"Hrmph?" huffed Balthor as he heaved on his axe, which was embedded up to the haft this time.

"Chainer had a bit of barbarian blood," repeated Kamahl as he strode over to the wall beside Balthor.

"Chainer is dead, Balthor, and I was powerless to save him." With that, Kamahl grabbed the axe handle and popped the weapon out of the wall as easy as if he were pulling a grape off a vine. Setting the weapon into Balthor's hand, the large barbarian dropped onto a heap of firecat skins with an audible sigh.

"If ye were powerless to save your friend," said Balthor as he probed the huge hole in the wall with his short fingers, "then whoever killed him musta been a god, or .. ." Balthor paused a moment to look around the darkening room, "... a planes-walker."

"This is what killed Chainer," said Kamahl as he pulled his sword out once again and held it up for Balthor to see the pommel. "The Mirari. The artifact I've been searching for. The magical orb that seems to yield both ultimate power and ultimate destruction. In the end, Chainer couldn't control it, and it killed him.

Now I must see if I am powerful enough to control it."

Balthor marveled at the glistening orb. For a time he didn't speak, hardly breathed, just stared into the depths of the orb's mirrored surface.

"Balthor," Kamahl called. "Balthor!"

Balthor shook his head, closed his eyes, and after a moment opened his eyes and looked once again at his pupil.

"What did you see, my master?" asked Kamahl.

"I was atop Fiers mountain in a glorious battle, fighting beside the Lady herself," said the dwarf. "I was invincible, like no power on Dominaria could dare face me. I felt like I could make it all happen if only I had the power of this here orb in my hands."

"Everyone sees something different, some personal dream or desire," said Kamahl. "But desire and power without control leads to destruction. You taught me that, Balthor. Now I have seen the truth of your words in this orb . . . this artifact that I must learn to control."

"Aye. And I will help ye. You're a strong man, Kamahl. Ye proved that to me again tonight. Togetherwe'll control this here orb and bring honor and glory to the village." Balthor leaned down and pulled a firecat fur up over the large barbarian. "Now, get some sleep. Remember, fatigue is the thief of control. We'll start your training anew in the morning."

Although neither man got a full night's sleep, Balthor and Kamahl were out running through the mountain passes before the sun's light hit the village. By the time the sun was straight above them, the odd looking duo had covered a dozen miles of rough, rocky passes, mostly in silence.

"Just like the old days, eh Kamahl?" huffed Balthor, who had to pump his legs twice as fast as the much larger barbarian, yet never fell behind.

"Yes," replied Kamahl easily, not even breaking a sweat despite the hours of exercise and the steep angle of the path. "It's good to feel the chill, Pardic winds. You wouldn't believe the stench of the city. Too many people and never enough air to breathe. My head and lungs both feel cleansed."

"Good. Now ... we can ... get... to work," gasped Balthor between breaths. Sweat streamed down the dwarf's long red beard, matting it against his neck and shoulders.

Kamahl came to a halt, as much to give his mentor a break as to ask his question. "What did you have in mind, Balthor?" he asked after a moment, a certain amount of dread creeping into his voice. Kamahl didn't fear any training regimen his old master could dream up, although one or two so-called exercises had nearly killed him as a boy. No. Up until now, Kamahl had been able to avoid contact with other barbarians-contact that would ultimately, he feared, lead to challenges over the Mirari.

"Shall we start with a firecat hunt?" he asked, hopefully.

"Nah. Don't be daft, boy," spat Balthor. "That's just tracking and shooting bolts. Ye need to work the body and mind together if you're to master your strengths and your fears."

Kamahl knew what was coming next and loathed the thought of using his power so close to the village.

"Ye need to face the Judgment."

The Judgment. The barbarians called it Balthor's Judgment. The weapon's master had set it up as the ultimate test of power when he first began training barbarian warrior mages shortly after the end of the Phyrexian war. Over the course of several generations, the Judgment had become a rite of passage for the proud warrior race. Now no barbarian could offer or accept a challenge until he had first passed Balthor's Judgment.

"I mastered your little obstacle course years ago," countered Kamahl, still trying to steer his training away from the village. "And I think that my experiences in the pits have taught me a thing or two about strength and control."

"Aye. Ye have learned a few tricks that 1 never taught ye," admitted Balthor as he started off down the mountain pass toward the village. "But those won't help ye pass through me 'little obstacle course.' And if ye think any two trips through the Judgment are ever the same, ye need more training than I thought," he yelled over his shoulder.

The Judgment was part obstacle course and part magical battle. The apprentice had to make his way through a maze of deadly obstacles while fending off attacks by seasoned Pardic mages. As he knelt at the beginning of the course, mentally preparing for the challenges to come, Kamahl toyed with the idea of running the Judgment without his sword to avoid any undue complications from the Mirari. But Balthor was right. This would be a good test of his control and would be meaningless without the extra power that the Mirari provided him.

When Balthor's horn sounded, the barbarian mage unsheathed his sword and tossed open the gate to the course. The first section looked the same. He must navigate a series of obstacles while evading the attacks of a mage who would have the advantage of higher ground. Kamahl ran toward the twelve-foot-high wall in front of him, jumped and grabbed the top, and easily hoisted his large frame up and over the wall. He would have liked to stay on top and scan for his adversary, but he knew that would leave him too open. Better to force the mage to hit a moving target and show Kamahl which direction he should guard against.

As he hit the ground on the other side and began moving toward a stone tunnel, Kamahl heard the unmistakable shrieking whistle of an incoming missile. With no time to spot the attack, Kamahl sprinted forward and dived into the tunnel just as the fireball exploded on the ground behind him. A wave of flames and heat rolled through the tunnel, singing the barbarian's back and legs.

That's one for me, thought Kamahl. But now he was trapped. As soon as he showed himself on the other side of the tunnel, he'd be lit up like a firecat.

"Time for a diversion," said the pit veteran. Crouching on one knee in the low tunnel, Kamahl pulled his sword in front of him, tip down, and looked through the Mirari as he began his spell. Out the other side ofthe Mirari leaped a simple Pardic firecat, its mane a wreath of flames.

The flaming cat bounded out the far side of the stone tunnel, smoke ringlets rising from the dirt as each paw slapped the ground. Kamahl scanned the course for the telltale signs of magic. He saw the bolt of flame coming at his decoy almost before it left the mage's hands. Rolling out of the tunnel into a standing position, Kamahl whipped his sword around and flung a lightning beam from its tip at the stone tower where the first Judgment mage stood.

Just after the flame bolt incinerated Kamahl's diversionary firecat, his beam of crackling lightning slammed into the base of the tower. The beam tore a huge hole through the stone structure, toppling it and sending the short, screaming, red-haired mage flying into the dirt outside the course. Never looking back, Kamahl turned and dashed through the rest of the first section before Balthor could recover.

As he vaulted over the last low wall, Kamahl could see the gate to the second section off to the left.

This was different from his last time through the Judgment. During that run he had exited the obstacle course to the right. Kamahl didn't know what to expect, so he approached the gate with caution.

It seemed simple enough-an open slope rising up the face of the mountain, strewn with giant boulders to obstruct vision.

"Apparently, the next mage hides somewhere within this maze of rocks," mused Kamahl. "A foolish man would run from rock to rock seeking cover from his assailant. 1 shall pick and choose my route more carefully."

But when the huge barbarian stepped into the field of rocks, he quickly and forcefully learned the error of his assumptions. A stream of lightning bolts cascaded down through the rock maze, bouncing from boulder to boulder like the metal balls in a peg game Chainer had once shown him. Lightning soon filled the entire field, slamming Kamahl in the chest and knocking him into the nearest boulder, where the magnetic web of electricity held him tight.

Hardly able to draw a breath for the pain pounding in his chest, Kamahl reached deep inside himself to center his mind and body and find the strength to lift his sword up over his head. With lightning dancing across his biceps, the barbarian's massive forearms bulged as he drove the blade deep into the slab of granite behind him. When the blade entered the rock, the electricity coursing over and through the barbarian's body flowed through his arms, across the Mirari, and down through the blade into huge rock.

Free from the magnetic forces that had held him captive, Kamahl dived to the ground just as the boulder exploded behind him, disintegrating into a fine dust that fell like snow over the barbarian's prone body. With his ears ringing and blood trickling down his neck from his mouth and nose, Kamahl pulled himself back to his feet and looked for his sword. Hearing the unmistakable crackling sound of another lightning waterfall charging down the field of boulders, Kamahl grabbed his sword from the ground and lurched up the hill to take the place of the destroyed boulder.

As the lightning cascade came toward him, Kamahl cast a spell on his sword and held it in both hands, pommel up, in front of him. Acting like a lightning rod, the sword drew power into itself from the electricity flowing down the field. When the Mirari glowed bright white, Kamahl spoke the words for a second spell and plunged the sword into the ground. The electricity from the cascade flowed through the sword into the ground and reversed direction back up the slope, making the ground tremble as the energy coursed through it.

When the redirected current hit the first boulder, a large crack formed and spread to the top of the large slab, branching over and over again as it grew until the entire surface was covered in a web of cracks, and the boulder fell into a pile of rubble. The trembling current continued on and pulverized boulder after boulder until at last the entire field was strewn in mounds of pebbles and rocks.

Kamahl pulled his sword out of the ground and pointed it at the mage he could now see standing at the top of the hill. Although he could not see die man's face well enough to even identify him, Kamahl was certain his display of power had cowed his opponent.

"Although you have drawn first blood, you have lost this round my worthy opponent!" shouted the dirty, bloody barbarian. "Yield the field with honor or face the wrath of my blade."

After only a moment of looking at the rubble caused by the man who by all rights should have been unconscious on the ground, the distant mage bowed low and walked off the top of the hill. Kamahl dusted himself off and wiped the blood from his face before once again walking slowly and deliberately up the hill to face the next challenge.

At the top of the hill, a path wound on up the mountain to a crevasse spanned by a swaying bridge.

This must be the third test, thought Kamahl, as he peered across the long rope-and-plank bridge, searching for signs of the mage who would surely battle him as he tried to cross. Kamahl longed for Emerald, the sure-footed gecko he'd ridden from the Krosan forest to the sea while chasing Laquatas.Instead, Kamahl borrowed the spell that had kept him in Emerald's saddle even when upside down.

Directing the spell at his feet, Kamahl made the soles of his boots as sticky as if they were covered in thick tree sap, then began moving across the bridge slowly as his boots stuck fast to the planks and had to be pulled free for each step.

As expected, Kamahl came under attack halfway across the chasm. From out of the sun, a huge hawk, easily the size of wolf, dived at the barbarian's face. Slamming his raised boot down to cement his footing on the bridge, Kamahl pulled out his sword and shot a burst of flame at the summoned bird, which dropped out of site, a blackened mass of feathers.

Two steps later, two more hawks dived at the barbarian. Although he blasted one, the second flew through the fire, past the charred remains of its brother, and opened up a long gash on Kamahl's shoulder before flying back up into the glare of the sun. Struggling to move as fast as possible before any more monstrous hawks could attack, Kamahl pulled hard on his sticky boots and made five more steps on his trek toward the chasm wall before the next attack.

This time, three more hawks joined the one that still had Kamahl's blood dripping from its claws.

"Fiers's blood!" raged the barbarian. "They're coming in too fast! I need to even the odds."

With that, Kamahl swept his sword in a circle over his head while muttering a few magical words. A moment later, red-hot coals began spewing from the tip of his sword, flying up into the air and falling like rain all around the frustrated barbarian, burning everything they touched.

Kamahl was happy to see the smoldering hulks of four birds plummet beneath the bridge. He was less happy to see the bridge ropes smoking and bursting into flames in several places from the heat of the coals that had fallen on them. Dispelling the enchantment on his boots, Kamahl sprinted toward the other side of the chasm, hoping to reach the end of the bridge before the ropes burned through.

Still several long strides from the edge of the cliff, Kamahl felt the bridge lurch under his feet as the ropes snapped behind him. As he dived forward toward safety, the final rope snapped and the bridge gave way beneath the barbarian. Coming up short on his final lunge, Kamahl's hands missed the edge of the cliff, and he began to fall. He jammed his sword into the cliff face, stopping his plunge, and hung there for a moment swinging underneath the lip of the chasm.

Using his momentum, Kamahl swung himself up and over the edge of the cliff landing roughly on his knees. Pulling his sword free, he popped to his feet, and whirled around to face his opponent.

"Your minions are vanquished!" he yelled at the mountain. "Do you dare face my blade?"

"As always," came the lilting, yet stern reply from the female warrior who stepped out from behind a rocky outcropping. When Kamahl saw the tall, lanky barbarian, her thick red hair tied into a bun around two ornate, iron hair pins, he dropped his sword tip down to the ground and stared. "As always."

Fortunately, the tension of the moment was broken by the unmistakable shouts of a very angry dwarf.

"That's enough!" yelled Balthor as he came down the path behind the female mage. "This Judgment is over. You've destroyed three whole sections of me course, ye daft barbarian. Ye call that control?

Tomorrow we try meditation."

As Balthor stepped in between the two barbarians, he looked up at their faces and said, "What are you two staring at?"

"Well met, Jeska," said Kamahl.

"Well met, Brother," said Jeska.

"I have much to tell you," they said together.

CHAPTER 5.

Even Treal's constant doting could not ease the tension Laquatas felt over having to once again deal with the foul dementia summoner, Braids. In fact, the stress was causing the mer's control over the simple Order soldier to slip, so he sent the sergeant out to guard the door to his quarters for the day. The problem was that Braids was so out of touch with the world from living in her own visions that he could not magically control or deceive her. But she had once held the Mirari-stolen it from Laquatas as Aboshan's palace fell into ruin in the northern seas-and that could be the key to controlling her now.

As the sun rose to its pinnacle in the sky, Laquatas's mirror began to buzz.

"Right on time," said the mer. "Is everything ready?" asked the ambassador into the mirror.

"Yes sire," came Talbot's response.

"Then show me the room, so that I may make my entrance." Laquatas watched as the scene in the mirror slowly spun around the small, dark room. A table with three chairs, walls lined with bookshelves, a couple braziers giving off precious little light but a great deal of smoke. Braids not yet in the room."Perfect. Now, hold the mirror, so I can see the chair beside you."

Laquatas sat in his own chair and placed the mirror on the table in front of him. He then raised both hands over his head, palms toward the ceiling. As he slowly lowered his arms, Laquatas turned his palms over to face the floor, closed his eyes, and concentrated.

When the ambassador opened his eyes, he was sitting next to Talbot in the dark, smoky room. He looked at Talbot who was about to put his mirror away.

"Keep the link open, Talbot. I need it to maintain this projection. Now, what is keeping that infernal dementia summoner?"

"She should be here momentarily, my lord," reassured Talbot. "I was told we would meet precisely at noon."

"1 doubt the crazy witch even knows whether it's day or night, let alone what time it is," replied the testy mer. We could be in for a long wait. Still, my body should be safe with Burke nearby and that idiot guard at the door."

Leaning his projection in toward Talbot, Laquatas whispered through his simulacrum at his assistant.

"When she does arrive, let me speak. This will be delicate. Do not allow any hint of disbelief to cross your features. I may not be entirely truthful with her today, and I don't want her reading my lies in your reactions."

"Why do we whisper, my lord?" asked Talbot.

"I do not trust any of these Cabal mages," replied Laquatas, "least of all Braids or the First. They say he can scry anywhere on Otaria, and right now, if I were the First, I would be scrying this room. Just because he doesn't want to speak to us doesn't mean he doesn't want to hear what we have to say."

At that moment, the door opened, and in walked Braids, backward. "Stay there, all of you!" she yelled through the door. "No, you can't come in with me, you'll scare the poor merfolk. No. Stay. Good boys."

Laquatas, who had a fine view through the door, could see nothing on the other side except a bare hallway.

"To whom do you speak, my fine friend?" he asked as Braids finally closed the door, continuing to back into the room until she reached the table.

"Just my pets," she replied as she spun around and sat down, all in one fluid movement.

"Dementia pets?" asked the mer.

"But of course," said Braids, smiling. "What other kind are there? They provide me with such fun, just as your pet did when we first met at that party so long ago. But I forgot, you lost that pet, didn't you. I'm so terribly sorry to bring up such a sad memory."

"Not to worry, dear lady," said Laquatas smiling through bared teeth. "Your friend Chainer provided me with a new pet, and I am quite happy with it."

"Wonderful! Perhaps our pets could play together some time."

"I would like that," replied Laquatas, glancing at Talbot and shrugging. "Now, perhaps we could get down to business."

"Yes," said Braids, suddenly staring at a point in space somewhere in between Talbot and Laquatas's image. "Your associate here said you had a proposition for the First."

Laquatas turned his head, trying to determine what Braids was staring at, and then turned back to the crazy dementia summoner, smiled broadly, and began his well-rehearsed presentation.

"I come to you today with a proposition that will make you and the Cabal a great deal of money and cement the relationship between our two peoples for decades to come. I speak, of course, about the Mirari-"

"Ah, yes. The Mirari," interrupted Braids. "Chainer found that originally, did you know that? I miss him."

"Yes. Well," began Laquatas again, "when good old Chainer lost the Mirari, it ended up in the hands of that barbaric Pardic warrior, Kamahl. The orb is now lost in the mountains where it can be of no use to anyone. I propose to help you retrieve the Mirari and bring it back to the pits where it belongs."

Laquatas paused for dramatic effect but realized the old witch was still staring into space, so he continued. "Think of what you can do with the Mirari in your hands. Think of the revenue the orb can bring in as a new wave of jacks descends upon Aphetto. All of them will be looking for a chance at the greatest power in all Otaria. All will be spending time in Cabal inns, taverns, and gambling houses. All will be fighting in the pits for the benefit of the huge crowds who not only pay to get in but lose money to the house. All that power for you and the Cabal."

"Did you know that you're not truly here in this room?" asked Braids, finally looking at the image ofLaquatas. "In fact, I believe you are in the city of our enemies!"

"Yes, my dear lady," replied the exasperated mer. Thinking quickly, Laquatas found a plausible lie that tied directly into his proposal. "I have projected myself here through the mirror on this table for I am at the moment in the Citadel, attempting to broker a peace between the Order and the Cabal. This is the kind of service you can expect from a broader relationship with my mer empire. I have certain influences in the Order, and I can assure you that once I am back in power, the Order will no longer be a problem for the Cabal."

"Yes, the Order is tiresome," said Braids, now staring at the mirror. "Why can't they be more fun, like you, my old friend. Say, where is your pet? I'd like a crack at him."