Arena (magic the gathering)

by William R. Forstchen

  ____________________

  CHAPTER 10

  TREMBLING WITH FEAR, URIAH LAY UPON THE floor of the audience chamber, cursing the fates that had made him such a creature of contempt. He well understood the role he was doomed to play. Though born with the ability of controlling the mana, he was born stunted as well. He had thought that as he learned to master the mana he could thus somehow gain respect, but it never came. There had been a time, an all-so-brief time, when it had been different. But the lure of power offered by Zarel had been too tempting to resist. To be captain of fighters rather than a lowly fighter whom the others never understood.

  Others called him crafty, a sneak, a lickspittle of the Grand Master. He saw it simply as survival. He was captain of the fighters, to be sure, though there were some in his command who had more powers than he. Zarel had elevated him thus for one reason only-he could be controlled, and he cursed himself for knowing that cruelest of facts-he would tolerate any abuse that others would have long ago rebelled against… simply because his life had been one of abuse since the day he was born.

  The room was deadly silent, the guard of warriors, secretaries, and court hangers-on frozen in place while Zarel struck Uriah yet again.

  “You should have anticipated this, damn you! Didn’t any of you think that they might try a rescue through the sewers?”

  “My lord, the sewer gate had been barred shut years ago and set with traps. It was thought to be impossible.”

  “Well, it wasn’t, damn it!”

  The dwarf said nothing, emitting only a low grunt of pain when Zarel kicked him before turning back to his messenger, whom he had dispatched to the House of Bolk.

  “Has Kirlen sent a reply?”

  The armored warrior lowered her head and said nothing.

  “Damn it all, what is it?”

  Zarel looked as if he would raise his hand but the messenger looked up at him coldly. He stood, hesitant for a moment, and then savagely kicked Uriah once again.

  “Did she say anything at all?”

  “My lord, she told you to perform an action upon yourself which is physically impossible,” the warrior replied slowly.

  Zarel looked at the warrior, sensing that there was a certain defiance in the woman’s tone.

  “Go on.”

  “She declared that the one-eye is now officially a Bolk and that as such he is granted the right of the brotherhood to immunity from prosecution for crimes committed prior to his acceptance.”

  “Get out.”

  The warrior came to her feet, bowed low, and then strode out of the room. Zarel watched her go, realizing that he had suffered a tremendous loss of face. First off, the mob was now firmly on One-eye’s side, they had a hero to worship who they felt was one of them. Worse, though, his own people were now suspect. The lock had been oiled and there was the chance that one of his own people had done it. He had killed the prison guards out of hand for their failure and now his warriors were upset over his fit of temper. His magic fighters were growing restless, angered at the humiliations hurled upon them by the mob. Even though several hundred of the crowd had been killed to quiet them down, he could sense that his own fighters were now upset, the lower ranks even fearful, for several of them had been killed during the day of rioting which had ensued.

  And tomorrow Festival would start and half a million of them would be brought together in one place. If something triggered them, the results could be disastrous. Some offering would have to be made to quell the mob and win them back. Though he hated to consider it, he knew he would have to dig into his treasures to buy them off.

  “Send in the captain of my catapulters when you and I are done. I’ve thought of something that might be amusing for the Festival.”

  “Your catapult captain?”

  “Just do as you are ordered.”

  Zarel turned away and for a moment Uriah thought he had been dismissed.

  “Uriah, is there any chance we can get at One-eye between now and Festival.”

  The dwarf looked up and came to his knees.

  “I don’t think so, great lord.”

  “Why not?”

  “Jimak, Varnel, and Tulan are all bribeable. Kirlen is not. There is only one thing she wants and that is your power and the path to being a Walker. Nothing you can offer her other than your own power would be sufficient and she sees in One-eye a means of causing embarrassment, perhaps even of throwing the mob against you.”

  Zarel looked down at Uriah.

  “Sometimes, Uriah, I think you are too smart.”

  “Only in service to you, my lord.”

  “Why?”

  Uriah hesitated.

  “You are my lord.”

  “Not sufficient.”

  Uriah lowered his head.

  “Because the others would never take me in.”

  Zarel laughed coldly.

  “The traitor of Turquoise, the one who fed me all the information while wearing their colors and unbarred the gate for the Night of Fire.”

  Zarel smiled and looked down at Uriah, who squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Who is this One-eye?” Zarel asked as if directing the question at himself.

  Uriah looked up at him, saying nothing.

  “You wore their colors for years, do you remember him?”

  “No, Master,” Uriah said quietly.

  “Get out of here.”

  Uriah scurried away, barely avoiding a kick that was aimed in his direction.

  As he closed the door he looked back at Zarel.

  Who is he? the Grand Master had asked. Uriah smiled and limped away to nurse his bruises of the body and of the heart.

  ***

  “You played good joke.”

  Garth smiled, forcing himself to stay awake as Naru poured another round of drinks. The giant looked over the side of the table at Hammen, who lay passed out on the floor of the feasting hall, and laughed.

  “Old man weak and now he stink bad,” Naru laughed.

  Garth tried to nurse his drink along, his head swimming, wishing that he had control of one of the rare spells of curing drunkenness.

  “Oh, but that bad trick you play on Naru.” The giant looked down into his drink and shook his head.

  “Sorry, but if you remember, we were fighting at the time.”

  Naru looked over at Garth and his eyes narrowed for a moment as if he was struggling to decide whether One-eye was a friend or not. His features finally relaxed.

  “You beat Grand Master and return my spells. You still my friend.”

  Garth nodded, having gone through this discussion more than a score of times in the last several hours. Naru started to pour another drink, looking at Garth sadly when he realized that his new friend was not keeping up.

  “Too bad I’ll beat you at Festival.”

  “Of course.”

  “Naru hear people say Grand Master will declare final fights to be to death.”

  Garth stirred and looked over at the giant.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Oh, Naru have friends. Grand Master do this more and more to make mob happy.”

  “Why don’t you and the others refuse?”

  “Can’t. Grand Master is Grand Master of Arena. When in arena can’t say no.”

  “What about the House Masters?”

  “Oh, they make good money from it, pay back of contracts, so they happy.”

  Naru chuckled.

  “Besides, Naru like breaking bones. Get many spells and mana from fallen, even though Grand Master keep part.”

  The giant looked back at Garth and sighed.

  “Too bad I must break your bones. I think I still like you.”

  Naru raised his goblet to drain it, the movement setting off an inertia that kept the giant moving backward so that he fell off the back of his stool. He crashed to the floor, emitted a single belch, and passed out.

  “One-eye.”

  Startled, Garth turned to see Kirlen, the House Master of Bo
lk, standing in the doorway. The woman was bent over with age, hair long since gone from white to a sickly yellow, her wrinkled skin hanging loose on her face as if it had already lost hold upon the bones of her body. Her black robe clung to her slender frame as if she were a skeleton held up only by the staff she leaned against, holding it with both of her gnarled hands.

  Garth slowly came to his feet and she motioned for him to follow her. Garth looked down at Hammen, who was sleeping alongside Naru, and realized that there was nothing he could do to rouse his friend. Moving carefully, so that he would not fall down, Garth stepped out into the corridor and walked behind Kirlen as she shuffled down the hallway and turned into her private quarters. The room was overly heated from a roaring fire and she went over to it, extending her hands and rubbing them. Garth looked around at the sparsely furnished quarters, which seemed almost like a monk’s cell, with nothing more than a cot and a desk piled high with books and scrolls. The four walls, however, were lined with bookcases crammed to overflowing. The room smelled musty, ancient, and somehow dangerous.

  “Naru can be tedious, especially when he is drinking,” she said quietly.

  “He’s interesting enough.”

  “He’s an idiot. One of those rare savants who can barely empty the proverbial boot of its contents but somehow able to control the mana with remarkable ease. Someday soon he’ll get killed.” She pronounced her prediction with casual indifference.

  She looked back at him and smiled, revealing a row of blackened stumps.

  “I disgust you, don’t I?”

  “No, my lady.”

  ”And suppose I asked you to share my bed?” she inquired, pointing to the narrow cot and cackling softly.

  Garth said nothing.

  “No, the Benalish woman, or Varena of Fentesk, with her golden red hair, now that would be different.”

  She turned away for a moment and he almost felt a sense of pity for the flash of pain in her eyes.

  “If you have the power I think you have, why don’t you rejuvenate yourself?” Garth asked.

  She laughed, her voice breaking into a sigh.

  “Ah, then I would have you, wouldn’t I?”

  “That is not the question I asked,” Garth replied.

  “Do you know how old I am?”

  “I’ve heard rumors, my lady.”

  “I lost count of the rejuvenations centuries ago. I lost count of the spells, the potions, the amulets that I burned upon dark altars. Each time I was made young again, but inside, inside one can be young but once. Youth is innocence on the inside as well as on the outside. No matter what spells I use, that innocence comes but once in a lifetime for all of us.

  “Each time you turn back the hourglass you never quite gain back what you had, you lose a day, a week, a month. There are limits to the powers of this plane and I reached them long ago. Oh, I can live on for centuries yet to come, but only the Walker can grant me back my beauty and my passions.”

  She paused for a long moment, looking into the fire. “Or by being a Walker myself.”

  “And he will not grant it, and would most definitely block you from becoming one.”

  She looked back at him, her eyes filled with a cold rage.

  “You know, there was a time, a time so long ago I can barely remember it, when Kuthuman the Walker and I were lovers. How he praised my beauty then, how he pledged eternal fidelity to me.”

  She cackled and then spit into the fire.

  “And then he turned away as I grew older and could not reclaim my charms. He forgot such things and became consumed instead with other passions. To pierce the veil, that was all he desired.”

  “He promised to take you with him, didn’t he?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I’ve heard rumors.”

  She stirred angrily.

  “Who? Who says these things?”

  “The Grand Master has it whispered about by his agents,” Garth replied softly.

  “Damn him forever.” She poked the fire with her staff so that a sparkling swirl of flames soared up the chimney.

  “So he forgot you in his moment of triumph, didn’t he?”

  The old woman looked back at Garth as if he had spoken too much, bringing into words the humiliation of her heart.

  “I helped him, you know, I helped him down through so many long years.” She pointed to the bookcases and the piles of dusty scrolls. “It was I who learned the paths and the spells, and the incantations to bridge the planes.”

  “So why don’t you go yourself?”

  “The mana. It is the mana which gives one the power to control magic in this plane. It is the mana as well which has the power to open the doorway into other realms when one knows the hidden path. I knew the path, but it was he who controlled the mana.

  “He tricked me. On the Night of Fire he betrayed me as well.”

  “The Night of Fire?”

  “When Zarel stormed the House of Turquoise, murdering their Master and stealing their trove of mana. I was betrayed as well.”

  Garth said nothing, his features calm.

  “That means something to you, doesn’t it?’ “I heard the stories,” Garth replied.

  Kirlen smiled.

  “Yes, I helped him. I agreed not to object, not to rally to the side of Turquoise in return for the door to be opened for me as well.

  “The following morning he was gone and Zarel was the new Grand Master.”

  “Why did he betray you?”

  Kirlen laughed coldly.

  “Why not? The gateway to limitless worlds was now open. And with it the power to take anything he desired. Even now he strides the universe, conquering, stealing, pleasuring himself. What need had he of an old hag whom he had once loved when they were both young. He can have anyone now and love is nothing but a hindrance.”

  She looked back into the fire.

  “I learned that long ago, One-eye.” She turned and looked over at him and then hobbled across the floor, drawing closer so that her fetid breath washed over Garth.

  “This is the final face of love,” she hissed. “This is the final face of loyalty, of honor, of glory, of vengeance, of all that is living. It is this,” she said, and, laughing, she pointed to her sagging folds of flesh, yellowed hair, and toothless mouth.

  “So why the sudden loyalty to me?” Garth whispered in reply.

  Kirlen drew back and laughed.

  “You humiliated him. Even now Zarel trembles. Perhaps he fears for his power and his life. For that I thank you.”

  Garth bowed low, struggling to keep his balance and to keep his mind focused, for there was more. He could sense there was far more.

  “You’re of the House of Oor-tael, aren’t you?”

  He looked back up and could feel the power radiating around her, coiling outward, fingers of light probing toward him. He tried to force an inner calm as she reached into him.

  He could feel her eyes probing into him and he was startled by the power of it, for she was almost as strong as the Grand Master. He felt a lash of rage as her probing slowed and then finally stopped, unable to reach into the very core.

  “You’re strong, One-eye.”

  Garth said nothing, not daring to lower his guard.

  “I think you are strong enough that if I tried to challenge you to a fight, you could actually harm me.”

  Again he was silent. Her thoughts withdrew and he struggled not to sag down from exhaustion and drunkenness. He realized now that Naru’s actions were at her behest, to keep him awake after all that had happened and break him down with drink and simple exhaustion.

  He looked at her and smiled.

  “I can be of use to you,” he said softly.

  “I should kill you now.”

  “You know the mob is behind me. The Grand Master might hold power as a holder of mana but not even that power can control half a million who will be sitting in the arena come tomorrow. I am of Brown as well and that power reflects upon you. That
can be of use to you.”

  She smiled, her lips trembling.

  “And suppose you are of Turquoise? You would have reason enough for vengeance upon me given what I just told you.”

  “If I wanted such vengeance, I could do it now.” He flicked a finger toward the bookcases.

  A startled cry escaped her and she started to bring her hand up.

  “I would be a fool to burn them, for then we would fight here and now,” Garth said, lowering his hand and looking back at her.

  She looked back nervously at her books and then again at Garth.

  “You have the knowledge hidden within your books. But your path now is through the Grand Master because it is he who has amassed the mana and I suspect will soon have enough to try himself to become a Walker. Kill him and you could succeed to his throne and take all that is hidden within his vaults.

  “That is your next step. Do that and the Walker does not care who rules here, only that they are loyal to him and serve his needs.”

  “He would know what I desire.”

  “Don’t you think he knows what Zarel desires as well, what all of us desire?”

  She said nothing.

  “Power, immortality, and eternal youth, which only being a Walker can bring. Kill Zarel at the end of Festival and you will have a year to prepare before the Walker returns once again. I dare say that within that year you could gather enough mana to do as you please.”

  “How?”

  “Zarel did it for his Master.”

  Kirlen chuckled darkly.

  “You’re goading me not only into killing Zarel, but the other House Masters as well.”

  Garth smiled and said nothing.

  “Why do you desire to help me?”

  “Perhaps you could grant a one-eye immortality as well when the time came.”

  “Perhaps I would not need a scarred face when that time came.”

  “I’m willing to gamble on that. At the very least there would be room for advancement, perhaps as a House Master or Grand Master myself.”

  Kirlen chuckled.

  “Revenge and power. I think I might like you after all, One-eye.”

  She turned and looked back at the fire.

  “You’ve given me nothing all that new. I’ve thought it before. If that is all you have to offer, your usefulness is at and end.”