The airlander got a running start, leapt ten feet into the air, and threw a weirdly shaped knife that smacked Bognar right in the face.
“Or, maybe not.”
Twenty seconds later, Bognar was getting used as a pin cushion by some spell that turned the air into a cloud of stabbing needles. It looked like a remarkably painful way to end the match.
“There’s no way that’s a low-level spell,” I muttered. “Rank one, my ass.”
“To be fair, my friend, you yourself know a disturbing number of exceedingly destructive spells for a rank one.”
Rade had me there, and the way this night was looking, I might be busting out a snail grenade before it was over, but I was still suspicious. “When we get a tester, I bet I’ll make it to two now. But how come none of our recruits show up with talent like that guy?”
“Give it time. Soon, our academy will be famous throughout all the realms, and the best of the best will come, hat in hand, eager to train with us.”
Up next was a dwarf against a gnome. As soon as the announcer saidfight,the gnome immediately pulled a small handgun and shot at the dwarf.
When I’d first heard about mage fights, I’d been surprised that firearms were allowed, but the rules said any regular weapons or spells were useable. With magical enchantments that protected against bullets being relatively common and popular in the Core, anybody who was serious about making it in the arena invested in one, so guns weren’t as big of an advantage as you’d think.
Which the dwarf demonstrated, as the bullet fragmented off the shield created by one of his enchanted items. It didn’t even get close enough to his skin to activate the goblin charm. Then the dwarf conjured a water spout out of thin air that spun the gnome until he nearly drowned, before cutting it and slamming the poor little fellow against the ground. The dwarf didn’t even use magic to finish the fight. He simply walked over while the gnome was coughing up water, picked him up by the ankles and started slamming him back and forth between two stone blocks, like he was beating the dust out of a rug.
Sifuso’s match was next. And it was… underwhelming.
Lacertians have a reputation for being vicious ambush killers, taking down prey with fangs and claws, and they are really scary to look at, all scaley and reptilian, with their weird hungry eyes. I didn’t know if that mystique was a lie and if it was all lacertians who were cowardly, or just ours.
When Sifuso walked into the arena, with so many eyes upon him, his knees started to shake. It was clear he had already lost his nerve. His yellow eyes were darting about wildly, like he was overwhelmed by the crowd watching him. Normally, our lacertian stood tall, but he was currently crouched, like he wanted to hide.
“Oh, that’s not looking good,” Rade said.
Sifuso had drawn a young man from the Cantor District, which was somewhere on the other side of the market. The announcer said he was anunleashed descendent, which was some kind of disciple of Saint Violence, but I wasn’t really a church-going sort, and didn’t know much about the various sects. It turned out this kid had picked the appropriate saint to follow, because he was so mean that he spent the next ten minutes chasing our lacertian all over the quarry.
It was a terrible match. It opened with Sifuso lunging in for a quick stab, getting slapped for his efforts, and that must have scared him into timidity. Sifuso was quick, but all that speed was good for was to scurry out of the way or clamber up the stone blocks to try and hide on top. At one point, he even climbed our side’s scaffolding and clung there, thirty feet up as the kid shouted at him to come down and fight. The angry audience threw trash and bottles at Sifuso. Eventually, two goblins came down the ladders and poked at Sifuso with poles until he was forced back down into the quarry. When he finally got caught, the human threw him down and beat him mercilessly until both charges activated, and then the goblins had to come out andbreak them up, because the kid wanted to beat him some more, just out of frustration.
The crowd seemed relieved it was over.
“Well, that was embarrassing.” Rade was barely audible over the booing. “Maybe lizard men are only bold when they can strike unseen.”
“I don’t know, but at oh-and-three… I’m sensing a disturbing trend developing with our students’ matches tonight.” It wasn’t looking like my new career of fight manager was going to work out.
There were a couple more fights before our next Outcast was up, so I studied the gladiators on the other side of the pit, trying to guess which one was Dathka Shadow Walker. The name suggested a deadlander, but I didn’t see anyone that pale over there. Except there were a few who—like me—hid their weapons under cloaks and their faces beneath hoods. Better to keep the fighters mysterious, I suppose. Though for me, the attempt at disguise was more about dodging vengeful Skerrets.
Then it was Rufus’ turn.
“Well, let’s see how ourwar magedoes.”
“Don’t get too hopeful,” Rade pointed out. “His opponent’s favored four-to-one.”
Our dwarf was up against a muscular orc, who had a winning record, and carried a gigantic polearm with a nasty hook on the end. When they met in the center, Rufus only came up to the big green guy’s chest.
“I can see why.”
The announcer got out of the way. The challengers went to their respective scaffolds. The match started. And then Rufus surprised the hell out of me.
“FOR RUDNIK!”
Rufus ran across the arena floor, straight for the orc, who invoked a beam of fire. Like me, the orc must have had anaffinity for fire magic. Rufus’ beard got singed as he rolled out of the way. He popped right back up, launching his own spell. A cloud of stinging sand flew into the orc’s face, causing his next fire spell to go wild, slashing across the scaffolding and setting nearby ropes on fire.
Rade yelped as we got hit by sparks. I smiled, because that just felt like home.
As Rufus slammed the end of his axe against the ground, he shouted, “Crush!”
