He came round to find a healer bending over him, her hands cradling his head as healing power flowed into him. He felt what would have been the mother of all headaches diminish and then disappear entirely, and he sat up, propping himself up with his hands.
“You alright mate?” Taurnil asked, bending down to help him to his feet.
“I think so,” he answered, rubbing the spot behind his ear where Kusar must have hit him. “What happened?”
“Kusar knocked you out. Sorry Gasp, I had to surrender.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault for underestimating him. A triple illusion!” he said, awed by the Kusar’s skill.
“How are we going to beat them?” Taurnil asked, looking to him for the answers.
Gaspi thought for a moment. “We let ourselves get separated,” he said. “That’s fatal against these two. Whatever happens, we stay together this time. We need to keep this as tight as possible, and take any opportunity that comes.”
“What if he charges me again, spinning his staff like that? It’s like a wall of flying wood!”
“Don’t be intimidated. Push back, and I’ll help out more this time.”
“Okay,” Taurnil said doubtfully.
“And this time we take the initiative,” Gaspi said. “As soon as the bout starts, charge them.”
“Okay,” Taurnil repeated, gripping his staff in readiness.
“TAKE YOUR PLACES!” the mayor shouted, announcing the beginning of the final bout. They entered their circle of light and turned around. Gaspi felt the adrenaline charging through him, flooding his limbs with energy. “BEGIN!”
Taurnil instantly broke into a run, and Gaspi was right behind him, shielding them both and threading power into Taurnil’s staff to surround it with magical force. Kusar and his warrior did exactly the same thing, and the two teams charged right at each other, glowing with the light of magic. They clashed in the centre of the arena like an explosion. The smack of wood on wood was so loud it was like almost painful to hear. Gaspi thrust out with his power and caught Kusar in the midriff. There was no illusion this time, and the warrior mage flew backwards and landed on his rump. Gaspi summoned another strike but Kusar reached with his robes with both hands and pulled out a pair of throwing knives. Both of them were in flight before Gaspi could release his strike, and with his hands full of offensive magic, he couldn’t even summon a shield to swipe them aside. He turned sideways to make himself a smaller target. One of the knives sailed right by his stomach, but the other plunged straight into his bicep. Yelping with pain, he forced himself to spin back to face the warrior mage. Somehow, he’d managed to hold onto the strike he’d summoned. Kusar was back on his feet, withdrawing his staves to attack him, but Gaspi launched his strike, filled with fury at being wounded.
Kusar was too close to get out of the way, and Gaspi’s strike caught him hard in the face and threw him to the ground. Gaspi threw out a magical net to capture him but Kusar was already rolling out of the way and the net missed. The warrior mage sprang to his feet and ran at Gaspi, holding his staves. Still furious, Gaspi reached out with his power and swiped the staves from Kusar’s hands. It took great accuracy to do that at anything more than a couple of feet, but in his heightened state of focussed anger, Gaspi got it right, and they clattered away through the air, landing well out of range of the battle.
Kusar didn’t hesitate, but sheathed his hands in raw force, much as Voltan had done earlier, and carried on running. Gaspi summoned an enormous strike, big enough to take him out with, but instinct told him not to throw it. Instead he ripped up a wide curtain of sand and scattered it around in a broad semi-circle. His instinct proved to be correct, because the sand fell right through Kusar, showing him to be an illusion, and revealed his true position, twenty feet to the left.
Gaspi glanced to his right and saw that Taurnil was pressing the braided warrior hard. Ignoring the searing pain in his arm where the blade was still embedded, he threading extra power into Taurnil’s staff until it began to glow. Knowing exactly what that meant, Taurnil hit out in earnest, his already thunderous blows strengthened once again by an extra layer of magical impact. The braided warrior staggered backwards, exposed in a few feet of clear space, which was exactly what Gaspi was hoping for.
Taking advantage of Kusar’s distance, he threw out a sharp strike at the braided warrior. He never saw it coming. One moment he was battling against a formidable opponent, and the next he was struck in the head by sheer magical force, and fell to the floor unconscious.
“TAURN TO ME!” Gaspi shouted, backing rapidly away from Kusar’s last position and leaving room for Taurnil to step in front of him. Taurnil took several long strides and took his place just as the warrior mage appeared and thrust power-sheathed hands into his armoured chest. But Gaspi had already shielded Taurnil in case Kusar attacked him, and though he staggered under the impact of the physical blow, the magical force was repelled and he kept his feet. Gaspi knocked the warrior mage away with a quick sting of force and urged Taurnil forwards.
“Take him out,” he said, threading power into his staff and surrounding them both in a shield. Taurnil didn’t need telling twice. He struck out with his staff, and though Kusar also summoned a shield, it couldn’t hold against the powerful weapon, and shattered on impact. Kusar twisted out of the way of the staff and swung a flat handed blow at Taurnil’s neck, but Taurnil lifted his arm and blocked the blow. Kusar struck out again with his other hand, but Taurnil dropped his staff and caught him by the wrist. Kusar struck again with his free hand but Taurnil caught that too, holding him captive by both arms.
Power surged down both of Kusar’s arms, but Gaspi maintained his shield, and Taurnil was unhurt. Taurnil tightened his grip and twisted both of Kusar’s arms until they were locked, lifting him to his tiptoes. Kusar’s eyes widened as he realised what was coming, and with a mighty thrust of his neck, Taurnil rammed his forehead into Kusar’s. The warrior mage’s eyes rolled up into his skull as his head snapped back, and when Taurnil released his arms he dropped heavily to the ground.
“WINNER, GASPI!” the mayor shouted, and the crowd, which had been caught in breathless silence, bounced to their feet, yelling their heads off and banging their hands against any object they could find. The noise was thunderous! The pain in Gaspi’s arm, subdued until that moment by the flow of adrenaline, was suddenly very sharp. He gritted his teeth and gripped his arm, waiting for the healer.
“GAS-PI, GAS-PI, GAS-PI, GAS-PI!” they chanted as the healers rushed across the sand to tend to the wounded.
“You alright Taurn?” he asked over the noise of the crowd. Taurnil grinned stupidly and then abruptly fell to his backside, looking around in bewilderment as if wondering how he’d got there.
“HEALER!” Gaspi called, and one of them
peeled off from Kusar’s prone form and jogged over to where he stood. Taurnil’s fall had quietened the crowd down, and they watched anxiously as the Healer approached.
“I think he’s concussed,” he said, and the healer nodded and dropped to his knees, placing a hand on Taurnil’s forehead. Soon enough, he stood up again and pronounced him healed, helping him to his feet.
“Your arm,” the healer said, and Gaspi let him tend to him. He drew in a sharp hiss of breath as the knife was withdrawn, but when healing power knitted his muscles back together, and re-sealed his skin, there was no more pain.
“Thank you,” he said, and the healer nodded in acknowledgement and left them alone. He grabbed Taurnil’s hand and thrust it in the air, and the crowd cheered them once again as they walked back to their seats.
When they sat down again, Gaspi was flushed with pleasure. He and Taurnil had never fought better! All the months of hard training they’d put into preparing for the Measure had come to the fore at the crucial moment and helped them win what had been a very tough battle.
Voltan leaned forward and tapped both him and Taurnil on the shoulder. “That was the best display of sword and sorcery in this competition so far.”
“Thanks Sir,” Gaspi said, echoed by Taurnil, who visibly swelled with pride at Voltan’s praise.
Everand and Baard were called next, facing a rangy magician called Lorech, and a staff-wielding warrior. Their previous matches had shown Gaspi that though Lorech was pretty strong magically, he was inflexible in his technique, and his warrior was much the same. They managed well in a fight until it departed from familiar lines, and then they struggled to improvise. They were the only remaining pair who preferred to separate the battle into magician against magician and warrior against warrior, and Gaspi was pretty sure Everand and Baard weren’t going to let that happen.
Sure enough, Lorech’s tactics broke down pretty fast when faced with the sheer destructive chaos that was Baard. Everand was the stronger magician too, and was able to maintain a magical defence while threading some spare power into Baard, which meant the fight swung in their favour within the first few exchanges. Two fairly quick bouts later, a victorious Everand and Baard returned to their seats to watch the last match of the round, which was between Ferast and the last remaining competitor - an ageing magician called Hisk who’d just about scraped through his last bout using clever tactics picked up from decades of experience. Before the match was even announced, however, Hisk called the mayor over and talked quietly with him for a moment. The mayor was clearly unhappy with what Hisk was saying, gesticulating angrily at the ageing magician, but Hisk remained calm and responded with a slow shrug of his shoulders, his palms lifted into the air as if to say “what can you do?” The mayor spun away from him and thrust his staff angrily into the air.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” he said, irritation evident in every syllable. “HISK HAS ELECTED TO FORFEIT THE MATCH. SUCH IS HIS RIGHT, AND IT IS MY DUTY THEREFORE TO ANNOUNCE FERAST AS THE WINNER.” The crowd booed unkindly, disappointed at being denied the privilege of watching another display of sword and sorcery, but there was nothing to be done about it.
“What do you think that’s all about?” Taurnil asked.
“I’m guessing that he doesn’t want to fight Ferast,” Gaspi answered, stating the obvious.
“Maybe he knows something we don’t,” Taurnil growled, eyeing Ferast fiercely across the sand.
“Maybe he just knew he was outclassed,” Gaspi offered, but his words rang hollow in his own ears. Hisk must have been disturbed enough by something about Ferast that he would risk being humiliated in front of the entire crowd. A sense of foreboding rose from within, filling him with disquiet. There were only four magicians left now, Everand, Ferast, Brukasi and himself, and either he or Everand was going to have to face Ferast in the semi-final.
He thought uneasily about the way Ferast had overwhelmed Voltan as if he was a novice. He thought about his unaccountable strength and the hateful looks he had thrown at both him and Everand. He had every reason to be concerned, and perhaps if an old-timer like Hisk was unwilling to fight Ferast, then there might be good reason for it. The problem was, if he was called to face him, he didn’t have the luxury of forfeiting the match. Apart from the fact that Taurnil would never forgive him, it also meant that Everand might end up fighting him instead. No, if anyone was to fight Ferast, he’d prefer that it was him.
Just then Taurnil nudged his elbow and pointed out across the sand. There was no break between the two much shorter rounds, and the mayor had already lifted his staff, preparing to announce the first of the two
semi-finals. Riddled with anxiety, Gaspi waited for the announcement.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” the mayor started, while the aid came over with the barrel. “IT IS MY PLEASURE TO PRESENT TO YOU THE FOUR SEMI-FINALISTS IN THIS YEAR’S COMPETITION. OF ALL THAT HAVE ENTERED, THESE ARE THE FOUR MOST SKILLED TEAMS, AND THEY WILL NOW FIGHT FOR A PLACE IN THE FINAL MATCH!”
He waited while the crowd’s jubilation made it temporarily impossible to be heard. They soon quieted, allowing him to continue.
“WE HAVE BRUKASI,” he said indicating the diminutive magician, and the crowd broke into loud applause. “FERAST!” he announced, and the crowd applauded again, but with much less enthusiasm. “EVERAND!” he shouted, and the crowd applauded even more enthusiastically than they had for Brukasi. Evidently, the athletic boy and the wild, ginger-bearded giant had won their hearts. “AND FINALLY, WE HAVE GASPI, THE NATURE MAGE!” If the crowd had cheered loudly for Everand, they practically broke the stadium apart cheering for Gaspi and Taurnil. Taurnil grinned unashamedly, and Gaspi forced a smile, pushing away his disquiet.
The mayor spun the barrel, taking far too long for Gaspi’s liking, and when he finally pulled back the panel and retrieved two strips of parchment, he felt like his heart was trying to thump its way right out of his chest.
“THE FIRST MATCH WILL BE BETWEEN BRUKASI…” the mayor said, pausing for dramatic effect.
“…AND GASPI!” the mayor finished, to the crowd’s great pleasure. Gaspi sighed in frustration and glanced at Everand to see how he reacted to the draw. The handsome boy caught his gaze and gave an uneasy shrug. Gaspi grimaced in sympathy as he stood up.
“Good luck Gasp,” Everand said.
“Thanks,” he said, and turned his back on the group from the college. As he and Taurnil walked out across the sand, he forced himself to put aside his concerns about Ferast. Things hadn’t turned out the way he wanted, but it was out of his control now, and he had his own battle to concentrate on.