CHAPTER 74

Messer leans forward almost imperceptibly. I barely have time to shout out a warning before a line of flame bursts out from the center of the circlet. I try to jump away, but I find that I can’t. The mantle has suddenly wrapped itself around my body, and is constricting slightly, making me slow, my muscles tight.

I’m toast.

Right before it touches us, the line of fire washes over an invisible barrier, blocking out our view of the arena for a moment. Behind me and Essa, Gedden lowers his hands.

“Let me worry about the Mage,” he says. Then he looks at me, an amused once over. “Guess the troll came through after all, huh?”

I look down. The troll war mantle, the soft cape of moss and spider silk, is no more. In its stead, there’s a solid mass, smooth and light. It’s made of plant matter and thin cords course through it like a spreading of veins and arteries. It’s smooth. It’s light. I flex my arm, and the whole fabric moves accordingly, like a second layer of skin.

My amazement lasts a moment. In the next, the flames dissipate, Essa shouts, and Rao breaks through the barrier, slicing it from top to bottom with the Black Sword.

“There you are!” he yells, a smile dancing in the corners of his lips.

He cuts with the blade again, this time sideways. It passes harmlessly in front of me, but leaves something in its wake. A thin dark line, like the sword cut directly through the fabric of reality, hangs in the air an instant, a crescent smile, before forward like a hawk. It slams into my stomach with all bluntness of a falling log, throwing me off my feet. I land on my back, coughing and sputtering.

Can’t worry about the damage, I think. Not now. I stand on shaky legs to assess the battlefield. Gedden has moved out of view, likely in pursuit of the enemy Mage, and Essa has stepped in to engage Rao. Steadying myself against the side of the arena, I see her attack him twice, then hide behind her shield as he draws another smile in reality. The burst sends Essa back, but leaves her unharmed.

Two of our opponents seem to be busy, which leaves…

I spot him. Running down the side of the arena, hammer dragging behind him. Kalos is aiming for me. His jump is amazing, and too graceful by half with the amount of metal he’s carrying. But still slow. I dodge to the side and let the hammerhead hit sand before righting myself.

Another battlecry and Kalos runs, swings, and misses. I let the momentum carry him away before conjuring an Incendiary Dart from the tip of one finger. It bursts against his heavy armor, missing all the weak points where it could have slipped inside the cracks and caused real damage.

Kalos spins with the hammer held far away from his body, covering a large area. The overlarge head swings in front of me the first spin, and forces me to throw myself under it for the second. I roll and come up close to Kalos, short sword held high, but the momentary advantage doesn’t buy me much. Hitting the guy’s armor is like punching a boulder. There’s precious little about it that’s anything other than solid. I glance up to the slot in his helmet that allows him to see, jump up blade first…

And get a kick to the stomach for my trouble. It propels me through the arena, sends the sword spinning from my hands, and draws an ‘Ooooo’ from the audience, punctuated by a curse from Loron.

“Ow. Hit me somewhere else, would you?” I mutter to myself as I stand.

The distance gives me enough time to get my bearings. Amidst a hail of arcane projectiles and inside a shimmering barrier, Gedden and Messer are locked in battle. I realize the barrier, twisting and shifting before my eyes, is the Waving Veil, glimmering with a thousand tones of rainbow. Next to a wall of the arena, Essa has managed to corner Rao, though the fight isn’t going in her favor. She’s on the back foot, taking hits from the Black Sword on her magic shield. And Kalos is walking towards me, hammer propped on his shoulder.

First of all, I cast Hunch. Won’t be caught unaware again. Then I drop my hand into my potion belt, pull out a vial, and imbibe the clay-red liquid. It burns like alcohol, fills me up like a hearty dinner. For a moment, I’m unbalanced, and Kalos stops, unsure. The next, the weight building in my stomach seems to spread along my limbs, carrying power, and confidence, and clarity.

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I smile.

Kalos is slow to react when I charge him. One hit from my elbow is enough to draw a gong-like clang from his helmet and a grunt from him. Then it’s too late. His attempts at lifting the hammer are futile, the weapon too large for how close I’ve made this fight, and with the strength potion we’re more evenly matched. I can’t hope to outpower a Warrior, not with a potion I learned to make a few sleepless nights ago, but that’s unnecessary. All I need is to catch him out of balance.

Elbow, elbow, knee. His armor echoes like an empty flagon falling down the stairs. When he reels back, trying to create some distance, I dive forward, catch the slot of his armor, and drive the dagger in.

It finds no resistance before the hilt slams against the helmet, the blade unable to pierce through.

Oh, fuck.

“Heh,” Kalos says, his voice echoing and strange in the dark depths of his helmet. “Came up short, huh?”

A ray of light illuminates his eyes, fierce and furious and full of murder. He drops the hammer, and his arms reach around me for a deathly hug, but I manage to stick a knee between us before he can crush me. He squeezes, but the pressure only builds up to a point. I realize my armor is taking the brunt of his strength.

“Can’t… Hold… Forever…” he snarls, bringing his arms closer, tighter, making it hard to breathe.

“Don’t need to,” I mutter. I cough, aim, and spit a blob of saliva at his face. It does what my dagger couldn’t, reaching as far as his eye.

I hear him curse. I see him blink. The confusion is enough that I manage to widen the gap between us, plant my foot on his chest, and push away from him. I fall on the sand, roll on my back, and get back up close to the shimmering barrier of the Waving Veil.

“Ged!” I say, while the metal giant tries to wipe his eyes without removing the helmet.

“Kinda busy here,” he says from behind, conversationally.

A blast almost drowns his words. Another gout of flame from Messer’s circlet, which the veil contained completely.

“That’s not Kalos. They got someone else. We need to switch this up.”

“Really? But I’m having so much fun with this guy.”

“Yeah, but Essa isn’t.”

It’s true. She’s done a good job keeping Rao away form the fight, but his Rogue quickness and the power of the Black Sword are finally starting to overwhelm her.

“Alright,” Ged says. “I’ll take not-Kalos, you go help her out.”

“And Messer?” I ask, as another ineffectual burst of flame is followed by a scream of frustration from the Mage.

“He’ll be busy. Trust me. On my count.”

I get ready. The Warrior has finally managed to clear his vision and recover his hammer. The eyeslot turns to me, a little rectangle of darkness that still manages to spell out murder. Slowly, he starts moving.

“Go!”

Suddenly, the Waving Veil billows out like a sail under strong wind, then flaps, snaps taut, and shrinks quickly. Gedden rolls out on his belly and stands back, admiring his handiwork. Not as quick as his opponent, Messer gets wrapped up on the cloth and falls to the side, yelling through a mouthful of magical fabric. Gedden smiles wide, then looks down at me, my mouth hanging open in an O.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Go help her!”

Right!

As Ged turns to face the man in the hulking armor, I run down the length of the sand to where Rao has turned the tide and trapped Essa against the wall. The sound of the crowd is like a river of noise punctuated with names, cursewords, suggestions as to what we should do to each other. It doesn’t compare to the fire, the sheer energy that courses through me, that makes each step feel like conquest in the making. I feel invincible. I feel—

And just like that, the strength flows out of me in a rush, stealing even the breath from my lungs. I stumble, catch myself, and that’s enough for Rao to realize something is amiss. He turns, spots me, and quickly twists out of the way of a desperate slice by Essa.

I force myself up before he can recover from his surprise. I feel numb, like the potion crash took more than just the added strength, like it sapped everything I had to give and more.

Doesn’t matter, I tell myself. You stay down, he’ll kill Essa, then kill you.

One foot, then the other. One foot, then the other. Rao attempts another slice of darkness, a wide one that Essa catches in her shield and that I roll under. As we advance, I check on Essa. She’s bleeding from her brow, and looks out of breath, but as she catches my eye she nods.

Alright. We can do this. We step carefully around Rao, who watches us each in turn, warily. I don’t dare take my eyes from him, from the Black Sword, but I’m still aware of the sounds of fighting flowing from behind us, the magic flashes that paint the walls mixed with the grunting and choking from Messer still struggling with the Waving Veil.

Essa raises her sword. Rao retreats another step, and his back touches the wall. The noise of the crowd is incessant, insane, a solid mass bearing down on us, watching us move in for the kill.

Rao repositions. He faces me, his eyes darting between me and whatever’s happening behind my back. I fight every instinct to turn. Rao strikes.

The slice is quick, diagonal, too far from Essa that she can protect us both. But I was watching closely. I jump sideways, tuck and roll, and end up on my feet, ready to exploit the opening.

Something about Rao’s expression stops me in my tracks. He’s not looking at me, but past me, and his smile spells trouble.

When Essa gasps, I give in. I turn back.

I’m just in time to see Ged fall, a diagonal line cut along the length of his back, red blood flowing down from the wound like a waterfall. Too much blood. Too much.

I fumble for the healing potion in my belt, thinking that I’m still on time, that I can keep Gedden in this fight… The man in the metal armor swings his hammer down, lifting the oversized head like it’s hollow. It doesn’t fall like wood, however. Instead it buries itself on Gedden’s back, and the cracking noise reverberates long with cheers or boos from the crowd. Ged’s hand snaps up, spasms, and goes rigid.