Kamahl prowled around the flame enclosure, testing it here and there with his spells, trying to find a weak point, but Thurmon had considerable power, and without the Mirari adding to his sword's power, Kamahl didn't think he could get through the wall.

Kamahl was worried about expending too much time and energy on this opponent when he knew he had two more battles yet to fight, but he saw no other way to win except to use the Mirari. Then Kamahl remembered the protective aura the orb had given him in his battle against Murk. He could use that to get inside the defensive ring and finish the battle. But he knew Thurmon must be listening to him move around the arena and would unleash some spell on him as soon as he walked through the barrier. Thurmon's power would get through Kamahl's Mirari-enhanced defenses where Murk's had failed.

What he needed was a diversion. Kamahl circled Thurmon's flame circle once more, sending a spell at the wall periodically while he looked for rocks. Taking an armload of fist-sized chunks of old walls and barriers back to the center of the arena, Kamahl began charging the rocks with mana and muttering spells under his breath.The crowd was hushed, and Kamahl paid them no heed, concentrating on his task and sending the odd spell at the wall to keep Thurmon thinking that he was still trying to beat down the warrior's defenses. After charging each rock, Kamahl set it down in the dirt, fiddled with the placement for a moment, then moved a few feet and began again.

Finally, the barbarian had arranged eight mana-charged rocks in a pattern on one side of Thurmon's circle. He sent one last attack toward the wall and moved slowly and quietly away from the rocks. A moment later, the first rock grew red-hot and shot a beam of molten fire at Thurmon's defensive wall.

Kamahl continued moving around the circle as another and another rock unleashed its energy in flames, lightning, and streams of lava at Thurmon's wall.

Once behind Thurmon, hoping he had the other mage's attention fully on the fireballs and lava storms hitting him from the front, Kamahl encased himself in the blue-white shield and rushed through the wall of fire. The crowd couldn't see what happened inside, but moments later the firewall dissipated, and Kamahl stood over an unconscious Thurmon. The large barbarian's brassy skin was burnt raw, and his hair smoked from running through the fierce flames, but he was victorious nonetheless.

Balthor came up beside his student, who reeked of burnt flesh and coughed as he breathed, sending clouds of smoke and ash up into the air from his face, hands, hair, and lungs. Sweat streaked down the warrior's face and glistened on his raw, red skin, but he was smiling.

"Are ye all right, me boy?" asked the dwarf.

"I can heal when it's over," replied Kamahl.

"That's not what I meant," said Balthor.

Kamahl looked down at his mentor and smiled. "I am in control, Balthor. My wits and my sword will win the day, not the power of the Mirari."

"Fine. Then I will call the next battle," replied Balthor.

Brue began with a ferocious barrage of spells. He tossed a lightning bolt, then a lava jet at the large barbarian as soon as the battle began. Kamahl held his sword out in front of him to deflect the attacks, but the force of the lightning bolt nearly ripped the gleaming blade out of his hand, leaving him open to the lava jet as the sword tipped toward the ground.

Kamahl tried to follow his sword down to the side to evade the spell, but caught the brunt of the jet on his left shoulder, which twirled him around and slammed him to the ground. Kamahl glanced down at his arm. Puss and blood oozed from the smoldering wound. When he looked back, he could see the barrage had not ended. A thunder hammer was coming at him, spinning end over end, trailing a stream of sparks and smoke.

Kamahl pushed himself off the ground, doing a back flip to retreat from the incoming attack. Breaking into a run when he landed, the barbarian quickly headed for a comer of the arena.

As the next attack came, though, Kamahl dived to the side, did a somersault, and popped back up to his feet, heading in a different direction.

Kamahl continued to run, keeping an eye on Brue and swerving back and forth to keep the mage guessing where he was headed. As soon as Kamahl saw an attack coming he would dive to the ground and change directions, heading off in what he hoped looked like a random direction.

But there was a method to the barbarian's mad charge. Each turn brought him closer to the hammering mage, shortening the distance between Brue and Kamahl's deadly sword.

As he drew near, Kamahl could see sweat dripping off Brue's chin from the heated air all around him.

He could see the young mage strain to pour more and more power into his attacks, and the explosions grew larger and larger. He could see the frustration and fear in Brue's eyes as all of his firepower did nothing more than create holes behind Kamahl. He could see the smaller mage's arms slowly drop lower and lower with each and every bolt as Kamahl inched closer and closer.

Just as Kamahl was about to charge at the young mage, Brue dropped his arms to his sides, totally exhausted. The walls of the arena were scorched, charred, and cracked from the heat and concussions of his spells, but Kamahl still stood, his large sword poised to strike. The wound on his shoulder had stopped oozing, but the large barbarian heaved from the exertion and pain of the tiring battle.

"You have nothing left, Brue," Kamahl stated after drawing a deep breath to calm himself a little.

"Yield the field of battle to me."

"I yield," said Brue with his last bit of strength, and he fainted.

Standing over Brue's still form, Kamahl could see Balthor heading his way. He knew what the dwarf would say, but he wanted to finish the battles now.

Looking past the dwarf, he scanned the crowd and yelled,"Talon! 1 have defeated all of your warriors. Face me now or declare me the winner!"

Kamahl could see Balthor open his mouth and raise his hand to object, but from across the arena came another voice.

"I will face you, Kamahl," said Talon, standing at the entrance, his two-headed axe held in front of him in both hands.

Talon was taller than Kamahl and nearly as broad across the chest. His blond hair, which normally flowed down over his shoulders, was pulled back behind him and wrapped with a thick bronze wire tight against his head. He looked much like the images of Fiers, the god of fire, which graced barbarian temple walls.

"We both knew it would come to this, didn't we, Brother?" said Talon as he slowly advanced on Kamahl, passing his axe effortlessly back and forth from hand to hand in an hypnotic pattern.

"I knew!" spat Kamahl, "and yet I had to fight twenty men to reach you. Were they also your brothers or merely fodder in your war against me?"

As Kamahl watched Balthor shake his head and move back toward the wall, he heard scratching noises behind him. Kamahl whirled around, ready to throw a lightning bolt, but it was just Tybiel and the recovered Joha pulling Brue back toward the rear entrance.

"Get him out of here!" roared the anxious barbarian. "This battle is between Talon and me. There will be no interference by his followers!"

"A little jumpy aren't you, Kamahl?" asked Talon. "Perhaps we should fight tomorrow. I wouldn't want to take advantage of your fatigue."

"You wouldn't, eh?" asked Kamahl, turning back to his adversary, but keeping an eye on Tybiel and Joha until they left the arena. "Then what were you doing this week? Studying me? Looking for weak spots? Tiring me out?"

With that, Kamahl leveled the tip of his sword at Talon, which was white hot from the two previous battles, and let loose a streak of blue lightning that flew at the golden-haired barbarian.

Talon dived into a forward roll underneath the wave of lightning that crackled over his head, but as he came to his feet again, the trailing end of the wave caught the barbarian in the shoulder and slammed him back to the ground.

Kamahl moved in on his fallen foe, but Talon was quick. The taller barbarian used the momentum from the blow of the lightning to twist his body on the ground and pop up to his knees. From there, Talon jumped up and kicked his legs up over his head, landing on his feet, axe at the ready, facing Kamahl.

"Yes, 1 watched you this week, Kamahl," said Talon as he sidestepped around his advancing opponent. "You're strong but impulsive. You forge ahead when an opening presents itself and use deception when that fails. I studied your moves, and 1 am prepared to defeat you. Where is the dishonor in that?"

"I say you orchestrated this entire tournament to your advantage, Talon," said Kamahl. "You sent your troops in one at a time to give you and you alone a chance to beat me. That is your dishonor. You call the barbarians your brothers, yet you use them like so much cordwood in the hearth."

Talon glanced at the crowd at the mention of the Pardic warriors, and Kamahl rushed forward to attack. He swiped his sword down and across as he moved through, giving the taller barbarian nowhere to dodge but straight back.

Talon seemed to have anticipated Kamahl's move, for he quickly sidestepped just as Kamahl charged.

From there, Talon had enough room to feint back and then step in and bring the handle of his axe up inside Kamahl's reach. As Kamahl moved through, Talon smacked the shorter barbarian in the chin with all the force he could muster.

Any other warrior would have been laid flat on his back, but Kamahl took the hit and continued his charge, letting the force of the blow to his chin turn the rest of his body around, as he swung his sword back in a swift arc toward Talon's chest.

With the deadly blade rushing back at him, Talon turned his hands over on the haft of his axe, spinning the twin heads around and down on Kamahl's white-hot blade. As the weapons collided, Kamahl's blade diverted down and away from Talon's chest, but not before it cut halfway to the center of one of the axe heads.

Talon backpedaled several paces before taking up his wary, sidestep dance again. Looking at the four-inch gash in the blade of his axe, Talon let out a low whistle.

"If I have worked this tournament to my advantage," he said to Kamahl, who was' rubbing his chin, "don't you think that makes me the better leader? All of the champions gladly followed me this week. We knew we had but one chance of defeating you, so we all worked together to give me that chance."

"So you admit it!" roared Kamahl. "You all conspired against me. Me! The chosen leader of the tribes.Me! The wielder of the Mirari!" Kamahl pointed his sword at Talon again. But instead of a lightning wave, he unleashed a huge boulder of lava and fire that rolled straight and fast toward the blond barbarian.

With only a moment to react, Talon slammed the haft of his battle-axe down into the ground and cast a spell, spraying lightning out of each axe head. As the twin sheets of lightning arced out, they intertwined into a network that curved forward and down into the ground.

When the lava ball hit the lightning net, the ramp created by the curving intertwined bolts of electricity sent the rolling sphere up into the air and back toward Kamahl. But Kamahl was already on the move, charging into battle right behind his spell. Skirting around the lightning net to reach his foe, Kamahl found Talon at the ready, axes swinging in their hypnotic pattern from arm to arm.

Trying to time his attack with the downswing in Talon's axe dance, Kamahl uttered a word that extended his blade and turned it into a blue-white rod of pure lightning. Then, stepping in, he swung with every ounce of his strength straight over his head and down at the tall barbarian.

Talon abruptly changed the rhythm of his axe dance and whipped the weapon up over his head to deflect the incoming attack again. At the same time, the dexterous warrior twisted his body back and to the side to move out from under the blow.

The lightning blade arced down, catching the double axe at the juncture between the two heads. When the weapons collided, the area around the two barbarians exploded in light as a white ball of energy expanded out twenty feet and blinded the spectators for a moment.

When the ball of light dimmed, all could see Kamahl standing over the supine form of Talon. His strong right arm-cut off at the shoulder-lay next to his broken axe near the taller barbarian's hip. Kamahl had driven his blade straight through the axe and down into Talon's body. Only the taller warrior's quick reflexes had kept him alive, for had he not dodged at the last moment, more than his arm would have been severed by the blow.

Mustering strength that none of the tribesmen thought possible, Talon pushed himself up with his one hand and looked up at Kamahl.

"Look at yourself, Kamahl. Joha nearly gave his life for defying you."

The fallen barbarian took a moment to take a few shallow breaths, looked down at his oozing shoulder, burnt black from the heat of the lightning sword, then continued, grimacing at every word.

"Am I to be next. . . ? You can't control your power or your battle rage . . . old friend. How can you expect to lead . . . the tribes? Yield the field to me . . . and allow me to lead you and the tribes against our common enemies. Stand at my side, Brother . . . don't stand against me."

"Never!" cried Kamahl, his eyes glazed over, and his face flushed with blood lust. Kamahl raised his sword, which still rippled with cascading lightning, up over his head, and swung it down toward his helpless foe.

Before the weapon could strike, a dark form rushed into Kamahl from the side, knocking the legs out from under the large barbarian and bringing him down in a heap on the ground next to his stunned mentor, who had also fallen from the impact. Balthor then jumped on top of his large student.

"Stop this now!" yelled the tough, old dwarf.

Getting no resistance from Kamahl, Balthor stood on the barbarian's chest. "This tournament is finished," yelled the dwarf from atop his living podium. "Talon is now unconscious, so I declare Kamahl the victor of this battle and the champion of the tribes. The victory celebration will commence at sundown."

As Balthor finished, the hushed crowd erupted in noise. Many warriors cheered Kamahl's victory, but many others booed the dwarf's proclamation and jeered at Kamahl. Finally Kamahl saw Joha jump into the arena and walk toward Talon. The crowd hushed again as Joha spoke.

"I know I speak for the Elite Eight and for many of the champions gathered here," began the scarred warrior, "when 1 say that we will not follow anyone as brutal, ruthless, and callous about honor as Kamahl.

With the full support of the Elite Eight, I declare Talon to be the victor and the rightful leader of the tribes.

Who is with us? Who will follow Talon?"

Many of the warriors began cheering and chanting Talon's name at the proclamation until Kamahl pushed Balthor off his chest, rose to his feet, and stared down the crowd.

"Tribesmen," he began, calm again even in the face of what he saw as treason. "I am the rightful leader. By trial of battle I have claimed the title. Any who would follow Talon are turning their backs on the honor of the challenge battle. Follow me, and I will lead the tribes to greatness. Follow me, and all in Otaria will know that we are the fiercest and most powerful warriors in the land. Follow Talon, and you will surely divide the tribes into a civil war that will tear us apart and leave us weak before our enemies."

An equally loud cheer erupted at Kamahl's words, but the rest of the Elite Eight quietly extracted themselves from the crowd and filed onto the field to surround Talon. While the finest warriors in themountains picked up their fallen comrade and his sundered weapon, Joha turned back to Kamahl.

"If civil war is what you want, then that is what we shall give you."

With that, Joha turned and led the Eight out of the arena. "Any who would follow the leadership of Talon, follow him now," he yelled at the warriors still standing at the edge of the field.

Fifty warriors left the walls. At the entrance to Balthor's Judgment, Joha turned one last time to look across the field at Kamahl.

"We give you one week to renounce your claim and yield to Talon's leadership. If not, there will be war. It is your choice, Kamahl!"

CHAPTER 10.

Braids and her snakes headed across the moonlit plains, following Kamahl's trail from the village toward the mountains. Leer carried Braids on his back, so she could sleep. Neither the extra weight nor the constant buzzing of the black cloud of dementia space that swirled around the mage's head seemed to bother the snake-headed assassin as he led the squad silently across the continent.

"So the water mage told the truth," said Leer in the morning as Braids rode next to him on a rhino-headed bull. "At least part of the truth," said Braids. "Which is what worries me. That one is even more dangerous when he uses the truth." "I do not understand," said Leer.

"Neither do I most of the time," replied Braids. "But you can be sure that if Laquatas is telling the truth about anything, it's only to mask a larger deception. I would be happier if we knew more about his dealings with the Order."

"We could ask those guards we saw last night."

"Guards? What guards?" asked Braids, pulling back on the reins, which had little effect on the stubborn beast.

Leer came up next to Braids's mount, grabbed its horn in one hand as he ran beside it, and slowly twisted the beast's head down and to the side until it slowed to a halt.

"We came upon the camp of an Order patrol while you slept last night, mistress," he told Braids.

"Did you take care of them?" asked the summoner.

"They did not notice us," replied Leer. "We slipped past and continued on. You told us not to stop for any reason."

"So I did," said Braids as she tried, unsuccessfully, to turn her mount around. "So I did. Blast this beast!"

With lightning reflexes, Leer struck out at the rhino head, driving his fist deep into the beast's skull. As the summoned creature fell dead, it dissipated into a roiling black dementia cloud that settled around Braids as she landed hard on the ground.

"You told me to blast the beast," explained Leer as he helped Braids back to her feet.

"I must learn to watch what 1 say around you," said Braids. "Now, where was this Order patrol?"

"Back several hours," said Leer. "They will be heading north, I believe."

"Take the boys, find that patrol, and bring the leader back to me," said Braids. "I need to rest. This constant pace tires me."

"Yes, mistress," replied Leer, bowing to Braids. "Nod, Barrel, Soot, Grim, come with me. We have work to do."

"And boys," said Braids to the departing snakemen. "Don't leave any witnesses."

"We never do," said Leer.

A few hours later, the assassins returned with a single unconscious human guard.

"Good, you kept him alive for me," said Braids. "Let's have some fun, eh, boys?"

The guard woke up, spread-eagled on the ground, with the boys steadily pulling each of his limbs in a different direction. Leer held the man's head, applying pressure to his temples to prevent any movement.

Braids kneeled on the guard's chest, holding her hand, like a claw, over his face. From her palm hung a thin strand of sticky filament with a bloated, black and red spider dangling at the end, just inches above the man's mouth. "She's quite pregnant, you know," said Braids, "and they love to lay their eggs in dark, warm, wet holes. Now, tell me, what do you know about the Order's plans for the Mirari?"