by Jack Massa
“Yes. There have been no more attacks. We are keeping watch day and night, as we would on a boat. Draven and Lonn are sleeping now. There is also a drell warrior with us.”
Traversing the courts and corridors, they arrived at length at the Iruks’ quarters. Eben, Karrol, and Kizier gathered at the entrance to greet the witch. Glyssa ran up and hugged her.
“But you are soaking,” Glyssa exclaimed. She asked the butler to fetch a towel, then led Amlina over to the marble hearth where pine logs burned. When Amlina was seated, feet propped before the fire, Kizier handed her a cup of hot tea. Lonn and Draven, wakened by the commotion, walked in from one of the bedrooms. The drell warrior flew in from another room to join them. Lonn introduced her as Lady Allenawey.
“What are you doing here?” Glyssa demanded.
Surrounded by her friends, Amlina felt warmed by more than the fire and tea. Draven stood behind her, hands resting on her shoulders. She pressed his hand.
“I needed to be here,” she answered. “I missed you all.”
“But what about the Tournament?” Eben asked.
“I … did not do well today. My chances now of winning are very low. I will go back tomorrow but … it’s really not important. What is important to me is that all of you are safe and that I weave what protections I can to keep you safe.”
Amlina listened while the mates recounted everything that had occurred, from the time Eben and Trippany were attacked on the lake shore. In turn, she described the attack on Melevarry, and the concealed power that seemed to be thwarting her at the Tournament.
“I feel these events are all connected,” Amlina said, “tied up with some far-reaching purpose. The Archimage and her Councilors are supposed to be working on the problem, but so far it seems they have not been able to pierce the concealments.”
When she had rested and warmed herself, she asked all of her companions, including the drell, to stand together in the center of the floor. Drawing the dagger from her belt, Amlina paced around the group, tracing a circle of witchlight. The blue radiance sizzled and touched the air with a faint, burning smell.
Standing within the circle, Amlina flung up her arms and murmured a chant. Through the power of pure shaping, she invoked a sphere of protection to cover them all. When she lowered her arms, the blue light was fading, but the atmosphere felt alive with magic.
“That is better,” she said. “Now at least I have done what I can.”
After thanking her, Lady Allenawey flew off to her room. Kizier returned to the fireside. The Iruks still hovered around Amlina.
“You look tired.” Draven held her upper arm. “Would you like us to take you back to the House of the Deepmind? Or would you rather stay here tonight?”
Amlina hesitated. She had not thought beyond casting the protection. The thought of staying, of sleeping warm beside Draven, was hard to resist.
“There is one other thing we can do.” Glyssa peered into the witch’s eyes. “Two nights ago we raised the klarn-spirit. We can summon it again, and you can join us.”
Amlina looked around at the Iruks, who watched her intently. “Would all of you agree to this?”
“Of course,” Draven said. “Yes,” said Lonn. Karrol, Eben, and Brinda nodded. “You were klarn with us before,” Karrol added.
Amlina wondered: To merge her spirit with the Iruks’ group soul again, to share their strength—the notion was as remote from authorized Larthangan witchery as one could imagine. But what did that matter, if it might strengthen her, help her protect Draven and Glyssa and the rest? She had scrupulously avoided all foreign influence in constructing her trinket—with the result an uninspired failure.
Her voice trembled. “If you will have me, then I will join you. Thank you all.”
The Iruks laughed. Karrol and Eben patted her on the back.
A short time later, dressed in cloaks with hoods, Amlina and the mates walked across the terrace and down the steps to the garden. The Iruks had armed themselves and each held a spear. Draven had fetched an extra spear, which Amlina now carried.
The rain had slackened, but the wind was blowing colder. They stopped in a corner near the terrace and planted the spears in the ground. Glyssa handed the water cup to Lonn.
“The hunt continues. The klarn is with us.” He drank and then poured a libation. “But now a mate returns to join us again. Amlina of Larthang, I remind you of your oath. Will you now take up your spear and join us with all your heart and courage?”
“I will.”
“And do you swear on your soul, and on the souls of your ancestors, to hunt with us as one, to cherish our lives above even your own, to stand with your mates, protecting them with all your strength and skill, binding their wounds before your own, sharing with them even your last food or sip of water?”
“I swear it,” the witch said.
“And do you take this oath freely and with a true and open heart?”
Her eyes met Draven’s. “Freely and with all my heart.”
“Then place your spear in the earth beside ours.”
When she had done so, Lonn handed her the cup.
“Drink and give an equal drink to the klarn, and so become once more our mate.”
The wind gusted as she lifted the cup to her lips. The wet cold reminded Amlina of the early days in Fleevan, when she had last felt this closeness with the Iruks. As she drank, the cold changed to a warmth that spilled down into her stomach and then swelled up into her heart. She watched as the cup was passed around, the mates drinking and pouring libations in turn. The warmth spread into an energy she remembered well, a tingling power born of the icy cold of the South Pole and the warrior blood of the Iruk folk. It brought Amlina peace and contentment, all her tensions slipping away.
So that, when the ritual had ended and they returned inside, a deep weariness possessed her. She leaned against Draven as they walked.
“You are exhausted,” he said. “You had better stay here tonight.”
Amlina gave a drowsy smile. “May I sleep next to you, dear Draven?”
For answer, he swept her up in his arms. “I would be glad of it.”
Thirty-Two
For the fourth day of the Tournament, the stage had been reconfigured. A curved platform now extended on posts over part of the fountain, with gaps and narrow beams arranged over the bubbling water. Under a clear sky, the largest crowd yet filled the plaza, spectators pressing close to the stage and the fountain basin. Magical combat was always a popular event.
Once again, the Tuan occupied his tall golden chair at the center of the plaza. The Archimage and most of her Councilors had returned to the curtained box beside the stage. According to rumor, Drusdegarde’s assistants and other high-ranking acolytes continued their investigations at the House of the Deepmind. Like yesterday, Melevarry was absent from the row of sponsors seated at the rear of the stage.
But Amlina did not feel alone. The spirit of her mates was with her. After a deep, untroubled sleep, she had risen strong and rested. The untamed energy of the Iruk klarn vibrated inside her like notes plucked on a lute. The music filled her with assurance and poise.
After eating breakfast together, the klarn had separated. The Iruks planned to continue their search for Trippany, this time tracking along the north shore of the lake as far as Noble Grandfather Mountain. Amlina, at their urging, had returned to the Tournament—though she recognized it was now highly unlikely that she could win. Weng-lei, which combined pure shaping with ritual fighting techniques, had never been her strongest art. With her slim body, Amlina lacked muscle and physical vigor compared to most of her opponents. Besides, even if she finished first today, the points earned might not be enough to place her in the top three and into the final. Having accepted the likelihood of failure, she had resolved to simply give her best.
On the far side of the stage, the panel of judges sat on a raised platform. Below them, twelve Warriors of the Chrysalis stood ready to challenge the contestants. The alatee were
clad in their blue-scaled armor and armed with practice weapons—staffs, wooden swords, crossbows with blunt rubber-tipped bolts. Under the rules of the event, each witch would duel first one, then two, then three of the alatee together.
Inwardly still, Amlina stood at the side of the stage and watched as the first duels unfolded. Standing on a narrow beam over the water, staff in hand, Elani Vo T’ang easily kept her balance while holding off her opponent. After two parries, she jerked the staff back toward herself, a gesture that tangled the warrior’s feet. The man had to drop his staff and place both hands on the beam to save himself from a dunking. Up on the platform, the judges slid the beads of abacuses. Elani had earned base points for the win plus additional points for the speed and style with which she dispatched her opponent.
The witches who followed also won their first duels, although these took longer. Surprisingly, the current overall leader Shen Tra Lo struggled defending herself with the staff. But finally she cast it, one-handed. This tactic caught the warrior off-guard. The staff struck his forehead before he could parry and the contest was over.
When her turn came, Amlina strode to the front of the stage, received her staff, and bowed to the judges. She climbed the wood steps to the balance beam, then edged to the middle. Her opponent was a woman, tall and thick-bodied, who grinned at her fiercely.
The moment the gong sounded, Amlina dove forward. Her weapon lanced out and struck the alatee’s thigh. The woman jerked back, stance widening, rear foot retreating a step. Amlina was still crouched low. She pushed off with both feet and a burst of mental force, springing high above the warrior’s shoulder. As the woman lurched, head rising to keep Amlina in sight, she again lost balance. Amlina landed behind her on the beam and thrust her staff between the warrior’s legs. A quick wrench of the staff and the warrior toppled, falling into the pool with a loud splash.
The crowd burst into cheers. The Chrysalis warrior stood in the chest high water and saluted Amlina with a wave of her staff. Amlina rose slowly and paced back along the beam. The klarn-soul had inspired her bold and reckless attack. The very lightness of her body she had turned into a weapon.
Inwardly quiet, Amlina watched the last of the first-round duels and then the commencement of the second round.
Those combats took place at the front of the stage. without the hazard of the beam and water. Armed with two wooden swords, each witch now fought two alatee at once. A witch garbed in black stood nearby to referee.
Tolanga of Gon Fu showed the reason for her fame as a warrior. From the first moment she attacked ferociously, shouting, wheeling, cutting through the air with both curved swords, she kept her two opponents on the defense and easily won the match. Liska Quenn also put on a strong performance, while Elani Vo T’ang faltered a bit and Ulleena Tuvari actually lost her match.
Amlina went next. She hefted the two swords and marched toward the Chrysalis warriors, pointing a tip at each. When the gong crashed they charged simultaneously. Amlina was forced to retreat, leaping away from the swinging weapons. As she moved, a numbness seized her brain. With a pang of terror, she recognized the same sorcery that had thwarted her on previous days. But this time she met it with determination—the fierce determination of the klarn at the time of killing.
In her months with the Iruks, she had occasionally taken part in their arms practice and had learned some of their moves. She employed them now, lunging low, twirling with speed, parrying with one sword as she thrust with the other. The unfamiliar tactics made the alatee unsure. Amlina danced behind one of them and caught his back with a wide, hard cut. The referee ruled this one out of the contest. Amlina then turned both swords on the other warrior, jabbing and thrusting until he too was defeated.
Panting from exertion, Amlina lifted her swords in salute, first to the table of judges, then to acknowledge the spectators roaring their acclaim. So far, she had done better than she expected. Unless the judges marked her down for using the non-Larthangan battle tactics, she believed she must have scored high indeed.
The third and final contest moved again to the balance beam. Now the witches were required to stand at the center, alone and unarmed. From the platform opposite and the stage below, six warriors would shoot volleys at them with crossbows. The contestants must protect themselves with mind force alone, with extra points awarded if they could make the blunt-tipped arrows drop from the air or—a harder challenge—turn them back against the archers.
Amlina watched the first witches face the trial. Liska Quenn and Elani Vo T’ang emerged unscathed and managed to make a few of the bolts stop and fall into the water. Shen Tra Lo was less successful, her wide sleeves actually touched by a few of the bolts.
Then Amlina mounted the beam, feeling calm and ready. Once again, she felt a dim, hazy energy seeking to undermine her. As before, she was able to seize and reverse the force, turning it into power she could wield. When the gong tolled she slipped into a state of high awareness. The bolts seemed to drift toward her slowly. Amlina flung out her hands and steered them aside, plucking a few with her mind and turning them back whence they came.
Six times the volleys flew and six times Amlina commanded their motion through the air. At the last, she could hear roars of approval flowing across the plaza. Of the thirty-six bolts launched, none had touched her, and fully half had flown back to land among the archers. She turned and walked calmly back across the beam.
In nervous anticipation, Amlina waited for the judges to count the scores. This took longer than on the past days, and the panel of witches hovered together, conferring in low voices.
Finally, the Mistress of the Tournament received their consensus and strode to the front of the stage. As she announced the results, the gold cloud appeared above her.
“The marks for the first four events have now been totaled. Be reminded, people of Larthang, that the top three contestants will go on to the final event tomorrow, which will determine the overall champion.
“In first place with 21 points, Shen Tra Lo, sponsored by Kanshi, Keeper of the Forge. In second place, with 19 points, Elani Vo’Tang, protégé of Clorodice, Keeper of the Keys. For third place, there is a tie between Amlina Len Tai, sponsored by Melevarry the Mage of Randoon, and Tolanga of Gon Fu, sponsored by Wicksa, Keeper of the Swords. By rule, these two, Amlina and Tolanga, will now compete against each other in a duel. The winner will claim third place overall and advance to the final event.”
Elated, Amlina strained to keep her mien calm, her steps balanced as she and Tolanga walked forward. They were met at the center of the stage by the referee, who handed them not wooden weapons, but swords and daggers of steel.
“Honored sisters, you will meet at the center of the balance beam. The blades, as you see, are real. Though blood may be drawn, bear in mind it is neither necessary nor desirable to kill your opponent. But, unlike the previous combats, I will not judge fair blows or foul—All tactics are fair. The contest will end when one of you falls from the beam, or yields, or is incapable of continuing. Do you both understand?”
As they nodded, Tolanga stared smiling into Amlina’s eyes.
“It is an honor to face in combat the slayer of the mighty Archimage of the East. I have watched you fight today, Amlina, and seen your canny tricks. Be assured, I will not be so easy to vanquish.”
Amlina bowed. “I too am honored to face in combat the renowned warrior Tolanga of Gon Fu. Let the aegis of the Deepmind decide which of us is more fit to compete in the final event.”
The gong sounded. The two combatants parted and marched to opposite ends of the stage. A hush lay over the Circle of Sublime Balance as Amlina and Tolanga mounted the steps and eased their way toward the middle of the beam.
Feet braced wide, sword and dagger pointed, Amlina faced her opponent. The moment the gong struck she lunged with the sword. Tolanga parried and thrust, keeping her dagger in reserve. Amlina was forced to retreat, waving her blade, watching for an opening to cast the dagger.
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Tolanga was fast and strong. Once, twice, Amlina lost her balance and teetered on the edge of falling. She kept her feet by mind-force alone, but this cost her. Tolanga cast her dagger, steering it with her mind. Amlina yanked her head aside, not quite in time. The blade sliced her cheek as it hurtled by. Feeling the sting, Amlina dove low to avoid the dagger’s flying return.
She could not win by the strength of her body, only by her mind. With that thought, she seized on a new strategy. Even as she dodged and parried Tolanga’s fierce assault, she poured pure shaping into her adversary’s muscles, numbing them, sapping their strength.
For a few moments, it worked. Tolanga’s attack faltered. Amlina advanced, thrusting and then swinging her blade, touching Tolanga on the lower leg, though the cut drew no blood.
Tolanga realized what was happening. “You won’t beat me this way,” she snarled.
With a growl she shook her arms and resumed the attack. Once more, Amlina was forced to edge backward. Now her pure shaping met with strong resistance. Tolanga’s blade swung faster.
Amlina’s arms grew heavy, her defenses slowed. In moments, she would be finished. Only desperate, foolhardy measures remained. With all she had left, she grasped at a chance.
Drawing back her arm she cast the dagger. The instant after she released it, she also flung the sword—both aimed at Tolanga’s face. Tolanga parried with both her blades, but the unanticipated action cost her a moment’s imbalance. Amlina darted forward. Inches from her opponent, she shoved with both hands.
Tolanga’s heavy body lurched. For a moment she teetered, then with a cry of despair she fell. As the splash erupted, Amlina stood precariously on the beam, flapping her arms to keep her own balance.
After steadying herself, she wiped her cheek and gazed at the blood wetting her palm. Loud cheering filled her ears.
Below in the water, Tolanga fixed her with a scowl. Then, shaking water from her thick arms, she burst into a laugh. She bowed to Amlina, her forehead touching the bright water.
