by Martin Scott
«This is outrageous!» says Lasat. «How dare these Turanian refugees cast aspersions on me. I demand satisfaction!»
«I demand you stop using sorcery.»
«There must me no more interference!» insists Daringos. «The contest must be fair.»
To the discomfiture of the Samsarinans, the Simnians and Niojans take the opportunity to voice some criticisms of Samsarinan incompetence, which annoys everyone, and threatens to derail the meeting. Charius the Wise — who, I should mention, I have never heard utter anything particularly wise — bangs his staff on the ground to get people's attention.
«I have a suggestion,» he says.
«Speak, Charius,» says the Chief Steward. «Your council is always worth hearing.»
«Perhaps the best course of action would be simply to allow Lasat and Lisutaris to do as they please.»
«I don't follow you.»
«Give them permission to support their fighters in any way they can. Use whatever sorcery they want. Lisutaris can support Makri and Lasat can support Elupus. Let the best sorcerer and fighter win. After all, we've been wondering how to choose a War Leader. Why not let them fight it out?»
Baron Mabados starts to object, but the young King chooses this moment to speak. «I like this! That's what we should do. Lasat and Lisutaris can use their sorcery to support their fighters, and whoever wins I'll support as War Leader.»
The King is smiling, obviously taken with the idea. That's enough to convince his Barons. Even the Ambassadors don't seem to object. But from the way Lasat and Charius are looking pleased with themselves, I can tell we're being outmanoeuvred.
«One moment,» I say. «Lisutaris will have no problem facing Lasat, but what about the rest of the Samsarinan Sorcerers Guild? It's hardly fair if they all join in against her.»
«I'm sure that won't happen,» says the King. «Lasat, will that happen?»
«Certainly not, Sire. You have my word that none but I shall use my power.»
«Are we meant to believe that?» I look round for support. None is forthcoming. Apparently the King and his Barons actually believe the Samsarinan Sorcerers will play fair. Or they're pretending to believe it, more likely.
«How do you feel about this, Mistress of the Sky?» asks the King.
Lisutaris knows as well as I do that there's no chance of a fair contest, but she's in a difficult position. The King trusts his sorcerers, so it will look bad for her to accuse them of being a bunch of cheats. It will look worse if she refuses the challenge. «That is acceptable to me,» she says.
«Splendid,» says King Gardos. «It should be an entertaining contest.»
The meeting breaks up into a great gaggle of excited talk.
«So it's us against the whole Samsarinan Sorcerers Guild,» says Lisutaris, as we head for the exit.
«This isn't fair,» I say. «We shouldn't have accepted.»
«We didn't seem to have a choice. Charius backed us into a corner. Maybe he's not as stupid as I've always thought.»
«Makri,» I say. «Try and win the fight before too many spells hit me. They're really painful.»
«The Samsarinans will target all of us,» says Lisutaris. «It's going to be difficult.»
We leave the King's Meeting House, following a stream of Barons, Sorcerers, Ambassadors, Generals, servants and officials, all heading for the tournament fields. The cloudy sky above is dark red, reflecting the glowing bonfires. The air is thick with the aroma of roasting oxen, and noisy with minstrel music and drinking songs. When we reach the edge of the tournament field Lisutaris once again supplies me with the deflecting spell.
«Try actually deflecting some this time,» she suggests. «Instead of just letting them bounce off you.» She checks my spell-protection charm, and Makri's too. At this moment Lasat will be doing the same for Elupus.
«I wish I could just fight him fairly,» says Makri. «I'd beat him.»
She would. Makri's recent performances in the arena have been superb. I'd tell her that if she wasn't already big-headed enough about her fighting technique.
«Thraxas, can I have a word?»
I look round. It's Baroness Demelzos, accompanied by a servant, who hangs back, out of earshot.
«Baroness. I don't have much time.»
«I know. But the wedding is meant to be tomorrow and Merlione is still refusing to leave the house.»
«I think that's quite sensible.»
«You can't imagine the trouble it's causing. My husband says he's lost patience. And my son just can't understand why she won't come to the wedding. Are you any nearer to finding out what's been going on?»
«Yes.»
«You are?» The Baroness looks surprised.
«I have a good idea of what's behind it all. I don't have any proof yet. If I can, I'll visit you tomorrow, in the morning. Maybe I'll have something for you then.»
Demelzos looks momentarily hopeful. «Well at least that's something.» She frowns. «Thraxas, from the way your female companions are staring at me, I'm guessing they know about our past.»
«I mentioned it to them.»
«That was hardly gallant.»
«I've never been accused of gallantry.»
«How did they react?»
«They laughed.»
The Baroness looks offended. «They laughed? That's quite insulting.»
«They weren't laughing at you, they were laughing at me. They don't think I'm the sort of man who has affairs with women who go on to be Baronesses.»
Demelzos looks over at Lisutaris and Makri, who are indeed staring at us, without bothering to disguise their interest. «Thraxas was quite a catch,» says the Baroness. «Quite the dashing young swordsman. Plenty of women in Elath were chasing him.» She leans over and places her hand on my arm. «He still has that robust charm, don't you think?»
With that, the Baroness walks swiftly away, disappearing with her servant into the crowd. Lisutaris and Makri look at me with amazement. I don't remember ever seeing Makri's mouth hanging open before. It takes them a few moments before they can speak.
«Robust charm?» says Lisutaris. «Dashing young swordsman?»
«When these women were chasing you,» asks Makri. «Was it for unpaid debts?»
I smile at them, as condescendingly as I can. «Laugh all you like. We now have it on good authority that Thraxas, champion sword-fighter, was quite a catch. Shall we proceed to the arena?»
«How am I meant to concentrate after this?» mutters Makri. «It's affected my whole world-view.»
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I still haven't picked up our winnings on Makri's last fight. While Makri goes off to put on her armour, I hurry down to Big Bixo's betting tent. I have to barge my way through the crowd. It seems like the whole of Elath is now scrambling to gamble on the final. Combius the armourer is among the throng.
«Come to bet on Makri?» I ask.
Combius looks uncomfortable. «I'm not sure.»
«She can beat Elupus.»
«Maybe. But now there's sorcery involved.»
«Lisutaris is more powerful than Lasat,» I tell him.
«I'm not sure about that. Anyway» — Combius lowers his voice. — «people are saying the whole Samsarinan Sorcerers Guild is going to support Elupus. Lisutaris isn't more powerful than twenty Samsarinan sorcerers.»
«Yes she is. Bet on Makri, she'll win.»
Combius goes away, still looking doubtful. I force my way into the tent. I'd expected both Makri and Elupus to be around the same odds, but the strong rumour that Elupus will be assisted by the whole Samsarinan Sorcerers Guild has sent a lot of money in his direction. He's listed at two to five, while Makri is seven to four.
Our 10,000 winnings on the semi-final has taken our funds up to 22,042. I'd be tempted to wager it all, but once more, Bixo will only accept a bet of 5000 gurans. I place the bet, then hurry over to Generous Ges, where I do the same. As I leave, I'm silently cursing all bookmakers for their parsimony. If you're losing they'll take every g
uran off you. Once you start winning, they put a limit on your bets. Still, 10,000 gurans at seven to four isn't bad.
The final is due to start any minute. I rush back to the tournament field. Once there, my spirit sags as I observe the number of Samsarinan sorcerers ranged against us. They seem to be everywhere. I try not to let my anxiety show.
«Just concentrate on giving Elupus a good beating,» I tell Makri. «We'll take care of the rest.»
Elupus isn't a particularly tall man, but he has a strong frame and a very powerful sword-arm. He's a colourful character, as evinced by the bright silver design on his shield, and the purple ribbon he wears on his helmet, a favour for some lady or other. He's let his hair grow so it hangs down his back in a thick pony tail. That's normal for a lower-class Turanian like me, but unusual for a Simnian. Like most veterans of the arena, he carries some facial scars. When he arrives in the centre of the arena he has the audacity to bow politely to Makri, as if it were a social occasion. Makri doesn't return his bow.
My senses are again humming from the pent-up sorcery all around. I'll be lucky to make it back to he perimeter before someone fires a spell. The Marshal raises his flag and I retreat hastily towards Lisutaris. The Head of the Sorcerers Guild is ready for action. Her hair is thrust back untidily behind her ears, tied with a scrap of rainbow cloth. Her hands are already glowing with a faint purple light. Now, with no need to conceal her actions, her whole body begins to radiate magic, The entire surface of her eyes, whites and pupils, turn the same shade of purple. It's an eerie sight, something that only occurs among the most powerful Sorcerers.
The Marshal drops his flag, and then quite a lot of things happen at once. Makri raises her sword, light flashes from Lisutaris's hands, and I'm hit on the chest by something that feels like a blacksmith's hammer. I crash to the ground but rise quickly, shaking my fist at the Samsarinan Sorcerers. Perhaps because of my anger, the deflection spell I'm carrying suddenly seems a lot stronger, and I get a vivid sense of an energy bolt flying towards Makri. I raise my hand and manage to alter its course so it plunges harmlessly into the ground.
«Take that!» I cry. Immediately I'm hit by another crushing bolt of magic and once more crash to the ground. I struggle to my feet, roaring with rage. Lisutaris is deflecting spells from all directions, keeping them away from Makri while simultaneously trying to hinder Elupus. He and Makri are fighting fiercely in the centre of the arena. Their combat is furious, though unusual. Every few seconds one of them is jerked violently like a puppet, and has to struggle to remain upright while blocking desperately with their shield to keep their opponent at bay. Makri seems certain to score against Elupus as his shield flies out of position, but as she moves in to strike, she herself is jolted off her feet. Before she can regain her balance, Elupus recovers to deal her a crashing blow on her shield arm.
«Half point to Elupus!» yells the Marshal. The crowd scream their approval.
«Cheats!» I cry. «Lasat is cheating! His whole Guild's helping him!» My voice is drowned out in the mayhem. I deflect another spell, but there are so many Samsarinan Sorcerers working against us that it feels hopeless. From the way Lasat and Charius are hopping around in frustration, I'd guess that Lisutaris has their sorcery nullified, but that still leaves plenty of others. I do my best but I'm no match for them. Makri is again forced backwards under furious assault from Elupus and he scores another half point with a thrust which slides in under her shield, striking her on the hip. It's another painful blow, harder than would have been allowed in earlier rounds. I'm worried about the damage Makri is taking. Even without the buffeting from the sorcerers, she's suffering a severe barrage from Elupus, whose own actions are being enhanced by the Samsarinan Guild. I deflect another bolt but only succeed in bringing it down on myself. I crash to the ground for the third time. This time I struggle to rise, and I can taste blood in my mouth.
«Damn you,» shouts Lisutaris, hauling me to my feet. «Concentrate!»
«I'm doing my best!»
I'm starting to think that the best plan might be to draw my sword and charge across the field, slaying as many Samsarinan Sorcerers as I can. Fortunately, before I can act, Lisutaris releases a spell so powerful that every Samsarinan sorcerer is frozen on the spot. For a few moments Makri and Elupus are unaffected by magic, and Makri seizes the opportunity to launch an attack, blocking Elupus's blade and then sliding her own sword down to slice into the armour on his shin.
«Half point to Makri!» cries the Marshal.
By the time the fight restarts, the Samsarinan Sorcerers have thrown off the effects of Lisutaris's spell. They've given up any pretence of not being involved, and are openly waving their arms, firing bolts, and intoning spells. It must be obvious to everyone what's going on. Not that I expect anyone to do anything about it. As I thud to the ground for the fourth time I regret that I never paid proper attention to my sorcerous studies. If I had, I might be able to help more. As it is, all I can do is try to lessen the load on Lisutaris, mainly by allowing myself to be a target. My body shakes as I attempt to deflect an energy spell from Makri which would probably have killed me were it not for my spell-protection necklace.
Makri is being hit by spells regularly and only her incredible fighting technique is keeping her in the match. Several times, after she's been knocked off balance, it seems as if Elupus must strike, but she somehow manages to get her sword or shield in the way. Eventually, inevitably, he does make another break-through, and Makri falls behind by three half-points to one. The crowd is chanting and roaring. I have blood coming out of my nose. Lisutaris gasps as she's hit by a spell. The situation is fast becoming hopeless. Elupus advances and knocks Makri backwards with his shield. She goes over again, tripped by sorcery, and sprawls on the ground. Then, with a move which astonishes both the crowd and Elupus, she manages to score a half point by thrusting her sword up into Elupus's ribs, even as he stands over her to deliver a lethal stroke.
I scream in appreciation. «You can do it Makri!» Something hits me on the head and everything goes blank for a few seconds. I come back to my senses to hear Lisutaris cursing as the Marshal awards Elupus another half point. The score is now four to two, and Elupus needs just one more strike. I try to summon up energy but I have nothing left. I can barely move. Lisutaris is breathing heavily as she attempts to repel the relentless onslaught of the entire Samsarinan Sorcerers Guild. Elupus attacks again and the sound of his sword, crashing against Makri's shield, can be heard even above the roar of the crowd. Elupus presses his attack, propelled forward by the weight of sorcery behind him. Makri is forced back, and as she turns to avoid a thrust I can see blood seeping out from under her helmet. The sight enrages me.
«That's it,» I cry, drawing my sword. «I'm going to kill someone.» I step onto the field. A steward tries to haul me back. I push him away and march forward but I'm brought to a sudden halt when, very unexpectedly, a small white dragon plummets out of the sky and lands on Elupus. The Simnian swordsman takes a heavy blow and is knocked to the ground. The crowd screams. The Marshal gapes stupidly and seems unable to move. To her great credit, Makri still has her wits about her. She leaps over to the prone figure of Elupus and slashes with her sword, halting the blade as it touches his throat.
«Lethal Stroke!» I scream, and charge forward. By the time I reach the centre of the field, the young dragon has shuffled over to Makri and is licking her face. The Marshal hasn't yet made a call.
«What's the delay?» I demand. «Call Makri as the winner. That was a lethal stroke!»
The Marshal, his flag hanging limply in mid-air, seems to be having trouble comprehending what just happened. «I… eh… it was…»
«Makri made a lethal stroke to the throat. Call it or I'll kill you!»
«Lethal stroke,» mutters the Marshal.
Lasat Axe of Gold is swiftly into the field. «This is a complete travesty!» he rages. «That dragon attacked my fighter. It's foul play! What's it doing here anyway?»
«Your spells
obviously weren't good enough to hold it,» I reply. «Anyway, Makri's the winner.»
«She is not the winner! There was outside interference!»
«This whole fight has been about outside interference!»
There's movement around the edge of the field as some of the Samsarinan sorcerers approach, but the stewards and officials hang back, not liking the look of the dragon, which is now considerably bigger than a man. Soldiers have rushed to protect the King, and stand in a semi-circle with arrows notched in their bows. Lisutaris arrives, moving slowly and painfully.
«What's happening?» she gasps. «Has Makri won?»
«Yes,» I say.
«No she hasn't!» cries Lasat. «I will not stand for this outrage.» He swings round to face Makri, raising his hand. The dragon interprets this as a threat to its friend, and roars threateningly. Lasat furiously casts a spell at it. The young dragon howls in pain, then cringes like a young child.
«Don't do that!» says Makri. «You shouldn't» —
Makri doesn't manage to complete the sentence because at that moment a gigantic white dragon lands beside us with an earth-shaking crash. The huge beast is roaring with anger, and breathing flame. I grab Makri's arm with one hand and Lisutaris's sleeve with the other.
«Run,» I say, and we run. We flee towards the edge of the field where the assembled crowd are cowering in fear. The sudden, shocking arrival of such a monstrous dragon spreads panic. Such a beast has never been seen in Elath before.
«I knew its mother would come back,» I gasp, as the three of us stumble to safety. When I look round to see if we're being pursued, I'm confronted by an awful sight. The Ice Dragon, infuriated by Lasat's attack on her child, has grabbed him in its jaws and is shaking him around like a toy. Several Sorcerers approach as close as they dare but their spells don't have any effect. The dragon finally spits out Lasat. As his mangled body lands on the grass, it's obvious that the Samsarinan Sorcerers Guild will now be needing a new leader.
There's a call to arms from close to the King. General Hemistos has rallied some troops. Among the soldiers I notice Baron Girimos, gamely advancing despite his age and bulk. The ice dragon ignores them. It looks down at its child, then, quite tenderly, takes the young dragon by the scruff of the neck like a cat picking up a kitten. It spreads its huge wings and rises majestically into the air. A few arrows fly wide of the mark as the dragon circles, gaining height, then heads off to the North. The shouting stops, and a hush descends on the tournament field.
