“Oh, don’t worry about them,” said Cóstan, waving dismissively at the crowd. “I take whatever they do as encouragement, cheer or heckle. Are you worried about what they’ll think?”
Raedren opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. “No, it’s just … I don’t enjoy it.”
Cóstan smiled. “Don’t worry. They’ll hardly remember you in a few days.”
The announcer called for them to get into position. Cóstan drew his sword and fished something out of his vest, while Raedren held his staff in front of him.
“Let the sixth match and perhaps the final match in this special exhibition in the soon-to-be-fully-reopened Kitpicc Gladiatorial Arena, between Mas Raedren Ian’Moro and Mas Cóstan Sūréjà …”
Bwaaaaaaaang!
“Begin!”
By the time the gong finished ringing, neither combatant had moved.
“So, you’re really not going to attack?” said Cóstan.
“Of course I will. I can’t win otherwise,” said Raedren, though he didn’t move.
Cóstan scratched his head. “I heard you’re primarily a support caster, and you specialize in protection, enhancement, and force. You were in the military, right?”
Raedren nodded.
“You should have basic martial training then. You should be able to hit me, and should know the value of striking first.”
“Offense isn’t really my thing either,” said Raedren.
Cóstan sighed. “That’s a problem. When you say this isn’t your thing, or that isn’t your thing, you cut yourself off from possibilities. Maybe it is your thing? Maybe you would enjoy being in front of a crowd if you let yourself?”
Raedren suppressed a shudder. Cóstan chuckled.
“Okay, bad example. But in refusing to attack when you need to, or at least doing it only reluctantly, you’re not fighting at one hundred percent.” Cóstan tossed something that sparkled into the air, and caught it. “I bet you want to know what I can do, and you figure that you can block anything I can throw at you since you’ve got a larger mana pool.”
Raedren didn’t reply.
Cóstan shook his head. “That’s naïve. Even if offense ‘isn’t your thing,’ you would do well to prepare yourself to go on the offensive when needed, or you’ll remain a one-dimensional asset, even while fighting with your team. Everyone must always been on the lookout for opportunities to attack, defend, and support. That’s how you’ll become a stronger ally to your friends.”
The crowd was beginning to chatter, wondering aloud whether the two were going to fight. Cóstan ignored them. He sheathed his sword, and held up a blue-green gem that glowed with inner light. “Do you know what this is?”
Raedren squinted. “A focus crystal?”
“Another thing you have to remember is that without versatility, you become too predictable, which clever enemies will take advantage of. You did well last match, but you should have changed your tactics this time.” He clenched the gem in his left hand, and a sphere of mana burst into life above his right. “It’s a charge crystal.”
Raedren lurched to the side, but it was too late. The sphere in Cóstan’s right hand ballooned to four times its size in an instant, and then he aimed at Raedren and fired.
The light was blinding, and the sound was deafening. A blast powerful enough to put any Mazik had used today to shame engulfed Raedren. With a peal of thunder that rattled the spectators’ eyes, the spell exploded. Raedren went tumbling out of the fireball, smoke and mana curling off him. He flopped to the ground and, rolling onto his stomach, moaned.
The announcer conferred with the judges. A ten count was started, and while the crowd alternated between shocked disbelief and uproarious cheers, the count expired.
“That’s a knockout! Is this where the tide turns? Cóstan Sūréjà wins!”
Cóstan held up the charge crystal, the light inside it now dimmed. Then he slipped it back into his pocket and walked over to help Raedren while the crowd went wild.
*
“Well, that’s not good!” said Gavi, an edge of hysteria in her voice.
“No, it is not,” said Mazik.
“I have to fight him, don’t I?”
“Yes, you do.”
Gavi opened her mouth, stopped, and tried again. “Any suggestions?”
Mazik thought about it for a second. “Don’t get hit.”
Gavi shot him a glare. “You’re a big help. I’m going to go help—”
“Hold on.” Mazik grabbed her arm and pointed to the arena floor. “Look. He’s already awake.”
Gavi watched as Raedren stood, one hand on his head while Cóstan and a judge helped him up. They could tell that Cóstan was saying something to Raedren, but couldn’t tell what.
“I’m still going to go help him,” said Gavi, turning away.
“Hold on,” said Mazik, grabbing her arm again. Gavi glared at him. “Just calm down. I doubt that guy is going to use that crystal on you.”
“Why not? With that kind of power he could end the match immediately.”
“If this were a real battle you would be right, but since killing you would be in extremely bad taste, not to mention bad for the guilds, I don’t think he’s going to risk it.”
Gavi shot Mazik a look.
“Hey, I’m not saying anything bad about you!” said Mazik. “If this were a real battle we’d be fighting together, and Raedren and I would help you patch up your weak spots while you did the same for us. Duels where your friends are nearby and not helping aren’t realistic, so there’s no reason to treat them as one hundred percent the real thing. We just need to focus on how to win.”
Gavi sat down. “Okay. Suggestions? Real ones.”
Mazik flashed her a lopsided grin. “I stand by ‘Don’t get hit,’ but I know what you mean. You saw the charge crystal, right?”
Gavi nodded.
“Well, those take a while to charge, and you can’t do it days ahead of time or anything15. He probably prepared that one during the previous match, and I don’t see him recharging it now. Plus I’m pretty sure those things break if you charge them too many times in a row, so unless he has another one, you’re probably fine.”
Gavi calmed down somewhat. “So, what do you suggest I do?”
Mazik smiled tightly. “Attack immediately. Hit him and never let up.” He squeezed Gavi’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Gavs. We’ve beaten the odds by so much today that even if we lose, we’ll probably be able to con our way into a guild. If not here, then somewhere else.”
Gavi took a deep breath. “Thanks. I’m good now.”
Mazik squeezed her arm again and let go.
Gavi left the sword she received from the Tyrant with Mazik, and picked up the blade she got from the arena’s armory. She also checked the knife strapped to her thigh and the holdout crossbow holstered behind her. When there was nothing else to delay her, she nodded. “I’m off.”
*
“This is it, gentleladies and gentlemen—the final match of the day! Whoever emerges the victor here will secure victory for their team, and prove either that Houk’s most vaunted adventuring guilds aren’t what they’re cracked up to be, or that these young upstarts still have a ways to go. Though I think they’ve done admirably so far, don’t you?”
The crowd roared its by-now drunken approval.
“The final member of Team Kil’Raeus has an inspiring story. Once a simple waiter at a local watering hole, The Joker—”
From somewhere in the stands, an especially drunken cluster cheered.
“—her ingenuity and tenacity has helped her repeatedly triumph over superior foes. Though the least powerful caster competing today, anyone who thinks that makes her weak is in for a surprise! But can she triumph over the veteran Cóstan Sūréjà? There’s only one way to find out! Here she is now—Mis Sarissa Gavin Ven’Kalil!”
The Gate of Life cranked open, and Gavi emerged. She was lost in thought, trying to figure out how to get the jump on her opponent,
when the crowd’s reaction shook her from her reverie.
They’re going nuts. Whether from the drink or the previous matches or Houkians’ love for the underdog, the crowd was going bonkers. Gavi faltered as the adulation hit her.
An idea occurred. Gavi drew her sword, pointed it at her still-distant opponent, and gave the universal signal for You’re going down!
The crowd went wild. Gavi felt a mixture of excitement and fear, the adrenaline-borne delusion of Maybe I can do this … battling with her “realistic” voice saying, Well yes, but probably not.
Cóstan smiled as Gavi reached him. “The crowd seems to be on your side today.”
Gavi returned the smile, though hers was sheepish. “Sorry about that. I thought I could use a little wind at my back.”
Cóstan chuckled. “By all means. Let’s have a good match.”
“Yes, thank you.” The two moved into position.
Gavi closed her eyes. She could feel the crowd’s energy like a physical force around her. It was different, being down here. She had been to the games before, and there was a feeling of oneness to being part of a crowd all focused on the same thing, especially when they were rooting for the same side. Now she was at the middle of it. It was simultaneously uplifting and intensely isolating.
She took a deep breath. Gavi knew she could handle the crowd in one of two ways. She could be sensible and ignore them from now on like Raedren did, or she could continue acting like Mazik. Of the two, being sensible and serious was more her style.
But if I do this the safe way, I’m going to lose.
Gavi thrust her sword into the sand. She raised her arms to the sky, her face serene as if she was drawing power from the crowd. The noise intensified. Then she grabbed the tie holding her ponytail together and ripped it away, letting her hair fall loose.
Gavi began bouncing from foot to foot like a prizefighter itching to begin, and took up her sword. She thought of Mazik, and imitated one of his roguish grins. She felt ridiculous. The crowd loved it. Cóstan gave no indication of how he felt, but if he knew anything about how she fought, he would know it didn’t start like this.
“Let’s get this final match started!” said the announcer. The crowd roared. “Whatever happens, this is it. Challengers, are you ready?”
They both nodded.
“Attendees of the great Kitpicc Gladitorial Arena, are you ready!”
The crowd shouted until they began to go hoarse.
“Then let the seventh match between Vector’s Cóstan Sūréjà and Team Kil’Raeus’ Gavi Ven’Kalil—”
Bwaaaaaaaaang!
“Begin!”
Gavi let loose a blood-curdling battle cry that split the air and made spectators jump. This time Cóstan did react. He flinched and almost covered his ears, until he remembered the spell hovering over his right palm. He stopped, aimed at the now-charging Gavi, and fired.
“Ichn ir ukk—Swiftness!” Gavi’s body blurred as her speed increased twofold. She dodged and used her sword to bat the incoming spell away.
Cóstan stepped back, but it was too late. By the time Gavi slowed down to her normal speed she was only a step away. While her Swiftness spell went on cooldown, Gavi lunged, and Cóstan raised his weapon to parry.
“What a charge! Mis Ven’Kalil is not cowed by Mas Sūréjà’s power!” said the announcer. “Look at her fight! She fights like a demon out of hell!”
And she did. Gavi attacked with unbridled ferocity and a reckless abandon that was unlike how she normally fought.
She was scared, really scared! Gavi had never fought someone this powerful alone. Well, maybe a few drunks back in The Joker, but they were never serious about it. She silently cursed her lack of skill with protection magick. If I get hit once, this is over.
So she didn’t get hit. With a numb realization, Gavi realized she was doing better than expected, and far better than she had dared to dream. She was driving Cóstan back, her blunt blade striking at his barriers as his own sword missed her more often than not. She realized this in a kind of daze, like her mind was watching her body as the crowd cheered and Cóstan faltered.
Then a barrier appeared at Gavi’s shins, and she pitched forward. She recovered, but valuable seconds were lost. She lunged at Cóstan, aiming at his head—and connected, but there were more barriers now. Gavi hacked them apart, but they were coming up faster and faster now.
Spells struck Gavi from the sides, and she could tell that Cóstan had realized she had no barriers save for her MPB. Smelling blood in the water, Cóstan pressed.
Now Gavi was on the defensive. She parried, swatting blasts out of the sky and hammering Cóstan’s defenses, but now that he had gotten ahead of her he was only gaining ground. He was using a lot of mana, but Gavi doubted he was concerned, judging by his calm, workmanlike expression.
The crowd gasped as Cóstan’s sword snaked past Gavi’s defenses and raked down her side from shoulder to hip. Were his weapon edged it would have split her open, but getting smacked with a heavy piece of metal still hurt. Gavi recoiled—and that’s when Cóstan raised his other arm and pointed.
“Quick Shot.” Suddenly the air around Gavi exploded without the mana having crossed the space between. She reeled, and leapt out of the way as Cóstan fired again.
Gavi looked at the distance between them. Half a dozen meters separated her from her opponent, open space she wouldn’t be able to cross without taking the spell he was preparing. Without her Swiftness spell—it was still on cooldown, as mandated by its god, and wouldn’t be ready for several more minutes—she didn’t have a chance to evade.
Snatching the holdout crossbow from behind her, Gavi cocked it against her leg and fired at Cóstan. Then she turned and ran.
Gavi dove behind the column a heartbeat before Cóstan’s spells struck. The pillar shook, stone eroding as mana splashed on either side.
The barrage stopped. Gavi knew this probably meant her opponent was preparing more spells, which was not to her benefit. Any advantage she had earned with her wild offensive was gone.
As she rested her head against the column, Gavi went over the situation. She was faster, younger, and more desperate than her opponent. She was pretty good at sneaking around, but that was useless here. She was limited to close range, save for her crossbow, which she paused to reload. She had cover, but it wouldn’t last for long, not when evocation spells can be made to curve in midflight.
Gavi felt a cold pit settle in her stomach.
When Gavi fought alongside Mazik and Raedren, she was sometimes able to forget how weak she was. No matter what Mazik said, it was mostly them compensating for her. Gavi didn’t think her friends were geniuses, and she knew they had worked hard, but they had been born with above-average potential, while hers was below average by far. If all three of them worked equally hard, Mazik and Raedren would learn the spell while she would not. So she had worked harder than them, but she could never catch up.
But here, she couldn’t delude herself. As the first of Cóstan’s spells curved around the column, forcing her to duck, her inadequacy was clear.
That’s when Gavi noticed the shattered column to her left. It lay where Mazik had pulled it down on top of himself and Rysha during the fourth match. The upper third was still in one piece, but the rest lay smashed, save for the short stump still bound to the floor.
A stubborn fire welled up in Gavi. She wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.
She leaned her sword against her collarbone and turned around. Grasping the column with her free hand, she leaned to her right. Cóstan was standing a few meters away, and as soon as Gavi came into view, he opened fire. Gavi ducked back behind the column as his spell struck.
She kept going. Gavi shrugged the sword off her collarbone, and as she lurched into the open, hurled the blade with all her might.
Cóstan held up a barrier, though he was careful to keep his eyes on Gavi. The sword struck and fell away.
Cóstan watched as Gavi reached the shattered
column and began searching through the debris. He arched an eyebrow. Though he had another spell ready, he stayed his hand. He was curious. Maybe her friend left some kind of weapon.
Gavi stood up with a piece of rubble as big as a bodybuilder’s chest and hurled it at Cóstan’s head.
The crowd roared as sections of stone crashed down around Cóstan. He kept dodging, but between the projectiles, the cloud of shattered stone, and the suddenly uneven footing, he was beginning to take damage.
Gavi strained as she lifted another rock. What had seemed like a good idea a minute prior was already unraveling, as she realized she was spending too much time throwing to close the gap, and that she was running out of stones.
Gavi grabbed the largest remaining piece, the base of the column, and lifted. It didn’t budge. That’s when she realized it was still tethered to the ground.
Gavi tugged at the base again. It gave way a little. She leaned down to look at the metal bindings that held it in place.
They were coming loose. The bindings, which were like big metal tent spikes that had been driven into the ground, couldn’t go very deep without hitting the tempered metal floor that kept competitors from blasting into the Catacombs.
Gavi put her back into it and pulled. With a strained pop the stakes gave way, and the base came away in her hands.
Gavi looked over at Cóstan, who was picking his way out of the rubble toward her. But his eyes had never left her. Gavi knew that if he wanted to, he could have attacked her already.
I’ll take it. She held onto the stone base and dashed back to the column she was hiding behind before.
Now Cóstan did attack. Gavi held up the base as a shield to block his spells, wincing as her hands and arms were splashed with white-hot mana. She drew close, and then hurled the base the rest of the way and dove after it.
Gavi knocked two of the iron spikes off the loose base, then tossed it around the standing column until it was sitting on the other side, facing Cóstan. She ducked back behind cover and took up a stake in each hand.
The clang of metal could be heard throughout the arena as spectators craned to see what was going on. Gavi was using one stake as a hammer and the other as a nail, forcing the latter under one of the bindings supporting the standing column. The binding popped off. Gavi did the same with another, her head darting up to see what Cóstan was doing every few seconds. He took potshots at her, but he didn’t seem interested in charging.
Freelance Heroics (Firesign Book 2) Page 6