Vance Moore - Odyssey

The raypen lay at the other end of the size spectrum. Dwarf-sized creatures with withered legs ending in prehensile feet, they could still fly with their innate magic. Magical feathers covered their long distorted arms giving them, for short periods of time, the freedom their ancestors had known.

Kirtar's milky skin and massive hands identified him as aven. The warrior caste of a militant people, they had joined the Northern Order en masse. Though not prolific, they rose to many positions of power in the north and many a party riding into the western mountains was led by bird warriors. Mountain societies respected strength, but that respect must be individually earned and honor conferred on the basis of personal achievement. The Order advocated the submission of all to the movement's leaders. Kamahl— by birth, training, and inclination—bowed only to those more powerful. His whole life was dedicated to proving that, now in his prime, no one could order him about with impunity. To give up your will to others, all of whom lacked the power to beat you or claim your respect with their own deeds, grated. Kamahl regarded the bird warrior narrowly as his possible opponent in the tourney walked into battle.

The two mountain mages attacked simultaneously. They separated in a fast shuffle, their movements slowed as they called upon their magic. Neophytes, thought Kamahl.

The one on the left appeared to be a shaman. Furs and small amulets fluttered as he scuttled to one side. The boy's dark skin contrasted with his blond hair. The spell that followed was slow to form. Eventually it congealed into reality as the universe created a creature in response to the youth's wishes. With a roar, a slavering troll stalked toward the bird warrior.

The emaciated monster approached warily, showing a degree of cunning unusual in the breed. The head darted from side to side, pausing to take in great gulps of air. Seemingly satisfied that nothing threatened, it jumped at Kirtar. Kamahl realized the bird warrior had not even bothered to raise power until the monster actually leaped. Golden energy erupted from his skin, coating his head and upper torso. It solidified into armor even as the mouth of the troll opened wide, the teeth and jaws of the monster seeming to leap out of the massive mouth. The beast stooped down to devour the warrior, but the bird warrior's armor did not give at all. Vainly its jaws clenched, and its claws scratched. Like a dog worrying at a pole, the beast tried to throw Kirtar to the side or gnaw through.

Now the other young caster entered the fray. Clad in piecemeal armor, he was shorter than his companion. As if he were his partner's negative, his dark hair contrasted with his pale skin. Spiral tattoos traced out magic sigils on his face and upper arms. He gripped a war hammer with both hands, but he did not use it to assail the bird warrior. Rather, he directed his summoned minions, who entered existence at a run. Dwarf warriors charged Kirtar and the troll.

Pick-axes and hammers rose and then fell. Kirtar rolled to the side; one blow driving through the armor that now encased the warrior's lower legs. The troll howled in delight at the fresh blood, and Kamahl believed the aven would pay the ultimate price for his arrogance. The bird warrior did not freeze, and he reinforced the power of the magic encasing his limbs. Then the lieutenant struck with his bare hands.

The huge fists were encased in energy, and Kamahl could hear the troll's jaws being pulverized. Teeth sprayed across the ground, digging furrows as they buried themselves. The beast screamed with pain, striking out blindly and falling upon a dwarf. The diminutive warrior's sturdy metal armor proved unequal to troll claws. Chunks of flesh and blood fell to the sand as the dwarf was eviscerated. The audience booed loudly as the shaman tried to redirect his beast.

”The pair has lost the crowd,” Chainer said, shaking his head sadly. ”For allied creatures to fall upon each other is an unforgivable amateur mistake.”

Kirtar was on his feet, weaving from side to side as the rest of the dwarf troop tried to take advantage of his reduced mobility. At first, his movements seemed forced, almost stumbling as he retreated. Kamahl watched as the bird warrior grew stronger. The barbarian realized that what wounds the lieutenant received healed even as he fought. The aven's opponents could heal too, and the troll stood up, gore from his mistaken victim covering its face and chest, the dwarf's blood mingling with the flow of foulness from the beast's own wound. The wound diminished as the troll reentered the fray. The deformed jaws moved back into position, and Kamahl could see new teeth glinting in the torchlight.

Kirtar attacked the surrounding dwarves, killing and maiming as the troll reached for him. The lieutenant's fists were swollen balloons of power as golden energy armored the bird warrior's flesh. Heads collapsed under the aven's blows. Shields and weapons shattered as the dwarves struggled to bring the bird warrior down. Kirtar leaped, whether flying or merely by enhanced muscles, Kamahl did not know. He soared through the air toward the dark-haired mountain mage. Kirtar's bent legs absorbed much of the energy of the landing, but the armored youth still fell—a bag of broken bones. The barbarian thought the mage might survive with proper care, then Kirtar batted the man's head with a slap. The new corpse was not decapitated, but the mage's head lolled off one shoulder, leaving no doubt of the man's death.

The troll ran at Kirtar, a high cry of bestial rage sounding as the few remaining dwarves vanished at the death of their master. The shaman coaxed fire from the air, and a few small balls of flame hurtled toward the bird warrior. Most of the spell wasted itself upon the open ground of the arena. The aroma of cooking meat carried everywhere as the fallen mountain mage was devoured by the ill-aimed magic. Burning flesh and charred leather fought with the odors of the food vendors making their rounds of the stands.

A flock of birds soared from the lieutenant's hands. The small castings were brilliant, and Kamahl forced himself to look at them directly. Slightly translucent they rose up into the air, drawing near the upper booths. Patrons fell silent as the small energy spirits turned. The flock dived toward the floor of the arena, converging on everything still alive. Like ghosts, they slipped into bodies as all stood still. Bursts of light shone forth from eyes and open mouths. The troll's rays cast a giant shadow of the bird warrior against the far wall of the arena. The last mountain mage was a fallen star, shafts of light erupting from his skin. All except Kirtar collapsed. There was a moment of silence, and then thunderous applause filled the arena.

* * * * *

”So you think you can compete in the games, do you, my boy?” the Master of the Games said.

Kamahl restrained his irritation with difficulty. The man was fat and festooned in bolts of garish cloth, like some monstrous jester taking his ease at a party instead of entertaining. All of the Cabal members that he had seen were subdued in color and outward demeanor, but the Master of the Games showed a flamboyance of color and style that assaulted the barbarian's eyes.

”You might be powerful enough to compete in the games, but you will have to satisfy me.” The official stood with some difficulty and walked toward a room off to the side of the box.

Guards drew themselves to attention only to be patted familiarly by the figure strolling by. Kamahl followed, flanked by another set of guards. Kamahl appeared weaponless. His great sword and axes lay in the entry chamber ”as a matter of security.” Only his mild amusement at the guards thinking him disarmed prevented him from laying waste to the Cabal's servants. His amusement was passing, and the effrontery of the official made him rethink his participation in the tourney. To allow someone of such low character to stand in judgement of him was nigh unbearable. Kamahl came for the glory of combat against equals. How equal could his opponents be if one such as the official controlled their entry into the games? Kamahl became more and more convinced that he would withdraw beyond the city and challenge the winner of the tourney, that is if the barbarian did not return to the distant mountains instead.