Rebounding to the side, Kamahl spun himself around and around, letting the revolving movement of his body carry him behind the wall as another blast impacted on the ground where he had stood. Cheers erupted from the crowd.
Unable to see his opponent now, Kamahl summoned a fire-cat and sent it out to the left of the wall. When the cat rounded the corner, Kamahl rolled to his right and scanned the arena for Joha. As he had hoped, the mage's attention had flashed to the firecat long enough for Kamahl to clear the barrier and lock onto him. But Joha was quicker than Kamahl had thought, and the large barbarian had to dive back behind the wall to avoid a third ball of fire.
Another cheer erupted from the crowd, but Kamahl ignored it. He sent a mental command to the firecat, which had bounded off to the corner of the arena, then he readied one spell that would turn the tide and mentally prepared another that would put Joha on the defensive.
As the firecat loped around the arena, Kamahl slammed his sword into the stone wall, sending a cascading wave of lightning across its surface. A moment later the wall exploded into shards of stone that rocketed toward Joha. Spreading out as it flew, the wall of shards was easily thirty feet across when it reached Joha. The mage threw his hands up in front of his face, interposing his staff between himself and the shards.
Most of the rocks passed by the magically shielded mage, although his legs and arms were bleeding in several places after the blast passed by. But then the firecat lunged at Joha, slamming into his side and landing on top of the warrior, who toppled to the ground. The jaws of the beast snapped at Joha's neck as he struggled to free himself from the mass of flesh and fire that lay on top of him.
As the mage worked to get his staff up in front of him, Kamahl unleashed the second spell he had been preparing. Raising his hands over his head, one hand on the blade of his sword and the other on the hilt, Kamahl looked to the sky, then dropped both hands down to his waist.
Hundreds of black, steaming chunks of coal sprang from the Mirari in an arc over the arena, spreading out in a circular pattern before falling back to the ground above Joha and the fire-cat. As the heated chunks of coal fell, they burst into flame, sending a firestorm down upon the trapped mage.
Everything the fiery rain touched bubbled from the intense heat and burst into flame, including Joha, the firecat, and the very ground around the downed mage. Joha and the firecat screamed while the area around the two trapped beasts became a mire of boiling mud.
Even if Joha could focus through the pain long enough to stand, he couldn't move until the ground cooled. And that was exactly what Kamahl had wanted.
He walked over to the edge of the bubbling mud, pointed his sword at the burned and mauled mage, and said, "Now I finish it, Joha."
Before Kamahl could unleash his final blast, a bolt of lightning flashed in front of his eyes, blinding him for a moment.
"That was a warning, Kamahl," called Talon. "This battle is over. Joha yields the field to your prowess."
By the time Talon finished speaking, Balthor was at the side of his pupil, leading him toward the gate. As he left, Kamahl looked back to see mages cooling the boiling mud with ice spells and hauling the unconscious Joha, his face, arms, and legs covered in welts and charred black flesh, out the other end of the arena.
"What have 1 done, Balthor?" asked the weary warrior. "What have 1 done?"
CHAPTER 9
"Is he asleep?" asked Jeska when Balthor came back to the table.
"Aye," replied the dwarf, taking his seat and drawing a large gulp of ale from his mug. "He's tossing and turning and moaning like he's fighting demons in his nightmares, but he's sound asleep. I doubt he'll wake until morning. He had quite a day." "What about Joha's day?" asked Jeska. "He won't be stirring in the morning, I bet you. He won't be stirring for a week or more."
"I know, girl!" hissed Balthor under his breath. "Don't you think I know that? What Kamahl did today was nearly unforgivable. Barbarians love chaos and all that, but there is a code to the challenge, and your brother stepped over the line today."
Jeska leaned in closer to Balthor and kept her voice low. "So, you'll call off this foolish tournament, then? Call it off before Kamahl kills somebody?"
"Why should I do a daft thing like that, girl?" asked Balthor, letting his voice rise to the point where Jeska had to shush him. "Sure, he lost control today, but he just needs to pace himself and reign in his power a bit. We can jus-•"
"Do you really think he can do that, old man?" interrupted Jeska. "He's changed, Balthor. Sure, my brother can be rash, but not like this. That orb has changed him, and not for the better. I say again, call off the tournament before someone gets killed."
"No," said Balthor, who held his finger up in front of Jeska's face as she started to interrupt again. "And I'll not hear another word about it. I will manage the battles and make sure Kamahl rests between each challenge, just like ye said. With a little coaching he'll calm down and win this tournament without losing control."
Jeska glared at Balthor for a full minute before pushing her chair back from the table, slowly rising, and walking toward her room.
As she got to the door, she turned and said simply, "This discussion is not over, old man," and shut the door behind her.
"It never is, lassy. It never is."
*****
In the morning, Kamahl was up before dawn and out running in the mountain passes. When he returned, Balthor had food on the table waiting for him.
"Did you have a good run, me lad?"
"The mountain air does me good, old friend," said Kamahl as he sat down and cut into his hawk eggs and firecat steak. "My head is clear, and I'm ready for the next battle. Won't you join me?" Balthor shook his head and said, "No. Jeska and I already ate."
"Where is my sister?"
"She left right after breakfast," said Balthor.
"Wants to get a good seat for today's battles, eh?" asked the big barbarian as he wolfed down the rest of his eggs.
Balthor shook his head. "No. I don't think Jeska will come to any more of your battles."
"She doesn't want me to continue, does she?"
Balthor shook his head again.
"And you two fought about it, didn't you?"
"A wee bit, perhaps," said Balthor. "Look, Kamahl, she's worried about ye and about what happened yesterday. I mean, don't ye think ye took that last battle a bit far, boy?"
Kamahl put his fork down and stared into the hearth. "I was just trying to win the battle," he sighed, still staring into the fire. "You know, outwit my opponent like you always taught me. I never meant to pour so much mana into that last spell. Fiers! Is Joha going to be all right?"
"Yes, Kamahl," said Balthor coming over behind Kamahl and placing his hand on the big barbarian's shoulders. "He'll bear the marks of that battle until his dying day, but he will recover."
"I'm so sorry, Balthor. I'm so sorry."
"Look, son. You're the most powerful mage in the mountains," said Balthor as he turned Kamahl around and looked into his eyes. "Bah, probably the most powerful mage on the continent with that orb on your sword. There's no one in this here contest that can best ye as long as ye pace yourself. So reign in that power, and don't waste it on the lesser mages."
"All right," said Kamahl. "I'll stick to simple spells and the strength of my right arm. That's always been enough for me in the past. It shouldn't be any different now." Kamahl managed a weak smile and turned back to his plate.
"That's the spirit, me boy! We'll get through this together."
*****
That day's battles went fine. Balthor was able to guide Kamahl through three challenges with ample time in between each for the large barbarian to cool down and maintain his control. After the Joha battle, all of the lesser mages had been dropped from the tournament.
Over the course of the next week, Balthor managed every aspect of the tournament. He set the time for every battle, prepped the barbarian on each opponent, and kept Kamahl focused and in control.
The only aspect of the tournament that was out of Balthor's control was the choice of opponent for each match. That was left to the Elite Eight, which meant it was up to Talon. Each day the battles got tougher as Talon sent better and better warriors in to test the champion. This fact was not lost on Kamahl.
"Damn that Talon!" yelled the barbarian at his mentor after the last match on the sixth day. "He is purposely wearing me down to give himself an advantage."
"Aye," sighed Balthor, staring into his still-full mug of ale. Balthor had not slept well the last two nights, and the strain of the battles was wearing on him almost as much as on his student. "Today ye faced your two hardest matches yet, but ye came through fine, boy. Nobody got hurt, and you're only three matches from the end."
"I could have handled one more challenge today," grumbled Kamahl, picking at the bread on his plate.
"Nah, ye couldn't. I could see the bloodlust rising in your eyes after ye defeated Tybiel," replied Balthor. "Ye never really liked him, did ye?"
"No. He should have died at that fiasco on the Kard border," said Kamahl. "Many good warriors paid the price for his decisions that day."
"See?" said Balthor. "Ye couldn't handle one more battle with that buffoon still on your mind. Ye need to stay focused to make it through these battles. And tomorrow will be your toughest challenge yet. Tomorrow ye'll face Talon."
"Only after he sends Thurmon and Brue to soften me up," spat Kamahl. "Fiers smite him! He's controlling this tournament like a Cabal pit master. Where's his honor?"
"Focus, lad," prodded Balthor. "Only three more battles stand between ye and your goal. Think about that and not about the rage ye be building up inside against a man who once was your best friend."
*****
The battles against Thurmon and Brue were a challenge. The most recent additions to the Elite Eight, both had considerable power and could push Kamahl just enough to tire him before the final battle, but not so much that Balthor would postpone the final battle one more day to give his pupil more rest.
In the first battle, Thurmon began very cautiously, using his firepower only for defense and forcing the more powerful barbarian to expend a lot of energy wearing him down. Was this also part of Talon's plan, Kamahl wondered?
Thurmon started with a wall of protective flames around himself. Kamahl tossed several beams of fire and lightning at the wall, trying to pierce the flames and find the warrior hiding inside, but they impacted and dissipated harmlessly on the wall, releasing great jets of steam with each impact.
Kamahl prowled around the flame enclosure, testing it here and there with his spells, trying to find a weak point, but Thurmon had considerable power, and without the Mirari adding to his sword's power, Kamahl didn't think he could get through the wall.
Kamahl was worried about expending too much time and energy on this opponent when he knew he had two more battles yet to fight, but he saw no other way to win except to use the Mirari. Then Kamahl remembered the protective aura the orb had given him in his battle against Murk. He could use that to get inside the defensive ring and finish the battle. But he knew Thurmon must be listening to him move around the arena and would unleash some spell on him as soon as he walked through the barrier. Thurmon's power would get through Kamahl's Mirari-enhanced defenses where Murk's had failed.
What he needed was a diversion. Kamahl circled Thurmon's flame circle once more, sending a spell at the wall periodically while he looked for rocks. Taking an armload of fist-sized chunks of old walls and barriers back to the center of the arena, Kamahl began charging the rocks with mana and muttering spells under his breath.
The crowd was hushed, and Kamahl paid them no heed, concentrating on his task and sending the odd spell at the wall to keep Thurmon thinking that he was still trying to beat down the warrior's defenses. After charging each rock, Kamahl set it down in the dirt, fiddled with the placement for a moment, then moved a few feet and began again.
Finally, the barbarian had arranged eight mana-charged rocks in a pattern on one side of Thurmon's circle. He sent one last attack toward the wall and moved slowly and quietly away from the rocks. A moment later, the first rock grew red-hot and shot a beam of molten fire at Thurmon's defensive wall. Kamahl continued moving around the circle as another and another rock unleashed its energy in flames, lightning, and streams of lava at Thurmon's wall.
Once behind Thurmon, hoping he had the other mage's attention fully on the fireballs and lava storms hitting him from the front, Kamahl encased himself in the blue-white shield and rushed through the wall of fire. The crowd couldn't see what happened inside, but moments later the firewall dissipated, and Kamahl stood over an unconscious Thurmon. The large barbarian's brassy skin was burnt raw, and his hair smoked from running through the fierce flames, but he was victorious nonetheless.
Balthor came up beside his student, who reeked of burnt flesh and coughed as he breathed, sending clouds of smoke and ash up into the air from his face, hands, hair, and lungs. Sweat streaked down the warrior's face and glistened on his raw, red skin, but he was smiling.
"Are ye all right, me boy?" asked the dwarf.
"I can heal when it's over," replied Kamahl.
"That's not what I meant," said Balthor.
Kamahl looked down at his mentor and smiled. "I am in control, Balthor. My wits and my sword will win the day, not the power of the Mirari."
"Fine. Then I will call the next battle," replied Balthor.
*****
Brue began with a ferocious barrage of spells. He tossed a lightning bolt, then a lava jet at the large barbarian as soon as the battle began. Kamahl held his sword out in front of him to deflect the attacks, but the force of the lightning bolt nearly ripped the gleaming blade out of his hand, leaving him open to the lava jet as the sword tipped toward the ground.
Kamahl tried to follow his sword down to the side to evade the spell, but caught the brunt of the jet on his left shoulder, which twirled him around and slammed him to the ground. Kamahl glanced down at his arm. Puss and blood oozed from the smoldering wound. When he looked back, he could see the barrage had not ended. A thunder hammer was coming at him, spinning end over end, trailing a stream of sparks and smoke.
Kamahl pushed himself off the ground, doing a back flip to retreat from the incoming attack. Breaking into a run when he landed, the barbarian quickly headed for a comer of the arena.
As the next attack came, though, Kamahl dived to the side, did a somersault, and popped back up to his feet, heading in a different direction.
Kamahl continued to run, keeping an eye on Brue and swerving back and forth to keep the mage guessing where he was headed. As soon as Kamahl saw an attack coming he would dive to the ground and change directions, heading off in what he hoped looked like a random direction.
But there was a method to the barbarian's mad charge. Each turn brought him closer to the hammering mage, shortening the distance between Brue and Kamahl's deadly sword.
As he drew near, Kamahl could see sweat dripping off Brue's chin from the heated air all around him. He could see the young mage strain to pour more and more power into his attacks, and the explosions grew larger and larger. He could see the frustration and fear in Brue's eyes as all of his firepower did nothing more than create holes behind Kamahl. He could see the smaller mage's arms slowly drop lower and lower with each and every bolt as Kamahl inched closer and closer.
Just as Kamahl was about to charge at the young mage, Brue dropped his arms to his sides, totally exhausted. The walls of the arena were scorched, charred, and cracked from the heat and concussions of his spells, but Kamahl still stood, his large sword poised to strike. The wound on his shoulder had stopped oozing, but the large barbarian heaved from the exertion and pain of the tiring battle.
"You have nothing left, Brue," Kamahl stated after drawing a deep breath to calm himself a little. "Yield the field of battle to me."
"I yield," said Brue with his last bit of strength, and he fainted.
Standing over Brue's still form, Kamahl could see Balthor heading his way. He knew what the dwarf would say, but he wanted to finish the battles now.
Looking past the dwarf, he scanned the crowd and yelled,
"Talon! 1 have defeated all of your warriors. Face me now or declare me the winner!"
Kamahl could see Balthor open his mouth and raise his hand to object, but from across the arena came another voice.
"I will face you, Kamahl," said Talon, standing at the entrance, his two-headed axe held in front of him in both hands.
Talon was taller than Kamahl and nearly as broad across the chest. His blond hair, which normally flowed down over his shoulders, was pulled back behind him and wrapped with a thick bronze wire tight against his head. He looked much like the images of Fiers, the god of fire, which graced barbarian temple walls.
"We both knew it would come to this, didn't we, Brother?" said Talon as he slowly advanced on Kamahl, passing his axe effortlessly back and forth from hand to hand in an hypnotic pattern.
"I knew!" spat Kamahl, "and yet I had to fight twenty men to reach you. Were they also your brothers or merely fodder in your war against me?"
As Kamahl watched Balthor shake his head and move back toward the wall, he heard scratching noises behind him. Kamahl whirled around, ready to throw a lightning bolt, but it was just Tybiel and the recovered Joha pulling Brue back toward the rear entrance.
"Get him out of here!" roared the anxious barbarian. "This battle is between Talon and me. There will be no interference by his followers!"
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