no struggle for control the psyling’s control was so complete.
Azerick watched his hand raise before him and could only look on as the lightning erupted from his fingertips to strike the man twice more. When Azerick once again had control of himself, the man was little more than a charred husk waiting for the arena staff to clean it up.
Azerick refused to speak even to Braunlen. The dwarf seemed to understand and quit trying to engage the young sorcerer in conversation as he took him back to their master.
Your battle was rather disappointing, Lord Xornan commented as he entered the palanquin.
“I won, I thought that is what was important to you,” Azerick responded flatly. “The crowd got to see me kill a man for no reason that should be enough.”
You also failed to obey me. Now you understand the level of my control. I can make you kill anyone I choose, even your mate. Think of that next time you choose to pit your will against mine.
“We fought, he’s dead. The crowd got to see someone die. That’s what matters isn’t it?”
There is more to The Games than simply one killing the other. The people expect a show and to be entertained. If they are not, they will lose interest in the fighter and the fighter’s owner loses prestige. I will not have you diminish my standing within The Games.
“I’ll try to be more entertaining next time I kill someone for your pleasure,” he replied acerbically.
I am confident that your next battle will provide enough of a challenge to provide the proper amount of entertainment. In fact, I strongly recommend that you do not get over-confident in your abilities.
“You mean my fight with Rangor.”
I see you are aware of your next match. Rangor is the most experienced fighter you will have faced thus far. He is strong, fast, and cunning. It would be of the greatest foolishness to underestimate him. He has nearly a dozen wins to his name and is highly favored even against you. This will also be an augmented match meaning that certain magical trappings will be allowed. Expect Rangor’s owner to outfit him with defenses that will offset your magical power. The abilities of such items are limited and will be explained to each fighter’s master in the days before the battle.
Azerick gave a noncommittal grunt in reply and said nothing else for the rest of the trip home. Delinda was waiting in the courtyard when the palanquin arrived carrying her master and her love. She stood to the side wringing a handkerchief in her hands until Lord Xornan went inside before rushing into Azerick’s arms.
“I was so worried about you. Are you all right?” she cried and buried her face into his chest.
“I’m fine. I did not even get scratched,” he assured her.
Delinda clung to him as they went inside. “When do you have to fight again?”
“I’m not sure but I do not think it will be long. They already have my next opponent selected.”
“Who is it this time?” she asked looking up at him.
“Some big mouthed half-orc named Rangor,” Azerick replied.
“Oh no! I hear he is very good and very dangerous! Please be extra careful. I was so worried for you this time. It terrifies me to think about you fighting that killer.”
“I will be fine, I promise you.”
“You had better or I will never forgive you,” Delinda swore half-heartedly.
After they ate lunch, Azerick disengaged himself from Delinda to work on his new spell. He did not know how long he would have before his next bout but he was sure it would come sooner than the last one had and he needed to be certain that he was ready. Azerick was under no illusion that Rangor would be an easy battle. He expected it to be the most challenging fight he has faced thus far.
He sat in the middle of the library, let his consciousness flow out of him, and touch the flowing silver river that represented the Source. He trailed an ethereal finger through the swirling fluid current and pulled a tendril of power into himself.
Azerick watched his hand raise before him and could only look on as the lightning erupted from his fingertips to strike the man twice more. When Azerick once again had control of himself, the man was little more than a charred husk waiting for the arena staff to clean it up.
Azerick refused to speak even to Braunlen. The dwarf seemed to understand and quit trying to engage the young sorcerer in conversation as he took him back to their master.
Your battle was rather disappointing, Lord Xornan commented as he entered the palanquin.
“I won, I thought that is what was important to you,” Azerick responded flatly. “The crowd got to see me kill a man for no reason that should be enough.”
You also failed to obey me. Now you understand the level of my control. I can make you kill anyone I choose, even your mate. Think of that next time you choose to pit your will against mine.
“We fought, he’s dead. The crowd got to see someone die. That’s what matters isn’t it?”
There is more to The Games than simply one killing the other. The people expect a show and to be entertained. If they are not, they will lose interest in the fighter and the fighter’s owner loses prestige. I will not have you diminish my standing within The Games.
“I’ll try to be more entertaining next time I kill someone for your pleasure,” he replied acerbically.
I am confident that your next battle will provide enough of a challenge to provide the proper amount of entertainment. In fact, I strongly recommend that you do not get over-confident in your abilities.
“You mean my fight with Rangor.”
I see you are aware of your next match. Rangor is the most experienced fighter you will have faced thus far. He is strong, fast, and cunning. It would be of the greatest foolishness to underestimate him. He has nearly a dozen wins to his name and is highly favored even against you. This will also be an augmented match meaning that certain magical trappings will be allowed. Expect Rangor’s owner to outfit him with defenses that will offset your magical power. The abilities of such items are limited and will be explained to each fighter’s master in the days before the battle.
Azerick gave a noncommittal grunt in reply and said nothing else for the rest of the trip home. Delinda was waiting in the courtyard when the palanquin arrived carrying her master and her love. She stood to the side wringing a handkerchief in her hands until Lord Xornan went inside before rushing into Azerick’s arms.
“I was so worried about you. Are you all right?” she cried and buried her face into his chest.
“I’m fine. I did not even get scratched,” he assured her.
Delinda clung to him as they went inside. “When do you have to fight again?”
“I’m not sure but I do not think it will be long. They already have my next opponent selected.”
“Who is it this time?” she asked looking up at him.
“Some big mouthed half-orc named Rangor,” Azerick replied.
“Oh no! I hear he is very good and very dangerous! Please be extra careful. I was so worried for you this time. It terrifies me to think about you fighting that killer.”
“I will be fine, I promise you.”
“You had better or I will never forgive you,” Delinda swore half-heartedly.
After they ate lunch, Azerick disengaged himself from Delinda to work on his new spell. He did not know how long he would have before his next bout but he was sure it would come sooner than the last one had and he needed to be certain that he was ready. Azerick was under no illusion that Rangor would be an easy battle. He expected it to be the most challenging fight he has faced thus far.
He sat in the middle of the library, let his consciousness flow out of him, and touch the flowing silver river that represented the Source. He trailed an ethereal finger through the swirling fluid current and pulled a tendril of power into himself.
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