Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two (9 page)

Out of the door to the right strode a
figure familiar to many. Shorter than average, two knives on his
belt, and stripped down to nothing more than a pair of pantaloons,
Tinok emerged onto the sand. Flanking him were two men bearing
fancy, filigreed halberds suited more for ceremony than
war.

From the opposite side of the pit
emerged a man easily a head taller and twice as muscled as Tinok.
His head was shaved but for a shoulder-length ponytail of the
darkest black. Tattoos wreathed his topknot and cascaded like a
dirty river down his bare back. Dressed in naught but pantaloons
just like his opponent, the man’s muscular physique was clear to
all. In his hands, he held a very long, two-handed
sword.

Cheers erupted throughout the
onlookers, some shouting Tinok’s name, while others hollered for
the newcomer. James was curious to discover that the man across the
way did not participate in the enthusiastic display. His mood
appeared more somber than the occasion warranted.

Another man emerged into the pit from
the wall directly beneath where James and Jiron stood. Arrayed in
armor with a sword at his side, the man made an imposing sight.
James figured him to be one of Scar and Potbelly’s pit fighters. As
he strode toward the center of the pit, conversations quieted until
by the time he came to a stop, all talking had ceased.

The man looked upward to those ringing
the pit. Turning clockwise, he swept the onlookers with his gaze.
Coming full circle, he raised his hands.

“Welcome…
to the
Pit
!”

Applause, shouts, and other
gesticulations met his declaration. He allowed it to continue for a
few moments before waving for silence.

“Tonight, we have the privilege of
presenting two combatants of legendary prowess.” He turned and
gestured toward Tinok. “The skill of the first is known by many.
Two blades, one man, and death is his hallmark. I present to you,
Tinok!”

As Tinok strode forward two steps, a
roar surged from the onlookers as a hundred voices cried their
adulation. Tinok was quite obviously a favorite. The sound was
deafening. Raising his hands, the man in the pit subdued their
exuberance. He then turned to face Tinok’s opponent.

“From charnel houses deep
within the Empire, comes a man steeped in death. None who have
faced him have survived. Merciless, heartless, and
soulless
; I give you
Aknor, Warrior of the Cystak!”

From across the way, the Empire
contingent of onlookers exploded in a rowdy hurrah, though less
intense than what Tinok had received.

Aknor stepped forward two steps, drew
his sword and emitted a guttural cry. His gaze settled upon Tinok,
sword lowering until its point was directed at the smaller man
standing across the pit. There was sheer malevolence in the look
the two men exchanged.

James leaned closer to Jiron as he
asked, “Think Tinok can take him?” Long ago, James had come to the
realization that it was more than size and strength that allowed
combatants to prevail.

Jiron nodded. “Of course. And with
this Aknor being from the Empire, Tinok will rip him to shreds. His
death will not be quick.”

The prospect of blood
didn’t sit well with him and James looked out over the pit wishing
he could be anywhere else. Seeing the hungry expressions of those
round him, he almost expected them to begin chanting,
“Two men enter, one man leaves.”

Below, the herald raised his hands
again for quiet. Once the murmuring subsided to a tolerable level,
the hands were lowered. He then motioned to the pair of
halberd-bearers that had accompanied each combatant to depart. Each
pair turned about smartly and left the pit.

After they left, the herald turned his
attention to the onlookers. “No quarter shall be given. Last man
standing will be the victor. Anyone interfering with the match will
be dealt with harshly.”

At that, the crowd off to James’ right
parted and a man stepped forward. Just under six feet in height and
dressed all in black, the man strode to the railing. His head roved
back and forth. When it turned James’ way, it was revealed the man
wore a black metal mask that concealed everything from the nose
up.

“Ti-ke-Orgatha!”
he shouted while at the same time throwing his
right hand outward. Above the pit, a fireball exploded in a
spectacular flash of light and sound.

The crowd ooh’d and ah’d. James on the
other hand recognized the man as the “Dark Mage” doppelganger Scar
and Potbelly trotted out to increase the notoriety of the Pits. He
was also quick to realize that what he had just witnessed held
nothing magical. Not only had the tingling sensation that
accompanied active magic not been present, but the air filled with
the unmistakable odor of sulfur. He couldn’t help but grin. The man
was definitely a fake.

Below in the Pits, the man waved the
two combatants to approach. When they came within ten feet of each
other, the man signaled for them to stop. A few words were then
spoken in a hushed voice to the combatants.

“He’s asking who to notify in the
event of their death,” Jiron explained. “It’s a mere formality, a
holdover from the previous Master of the Pit. There was a time when
unknown challengers would appear, but Scar and Potbelly did away
with that. They want to know who it is their people
face.”

James nodded. “Sensible.”

“I suppose.”

The sound of steel being drawn from
scabbards silenced every voice. The herald took two steps forward
and gazed up to a scantily clad beauty at the railing. Her position
placed her between Tinok and Akron.

“When the ‘kerchief strikes the sand,
the combat will begin.”

As he began returning to the exit
beneath where James and Jiron stood, the woman held aloft a bright
yellow scarf.

“She works here.” Jiron chuckled.
“Scar thought beauty went well with mayhem.”

James cast his gaze to those
encircling the pit. Every eye was fixed on the scarf. Below, the
two combatants faced each other, their eyes locked in the
beginnings of a contest of wills, each trying to break the other’s
spirit by sheer force of their presence.

The ‘kerchief was let go. Billowing
out, it began its slow, almost lethargic descent. As it came near
the ground, the anticipation in the air was so thick, one could
practically cut it with a knife.

Jiron nudged James in the side.
“Tinok’s right foot,” he whispered.

Taking his eyes off the ‘kerchief,
James directed it to where Tinok was slowly rotating the front
portion of his foot against the ground. “What…?”

“Just watch.”

When the yellow scarf lit on the
ground, Tinok exploded in a flurry of motion. His right foot kicked
outward sending a spray of dirt toward his opponent. Akron easily
ducked to the side and avoided a less than honorable attack that
could have left him blind and defenseless. Obviously, he was not to
be taken out so easily.

Despite his size and the size of his
weapon, Akron moved lightning fast. The sword shot out in a
double-hand slice, forcing Tinok to dance backward. The blade
whisked by his chest with bare inches to spare.

A “ting” sounded as Tinok’s left knife
struck the passing blade. As the blow knocked the blade two degrees
downward, his right knife shot forward and left a ribbon of red
across the big man’s chest.

The crowd went crazy.

“Yah!” Jiron shouted. Keeping his eyes
on the match, he leaned closer to James. “Whoever scores first most
always wins.”

James nodded. “The psychological
effect must be devastating on such a big man.”

“You got that right.”

Breaking off, the two opponents
circled each other. Akron’s face registered rage barely kept in
check while Tinok remained cool and calculating.

“He’s got him.”

James glanced to Jiron in surprise.
“You can tell that from only one passage of arms?”

“Not many can stand against a master
knifer. Where Tinok has only the one blade to contend with, Akron
has two. He may be good, but Tinok is better.”

Not quite as sure as his erstwhile
companion, James worried for their friend. His heart leapt in his
throat as Akron went into a complex maneuver with his blade
practically singing as it cut the air.

Tinok held his knives at the ready,
eyes on Akron’s. When the massive sword finally shot forward for
the kill, he twisted to the side and used both blades to catch the
sword. For a moment, the two fighters were locked in a struggle for
possession of the sword, but then Tinok’s foot shot out and
connected with the big man’s knee. The blow didn’t break the bone,
but it did cause him to lose his balance and stumble. Tinok was on
him in a flash. Before the man could right himself, blood flowed
from four new wounds; one on either arm, and on both
legs.

The crowd went crazy. Such a thing was
rarely seen in the pit; where a fighter scored on all four
extremities simultaneously. He that performed the feat was praised,
the one it was done to was humiliated.

Screaming an inarticulate cry of pure
rage, Akron rushed Tinok with a flurry of over-hand hacks and
slices that forced the smaller man back several feet. But Tinok
didn’t look worried. He merely bided his time.

A glance across the Pit revealed that
Father Tullin had reached the side of the unmasked man from the
Empire. The priest was engaged in a conversation with a tall woman
wearing a swan-plumed mask; its feathers created a prominent arch
above each eye.

A gasp from the crowd drew his
attention back to the fight. The big man had scored a blow. Blood
flowed from a horizontal slash across Tinok’s chest and the smaller
man was being pushed back toward the wall.

“What happened?”

Never taking his eyes from the fight,
Jiron replied, “Tinok got hit is what happened. Can’t expect to do
this and not suffer injury at some point.”

“But I thought you said Tinok had this
guy.”

“Just because you are the better
fighter doesn’t mean your opponent won’t score a lucky blow once in
a while.”

Below, Tinok’s blades deflected aside
the larger man’s sword time and again. Almost having been pushed
back to the wall, Tinok altered his backward progression more
toward the center.

Betting was furious throughout the
onlookers. Coins continuously passed hands with every strike. Those
who bet on Tinok tended to win more often.

For a brief moment, the two men broke
apart, each taking this opportunity to gather their strength. Tinok
took an extra step back. He then turned his head until his gaze
fell full upon James.

Could Tinok know that he was there? He
met that gaze and felt there was some underlying message the knifer
was attempting to convey. But then Akron’s blade rose and the fight
resumed.

Tinok’s momentary glance hadn’t been
lost on Jiron either. “What was that about?

James merely shrugged. Rubbing his
forearm, he watched as Tinok deflected Akron’s blade, causing the
larger man to overextend himself.

“This is it,” Jiron
prophesized.

As the big man’s blade went a touch
too far to the side, Tinok’s knife shot forward straight for
Akron’s chest. The blade struck and the crowd erupted in cheers
that quickly died off when the blade failed to inflict a killing
blow. It merely left a red trail as it slid along the ribs. Akron
quickly recovered and fended off a series of lightning flash blows,
each deflected with an agility that was astounding.

“I can see why he has never lost,”
came a comment from behind James. Glancing over his shoulder, he
saw coins change hands.

Again, he found himself
rubbing his arm, the skin felt irritated. A tingling
sensation…
Magic!
This was no natural skin aberration, but the result of magic
being actively manipulated.

Instantly, he brought his defensive
shield into place. The events unfolding in the pit below no longer
held his attention. His eyes quickly coursed over those ringing the
pit. One of them was a mage.

“No!”

Tinok stumbled backward with Akron
coming on fast. Inexplicably, Tinok lost his footing altogether and
went down.

The tingling sensation spiked. James
sent out his senses and could see the focal point of the magic was
in the pit below. Someone was attempting to influence the battle’s
outcome.

Akron was on Tinok in a flash. Sword
raised high, he brought it down in what was certain to be a killing
blow. The crowd exploded when the sword missed Tinok by a hair’s
breadth and embedded itself in the sand.

Magic held the sword in the ground for
a fleeting moment, just long enough for Tinok to kick the side of
the big man’s head and roll to safety. James immobilized the sword
just long enough for Tinok to regain his feet, then released
it.