TST (18 page)

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry you have to kill to survive but I would be sorrier if you had not come back to me,” she whispered, holding him tightly and rocking him in her arms in an attempt to console him.

Azerick’s rage eventually turned into exhaustion and he fell into a fitful slumber in her arms. He woke sometime after the sun had set. Delinda was lying beside him, sleeping contentedly so he simply wrapped her in an embrace and fell back to a more restful sleep.

Azerick returned to his regular duties of organizing and cataloging the assortment of items in his master’s vault. He spent far more time reading than actually delving into the secrets of many of the artifacts but he ensured that he spent enough time each day doing the latter so as not to appear that he was neglecting his tasks. The peace he found by losing himself into the books around him was short lived.

You will fight in the arena in two weeks. This will likely be the most difficult battle you have faced thus far and the most important one to me.

Azerick looked up from the ancient book he was studying and saw the psyling standing in the now open doorway. Azerick wondered how the creature could move so quietly. Maybe he used his abilities to block his presence from his mind. Azerick quickly discarded these ponderings as unimportant as his master continued to address him.

One of my archrivals has challenged me personally and the wagers are exceptionally high. It is a personal challenge so his fighter has not advanced through the rankings. I do not know the strength or capabilities of his champion but he must have gained possession of a gladiator of exceptional power to be so confident of his success. Need I remind you of the consequences of disappointing me?

“No, you don’t,” Azerick replied tersely.

Do not fail me.

Azerick told Delinda of his upcoming battle and she was even more worried than usual.

“I have been distilling another healing potion since before your last battle in order to make it as potent as I could. I will start another one now. It will not be as strong as the first one but it will help,” she told him nervously.

“You do not seem to have much confidence in me if you think I will be so badly injured,” Azerick answered with a small grin.

“I know of this other creature that has challenged Lord Xornan. They are bitter rivals and he would not have made such a public challenge unless he was supremely confident of his chances to win. I am sure you will be victorious, my mind will not allow me to think otherwise, but it is sure to be a most difficult battle and we both must face the fact that it is unlikely you will emerge unscathed, so it is best that we be prepared for it.”

Azerick hugged her closely, grateful for her support. “I am glad to have you by my side.”

Azerick spent the time he had practicing his spells. He tried different combinations and tried to imagine every possible scenario ahead of time so that he could react quickly and properly. When the day of his fight came, Azerick stepped out into the courtyard to accompany his master to The Games. He was surprised to see Delinda standing next to Lord Xornan and the palanquin. She was standing resolutely, prepared for an argument, a canvas satchel hung over one shoulder.

“Delinda, what are you doing here?” Azerick asked.

“Lord Xornan has agreed to allow me to go with you to the arena. I brought the potions with me. The sooner they are administered the more effective they will be.”

Azerick was going to argue but the determined look in her eyes showed that he could not dissuade her. “Will you be watching the battle?”

“No, I will stay with Braunlen in the trainer’s room.”

“Good, this is not something I would wish you to see,” Azerick replied with relief.

“Nor would I,” she said quietly.

The two humans and the psyling loaded into the palanquin and was borne on the wide shoulders of the minotaurs to the arena. Delinda squeezed Azerick’s hand the entire way to the arena and did not let go until they were in Braunlen’s training room.

“I think you got a hard fight on your hands this time, lad,” Braunlen told him gravely.

“Can you tell me anything about him?” asked Azerick.

“It’s a she and an abyssal elf. Rumor has it she is a wizard too.”

“I have to fight a woman?” Azerick asked unsurely.

Delinda’s face darkened. “You’re damn right you have to fight a woman and you will hit her with everything you have! You had better not take it easy on her just because it’s a girl because she sure won’t do the same for you.”

“She’s right, kid. Don’t go soft just because she’s a she. She is an abyssal elf to boot. Abyssal elves are a mean bunch and masters of magic. They look down on surface races as being inferior in every way. They are fast and smart so you better be on your toes,” the dwarf instructed.

“All right, I’ll do my best.”

Azerick prepared himself as he entered the arena to include a magic shield spell that helped to protect him from magical attacks. Azerick was a crowd favorite by now and they cheered loudly for him as he entered the arena.

The crowd fell suddenly silent as the abyssal elf entered through the other gate. She was shorter than him but not by much. She strode with the grace and surety of a queen. Her skin was stark white like fresh fallen snow and contrasted eerily with her large, black eyes. Her silver hair hung in a tight braid down her back reaching past her waist. She wore tight-fitting black breeches and tunic. A short black cape or cloak trailed down her back, split down the center by her braided hair. She would have been startlingly beautiful if it were not for the aura of menace that radiated from her.

The official dropped the kerchief and both casters broke into the chanting and hand waving of spell casting. Azerick’s spell was a minor one and quick to cast. His illusory duplicates sprung out around him to confuse his enemy of his true location. The elf reached into one of the many pouches on a wide belt circling her waste and drew forth a reagent needed for her own casting.

Azerick quickly deduced the intent of the spell and bolted quickly to the left as the wizard flung her hand forward. A massive ball of fire erupted a scant second later where he had just been standing. He felt the searing heat wash over his back but his quick thinking saved him from some serious burns. His spell shield reduced that threat even further.

He retaliated with a lightning bolt. He saw the telltale flicker of it meeting the spell shield of the abyssal elf. What little energy got through seemed to do little if any harm to the alabaster-skinned wizard.

 Frustrated, he began another spell as the abyssal elf completed her follow up spell. Azerick did not notice any immediate effects nor did he recognize the spell she cast. He threw his hand forward and launched a heavy arrow of fire straight at his opponent.

He stared in shock as the wizard suddenly disappeared. He spun around and found her several yards off to his right. Magic missiles slammed into him. His shield absorbed most of them but two managed to penetrate and sting him smartly.

Azerick began another spell as the abyssal elf blinked away once more. Azerick looked frantically for her to reappear and launched another lightning bolt at her as soon as she popped into existence. The electrical charge caught her squarely and sent her staggering several steps backward.

She cursed something in a language resembling elven but it sounded darker and more sinister in tone. Azerick made out the words man, human, and what he assumed was a powerful expletive before she blinked away again. Azerick tried to locate her before she could retaliate but he was too slow in discovering her new location. She appeared only a score of yards away and brought her palms together in front of her with her fingers splayed outward at an angle forming a V lying on its side.

A swirling vortex of skin-numbing frost erupted from her delicate white hands. The icy blast caught Azerick full on despite his best attempt to dodge the attack. He felt his clothes stiffen and his skin burn from the sub-zero assault. He forced his frozen fingers to obey and hastily cast his portal spell to get away from the current kill zone. He escaped just in time as another fireball burst directly over the area he just escaped.

It was the abyssal elf’s turn to scan the arena for him before he got the jump on her. Her own dislocation spell now worked against her as she tried to search the grounds while her position changed every few seconds. Azerick released his spell the second his opponent blinked back into view. Stone spikes erupted from the earth and covered a large patch of ground with their deadly sharp tips.

The elf amazingly spun away, somehow avoiding the stabbing stone spears enough to keep from being impaled. One of the tips did manage to tear a deep gouge in her left hip and thigh. Instead of cursing him in anger or outrage, she actually smiled and nodded in appreciation at the human’s clever spell.

The abyssal elf mage pulled a stone from one of her pouches and rapidly waved her slender hands in a complex pattern. Azerick sent a barrage of magic missiles streaming at her in hopes of interrupting her spell but her shield negated all but one missile, which did not appear to faze her.

She shouted her spell’s execution command as her magic consumed the small stone. Azerick felt the earth rumble beneath his feet. He dove to the side as a column of stone erupted under him and shot forty feet in the air, taking barely a second to reach its apex. He tried to regain his feet but another colossal stone pillar burst directly under him. He splayed himself out across its five-foot wide surface as it launched him above the arena floor. The column reached its apex in the blink of an eye and the shear velocity catapulted him another thirty feet into the air.

Azerick forced himself to remain calm despite the terrifying situation in which he found himself. He controlled his falling flight and carefully but rapidly drew the magical weaving that he hoped would save his life. The magical portal flared open directly below him a fraction of a second before the hard unyielding ground abruptly and lethally arrested his fall. Azerick’s body flew out of the gateway’s exit point in a low arc before hitting the sandy floor and rolling to a stop in a cloud of dust.

Azerick’s quick thinking and clever use of spells had saved his life for the moment but his uncontrolled slide and tumble across the arena floor introduced his body to a world of pain. He was certain one arm was broken as he opened his dirt-encrusted eyes and saw it bent at an unnatural angle. The sharp pain that accompanied every shallow breath attested to several broken ribs. As he struggled to his feet, another sharp pain lanced up his right leg and refused to support his weight.

He managed to stand, supporting most of his weight on his left leg as the abyssal elf seductively sashayed towards him. She came to a stop and seemed to study him for a moment before speaking.

“You are clever for a human and fought well,” she said in a surprisingly deep but soft and melodious voice. “It is a shame that one with your talents at such a young age must meet his end in such a place. But look on the bright side; at least you will no longer be a prisoner of these vile creatures.” She looked forlorn for a moment. “I look forward to the day I can say the same. I just pray that I can take some of them with me when I go.”

She pulled a small bead of glass out of one of her pouches and chanted the words to another spell. Azerick knew there was nothing he could do to prevent her from destroying him now. His body was too battered to even attempt to dodge, flee, or cast a spell of his own. All he could do was brace himself as an invisible force slammed into him with the weight of a runaway carriage. His already broken body was blasted backwards and landed in a heap several yards away.

The abyssal elf stalked forward when the human sorcerer refused to submit to death and moaned. She stared down at his battered and broken form, summoning the energy for a simple spell that would end what little spark of life still flickered inside him. She had never known the emotion called remorse, but the feeling she had at being forced to kill such a rare spell caster for no reason but a master’s entertainment came as close as she would likely ever come. She would have been delighted to be able to dissect the young human’s mind and abilities at her leisure.

“What a waste,” the elf said as she prepared to unleash her spell.