Wizard Tournament: Chapter 15 (Patreon)

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          “Quick question for you, Sylnya,” Peter asked while Maeve waited for everyone to return to their seats. “I read that eldrin husbands take on their wives’ surname when they get married, do you happen to know Tomrha’s family name?” Before she even answered, Peter scratched something down in his notepad and closed it.

          Sylnya furrowed her brow at the strange question, but answered anyway. “Umm, Gaerint I think. That sound right, Drae?”

          “Yeah,” Draevin agreed.

          “I see,” Peter said. “Thank you.” Draevin noticed, for probably the first time, that Peter had scratched out his note before actually receiving Syl’s answer. Had he always done that? What was he even writing down if not answers? This human’s recent behavior had tickled his curiosity.

          “So Peter,” Draevin said as casually as he could, “Sylnya told me you were talking to that werebeast?”

          Peter straightened his glasses and focused his full attention on Draevin. “His name is Grrbraa,” he answered simply. “Is there some kind of problem with talking to him?”

          Draevin chuckled softly. “No problem. I just wondered what a human and a werebeast would have to talk about.”

          “What you should be wondering,” Sylnya interjected, “is why a perfectly nice dryad and human would want to talk to a self-absorbed elf like you.”

          Draevin flashed her a smile. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re hoping some of my amazing combat prowess will rub off on you.”

          Sylnya pulled back her leg where it was touching Draevin’s. “Oh gross! I think some of it got on me!” She giggled and gave him a slug on the shoulder to let him know she was kidding. “Chill out on the ego, Drae.”

          Peter cleared his throat. “If you must know,” he said to Draevin, “Grrbraa and I have a lot more in common than you’d think.” The strange human pulled out his notepad once again and flipped to a specific page. “I have to fight whoever wins this match in round two. I’d much rather face Grrbraa than Tomrha. I was just giving him some tips.”

          That was actually a sensible strategy that Draevin employed himself on occasion. It didn’t exactly make sense coming from someone that had barely tricked their way past their first match though. “You don’t think you’re maybe getting a little ahead of yourself?” he asked. “What makes you think you’re even making it to round two? They haven’t even announced who you’re facing.”

          “You can’t win if you don’t plan for success,” Sylnya commented. She turned to Peter. “You are wasting your time though, Peter. Caelnaste already predicted that Tomrha’s going to win the next match.”

          A frown painted the human’s face. “How would she know that?”

          “Oh I was talking to her last night and she made some kind of off-hand complaint about how her husband was only going to make it to the third round this year. I mean she’s a seer.” Sylnya pulled a ticket out of her pocket. “Why do you think I went and got this?”

          “Sylnya!” Draevin started to say. “Do you know what kind of trouble you’ll get in if they find out a seer—”

          Maeve’s announcement cut Draevin off. “Tomrha is an eldrin cerebromancer representing the Eldesian Council for Peace in Trenal.” Sylnya closed her eyes and scrunched her nose at Draevin but didn’t say anything further. He could tell it would be useless to lecture her anymore so he just hoped she didn’t get caught. On the field Tomrha raised his arms to an appreciable cheer from the crowd. He was holding up a glowing glass orb in one hand. “Tomrha is carrying an Orb of Protection and his wish if he wins the tournament is for both sides in the War of Caldenian Aggression to accept compromise.” There was a heated response at that announcement and Maeve had to wait for the crowd to quiet down.

          “Iᴛ’s ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ Tʀᴇɴᴀʟ Lɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Wᴀʀ!” Draevin stood up and shouted into the chaos. “Eʟᴅᴇsɪᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ɪᴛ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴜs!” He turned to his companions and commented, “If he really wanted compromise you’d think he could start by not pointing fingers at Caldenia.” Sylnya just threw her head back and howled with laughter. It seemed the prospect of easy money had put her in a good mood.

          During his announcement and the subsequent cheering Tomrha’s smile didn’t crack and he continued to wave to the crowd as though the response had been entirely positive. When the noise died down enough, Maeve continued. “Tomrha wants everyone to know that when you truly understand someone you can’t help but love them as you love yourself and that war is the only true enemy in this conflict.”

          Now it was Draevin’s turn to laugh along with many of the elves in the crowd. “He can’t possibly think anyone is buying that.” Peter was a stone, but Sylnya gave a chuckle.

          Maeve gestured next to the other side of the arena where the hulking werebeast was standing in the opposite fighter’s box. “Grrbraa is a werebeast geomancer. He has no sponsor and has brought as his item a Archmage Caladin’s Circlet of Intelligence.” It was tradition for contestants to hold up their item to be observed when it was announced—Grrbraa didn’t do this and earned himself a jeer from the crowd. “If he wins this year’s tournament Grrbraa’s wish is to bring intelligent thought to all werebeasts.” There was an audible pause to the background noise of the crowd at this announcement. A quiet murmur permeated the arena as the hulking beast quietly stared ahead.

          “Normally this kind of sentimental wish earns a laugh,” Draevin whispered.

          “Nobody’s laughing,” Peter noted.

          “Sure aren’t,” Sylnya confirmed in her own cautiously quiet voice.

          Even though she hadn’t actually been interrupted this time, Maeve had paused at the change from the crowd. “Grrbraa wants everyone to know that his kind were made to be slaves but they will end as masters.”

          “If he wins,” Sylnya remarked, “Eldesia’s fucked. You must be thrilled Drae.”

          “I’m not so sure,” Draevin admitted. “I’m all for Eldesia getting what’s theirs, but replacing eldrin with intelligent werebeasts would hardly be an improvement.” He shrugged. “Good thing he got matched against a serious contender right away.”

          Maeve threw her arm up to signal the judges. The bell chimed.

          Grrbraa took off at a four-legged sprint straight for Tomrha. A few strides in he rose up to his hind legs and started moving through the hand signs of a spell with his front limbs. His pace slowed, but he continued to close the distance between the two of them. For his part Tomrha merely stepped out of his box and sat cross-legged on the ground. He set his Orb of Protection in his lap and moved through a series of complicated hand signs that involved touching his forehead repeatedly.

          Grrbraa’s spell finished first and he thrust both claws out to his side and gestured at two of the boulders designed to provide cover. They lifted into the air and flew towards Tomrha’s position. Once his projectiles were airborne Grrbraa dropped again to all fours and bounded at top speed. With this final sprint his fur began to let off a red mist and his speed picked up considerably—sure signs he’d activated his innate Blood Burning ability.

          Tomrha continued focusing on his own spell and didn’t even flinch as the boulders flew towards him, relying on his item to protect him. The Orb of Protection wasn’t nearly as durable as the legendary belt of a similar design Trundle had showcased in an earlier match, but it held. The boulders shattered against the barrier and left cracks of glowing light in the air that defined a perfect sphere around Tomrha. Before the dust even settled Grrbraa leapt at the barrier, fully enveloped in an aura of glowing red smoke now, his red eyes out-shined Tomrha’s eldrin ones. He drew back his claws to strike—then stopped.

          Tomrha gave his same smile to the audience and rose from his sitting position while Grrbraa stood there, frozen. Grrbraa’s red aura faded. Tomrha bowed to the audience, then made Grrbraa give a jerky bow to the audience as well and they cheered for him. Grrbraa looked fearsome with his lips pulled back in a snarl, but obeyed Tomrha’s commands.

          “Well that didn’t take long,” Draevin sighed. It was a bit disappointing, but Tomrha’s matches were never very entertaining.

          “At least it was easy money,” Sylnya agreed.

          Peter didn’t comment. He leaped from his seat and grabbed the railing with a white-knuckle grip.

          Tomrha wasn’t far from where he emerged from his box near the edge of the arena so he directed Grrbraa to walk out of bounds just behind him. Grrbraa struggled and fought with every step, but step he did.

          Peter fiddled with his glasses and a soft pink glow emanated from his lenses. Peter looked back over his shoulder and saw Draevin watching him: he tapped the side of his glasses and they went back to normal. Draevin made a mental note to ask him about that later.

          The crowd was silent in anticipation while the werebeast slowly walked towards the edge of the arena.

          Peter cleared his throat. “Tᴏᴍʀʜᴀ Gᴀᴇʀɪɴᴛ!” he shouted across the field. He’d obviously enhanced his voice with magic, as it came out nearly as loud as Maeve’s announcements.

          Draevin looked at the meek little human in surprise—so did everyone else. Tomrha stopped and looked in Peter’s direction as well. In that moment Grrbraa’s claw shot up and knocked his circlet off his own head.

          A woman’s voice shrieked from somewhere nearby, “Tomrha! No!”

          Draevin was still trying to figure out what was going on. Was this part of some plan? Had Peter given Grrbraa instructions to remove his circlet? What possible reason could he have for doing that?

          Once his circlet was removed Grrbraa began to move again, but not towards the bounds of the arena. He dropped to all fours and faced Tomrha. His red aura flared to life stronger than ever and he gave a deep-throated bestial growl that Draevin could easily hear even as far away as he was. It appeared Tomrha’s spell was broken. Grrbraa leapt at the eldrin—all claws and fangs.

          Tomrha backpedaled and let loose with a simple Magic Missile that pierced right through the werebeast’s chest but it didn’t even slow him down. Grrbraa let loose a blood-curdling howl and slashed at Tomrha’s cracked barrier. It shattered after only one strike from Grrbraa’s enhanced werebeast strength. Grrbraa knocked Tomrha to the dirt with another strike. “I yield!” Tomrha cried out. “I yiel—” Grrbraa shut the eldrin up by ripping his throat out with his fangs. Bright white eldrin blood gushed out and covered his maw.

          The crowd went wild at the spectacle. They cheered anytime blood was spilled—regardless of who did the spilling. Grrbraa continued his attack: he bit Tomrha again and again. No. Not biting. He was actually eating Tomrha.

          Draevin couldn’t even hear the bell signaling the end of the match, but Maeve’s skilled sonamancy cut through the commotion with the announcement that followed, “Tomrha is dead. Grrbraa wins.” Grrbraa didn’t stop feasting; already Tomrha’s remains were no longer recognizable as eldrin. If someone didn’t put that circlet back on Grrbraa’s head he would go on a rampage and have to be put down. “Would someone please restrain him,” Maeve called out, directing her voice toward the contestants.

          The contestants looked around at each other but nobody made a move. This was an unusual situation. Without that circlet back on his head Grrbraa would be as good as eliminated, which had to be tempting to any contestants that didn’t want to literally be eaten by him if they had to face him in a future match. If he never got it back the threat of a population of free and intelligent werebeasts would be neutralized as well. Draevin looked to Peter questioningly.

          “What?” he said defensively, “I’m an illusionist. What would I even do?”

          “Well I’m not going to be the one responsible for a werebeast uprising,” Draevin shot back. He looked to Sylnya, “You’re friends with his moms, why don’t you do something?”

          “I’d rather not get involved,” she said sheepishly. “Caelnaste would never forgive me.” From the look of Tomrha’s remains the decision would be made for them soon. Security forces were assembling on the outside edge of the arena with shock sticks in their hands.

          Grrbraa looked up from the bones that remained with feral red eyes. The aura around him flared in preparation for violence at the sight of the guards.

          “Leave this to me,” a voice called out. It was Pellanrae, the dwarf metallurgist. She hopped down over the wall at the edge of the stands and walked to the edge of the arena. With a curt gesture she sent the discarded circlet flying toward Grrbraa’s head.

          It looked like it was going to work, but Grrbraa saw the projectile heading for him and batted it out of the air. He opened his bloody mouth and howled at Pellanrae before charging at her. The guards hollered uselessly and Pellanrae fell backwards onto her ass in surprise. Grrbraa took two leaping bounds toward her but on the third leap he went limp in midair. His unconscious body dropped to the ground and slid to Pellanrae’s feet in a heap.

          “What happened?” Draevin asked. He didn’t actually expect an answer, but Peter pointed right away at a green-skinned orc standing amongst the other contestants.

          “It was him,” he said.

          The older bearded orc was wearing grey robes and wielding a gnarled wooden staff covered in silver-white swirling lines of light. It was Gro’shak, the mysterious newbie and the only remaining orc in the competition. “What did he do?” Draevin asked Peter.

          “All he did was raise his staff,” Peter shrugged.

          Gro’shak calmly walked down the steps onto the arena floor with his staff. His bodyguard, Drant’ro, trailed him with a heavy blade in hand. He talked with Pellanrae for a bit, then recovered the circlet and moved to return it to Grrbraa’s unconscious head.

          “Don’t you dare!” a familiar voice called out. It was Caelnaste and she had a bow notched and aimed at Gro’shak. Not just any bow. The polished black shaft and fiery red arrow was unmistakable. That had to be Dred’Slynt: prized jewel of the Eldesian royal family. It was known by another name. The God-Killer.

          Gro’shak didn’t even flinch. “There is no need for you to die over this, bright-eyes,” he warned her.

          Caelnaste closed her eyes and her eyelids flashed with the orange glow of future sight. She immediately popped her eyes back open and drew her brows together in shock. “You wouldn’t! I work directly for Queen—” Gro’shak raised his staff an almost imperceptible distance off the ground and cocked his head at the eldrin. She halted her speech midsentence and lowered her bow.

          As Gro’shak returned Grrbraa’s circlet Caelnaste looked on with arms clasped at her side so hard they shook. Once the circlet was in place the orc mystic undid whatever he’d done to disable the werebeast with a wave of his staff and the feral beast opened his eyes with calm understanding. Grrbraa huffed in a breath and smacked his bloody lips before his eyes zeroed in on Tomrha’s mangled corpse. “Did I…?” he started to ask in a fearful tone.

          “This isn’t over!” Caelnaste promised with tears leaking from her glowing white eyes. “Not by a long shot.” She turned on her heels and left the arena.

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