Arena (magic the gathering) Read online

  He looked up angrily at Garth.

  “None of us can forget.”

  “And now they’re dead.”

  Garth reached out and put a gentle hand on Hammen’s shoulder.

  “Believe me, Hammen, if I had known your friends were in danger, I would have done something. I didn’t think the arm of the Grand Master would reach that far. Something is pushing him and he is acting. I expected that, but not that he would reach toward you.”

  “Through me he reached you nevertheless.”

  “I think something needs to be done,” Garth said coldly and, grabbing hold of Hammen, he started down the long corridor. “The pot needs to be stirred a bit more.”

  ***

  “What do you mean he’s alive?”

  Tulan spit out the half-chewed hunk of boiled squid that he had been working on and picked up a goblet of wine.

  “Just that,” Uriah said quietly. “He’s alive.”

  “Impossible. Brown claims they killed him and several of my people saw him explode in a cloud of green smoke.”

  “Could the smoke not have been a masking spell?”

  Tulan tossed down the wine and slammed the goblet on the table, the fine crystalline stem shattering.

  “We spotted his servant, who was reported dead as well. If he is alive, then I think that until we find a body, we must assume that One-eye is alive.”

  Tulan tossed the broken goblet to the floor, cursing as he sucked on a cut to his grease-coated finger.

  “Then if he’s alive, where is he?”

  “We think with Jimak.”

  “Purple! Those lowborn scum.” Tulan roared with laughter and slapped his thigh.

  “I’d sooner cut my own throat or, worse yet, starve to death before I’d go to those maggot-born scum.”

  “Nevertheless, we think he’s there.”

  Tulan suddenly grew serious.

  “Why?” he asked softly as if talking to himself.

  “Precisely. I think it safe to assume you wouldn’t have punished him for what happened today. Rather you’d reward him.”

  “Damn right. One against twelve, and on top of that rearranging Naru’s jewels the way he did. Damn, he’ll be a wonder in the arena.”

  “But he deserted you. You gave him shelter, removed from him the onus of being a hanin, and this is how he pays you back.”

  Tulan nodded meditatively.

  “So what is his game?” Uriah asked.

  Tulan looked across the table at the diminutive servant of the Grand Master.

  “You figure it out,” Tulan snapped. “Now get out.”

  “I think you know that there’s a price of five hundred gold on his head if it is brought in not attached to his body. Bring him in alive and stripped of his powers and the price is doubled. That’s far more than you’d make in an open wager on him in the arena.”

  “Is that a bribe offer?”

  “No, just a straightforward business arrangement. He’s no longer of your House, so he’s fair game. If you should kill him, the money’s yours.”

  “I thought there was an injunction against members of one House killing another in this city except in the Festival arena.”

  Uriah nodded as if presented with a serious dilemma.

  “Rules, as always, can be bent.”

  “The Walker, I suspect, would not be amused to hear that.”

  “He is somewhere else,” Uriah said, his voice suddenly nervous, “and we are here, and what is not said when he arrives is of no concern.”

  Uriah paused for a moment.

  “And do remember, this One-eye has humiliated you. He wore your colors and then shucked them off for another. Would you let it be said that one of your fighters could walk away thus without consequences?”

  Uriah’s words struck home and Tulan brought his fist down on the table, sending the bowl of boiled squid flying end over end, the squid splashing out onto the table and floor.

  “Have your money ready. I expect to collect it. The question is, as long as I bring him in, will any questions be asked about my methods?”

  “None.”

  “Then have the money ready by Festival morning.”

  ____________________

  CHAPTER 6

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MASTER?” HAMMEN hissed, his voice near to breaking with fear.

  “Just shut up and do as I tell you to do.”

  “You mean go back there?” He pointed nervously down the alleyway.

  “Precisely, now move.”

  “This is madness.”

  “Chances are they still have someone watching this place in the hope that you might be so stupid as to come back again.”

  “Only an idiot would do that, so don’t insult me.”

  “You might have treasure hidden. They know you didn’t have enough time to get it the first time, so maybe you’ll venture it again.”

  “There is treasure hidden,” Hammen said quietly.

  “Good. So we’ll get it back. Now get moving.”

  Hammen let out a slight yelp when Garth’s dagger poked him in the backside, sending him out into the middle of the alleyway. Hammen turned as if to go back, but Garth’s angry stare stopped him.

  “So help me,” Hammen whispered while rubbing his injured parts. “I quit.”

  “Is that official as of now?” Garth hissed. “Because if so, they’ve already seen you. Now get moving or I’ll leave you.”

  Hammen, muttering a curse, started down the alleyway, moving furtively through the shadows, stepping lightly over the piles of offal, and hoping against hope that the Grand Master’s people were not still there. But again there was that sense, the street far too quiet. And he knew.

  He wanted simply to try and run on past what had once been his hiding place, hoping that they would not recognize him and thus let him pass. But that was madness. They knew. They had seen him once, and they knew.

  He reached the door and quickly opened it as Garth had ordered. Cursing, he stepped in, darting to one side as he did so.

  The blow barely missed him, the club brushing within inches of his face. Screaming, Hammen dived backward, ducking under the table. As he rolled under the table he bounced up against something cold and stiff. It was his old friend Nahatkim; he could tell by the missing legs. His hand fumbled over the place where a head should have been, sticking in the congealed slime of blood.

  At least he had the advantage in the total darkness. He felt a hand reaching past him, and with a quick grab, took hold and bit down hard, nearly severing the man’s finger. The hand jerked back, a loud howling filling the room. Hammen scurried out from under the table, moving toward the sewer bolt-hole in the back of the room. The demons take Garth, he thought. I’m getting out.

  He reached the hole and dived into it headfirst… and straight into a hammerlike blow that sent his senses reeling.

  Through a haze of pain and nausea he felt hands grabbing him from behind, pulling him out, while the man who had been waiting in the sewer laughed cruelly, striking him in the face yet again for the fun of it.

  Pulled out of the hole, he was thrown down on the floor and a light was struck, a lamp flaring up.

  His vision blurred, Hammen looked up at two leering faces. Though they were dressed in filth-stained leather, he knew these were not two simple thieves… they were warriors of the Grand Master, their well-fed faces looking down at him, laughing.

  One of them leaned down and held a bleeding hand before him and then struck him again across the face.

  “Don’t kill him yet,” the other hissed. “I want him when we’re done.”

  “When we’re done,” another voice said. Through eyes that were starting to swell shut Hammen saw three more men come into the room, all of them obviously magic-wielding fighters, all three of them dressed in the multihued tunics of the Grand Master.

  The three moved across the room, looking around disdainfully, one of them covering his nose with a scented handkerchief.

  “
Is it the same one?”

  “I think so,” the one in the center replied. “Get him to talk. Find out exactly where One-eye is.”

  The warrior with the bleeding hand snicked a dagger out of his belt and held it close to Hammen’s face.

  “Can I start with the eyes?” he hissed softly.

  “I don’t care. Just don’t cut his tongue out or kill him.”

  For an instant Hammen wasn’t sure if the flash of light was blindness descending upon him or not. Then he heard the high, keening scream and felt the heat. There were more screams and the heat started to build, followed an instant later by a cool blast of air.

  Hammen looked around the room, which was blurred and hazy, and it took him a moment to realize that he was in fact wrapped in a circle of protection while the rest of the room blazed with a white-hot intensity. His five tormentors rolled back and forth, shrieking, trying to beat out the flames that engulfed them.

  Though the shield protected him from the heat, the scent of burning flesh still wafted through and he suppressed a gag. The five started to become still, curling up into tight, charred balls so that they looked like blackened dolls. The fire winked out as if the room had been washed with a blast of rain. Through the smoke he saw Garth emerge, a cold look of fury still in his eye.

  The circle of protection vanished.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Not really, damn it. I think I lost a tooth.”

  “I had to make sure they all came in. I knew they wouldn’t hurt you too much until then. I’m sorry.”

  Garth laid his hands on Hammen’s temples and the pain washed away. He felt for a moment as if he were floating. He closed his eyes and then reopened them. His vision was again clear.

  “Were they the ones who attacked you before?”

  “I think so.”

  Garth nodded, looking around the room.

  “I’m sorry your friends’ bodies had to be burned like that.”

  “I don’t think they really cared one way or the other,” Hammen replied coldly. “Besides, the pyre had some curs on it to be their servants in the land of the dead; it was fitting.” He paused for a moment. “Thank you.”

  “It served my purpose.”

  “I think it was more than that,” Hammen said, and Garth mumbled a soft curse and stood up.

  “You want to collect your treasure? I think we better get moving. The fireball caught them by surprise, but it’ll draw attention. There’ll be others here in a moment, maybe more than I can handle.”

  Hammen stepped over a charred corpse and went up to the fireplace. Reaching up inside, he pushed a brick aside, pulled out a heavy bag, and tucked it into his tunic. He started back across the room and then paused. He pulled the bag out again, opened it, fished out four gold coins, and quickly tossed them on the four corpses of his friends.

  “For the ferryman,” he said to Garth almost as if apologizing.

  “Let’s go. Someone’s coming,” Garth replied, moving away from the door and toward the back of the room. Hammen followed him, pausing for a moment to spit on one of the corpses of fighters and then went down the bolt-hole, Garth following.

  “Take us toward the Fentesk House.”

  “Why there?”

  “Don’t you think they’ll cover the paths toward Ingkara?” Garth asked, and Hammen grunted in agreement.

  Choking from the fumes, Garth followed Hammen through the stygian darkness, cursing as the sewage washed up over the top of his boots and poured down inside to squish between his toes.

  “I can’t see you,” Garth whispered.

  “Then strike a light.”

  Garth pulled his dagger out of its sheath and held it aloft. An instant later it started to glow softly. He looked around and a chill washed over him. The sewer walls were dripping with slime. They passed a narrow side channel and the sound of rats echoed from it as they scurried away from the light. Hammen moved with a swift ease, turning one way and then the other, and Garth stumbled to keep up. And all the time the chill cut deeper into him. The walls seemed to crowd inward like nightmare memories in a dream from which he could not awaken. Hammen turned and looked back.

  “Garth?”

  Garth, startled, looked up but said nothing.

  “What is it, boy?”

  Surprised, Garth looked at him closely, struggling to control the shaking that racked his body. And as he looked at him there was somehow a sensing. It was in the old man’s rheumy eyes.

  The nightmare drew in closer, as if now to consume his very soul. Garth sagged against the sewer wall, the dagger lighting his way waning to a mere flicker.

  “Garth. What is it?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  Hammen came up and, reaching out, grabbed him by the arm as if to hold him up.

  “No, don’t take me. I want to go back!” Garth cried, struggling as if to break away, but his movements were weak, feeble, as if all strength had been drained away.

  “Garth!”

  Garth looked at him, his eyes wide.

  “I want to go back!”

  Garth stiffened, a gasp escaping him, and he doubled over for a moment as if he was about to vomit. He finally looked back up, his features drawn as if he were emerging from a fevered dream.

  “What did you say?”

  Hammen was silent for a moment.

  Garth pushed Hammen away and the dagger glowed brightly again.

  “Let’s go,” Garth said huskily, even as he wiped his eyes as if to sweep away what he had just seen, his hand coming away wet with tears.

  “Galin?” Hammen’s voice was barely a whisper.

  Garth looked back at him.

  “What did you say?” His voice was quiet.

  Hammen was silent and then he shook his head sadly.

  “Nothing, Master, nothing. Anyhow, there’s a sewer cover just ahead that comes out behind Fentesk House.”

  Hammen turned up into a narrow pipe that was so small Garth had to bend over and crawl on hands and knees. His breath was labored, coming in short, grunting bursts, the sweat beading down his face even though the sewer was chilled and damp like a tomb.

  Hammen finally stopped and pointed up. Garth came up beside him, looked up, and saw the grating overhead. He stood up and slowly pushed the grating aside and peered out.

  He pulled himself out and then, leaning over, reached down and hoisted Hammen up out of the darkness.

  “Now where?”

  “I don’t think going back to Purple is a wise idea at the moment,” Garth said quietly, even as he led Hammen over into the shadows opposite Fentesk House. He stopped at a small fountain and pulled off his boots, rinsing them out and then putting them back on, splashing water on his tunic and trousers to wipe off the filth. Hammen watched him and said nothing.

  “They traced you back there,” Garth finally continued. “A report must have been turned in. And now, after our bit of revenge, they’ll swarm over it.”

  “Thank you, Master,” Hammen whispered.

  “For what?” Garth replied sadly. “If it hadn’t been for me, your friends would still be alive.”

  “You couldn’t have known it would happen.”

  “I should have.”

  “But anyhow, for the shadows of my friends I thank you.”

  “Shut up.”

  “What happened back there?” Hammen nodded back toward the sewer grating they had just crawled out from.

  “A spell, I guess,” Garth said hurriedly. “Now let’s go.”

  “To where?”

  “To Fentesk, where else?”

  “Damn it, Master, not again.”

  Ignoring him, Garth stepped out of the shadows and strode toward the front of the building.

  ***

  “I demand that you open up your door and submit to a search!”

  Jimak peered out through the small hatch set in the middle of the heavily bolted doorway into the House of Ingkara.

  “You have no authority.
”

  Uriah peered up at the door, the dwarf fighter standing defiant and a flicker of light starting to swirl around him.

  “I have eighty-nine fighters in here,” Jimak said coldly. “If you try anything, I guarantee you that when they are finished parts of your body will be raining down on this city for the next three days.”

  Uriah hesitated for an instant and then looked over his shoulder.

  “Open up, Jimak.”

  The Master of Ingkara could not conceal his surprise that the Grand Master himself was outside the door. He had ignored the midnight summons to the palace but the fact that the Grand Master would then lower himself to come to the House of Ingkara in the hour before first bell was simply astonishing.

  “I’ll not open up for you or anyone else,” Jimak replied. “You are breaking all the covenants of the Houses by appearing here and demanding a search.”

  “Jimak, you know I have enough strength with my own fighters to take your House. They’re waiting just around the corner for my orders to blast their way in.”

  Jimak turned his head away, spit, and then looked back.

  “And three other Houses will storm your palace before daybreak. We might hate each other, but we’ll always stand against you if you attempt to break us.”

  “The same as with the Turquoise House?” the Grand Master whispered.

  Jimak looked over his shoulder and then back at the Grand Master.

  “That was different. Besides, they wouldn’t ally with you against me.”

  “And this is different as well. Now open up; I’ll come in alone. I lose face standing out here like this and I intend to regain it one way or the other. Now open up.”

  Jimak hesitated for a moment and then stepped back, nodding to two of his fighters to remove the heavy beam that blocked the door. The Grand Master slipped through and the door slammed shut behind him.

  “If I’m not back outside by first bell, this place will be a smoking ruin,” the Grand Master said haughtily.

  “Are you that afraid for yourself?”

  “I just wanted you to know how things stand. As for fear, I think there’s reason enough for all of us to be afraid right now.”