Arena (magic the gathering)

by William R. Forstchen

  “He chose death in preference to slavery.”

  “Enough of this,” the shadow whispered. “Your value as a diversion is at an end. I was half thinking of actually sparing you. A sentimental gesture for a universe that is pitiless. I don’t think that will happen now.”

  “Then go ahead,” Garth said quietly.

  The shadow started to rear up and extended its arms.

  Garth smiled and slowly raised his arms as well.

  The shadow hesitated and then laughed.

  “You never did answer what I first wanted to know. You undoubtedly had figured it out that I killed the winners of the Festival so that they would not one day be a threat. So why did you come forward and win?”

  “Because,” Garth said evenly, “I think I can beat you as well.”

  The shadow laughed.

  “So you will be like me. You certainly had good training. You left your servant to die, and you murdered a woman who loved you for the chance.”

  “You would have killed her in turn,” Garth said coldly. “I would like to think that I saved her.”

  “You sound like a philosopher with that logic. You still killed her.”

  With an angry cry Garth raised his hand to strike.

  The shadow, laughing easily, dodged the fireball.

  “If that is all you can start with, this will be boring. Bid my greetings to your father.”

  Garth felt a rushing of wind, and the air around him raced inward. He tried to breathe and, doubling over, gasped and started to choke in a green cloud of sulfurous smoke.

  ***

  Hammen, his arms around Varena’s shoulders, struggled to remove her body while Zarel and all the others were diverted by the presence of the Walker. Varena’s body servant moved feebly, shaking with tears.

  “Shut up, girl, and help me,” Hammen snapped.

  “Keep your filthy hands off of her,” the girl replied. “Let her rest.”

  “Damn it all, girl, I’m trying to save her before the cord of her spirit is severed, now help me.”

  The girl looked over at him wide-eyed, unable to move.

  “Damn all women,” Hammen whispered under his breath, tempted to simply let the body drop and beat a hasty retreat before it was too late.

  He continued, however, to struggle with the body, slowly dragging it away. Though he did not want to, he finally looked up and saw the Walker moving up to stand before Garth.

  Damn it, no.

  He lowered Varena to the ground and started to stand up. The Walker started to raise his hands.

  Torn between loyalties, he finally decided. Taking the amulet and mana that Garth had given him, he placed the amulet upon Varena’s brow. Drawing on the mana he called to her spirit, sensing that none but the slenderest of threads still linked it to her body. The spirit, to his surprise, struggled against him, attempting to break free and break the cord to its mortal form, holding him to his task so that he had to reach outward with all his strength to seize hold of her and pull her, struggling, back into her body.

  Varena’s servant gasped with astonishment when a groan escaped from her mistress. A dark cloud suddenly blocked out the sun and Hammen looked up at the swirling storm rising heavenward. He looked over fiercely at the girl.

  “Keep the amulet on her forehead!”

  Reaching down with a dagger, he cut Varena’s satchel free and stood up, sensing the powers she controlled.

  He looked over his shoulder and saw a knot of Orange fighters approaching and motioned for them to take the body.

  He stood up and pointed.

  “Zarel, you bastard!”

  His voice carried across the arena and the mob, which had been watching the ascension of the Walker, stirred and fell silent at Hammen’s challenging cry.

  Zarel looked over at Hammen and started to raise his hands.

  “You bastard. The games are a hoax! You know, and the House Masters know, that the winner is not taken to be a servant of the Walker. The winner is taken to be murdered by him. And you are his accomplice!”

  Screaming with rage, Zarel pointed at Hammen, who with a sneer of contempt drew on Varena’s mana and easily diverted the fire. He raised his hand in turn, knocking Zarel over with a blast of answering fire.

  The arena erupted in chaos. From the corner where Garth had stood before the final match Norreen, sword raised high, came charging forward, turning to look back at the mob, urging them on. They came swarming out of the stands like a dark wave. Hammen, cloaking himself in a cloud of green smoke, fell back toward Varena, even as Zarel’s fighters and warriors came swarming out to protect their lord.

  Hammen reached Varena’s side and screamed in rage as the Fentesk fighters who had been coming to her aid slowed at the approach of Zarel’s fighters and, turning, fell back. But the mob surged forward and, within seconds, Hammen found himself in the center of a swirling melee. He struggled to hold Varena up so that she would not be trampled under the crush. Someone shouldered him aside and heavy, beefy hands reached out to take the woman. He looked up at Naru, who was grinning.

  “I take woman where you want.”

  Norreen came through the crush to join them and together they fell back toward one of the access tunnels. As they reached the tunnel, however, Hammen slowed and then looked back.

  “Someone’s got to lead these poor bastards,” he said quietly.

  “I think, old man, you should think about saving your own hide at the moment,” Norreen said.

  Hammen shook his head.

  “I did that once before; I’ve lived with it ever since. I guess I’m tired of living.”

  He looked back up at the sky.

  “Especially now.”

  “You crazy man,” Naru said. “I thought you make good servant for me now One-eye gone. But you crazy man.” And the giant laughed.

  “Norreen, show this hulk where to take her. I don’t think she’d be safe back at her House anymore.”

  “Like hell. I’m fighting and, besides, I can’t stand her.”

  “Damn it, Benalian. Just do it. It’s what Garth would have wanted.”

  She lowered her head.

  “Thanks a lot.”

  Hammen smiled.

  “Now get out of here.”

  The old man turned and waded back into the crowd, his voice rising above the tumult, shouting for members of his old brotherhood to rally to his side.

  “Let’s go,” Naru announced, looking down at Norreen and grinning. “Naru lucky. He have two women now.”

  Norreen’s sword flicked out, cutting him lightly across the legs so that the giant yelped and stepped back.

  “Come on, you ox, let’s find a place for this woman and get back into the fight.”

  ____________________

  CHAPTER 15

  GARTH STAGGERED THROUGH THE DARK CLOUD, nearly blind, choking on the poisonous air. He again erected a circle of protection, which filtered the poison out, letting thin wisps of breathable air flow into his starving lungs.

  Another blow hit him and the circle collapsed.

  Cursing, Garth waved his hands over his head, drawing out yet another circle, and again the barrier was erected. He waited, but there was no attack. He probed outward, searching with his senses.

  The Walker was there, and yet not. He was struggling, but it was against something else, something dark and powerful. There was time now, and Garth took advantage of it while his foe was diverted by another struggle with something far more dangerous and insidious.

  Garth gathered in his strength, and then drew on spells that caused the strength to double and yet double again. He raised his hand, forming a circle before his eye with forefinger and thumb, and the power to look into the spells of his opponent was created.

  He was stunned by all that he saw, hundreds of spells, many of them undreamed of, obviously taken in realms and planes of existence unknown to mortals. And yet there was a weakness as well.

  The mana, the precious mana that fueled the p
ower of the spells, was weak, spread out and diverted by a myriad of struggles. So it was as he suspected.

  All that he had learned in the years of growing and planning was true after all. The fading books, hidden in the place of refuge his father had sent him to, the place where he had studied and learned, had spoken of this. What his father had suspected and written down was true, that the hold the Walkers had upon their powers had a weakness after all.

  Garth smiled inwardly and continued to let his strength build.

  The struggle between the Walker and the other foe came to an end and again the Walker’s power became focused. He turned back to face Garth.

  “I’m sorry for the interruption,” the Planes Walker said, his voice a haunting whisper. “One of my enemies thought it was a convenient time to try and take back what I had seized from him. Of course you’ll understand that such a concern was more important than my sport with you.”

  “Of course.”

  “Ah, I see you’ve used the time well. Your power is stronger now. Good, good, the challenge is more amusing. Usually, when I bring a winner here they tend to grovel and whine at their fate. You have your father’s blood in you. I like that.

  “Shall we begin?”

  Garth extended his hands.

  The Walker extended his hands as well and the dark plain upon which they stood was suddenly illuminated with a shimmering light, the green clouds rolling back to reveal a dark red sun overhead that filled half the sky. A golden circle outlined a flat, open field that stretched to the far horizon, which seemed impossibly far away.

  “An arena field for our amusement,” the Walker announced.

  A red shimmering lit the field and an instant later a demonic horde was deployed, scimitars, tridents, and skull standards raised high. With a keening howl they raced forward.

  Garth extended his hands and a living wall was erected before him, momentarily blocking the attack. Move followed countermove. A Lord of the Pit under the Walker’s control emerged out of the ground and Garth, in turn, hurled it back upon the demonic hordes, destroying them, the monster roaring with delight as it rent the creatures and devoured them. A dark force of nature was next brought forth to tear the demon apart. Dragons fought in the sky overhead, doppelgangers stalked each other, hydras battled atop the wall, which came crashing down, and djinn struggled on the ground between the two fighters.

  “You are more amusing than most,” the Walker announced. “If I did not have an engagement elsewhere I think I would actually let this play out longer.”

  “Then finish it,” Garth taunted. “Or don’t you have the strength? Do it and be damned.”

  The Walker raised his hands with an angry curse and stepped forward. Garth staggered backward, pushed by an invisible power that lashed into his soul. He drew forth a rank of bodyguards to take the punishment but within minutes they had collapsed, writhing in agony and dying.

  More blows slammed into Garth, draining his strength, and he started to crumple, going down on his knees.

  The Walker drew closer and looked down at Garth, who was leaning over, panting for breath.

  “Too bad, One-eye. I’ve enjoyed our visit. I sense that your life force is nearly spent.”

  Garth looked up at him, his face drawn and pale.

  “Go to hell, you bastard.”

  The Walker sighed.

  “I think I am already there.”

  He raised his hand and pointed downward with the final blow.

  Garth raised his hand, drawing on the one spell that he had kept hidden until this moment.

  The blow of his opponent struck and, for a brief instant, Garth thought that his conjuring had failed and he was falling into the lands of the dead. And then it took hold. All the damage that he had sustained was drawn out of him and he was again whole. At that same moment all that he had suffered slammed into his opponent. With a loud cry the Walker staggered backward, his shadowy form hissing, coiling upon itself and writhing on the ground. Its howls of agony caused Garth to cover his eye lest it be shattered.

  Garth was on his feet, racing up to the Walker’s side. The shadow was changing, taking a near-human form. And again Garth used his power to look inward, to sense all that his opponent had.

  He found it and, reaching out, snatched the one form of power he had come for and, with it, the mana of his world that controlled it and gave it strength.

  The Walker howled in impotent rage, struggling to heal himself even as he slipped away.

  With an invisible hand Garth grasped the spell that opened the portal of worlds, that changed reality, twisted the flow of time, and made all things possible. He struggled against the Walker to take as well the mana that bound and controlled the spell.

  The Walker started to recover, screaming in rage as that which gave him access to the world of his origin was pulled away from his grasp. Garth struggled and swayed, ignoring the explosive pain to his hands, trying not to feel, not to notice that fire was curling his fingers black.

  He felt his hold on the Walker’s spell starting to slip as his foe regained his strength. Reaching inward Garth drew on what little he had left and in that moment his own power and mana were doubled. He wrenched the control of the planes gate away from his opponent and fell backward. The Walker came back up and, howling with a mad demonic rage, raised his hands and pointed.

  Damn, now that I’ve got it, how do I use it? Garth wondered, even as the blow hit him.

  He felt fire racing over him, a heat as intense as the sun engulfing him. Garth One-eye pulled his strength inward and focused it on the power of the gate. The Walker, screaming hysterically, attacked yet again and Garth felt himself falling away.

  ***

  “Massacre them all,” Zarel growled, looking down angrily at Uriah. “Any who do not stand with me now are against me.”

  “All the Houses?”

  “All of them. If we give them time to organize, they might ally with the mob against me. I want this finished. You heard the Walker as well. He said he’ll be back.”

  “And what will he say of this massacre?”

  Zarel looked coldly at the dwarf.

  I won’t be here so it won’t matter, he thought with a grin of satisfaction. With the mana taken and the capture of Kirlen’s books, the path will be open.

  “Have our fighters and warriors prepare to sally forth at the midnight bell.”

  “Against all four Houses, sire? They still have, even after the desertions and deaths in the arena, well over two hundred and fifty fighters to our two hundred.”

  Zarel cursed and looked down at the gold inlay in his floor. Kirlen could not be bribed except with power and, besides, she was the first and most important target. Tulan and Varnel-their hatred evident-could not be swayed. But Jimak, Jimak could always be swayed for the moment and then eliminated later.

  “Empty the coffers of gold as a bribe. Send it over to Jimak at once in return for his pledge to stand by my side.”

  “And what will you tell the Walker if you destroy them?”

  “Tell him, I’ll pile mana taken from the dead around his feet. That will buy him off. When it is finished you can rebuild a new House of your own.”

  Uriah nodded and slowly withdrew.

  Zarel watched him leave.

  “And your turn will come as well,” he whispered.

  Zarel turned away from the door, his heart racing.

  How much time do I have? he wondered. And still, what is One-eye’s game in all of this? Can it be that all along he was out after Kuthuman and that even now he is struggling to throw him down? If so, then so much the better. Kuthuman will be delayed in his return and I’ll be gone. If it is the other way around, that Kuthuman has been vanquished, then One-eye will be weak and easy to overthrow as well. The first step, however, is to make sure Kirlen is finished and her precious scrolls and books taken.

  ***

  Kirlen of Bolk sat hunched over upon her throne.

  “Have you found Naru?”
>
  The messenger shook his head.

  “He’s deserted, along with eleven other fighters.”

  She cursed angrily and spit on the throne-room floor.

  “Send messengers to the other three Houses. Zarel has subdued the mob for the moment. It is obvious he now plans to move against us as well. We can either stand united at this moment or we will all die separately. I plan to attack at the midnight bell. Tell them to do the same and we can defeat him. Get their assurances that they will do so, and ask them to strike straight for the palace. Now go!”

  The messenger ran out of the room.

  Kirlen smiled softly.

  One-eye had played his part well. The mob had attacked Zarel and he had slaughtered them without mercy so that they were forced to break and flee. But he did not follow up, he could not, for he had to conserve his remaining strength to use against the Houses. Only a fool would think that the Houses would not strike now to cast him down and take his mana for themselves. She knew him well enough to know that he now feared the Houses as a possible counter to him, or worse yet, the Houses would ally with the rabble to bring him down. The balance was broken and could not be restored-too much hatred now brewed on all sides.

  Now was the time to strike at Zarel, and by leading the way she would be the next Grand Master, presenting the Walker with fait accompli upon his return.

  Or perhaps, even better, she thought, I can challenge him beyond the veil and gain the vengeance I deserve.

  She thought of Garth, who so unknowingly had created this opportunity for her. He had done his service well. All the hatreds of all sides, which had been contained for so long, had finally boiled to the surface thanks to him. Let all the corruption boil out now, she thought with a cold glee.

  But why would he go so willingly into the Walker’s grasp? she suddenly wondered. He could only have done so if there was a plan. It was obvious, she realized. He had from the beginning planned to challenge the Walker, somehow defeat him, and become one in his own right. If that was the case, he would be weak after the struggle and the chance of breaking through was even more possible now.