by Paul Sobol
Standing there on the hot sand-packed floor of the Arena, expecting the inevitable, knowing her opponent had wasted all his energy and could channel no more mana, Jia Li shouted cheerfully at the certain victory. As Xander was consumed in a shower of sparks she turned to the cheering crowd and savoured the win.
A sudden hush came over the crowd and Jia Li turned around.
Her spell finally abated, she expected to see her fallen opponent kneeling in ritual submission. Although the students were using real magic – spells that would ordinarily be devastating outside the Arena – each contestant was protected from harm by a third-party. Usually a teacher or friend was given the honour of maintaining the invisible shield necessary to ensure no one died, although that was the limit of their involvement; it was not uncommon for students to employ non-physical damaging spells such as the physic blast. One poor student was defeated by being turned into a frog and unable to speak or counter the transformation magic forfeited the match. Of course, with the winner declared, the spell was reversed and the student returned to normal, albeit very embarrassed.
To beat an opponent in the Arena contestants had to get past any first-line defences, and then do enough damage to the third party shield. This could be achieved in any number of ways; usually a combination of tactical spells or by sheer brute strength. Other ways included wearing down an opponent until they could draw no more mana, or render them unconscious with a physical attack. A match won by fisticuffs was not unheard of, even though most spectators came to judge the student’s magical merit.
For a moment Jia Li couldn’t understand what had happened; her spell may have been considered ‘overkill’, but he had deserved to be humiliated. Her entire gamble had been based on a devastating attack that even the third party shield was unable to withstand. Xander should have been lying unconscious on the sandy floor, but across the Arena she saw nothing.
Suspecting something amiss, Jia Li was about to erect a shield of protection when an invisible hand grabbed her from behind. A sudden shock throughout her body and Jia Li no longer had control of her paralysed limbs. Standing there, she could only stare in amazement as her opponent appeared before her. The spell of invisibility dissolved around Xander like morning mist burning away from the rising sun’s heat. It had all been an illusion. The final spell, and eventual demise, had been a clever diversion as he raced towards her cloaked in invisibility. Having breached Jia Li’s final defences and completely immobilised her, Xander paraded triumphantly before the multitude of cheering students and more reserved master magicians who clapped in appreciation.
The Master of Ceremonies, a wizened old magician who had been given the honour of presiding over the contests, rose from his seat.
“Today’s final contest winner,” he announced in a voice magnified by magic, “Xander, of the Meridian Academy.”
The cheering from the crowd was thunderous, and Xander, at the centre of it all, felt his spirits soar and acknowledged their applause and adoration with a raised fist. He understood that today was only a small victory, but an important one, taking him one step further in the tournament. Tomorrow, Xander would face his final opponent.
Stepping off the sand and into the coolness of the Arena’s tunnels, he easily navigated through the maze of underground passageways that eventually led him out of the Arena complex and into the surrounding concourse where already a small crowd had gathered to cheer on the recent hero. Most were younger students of the Academy, but a few older magicians were present to show support. Among them his best friend Simon, standing nonchalantly against a wall as though it were just another day at school.
Ever since the two had arrived at the Meridian Academy they had formed a close friendship, seeing as how both were brought there as orphans. Simon, from an orphanage in New York, had been found and brought to the school by a wandering magician who no longer had the time or patience for an apprentice. Feeling alone and lost in such a strange place, Xander had taken it upon himself to befriend the young boy, and together they navigated their way through seven years of schooling, weathering the good times and the bad.
Unlike most magicians, Simon had been born with a strong affinity for psychic magic. It was discovered he could barely touch the mana, and yet he was already able to levitate objects and read simple surface thoughts before his first day of school. His teachers decided he required special training; otherwise his natural psychic ability could become too hard to control and eventually pose a danger to himself and others.
So while Simon was tutored, Xander endured seemingly endless classes of magical theory and history. Once the students had the basics they were allowed to study the practical aspects of magic and by the fourth year even had the choice of choosing their own curriculum. As with normal schools for humans, the students often choose what may seem easiest or interesting, however, at the Meridian Academy the teachers tried to identify the student’s strengths and direct them on a proper course of study.
Xander had shown promise in all aspects of the art, so it was left to him to decide which path to follow. After quite some time of deliberation he decided to study combat magic. Fighter Mages were quite common and often served around the world as protectors, bodyguards and soldiers, fighting against the dark forces.
Having being raised by uncles and aunts that were important magicians in their own right, Xander wanted to follow in their footsteps and join one of the various Orders that operated to fight the darkness. His childhood, what he could remember of it, was often filled with tales of heroics and epic adventures undertaken by various family members. For a long time he wondered what had happened to his own parents, but none of his uncles or aunts wanted to discuss the topic, preferring to defer it until he was older. He accepted this with a maturity uncommon for one so young. So those around him became his real family.
After a few minutes amongst his admirers, Xander extricated himself and began walking to the dormitory wing, Simon doggedly beside him.
“I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“You know, as well as I do, that it might have gone completed different had you not shared that information.”
“I’m pretty sure you would have still won. You’re resourceful like that, always thinking on your feet.”
“Stop the useless flattery, you know it won’t work,” said Xander, “besides, how did you know so much about her? You didn’t…”
“No. I didn’t have to read her mind, there were enough people around me who knew some things about her which I just happened to overhear.”
Technically considered a psychic, Simon was the only student not allowed to participate in the tournament. It was deemed he had too much of an advantage over his opponents, simply because his unique ability allowed him practically unlimited access to a person’s mind. With a thought, he could implant any number of ‘suggestions’ into someone’s mind, and helplessly they would have to comply. It made him very powerful but also very dangerous; the ability to kill with a thought, and very little in the way of magic to counter it.
“Are you going to the feast tonight?”
Xander looked sideways at his friend to see if he was serious, but Simon was looking straight ahead, hiding his emotions behind a mask of neutrality. Xander found out early on never to play poker with his friend, he couldn’t afford losing every time.
“No, I’m going to have an early night. Tomorrow is the final round of competitions and I need to recover. I felt a little resistance gathering my mana today. Hopefully a few hours of meditation will help.”
“True. You’ll need all the help you can get. With one fight remaining, you will face the winner, and the odds are it will be against the Russian student.”
“What have you got on him?”
“Uri Petrov, nick-named the Sickle, was expelled from the Russian school for mind-flaying another student beyond recovery. Disgraced he was forced to leave the Motherland and finish his studies at the German Schule des Geheimnisses. Top of his class he is n
oted for being borderline sadistic.
“Last year he injured six students, four from his own school, and although he was eventually beaten he left a permanent reminder on the student who won. He likes to get in close and finish off his opponents using his own hands. Tomorrow, don’t let him get too close, you’re both about the same size physically so he won’t hold back. And watch out if he has a concealed weapon. His speciality is with artefacts, but just because he appears unarmed doesn’t mean he can’t summon something deadly.”
“An Artificer. Fairly rare ability these days. Should prove to be an interesting match tomorrow, but don’t worry I’ll take it easy.”
“Fine. I’ll see you in the morning.” Simon deviated towards the feasting hall where, even now, early revellers were getting stuck into the watered-down wine and ales.
Jia Li paced around the small room, located somewhere within the Arena complex. She wondered what was taking her teacher so long, it had been quite some time since she had asked for her.
At the sound of the door opening, Jia Li was about to begin a scathing reprimand, but turning around she saw a tall beautiful woman enter. Power radiated from her like physical waves, so she must be someone of importance Jia Li thought, maybe a Master seeking to offer her an apprenticeship! But her mind began to swim with a ferocious dizziness, and as her vision went completely black Jia Li realised too late she was being spelled.
“Jia,” a soft feminine voice beyond the door called out.
The door to the student’s private room opened, and an elderly Chinese lady entered. Dressed in silken robes she too had the aura of power that can only be attributed to a Master, or someone of higher rank. Crossing the room with small steps the old magician came up behind her student who was sitting on a small wooden chair facing the wall.
Something odd about Jia Li’s posture made the old teacher wonder if something were seriously wrong. She had received a note not long ago requesting the meeting, possibly to console Jia Li for her recent loss, but the tone of the message sounded like something else might be the cause for concern.
Sitting stiff-backed and vacantly staring at the wall, Jia Li didn’t acknowledge her teachers presence. Pressing a hand against her forehead the old teacher softly spoke a quick incantation. Jia Li started suddenly as if waking from a deep sleep.
“Sifu, why are you here?”
“You sent for me. I am sorry for your loss today, but do not take it so personally. You are still one of the best students of Wu Xing Hong.”
“No, there was something else…I cannot remember. I’m tired. Help me back to my quarters please.”
The young and old mages left the Arena complex, slowly making their way back to the guest quarters assigned to them for the duration of the tournament. Neither took any notice of the tall woman they passed, idly standing in the corridor not far from the room they had exited.
In the gloom of the corridor another figure appeared. “She won’t remember?”
“Not a thing,” the tall woman replied, “it was a close call, but thankfully she didn’t go too deep with the mind spell.”
“I doubt she would have penetrated the psychic barriers in place, they are very powerful, more than a mere student should be able to break through, even accidentally.”
“I just wanted to be sure. He cannot be allowed to remember, not just yet.”
“We should do it soon though. He has a right to know the truth.” The tall woman merely nodded in response.
The two disappeared down the corridor and joined the throng of people exiting the Arena. Amongst the number of Master magicians no one noticed the two newcomers.
Chapter Four
The day had started off cool, almost chilly, and most of the spectators had come overly dressed. As the sun rose higher they shed layer upon layer of clothing to stave off the mounting heat, but to little avail; the cool breeze of the morning had died down, making the Arena stifling.
Quite a few magicians grumbled about the injunction against employing magic in the Arena – other than on the sand below – so the Master of Ceremonies, sensing the crowds rising ire, created a large cloud above the stadium. An audible sigh of relief could be heard from those in the stands as the hot air was also replaced by a cool wind. With the crowds appeased, attention was once again drawn to the two contestants below.
Out on the sandy floor the dual was nearing the end. Having managed to beat past several layers of defences, Uri the Sickle was choking his opponent with his bare hands. Ignoring the occasional boos and heckles thrown by a disgusted crowd, he continued until his opponent went limp and unconscious in his hands.
A smattering of applause came from several of his school friends, yet the crowd remained mostly silent as Uri strutted around the Arena floor like a peacock in full plumage. Having won by physical force rather than magical prowess was considered poor form, but for Uri and his school it was still a win.
While the Master of Ceremonies announced the winner, a healer exited the Arena tunnel and helped the unconscious student on the sand. Once the healing magic had taken effect the defeated magician limped off the sand with a little aid from the healer. Several of the crowd showed their support with applause but it went mostly ignored.
Once the Arena floor was cleared a short break was called and the final match was announced. It was to be Xander versus the Sickle.
With mounting confidence, Xander strode out of the tunnel and onto the sand, waving to the cheering crowd who suddenly favoured him. The Sickle stood opposite him, several hundred feet away, and judging from his glower was unhappy at the crowd’s fickleness. This would be the last fight of the tournament and decide who would be the year’s champion. There was a lot riding on this fight, it would be a tremendous honour to walk away the victor, not just for the student but also the school.
The crowd cheered heartily as the two prepared for the showdown, with both magicians quietly meditating and focusing their thoughts. Combinations of spell tactics were considered or discarded, until a large gong was struck, signalling the contest to commence. Quickly the two magicians began drawing forth the mana required to power their spells.
From the cloud above a bolt of lightning lanced down.
Had Xander not raised a shield of protection, the bolt of energy would have pierced through the primary layer of defence, frying him instantly. Partially blinded by the spells eye-watering illumination, sight slowly returned to those watching in the stands. Most expected to see Xander standing, unharmed, but all that remained after the onslaught was a circle of scorched earth – the sand having fused together to form shards of smoking black obsidian.
An expectant hush stole over the crowd. Where did their hero disappear to? Was this a mere ploy, or did he indeed perish from the savage attack? Looking around the Arena warily, the Sickle expected an attack at any moment, but when nothing immediate materialised, he lowered his guard slightly. Using MageSight he scanned the sandy area for any sign his opponent was employing subterfuge. There was nothing. Even the aether was tranquil.
Realisation slowly dawned upon Uri; he had won. Somehow, his initial attack had defeated his opponent. No, not defeated – obliterated. Unable to restrain his rising joy, the Sickle let out a triumphant yell. The crowd watched on in stunned silence as the last remaining contestant revelled in victory, and although most refused to accept their favourite had been annihilated, it was beginning to look like he had.
A few in the stands clapped half-heartedly; someone had won the tournament, albeit rather distastefully, but there was no denying the fact the Sickle was this year’s champion.
That was when the first drops of rain began to fall.
Looking up in amazement, the Master of Ceremonies waved a hand to unsummon the cloud, but nothing happened. The sky darkened suddenly and the rain began to fall in earnest. Protective shields flared up all over the Arena as magicians openly defied the edict against using magic.
From the dark cloud above, spears of lightning lanced towards
the earth, striking the Arena floor randomly. Protected against the sudden attack, the Sickle looked up into the heart of the roiling maelstrom. Within the cloud a large face appeared. It was Xander’s, and from his laughing mouth roared deafening thunder. Lightning shot out of his eyes, battering the shield of his opponent, who was forced to spend more mana maintaining the protective barrier.
“Cold.” The word boomed around the Arena as though it came from a multitude of mouths. The sheeting rain slowed briefly, only to be replaced with varying sized spheres of ice. Hailstones the size of golf balls rebounded off scintillating shields, thudded into the wet sandy floor, and shattered against the ancient stones of the Arena.
“Fire.” The darkness vanished instantly as the cloud ignited into tongues of crimson and orange flame. The raining hailstones were replaced by miniature fireballs, and upon impact exploded into an inferno. The intense heat vaporised the thick layer of cumulated ice, creating geysers of steam to shoot into the air a hundred feet or so.
“Wind.” The looming face of Xander began to distort as visible currents of burning air coalesced into a vortex, and within moments touched down in the middle of the Arena. Fire, steam and sand was sucked into a raging tornado that threatened to unseat many of the screaming spectators.
And yet, despite the threat of impending destruction, most of the magicians in the crowd retained a measure of calm. The ferocious magic was focused on the lone student down on the sand. Those magicians able to, spread shields of protection over the many students who until now had been relying on their own power against the elemental onslaught.
The elemental tornado began to grow smaller, as though an invisible plug had been pulled, and like water rushing down a drain the fiery conflagration merged into a singular point on the sandy floor. Xander, once again in human form, stood opposite his opponent. With the storm cloud above no longer present, blinding sunlight bathed the Arena and its occupants. Across the destroyed space, Uri remained standing, a little shaken but otherwise unharmed.