Their way was accompanied by sour looks, because each one of them wanted to show he was unhappy with the present company. Their minds were buzzing with plans and thoughts on how to con the others best — and Magnus was reading their minds quite effortlessly.
“Hey,” Reinhart's voice cut through the silence, when he walked along with Magnus in front of the younger co-player. “Let's get rid of that shrimp,” he whispered.
Their two covert glances darted to the little mage behind them.
Magnus knew what Reinhart was thinking of, but he pretended that he didn't. No matter what, he couldn't reveal his ability to read thoughts, because that could surely be a reason for disqualification.
When Magnus didn't answer, Reinhart continued, “Look — we can make a deal. We'll get rid of the wimp, I'll help you to trick the others and when we get to the very end of the game, you keep the gold and in exchange for my help, you'll give me your friend,” he whispered, leaning to him closely. The five-year-old boy seemed to have noticed their exchange, because he watched them with a suspicious look, his cheeks bulging angrily.
“Yeah ... that sounds good. You can have them both,” Magnus said airily. Fjalldís and Maren were lucky that the quiet chat from Magnus and Reinhart wasn't carried all the way to the upper seats. The watchers sitting closer to the scene were enjoying the thrilling story though.
Although they both focused all their cards on getting rid of the five-year-old boy, it appeared it wouldn't be easy to lose him. He kept avoiding their traps and ambushes successfully and they soon realised he had outrun them quite a bit. Turning corners and flinching back and forth every now and then, they decided to take a different path, hoping the little one would get lost and never reach the end.
They got rid of one, but another three players appeared in the corridor several steps behind them. They didn't get close enough to Magnus and Reinhart though — running towards the two boys, they activated a trap and they suddenly found their legs in the air. All three of them yelped as a huge abyss opened under them, gulping them down like raspberries.
“Three of the vermin down,” Magnus commented coldly.
After a while of walking in the labyrinth, Reinhart used the card Explore. As unbelievable as it was, he found something they would have overlooked if they rushed by the aisle. Could it be Magnus' luck again?
“A map!” said Reinhart's voice, picking up a slab of polished grey stone from the ground.
“A map of the treasure?” Magnus said hopefully.
“No,” Reinhart said, “A map of this level.”
“You mean there'll be more?” Magnus breathed impatiently.
Reinhart suspired, “This is your first tournament, isn't it?”
“I just want my gold!” Magnus exclaimed, audibly enough for all watchers in the arena to hear it. Before the tournament, he didn't care about money at all. But when he thought of his leather pouch filled with gold coins now, it suddenly seemed like it wasn't enough. Each minute that parted him from the promising treasure felt like forever to him.
“And I want my damsel! But we have to be patient. Come on, this way!” Reinhart said hastily, pointing into one of the many branched corridors.
They were lucky that Reinhart had found the magick map. No other map would be able to show them their exact location and direction in this huge maze. It had three buttons with various functions — one would show them all items in their vicinity, one would show them enemies nearby and the last one would show active spells. Magnus was sure these maps were a rare thing and he wished he could have kept it and carried it with him everywhere he went.
Thanks to the magick map, it wasn't so difficult to get through this level. They soon made it through the knotty aisles of the stone labyrinth. Only eight of them passed to the end and much to their dismay, there was also the five-year-old boy, whom Magnus and Reinhart had tried to get rid of so hard.
The next stage — The City of Ghosts — required the players to be fast and agile, because in this level there were monsters released into the arena. The beginning of the tournament seemed slow, but as the players proceeded to the next levels, everything gradually got faster and faster. Soon the cards on their gloves were changing rapidly and if they wanted to deal with the monsters as well, they had to be extremely quick and smart.
Nobody expected that Magnus and Reinhart would become such a good team. Although they were both just ten years old, they were doing exceedingly well. Reinhart stood in the front, fighting the monsters in close combat and Magnus crushed the enemies by casting attack spells from a distance. All those who knew him simply couldn't believe their eyes — just like Maren and Fjalldís. Was it really the nice, bashful boy, who always tried to run away from squabbles? No matter how much they looked at him now, he reminded them more of a fighting machine. A perfect fighting machine.
Only six players passed to the next level and to the last one, four of them.
When the tournament had finally approached the end, Magnus didn't even know what time it was anymore. He felt as though he had been fighting in the underground for ages. It all seemed like a dream.
The last scene emerged before the remaining players and the imagery of enjoying their prizes had already filled Magnus and Reinhart's minds.
Not a single watcher wasn't in love with the storyline. Even the administrator of the tournament didn't hesitate to show his emotions — he filled his lungs with air and continued commenting excitedly into the megaphone. The closer the players were to the end, the faster and louder his voice became.
“Warlock Magnus is ready to sacrifice everything just to get his treasure — even the friendship of his new fighting partner, who is on the contrary ready to cross Hell itself just to save his damsel,” the mage announced, moved by the story. “But will they achieve it? There are two other skilled mages that have accessed the final stage — agile Gregory, who is just an unbelievable five-year-old, and mighty Vildur, who has a huge advantage in decades of magick-study in the School of Destruction!”
“What damsel? The prize is supposed to be gold and a trophy, isn't it?” Maren said, feeling slightly confused. It seemed that Fjalldís wanted to say something, but she was interrupted by a flood of black clothes that forced itself between the girls and the people sitting around them. There was a ripple of disturbed grunting in the upper lines, but everyone was so intrigued by the tournament that they were simply shunted away, not caring anymore.
“Hi,” Darius said confidently. Apparently, he thought that the seat next to Fjalldís was rightfully his. Henry sniggered on his right.
Rodrick's broad grin emerged on the other side. “Hi,” he repeated after Darius, showing his teeth to Maren.
“Oh no,” Maren mumbled under her breath, casting an imploring gaze to the enormously huge ceiling, as though hoping for some kind of help from the heavens. But there were no heavens here — they were deep under the town.
“This is so awkward,” Fjalldís whispered right into Maren's ear. “Hi,” Fjalldís said bashfully, giving Darius only a short sideways glance. Afterwards, her gaze darted back into the arena immediately. The moments when she found herself circled by the Black Squad were making her utterly nervous — not mentioning that she could feel Viktor breathing on her head from above. Actually, he was probably doing it on purpose.
Serena and Giselbert were sitting beside Viktor, imitating him and blowing into Maren's hair.
Reinhart's hateful stare pointing into the audience suggested that he couldn't wait for the game to end. He clenched his teeth so tight that they creaked, rounding abruptly on the tall, elderly Warlock, who made it to the last stage along with him, Magnus and little Gregory.
“Come on, I don't have all day!” Reinhart shouted heatedly, as if the whole tournament was in his way now.
Darius was acting as though Reinhart didn't even exist. “We can take you out after the tournament, we're going for a dragon hunt. What do you say?” he asked, but it sounded more like an announcement than a quest
ion.
“No thanks,” Maren retorted curtly, swinging her arm to hit Serena and Giselbert, who had already touched her nerves. She wanted to get two flies with one hit, but they both dodged her furious attack.
Fjalldís tried to reject their “tempting” invitation a little more courteously. “I think we'll spend our time after the tournament with Magnus ... thanks though,” she said evasively, but Darius took it personally anyway.
“What? With that smug jester?!” he breathed incredulously. “You really think he can win?”
“And why not? He's been excellent and he made it to the last stage,” Fjalldís said, determined to support Magnus till the last second.
“Even if he wins, he won't be with you after the tournament. He'll be enjoying his beloved heap of gold,” Darius said bitterly.
“He is just acting –” Fjalldís said in an attempt to defend Magnus, but it was pointless.
“Are you blind?” Darius cut across her in a booming voice, “Everyone can see that this is for real. He only wants the gold, nothing else!” No matter how hard he tried to persuade them, it seemed that the girls wouldn't believe anything he said about Magnus.
For a moment, there was only the roaring of the audience and the annoying breathing of the three Black Squad members from above. Then Darius spoke again.
“Just look at him. He's just as old as we are and his abilities match those of the old guy who must have studied magick all his life,” he said, determined to receive some sort of approval.
Fjalldís and Maren glanced at Magnus, who was casting attack spells as though he would never get tired, and his five-year-old opponent had great difficulty avoiding them successfully.
Then Darius said a final, “It's just a matter of time until he'll uses them against you.”
“I've had enough,” Fjalldís snapped. She didn't seem to consider that his words could actually be truthful. She stood up, looking down on Darius. People in the line behind her leaned to the sides so they could continue watching. “For a moment there, I thought you had changed ... but I was wrong,” she said, a trace of irritation and disappointment in her voice. “Come on Maren, let's go. Anywhere is better than here.” At these words, she turned her back on the Black Squad and quickly made her way through the thrilled watchers out to the path that cut across the benches.
“You're quite right!” Maren agreed at once, setting off to follow Fjalldís. Finally there was no one blowing on her head!
Darius stared after them, looking perplexed. “What did I say?” he asked, but the girls didn't turn back. His question was answered by Viktor.
“No idea,” he said, apparently considering Darius' judgements absolutely appropriate.
Darius gave a small sigh, “Girls ... I don't understand them at all.”
There was another sigh coming from among his comrades, accompanied by the words: “Neither do I.”
When the boys realised who had said that, their faces turned to the only girl sitting among them.
“Really!” Serena insisted, nodding in an attempt to convince them about the truthfulness of her words. “I simply don't understand how she could reject such a warm invitation into the gang. And coming from our leader!”
Darius' gaze darted into the distance. “She crossed the line,” he said darkly.
While Maren and Fjalldís were searching for a place to sit, the players had separated into two duels — the four finalists were doing all in their power to get rid of the others and gain victory in the tournament along with the promising reward.
Vildur was stronger than Reinhart expected. Being a knight, he didn't know much about spell casting, but who said his weapons were just ordinary swords? Within a few seconds, there came a moment when he would reveal their true power.
When Vildur prepared to cast a powerful fire-ball, which was supposed to bring down his enemy for good, Reinhart crossed his swords before his face and the spell got reflected like a ray of light on a mirror, bolting with full force at its caster.
It was a matter of seconds which most of the audience didn't even manage to catch and the moderator had to announce what had just happened. The old Warlock was now lying helplessly on the ground, his beard burnt almost to the roots. All watchers trembled to see if he was still alive.
“Ouch,” Vildur howled, “My back ...”
At these words, everyone breathed out in relief, and although Vildur was obviously not all right, the attention of all turned to Magnus and Reinhart, who joined their forces against the five years younger Gregory. It was more than certain he had no chance to win this battle. Many a watcher had been supporting him and roaring excitedly at his great courage, but now his knees shook with fear.
As soon as Magnus raised a hand, Gregory broke into a heart-tearing cry. “Leave me alone! Don't hurt me! I surrender ... I surrender!” he squealed, tears rolling down his tiny face.
No, it wasn't only a move to fool Magnus and Reinhart. Seconds later there was no Gregory — only a trail of dust raising from the ground, as he sprinted for dear life to the safety door, calling for his mum to save him.
“Well, it seems we've won,” Reinhart remarked in surprise.
“We? What we? Only one can win this game!” Magnus yelled, sounding quite hostile all of a sudden.
“What?! We had a deal!” Reinhart yelled in scandalised tones. He didn't expect that Magnus wouldn't hold onto his word, but what happened next made the entire audience jump from their seats.
“They're NOT my friends!” Magnus hissed fiercely, hitting his opponent with his bare hand so hard that it made Reinhart crash into the nearest wall which was still quite far away.
Reinhart didn't make another move. Magnus had won the tournament.
XVIII. A Strange Acquaintance
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the winner of the Magiker Tournament – Magnus Il'Idiel!” The young mage had announced the winner. There was an eruption of victorious screams and hundreds of people in the audience broke into a deafening applause.
Magnus felt as though he was dreaming that voice. He covered his eyes slackly, trying to shield himself from all those shifting lights that were making him dizzy.
“Yes! Yes! Druids rule the world!” yelled Aedan in ecstatic voice, his firm fists flying in the air. He had been waiting to say this for so long!
Others did not think about druids, but Elmar and Lars gave a victorious shriek nevertheless. The whole arena roared in excitement. There was no doubt Magnus had found a huge number of new supporters. But who was it they loved so much? The horrifying and cruel warlock who had won this game, or the strange boy they didn't know at all and who had a long pointy tail and odd ears folded under the black hooded cloak?
“Congratulations! Enjoy your unforgettable moment of fame!”
Hearing these words, Magnus fainted, landing sprawled in total exhaustion, his face pointing downwards to the dusty ground. He did not enjoy this moment much...
Maren and Fjalldís dashed to the changing rooms. They did not know if they would find Magnus there, but it was the only place they could go without an escort of a person authorized to roam this place unrestricted. They were not allowed to enter the lower parts of the underground.
As soon as they squeezed through the crowds of people that had flooded the hallways now, they saw two men carrying a wounded boy on a ragged stretcher. The boy was Reinhart.
“His eyes...” He muttered hoarsely, coughing and gasping to catch a breath. “His eyes weren't human...”
Seeing the state that Magnus had left Reinhart in, Fjalldís clapped her hands to her mouth. She shot a terrified glance at Maren, but her eyes wide opened with fear suggested she wouldn't be much of a support right now.
Reinhart was taken away by the stairs down to the lower levels of the underground. As Fjalldís guessed, they would probably cure his wounds down there. But seeing him disappeared in the chilly darkness, she felt as though she would never see him again. Or never see him alive.
Some of the Reinha
rt's loyal companions wanted to follow him downstairs, but were stopped by two stocky guards before they could even set a foot on the first stair. Maren and Fjalldís wouldn't stand a chance if they tried to stroll past them. They were both thinking frantically about how to get there, as it was quite sure that Magnus would be tended at the same level as Reinhart was. They needed to find a person authorized to walk around the underground area freely.
Magnus slowly opened his heavy eyelids. One would hope to see something pleasant after a long, hard fight, fainting, and finally opening his eyes a half an hour later. But it seemed, upon looking, that Magnus was not too happy about the view that he had.
“436... 437... 438...” A man counted in a flat voice, placing coin after coin on a golden heap glittering in a dark purple velvet bag. “439... 440... 441...” The voice continued.
That would not be so bad, if there was not the general of Magi Police standing right next to the growing pile of gold, holding his serpent staff and watching Magnus with the faintest sneer. He looked more contented than ever before, and it had a good reason. “I am glad that I decided to recommend you to the court of Magiker,” he said darkly with a malicious smile. “I knew you wouldn't leave me empty-handed ... Thanks to you, I am returning to the police station with three bags overfilled with gold tonight, not mentioning I have gained over six hundred of new witnesses to certify that you are no ordinary poor boy who needs compassion. A very good addition to your document folder; it will help us to resolve your case much sooner. And then I'll be finally able to send you to the Dark Pit, the place where all criminals like you rightfully belong,” Xanthar said, with an expression of the utmost pleasure on his face.
Magnus felt utterly bewildered. Although there were several clerics dressed in gold and white robes, bustling across the room from bed to bed to tend the injured, he didn't notice anyone walking between him and the general. Case? Criminals? Dark Pit? He didn't like the sound of any of these words. But then again, Xanthar's presence, at least for Magnus, had always meant trouble.
Drakonika (Book 1) Page 35
