Брюс Корделл - Oath of Nerull

Nebin’s competitor was a pale-skinned man wearing yellow pants, yellow boots, and a fine, yellow coat. His hat was likewise yellow, but a red feather was stuck in it. His white beard was neatly tied into many small braids on which arcane charms hung.

Fabulous Kuzon was the name the judges called. Nebin had to hand it to him—the human knew how to dress.

“Ready, Fab?” asked Nebin, using the diminutive of the man’s name purposefully.

Fabulous Kuzon shot the gnome a sour look. Nearby, Nebin heard the judges for other rounds give the command to begin. Magical flares sparked over the floor of the coliseum—one nearly blinded the gnome. The roar of the crowd rumbled, and banners of all colors waved.

That was when their judge yelled, “Begin!”

The gnome, blinking the light out of his eyes, gestured and uttered words to a spell he considered an old friend. With it, he produced a freestanding pattern of pulsing, flowing, hypnotic lights. Nebin waved his hands, manipulating the colorful swirls to do his hypnotic bidding. He shot a glance at Kuzon, to see what effect his spell was having. If he was lucky, Fab was already staring and drooling like an idiot, but there was no such luck. Kuzon’s eyes were closed.

The yellow-clad man finished his own spell and with eyes still closed, directed a beam of violet light from his fingertips toward Nebin. The gnome ducked, and the beam passed over his head with inches to spare. It struck a banner behind him. Both the banner and the beam winked out.

What’s he throwing around? wondered Nebin.

The gnome continued swirling his hypnotic pattern in the air, but Fabulous Kuzon steadfastly refused to open his eyes. Worse, he began chanting and waving his hands again. Nebin hoped his foe wasn’t preparing another purple zinger like the last one. It was time to improvise.

“Ugh, what did you do to me, Fab? I’m melting!” screamed Nebin.

“What?” gasped Kuzon, opening his eyes.

His gaze darted to the swirling pattern—and didn’t dart away. His mouth gaped, his hands paused in their motions. The yellow mage’s spell was ruined—Fabulous Kuzon was hypnotized!

The match was called in Nebin’s favor. Those in the crowd who happened to be watching cheered, though a few booed. Nebin guessed that Fabulous Kuzon had fans—too bad for them.

The diminutive wizard walked back to the sidelines, his spirits ramping. That was his easiest match yet! He knew better than to expect another easy contest. He recognized dumb luck when he stepped in it. Still, if he could win the next round, the semifinal, he would advance to the final! His stomach was trying to climb up his throat. Apprehension would be his worst opponent, if he couldn’t get it under control.

A dozen or more magical duels continued, leaking magic into the air. Most were not even novice-level duels. The name-level semifinals were being held concurrently. Fierce volleys of wizardry sparked everywhere, distracting his eye. Whose eyes wouldn’t be snared by the sight of dozens of streaking meteorites impacting somewhere on the field, each burning like a tiny sun and sending sharp shadows fleeing away? Or the brief appearance of a summoned dire bear the size of an elephant? But where was Hennet? And Aganon? Nebin thought how pleasant it would be to see Aganon eating his hat.

A second novice duel was decided, that between the two mages whose names Nebin had missed. A woman named Felecia, with catlike ears, was declared the winner. Her competitor lay sprawled in enchanted slumber.

Not a second later, Aganon was declared the winner of his own duel. The answering roar of the crowd was strong. Aganon strutted, saluting the stands, but his competitor, the halfling woman, lay burned and bleeding, halfway out of the competitive circle. Two of her wands were broken on the ground. Attending clerics rushed the circle, curative potions at the ready. Nebin winced. He hoped that whoever Aganon faced next would prove the mage’s better. Aganon’s tactics were questionable, and the gnome couldn’t help noticing that Aganon’s satchel fairly bulged with scrolls.

Hennet’s duel wore on. The dragon-tattooed sorcerer pelted orange-robed Semeel Schniedly with spheres of sorcerous light. Nebin had seen the sorcerer use that very power to great affect in the past, striking enemies like tiny hammers. But against Schniedly, Hennet’s spell faded. A shield of glowing orange hung before Schniedly, moving as he moved. Each and every one of Hennet’s missiles impacted on the shield harmlessly. Grinning widely, Schniedly cast a spell back at Hennet. The sorcerer stumbled under a rain of tiny, icy stones.

Nebin gravitated closer, yelling, “Get him, Hennet! He’s a lousy poser, and a poor dresser.”

Nebin heard other voices cheering Hennet’s name in the stands. He looked up and finally saw Ember. She was standing and waving, and several other people stood around her. All called out Hennet’s name.

But the situation didn’t look good for Hennet. He weathered another torrent of icy stones, barely. He staggered and stumbled on the slickened ground. The sorcerer pulled a tattered parchment from his cloak. Nebin recognized it—his friend had carried that ragged scroll since their very first foray together. He held it in one shaking hand.

Nebin tried to recall the spell on the sheepskin, but only for a moment. Then it didn’t matter. Hennet croaked out the mystic words, gesturing toward Schniedly, and nothing happened. That final effort was too much for him. Hennet collapsed, unconscious.

“Get up!” whispered Nebin.

But something was also wrong with Schniedly. A look of panic crossed the man’s face as he looked down. A layer of greasy liquid flowed up from the ground beneath his feet, forming an inky layer around him. Hennet’s spell was working after all! The man in the orange suit tried to hold still, but a breeze caught him. Frictionless, he skated right out of bounds.

The judge called, “The duel goes to Hennet Dragonborn!”

Despite lying unconscious, Hennet was still in bounds and his opponent was not. Nebin squawked happily, but his voice was lost in the screams of the boisterous crowd around Ember. They cheered again after an attending Peloran brother applied a vial of potent curative liquid to the sorcerer’s lips. As Hennet stood, he waved up to the stands, even going so far as to blow a kiss to Ember.

“You’re a bold one,” laughed Nebin, but he also saw Ember laugh, apparently pleased with Hennet’s antics.

Hennet ambled up to Nebin and said, “I knew that old scroll would come in handy.”

The gnome clapped his friend on the back.

The novice competition was down to just four contestants: Hennet, Nebin, the strangely catlike Felicia, and Aganon. In only minutes the semifinal pair-ups were called. Hennet was matched against Felecia, and Nebin was paired with Aganon.

“Drat my luck!” Nebin swore, but not too loudly, because Aganon stood near. He didn’t want the man to know he was afraid.

Hennet and Felecia walked out to begin their match, to the accompaniment of several loud, colorful conjurations. Nebin supposed they were designed to get the attention of the audience, but he didn’t see any more. His mind was on Aganon. The gnome felt his heart sinking. This would be his toughest match.

They were led to a ring by an excited judge. Nebin and Aganon took their places as yet more colorful displays of wizardry drew the crowd’s attention to their ring. The judges sensed this would be an exciting match, and they wanted the crowd to take notice.

The judge called out, “Nebin Raulnor, wizard, novice, faces off against Aganon, wizard, novice. You have three minutes to duel, and they begin…now!”

The gnome, unsure of what tactic to use, fell back on his favorite—the illusory flaming ball, ten feet across. He called the sphere above Aganon and let rivulets of fire cover the man. Aganon was unperturbed for the few seconds he was visible before the flames hid him. The gnome felt emboldened now that he couldn’t see Aganon. Nebin took the opportunity to sidle to the left. He might gain a small edge if Aganon didn’t know exactly where he stood.