A fireball erupted from the mage’s fingertips, consuming the priestess…and leaving nothing but dust blowing in the wind.
“He…killed her,” Lok stammered. “The tournament has seen its first death. We must be wary with this one.” He looked at Eucibous, and his friend was gripping the stone wall before him tightly, anger in his eyes.
“Damn! It happened too quickly. He escaped the instant the light appeared, I couldn’t determine if he walked the planes or if he merely blinked.” Eucibous tried to pretend like his only annoyance was that of not being able to tell if the mage had used an escape that only the Liche King could have used. But his friends could tell it was more than that. That girl was very close to the Goddess that their leader was falling for. Eucibous had told them of her identity. He always told them everything; he knew they would not succumb to gossip. Lok closed his eyes for a mere moment, preparing to attempt to calm his friend down…but when he opened his eyes his comrade no longer stood aside him.
Lok’s head snapped forward to peer through the slits, and just as he feared, Eucibous stood in the arena. He was blocking the exit that Lienir was about to walk through. Lok sighed and grasped his forehead with his palm. “Oh, Euc. What are we gonna do with you?”
Now this was unexpected. Every mage in Adanantus knew who the Crimson Warrior was. Hell, almost every person in Adanantus knew who he was. But Lienir couldn’t think of any reason that he would be blocking his path, and with such hate in his eyes. Lienir made sure that nobody knew who he really was. He was sure of it! So what was this guy’s problem? The girl? He wondered. No, he has left thousands dead in his wake.
Lienir maintained his composure. He was aware of the legends of this man, but Lienir was quite powerful himself. “Can I help you, Eucibous Dan’anti?”
Eucibous wasn’t going to give a speech. He wasn’t going to try to intimidate him. He wasn’t going to show off. Eucibous stood there, his fists clenched, his eyes burning into the mage’s soul, and he said only four words.
“I will kill you.” The moment the last word was uttered, Eucibous vanished. Once again he was beside his friends in the combatant hall.
Lienir shrugged, and continued through the exit, brushing off the incident assuming it was merely the man’s well known desire to fight the strong.
The crowd erupted in cheers. They had not known such excitement in years...no, decades! L
ienir alone was more powerful than any they normally see attend this tournament. And Lienir was going to fight the Crimson Warrior himself, and they were all going to see it! Money flew from pockets and more bets were placed in five minutes than have ever been placed in an entire tournament, in all the history of Darnath. Nobody even stopped to wonder why they had never heard of a mage with that amount of power.
In the more godly planes of existence, a goddess wept for her priestess.
Chapter Eleven
A Father’s Axe, A Drow’s Blades
Grymmbeard crashed through the door exiting the hall and stormed over to the gate, awaiting his battle. Patience was not a virtue of the dwarf’s, and he had been watching the other fights with jealousy, itching to put his father’s axe to use. He knew nothing about his opponent, besides of course that it was another dwarf. Bravan Stonefist he was called. Grymmbeard snorted at the name. “Stonefist. I spar with Eucibous himself! Any other fist be as soft as a gnome’s! Bahaha!”
The gates opened, and Grymmbeard dashed forward into the arena. Everyone watched as the dwarf kept running forward, not stopping to allow the announcer to finish his introductions and declare the start of the match. Cheers sounded throughout the bleachers at the apparently bloodlust, then one by one everyone in the crowd began to turn and realize that Grymmbeard wasn’t the only one starting early.
Bravan Stonefist was almost a mirror image of Grymmbeard, charging relentlessly towards his opponent, and they would be destined to meet in the middle before the match had even begun. He carried no weapon, but wore gigantic steel gauntlets on his fists, they looked as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. Both of the reckless dwarves screamed out battle cries as they anticipated the battle to come.