“This is the heart of my realm. It is from here I can reach out to all other places, to erect the walls that keep the others out. When I walk within a realm and assume mortal form I am blind and know not what my enemies plot. Even in the brief instant I was away, returning to the place I had been born to take my tribute, a plane of existence was blocked to me and now I must war to win it back as I do now, even as we talk.”
The shadow’s voice was dark and filled with weariness, so that Garth almost felt a moment of pity, if one could pity the being that had taken all that he had once loved.
Garth started to laugh, the sound of it strange upon the dark and barren plains. He stood up and, turning, looked around.
“I have hated you my entire life,” Garth said. “You were once Grand Master, and had been for well nigh unto a millennium. And then you came to fear death and you desired the power of the infinite. You perverted all that the Houses had once been and the purpose of the mana. You used its strength to pierce the curtain between worlds so that you could walk as a demigod and thus be immortal. And now this is your realm!”
Laughing, he pointed out at the murky darkness.
The shadow stood up.
“I found it amusing to spare you for a moment. Your father was once my friend and thus I granted a boon to you. I am no longer amused.”
“Think on that. There was once a time when my father, a mere mortal, thought so much of you that he nearly died to save you from an assassin. He carried the marks of that poisoned dagger until the day he died. You know, there was once a time when such as my father loved you and called you friend. When a woman loved you with such aching intensity that her heart was shattered, and now she is nothing but bitterness and hate. You gave all that up, all of it. For this.” And he pointed out across the dark plain.
Garth’s voice tightened with emotion.
“My father trusted and believed in you until he burned to death, the last of his power stripped by your groveling servant, Zarel, to be used in your unholy quest. You betrayed him and now this is your reward. You are so terrified of losing what you now control that you exile yourself to this dark world, unable to enjoy even the pleasures of a beggar-the sun in one’s face, the laughter of children, the taste of wine or even of simple bread.”
“You know nothing,” the shadow hissed. “Your father could have been the Grand Master after I was gone and after him it could have been you. It was his arrogance that destroyed him and cursed you to half blindness.”
“He chose death in preference to slavery.”
“Enough of this,” the shadow whispered. “Your value as a diversion is at an end. I was half thinking of actually sparing you. A sentimental gesture for a universe that is pitiless. I don’t think that will happen now.”
“Then go ahead,” Garth said quietly.
The shadow started to rear up and extended its arms.
Garth smiled and slowly raised his arms as well.
The shadow hesitated and then laughed.
“You never did answer what I first wanted to know. You undoubtedly had figured it out that I killed the winners of the Festival so that they would not one day be a threat. So why did you come forward and win?”
“Because,” Garth said evenly, “I think I can beat you as well.”
The shadow laughed.
“So you will be like me. You certainly had good training. You left your servant to die, and you murdered a woman who loved you for the chance.”
“You would have killed her in turn,” Garth said coldly. “I would like to think that I saved her.”
“You sound like a philosopher with that logic. You still killed her.”
With an angry cry Garth raised his hand to strike.
The shadow, laughing easily, dodged the fireball.
“If that is all you can start with, this will be boring. Bid my greetings to your father.”
Garth felt a rushing of wind, and the air around him raced inward. He tried to breathe and, doubling over, gasped and started to choke in a green cloud of sulfurous smoke.
Hammen, his arms around Varena’s shoulders, struggled to remove her body while Zarel and all the others were diverted by the presence of the Walker. Varena’s body servant moved feebly, shaking with tears.
“Shut up, girl, and help me,” Hammen snapped.
“Keep your filthy hands off of her,” the girl replied. “Let her rest.”
“Damn it all, girl, I’m trying to save her before the cord of her spirit is severed, now help me.”
The girl looked over at him wide-eyed, unable to move.
“Damn all women,” Hammen whispered under his breath, tempted to simply let the body drop and beat a hasty retreat before it was too late.
He continued, however, to struggle with the body, slowly dragging it away. Though he did not want to, he finally looked up and saw the Walker moving up to stand before Garth.
Damn it, no.
He lowered Varena to the ground and started to stand up. The Walker started to raise his hands.
Torn between loyalties, he finally decided. Taking the amulet and mana that Garth had given him, he placed the amulet upon Varena’s brow. Drawing on the mana he called to her spirit, sensing that none but the slenderest of threads still linked it to her body. The spirit, to his surprise, struggled against him, attempting to break free and break the cord to its mortal form, holding him to his task so that he had to reach outward with all his strength to seize hold of her and pull her, struggling, back into her body.
Varena’s servant gasped with astonishment when a groan escaped from her mistress. A dark cloud suddenly blocked out the sun and Hammen looked up at the swirling storm rising heavenward. He looked over fiercely at the girl.
“Keep the amulet on her forehead!”
Reaching down with a dagger, he cut Varena’s satchel free and stood up, sensing the powers she controlled.
He looked over his shoulder and saw a knot of Orange fighters approaching and motioned for them to take the body.
He stood up and pointed.
“Zarel, you bastard!”
His voice carried across the arena and the mob, which had been watching the ascension of the Walker, stirred and fell silent at Hammen’s challenging cry.
Zarel looked over at Hammen and started to raise his hands.
“You bastard. The games are a hoax! You know, and the House Masters know, that the winner is not taken to be a servant of the Walker. The winner is taken to be murdered by him. And you are his accomplice!”
Screaming with rage, Zarel pointed at Hammen, who with a sneer of contempt drew on Varena’s mana and easily diverted the fire. He raised his hand in turn, knocking Zarel over with a blast of answering fire.
The arena erupted in chaos. From the corner where Garth had stood before the final match Norreen, sword raised high, came charging forward, turning to look back at the mob, urging them on. They came swarming out of the stands like a dark wave. Hammen, cloaking himself in a cloud of green smoke, fell back toward Varena, even as Zarel’s fighters and warriors came swarming out to protect their lord.
Hammen reached Varena’s side and screamed in rage as the Fentesk fighters who had been coming to her aid slowed at the approach of Zarel’s fighters and, turning, fell back. But the mob surged forward and, within seconds, Hammen found himself in the center of a swirling melee. He struggled to hold Varena up so that she would not be trampled under the crush. Someone shouldered him aside and heavy, beefy hands reached out to take the woman. He looked up at Naru, who was grinning.
“I take woman where you want.”
Norreen came through the crush to join them and together they fell back toward one of the access tunnels. As they reached the tunnel, however, Hammen slowed and then looked back.
“Someone’s got to lead these poor bastards,” he said quietly.