11. Hull- No Such Thing as Fair (Patreon)

Chapter 11

No Such Thing as Fair

I frantically scanned the long page that the bored functionary had pressed into my hand and tried to ignore the odd flapping of the page he’d pinned to the back of my shirt. It had an oversized “27” painted on it, which I could only assume was my competition number. The list of rules, on the other hand… “This is hopeless,” I said to myself as I scanned it.

These weren’t the rules, they were just a list of terms that these rich tits all learned in their cradles while their parents fed them sunfruit juice and bits of wyvern veal. These kids probably shit card shards and gold nuggets, and here I am going in blind. What am I doing here? That bastard scribe Soul had strong-armed me into this, and the more I thought about it, the more I doubted I’d ever see that gold crown he promised. I could just see myself tugging on sleeve of the High Lord Muckety-Muck Underchamberlain and telling him some scribe card had said he owed me gold. The scribe would be nowhere in sight, I was sure, and the fellow would clap me in chains long before he bothered summoning the Soul to ask him about it. You got greedy, and that’s how you got taken. You know better. Still, I wasn’t sure what I could have done differently. I’d just have to suffer through it. I didn’t think they’d actually let some rich kid murder me in one of their duels. Not that the rules sheet said anything about that.

I stopped at the mouth of the tunnel, all thoughts forgotten. The unfocused, joyful roar of the crowd squeezed me like a fist. The stone arena rose on all sides, and there were more people crowded in than I’d ever even imagined existing. I knew the capital was big, but this…! People in vibrant purple silks and feathered hats rubbed shoulders and traded jibes with leather-smocked artisans and crabbed grandfathers. Vendors with boxes strapped to their chests sold breads and fruits and beer, yelling cheerfully to be heard over the din and adding to it themselves. I didn’t even have a number for how many people there were. The Coliseum was enormous, obviously – I’d seen it more than a handful of times on trips down to the docks – but I’d never been inside before. The tiered stone benches rose up and up and up toward the sky a good five times taller than the highest tenement in the Lows, and there wasn’t an empty spot in sight. The people of Treledyne loved their duels.

Gulping, I focused on the arena floor. Big, square wooden platforms checkered the sand, each with a number painted on the floorboards big enough to be seen from the cheap seats up high. Several of the ones nearby had other young folk clustered near the stairs wearing competitor numbers like me, but they weren’t like me. One girl wore a blue gown that was nicer than anything I’d ever seen before. Her copper hair swept up in an elaborate shape that looked like a tower with curls falling off the top. She was so pretty it hurt, and the look she gave me as I walked past hurt even more. I could almost hear her thoughts: What is that kid doing here? If she were on my street I’d have broken her nose for a look like that, but as things stood, I could only agree with her. I put my head down and hurried past. I was supposed to go to platform 12. No one was dueling yet, so there was no point in lingering. All it would earn me was more ugly stares.

One final glance at the useless “rules” sheet confirmed that there wasn’t much to be learned. It had a list of the sources – never heard of Fae; that’s something new at least – and all the abilities cards could have. Some made such perfect sense that they didn’t even need to be listed and others were things I’d never heard of and didn’t really understand. Overkill I recognized from my Hateful Hammer, Armor was obvious, and Fast Attack was at least sort of self-evident. Focus and Devote weren’t terms I knew, but they matched up with my experience of using my own source: I could either tap into one of my summoned sources for a normal amount of Nether and it would refresh itself quickly, or I could wring it totally dry for twice as much and it’d take twice as long to be useful again. Intervene, on the other hand, was so convoluted that I couldn’t even make sense of it.

“Twins tangle me,” I sighed, tucking the paper behind my belt. Knowing terms wouldn’t save me. As I thought through what I was going to do, I realized I had exactly one good trick: casting my Sucking Void spell to protect me from damage and then pummeling the other kid into submission with my Nether-enhanced Hammer before my invincibility ran out and I lost. The real problem was that some of these rich snots probably had decks with ten or more cards in them, and I’d have to strip those out of their Mind Homes by dealing damage before I could win. The more cards they had, the longer that would take, and the less likely it was I’d last through the match. The fact that I’d owned both of my cards for less than a day and summoned them both exactly once wasn’t doing me any favors, either.

So be it. Swallow your pride, lose the match quick, get your gold piece if you can, and then slip out the front entrance when there’s a big crowd. As I approached platform 12, though, I knew I’d fight with all I had. It was the only thing I knew how to do.

I climbed the steps to the platform and saw a boy on the far corner. He was as noble as nobles came: fine-featured, blond-haired, and about as big around as a lamppost. He caught sight of me, and his pretty brow wrinkled in confusion. I walked right over to him.

“Are…you my opponent?” he asked. He even sounded noble.

“Looks like,” I said. “If you win the match, I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”

He took a step back, looking around for an adult. “Threats will get you disqualified. We’re not even supposed to talk.”

“Fine. I didn’t mean it.” I gave him a look that said I absolutely mean it. Not that I actually believed I’d get the chance to tear into him one way or the other – they weren’t going to let me beat up a fancy kid in front of everybody, the world didn’t work like that – but if it made him hesitate as we dueled, so much the better. “Do we just start, or what?”

“You don’t…?” he sputtered, indignant. “Stand over there, behind the other line in the corner, and wait for the announcer to call the match. Did they not tell you the rules?”

I didn’t answer. It was a stupid question.

I stood in my corner. Some of the other pairs had started fighting already, but I didn’t dare pay too much attention now, because a faint blue sheen fuzzed into existence around my platform, and a voice boomed overhead.

“Welcome to our first bout, folk of Treledyne!” The voice was resonant and deep, and I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Whoever it was, it sounded like he was smiling even as he spoke. “Those of you closest to box 12, get your food and set yourselves down – we’re about to begin! Basil of House Hintal, our sixth-seed competitor, is facing off against…” there was a magnified shuffling of papers, “a late entrant. Hull? Is that a name, or a ship?”

The rabble in the stands laughed and jeered, and I looked around again for the son of a bitch making fun of me. He could have been anywhere. All the laughing faces made my blood boil.

“Fate and Fortune save our blessed King, who lets even the lowest of his citizens compete to better their own lives!” the announcer continued. “This may be a short match, my friends, but you never know. Perhaps our dirty friend has a trick up his sleeve. An attack of lice, perhaps?”

I tuned him out. Even my lice could trounce this pansy noble boy, and I wasn’t going to waste my anger on some bastard commentator I couldn’t even see. I’d find the smug, honey-voiced whoreson later and kick his balls into his stomach. For now, I had other things to attend to.

“First things first!” the announcer sang. “Let’s make this official, shall we?”

A shimmer appeared in the air around the dueling box. I jumped just a little as the sheen rose past me into a rounded arch overhead, enclosing us entirely. As it sealed itself, the sound from the crowd dropped just a notch. I could still hear everything, but it was like an invisible curtain had been pulled between me and the crowd.

“For you little ones that have never been to the Coliseum before,” the announcer said cheerily, “the dome protects us from the competitors and the competitors from each other. It’s a finely-tuned bit of magic: it’ll keep any stray fireballs from ruining your mommy’s hair, and whoever loses – let’s be honest, I think we know who that’ll be, right? – won’t get his guts spread all over the boards when he runs out of cards. Not only that, for fairness’ sake, anyone inside the dome is able to see every card as it’s cast as well as an aura that tells them how many cards their opponent has remaining. Now, I know, I know, you’re outside the dome, my friends, but that’s why you’ve got me! I have a pair of the King’s Gamemaster Glasses that let me see everything about these two: the cards in their Mind Homes, their sources, and if I squint just right, what they had for breakfast. Our dirty friend Hull really likes a good mud pie, from the looks of it.”

The crowd jeered me, and the irritating announcer laughed. “Just kidding about that last part. Now let’s get serious, folks: it’s time.” His voice dropped in pitch, taking on more reverent tones. “Fate who guides and Fortune who saves, these your servants offer themselves in the sacred contest of will and skill. Seal this combat with your divine power and show them the cost of coming before their gods!”

The crowd chanted, “SO BE IT,” the whole thing sounding like a ritual. Only the slice of bleachers nearest us gave the shout; the others were all focused on other matches. I had no idea what the whole thing was about.

Then I felt a tug behind my right ear, and the Sucking Void disappeared out of my Mind Home, flying up into the air just beyond my outstretched fingertips.

“That’s mine!” I yelled, jumping for it. The card jerked upward, hovering just out reach.

“Oho, will you look at that!” the announcer crowed. “Hull the Guttersnipe is sitting on an Epic, and a Nether at that. Twins tickle me, who’d have thought?”

A magnified version of my card shone in the air high above the dome, and the crowd lost their minds, yelling, cheering, and throwing bits of food that vaporized as soon as they hit the barrier surrounding the ring.

“Never fear, little man, you’ll get it back,” the voice said indulgently. “Hold onto your rags for a moment.”

“What’s going on?” I called out.

“It’s just the ante,” the blond wisp named Basil yelled back. A card flew up from behind his own ear and was magnified in the air next to mine.

Basil grimaced at the sight and shrugged fatalistically. “You get it back for the match; don’t worry. It’s just the Twins showing us what card is at stake if we lose.”

My heart seized in my chest. “If I lose, I have to give you my card?!”

The boy shrugged, looking as if he was explaining water being wet.

“This is bullshit!” I raged. “I withdraw!” In the back of my mind, I remembered hearing something about this from folks talking about duels in the taverns, but somehow I hadn’t put two and two together. I’d only just gotten my hands on this amazing, perfect card, and now this sniveling rich prick was trying to take it from me.

“Sounds like someone’s having second thoughts,” the announcer cooed overhead, as if I’d done something naughty. “Sorry, my smelly young friend, once the Twins seal the match, there’s no backing out. If you want to keep your card, you’ll have to win.”

The crowd booed and hissed at me, and more food sizzled against the barrier. Basil nodded apologetically and spread his hands. I’d have gladly killed them all.

The cards floated back down, and my spell evaded my fingers once more, slotting in behind my ear and reappearing in my Mind Home. It was like my heart had come back to me, and I sighed in relief.

“Competitors, draw your cards,” the announcer intoned.

I felt something give way in my Mind Home, and suddenly both my Hateful Hammer and the Sucking Void were begging to be pulled forth. I called them into my right hand, and both dropped at the same time. I tried to pull as many Nether into my left as I could, and only three formed as cards in that hand. Apparently in formal duels there was a limit to how many cards you could draw up front.

“We’ll give them a moment to mulligan…” the voice said.

Mulligan? I had no idea. Basil flicked a card back behind his ear, where it was reabsorbed, and another appeared in his hand. Maybe we were allowed to swap out cards in our opening hand? Didn’t matter to me; I didn’t have any others to draw.

“And now, the opening gambit,” the announcer said.

Once again, I didn’t know what that was, and I looked around blankly. On the far side of the square Basil plucked a source card into his left hand and turned it around to show. It was Air source, and it formed into a ball of clouds that floated up over his head. “Pick a source and show it,” he told me. “It determines who goes first.”

All this stupid song and dance just so we could beat each other up. I pulled a Nether, showed it to him, and threw it overhead. The spiky purple ball gave me some comfort. It was my bad old friend that let me hurt people.

“Could our young mystery man be playing nothing but Nether?” the announcer asked. “I haven’t seen a Nether user take the field in years! But even if he’s an Order/Nether split, it’s a good play. Planar sources trump Elemental ones, so Master Hull goes first.”

A momentary hush descended over our corner of the arena and the crowd leaned forward expectantly. The announcer spoke in his grandest tones. “Gentlemen, do your worst. Fortune favor your summons!”

Finally. It was time to thrash this kid. I tried casting another Nether overhead, but it remained stuck to my hand.

“Oh, we’ve got a total novice!” the announcer laughed. “Only drawing two summons cards? Trying to put up a second source when he’s gone first? Lunacy. How’d this kid end up with an Epic?”

“Shut your mouth!” I snapped. I shifted all my cards to one hand, draining my one source dry – devoting it, that’s what they call it – and channeling the Nether power into my Hateful Hammer.

It shimmered into being in my free fist, and I ran across the open space right at Basil, hammer overhead. I could have cast my Sucking Void first, but Basil was dithering over his cards, and the sooner I cast it, the sooner it ran out. Summoning my weapon meant I didn’t have any spare Nether to power up the blow, but the Hammer would do some damage all on its own, and I wasn’t going to wait any longer.

“Hull comes out strong with a Neutral Relic!” the announcer boomed even as I moved. “It’s got Overkill, folks. It might not do much yet, but if he can pack some more power into it, our man Basil had better watch out!”

Basil looked up when I was two steps away, yelped, and raised his hands against the blow. I felt a surge of savage triumph as the hammer came down. It would connect on his arms and tear a card out of his Mind Home. I can see how people get into this dueling thing.

Then somehow, between one instant and the next, Basil flicked a card out of his hand, and it intercepted my Hammer on the way down. My blow bounced back, staggering me, and the sacrificed card shattered into motes of light, leaving the visible afterimage of a card behind.

What just happened? He’d used one of the cards in his hand to block me. I hadn’t known that was possible. A card out of the hand or a card out of the Mind Home, it’s all the same to me: it’s one less card he can play against me.

“Basil sacrifices Protection,” the announcer murmured. “A good choice for the moment, but he might regret it later.”

The little noble bastard was quick, I had to give him that – in the few seconds it took me to regain my balance and gather my thoughts, he’d retreated to the side of the box where I’d started, putting as much distance between us as he could. He flicked a pearly ball of Order overhead, and both the Air and Order source dimmed. A scary-looking man misted into being right beside him, and for the barest moment I saw the card that had summoned him right over his head.

The announcer was saying something, but I didn’t have any spare attention to listen. The card vanished before I was done reading it. What was his attack? Shit, I was reading and I didn’t see. Stealth, Venom… what was Hunt, again? As soon as the hooded man solidified out of the casting mist, he stepped sideways into a shadow that hadn’t been there a moment before and slipped out of view. Looking all around in panic, I saw nothing. He was gone! That’s what Stealth does, I guess. Not good. It was time to use my spell before he reappeared and stuck a knife in me. My Nether source was unstuck from my hand now, and I put it overhead, devoting it while my first one recovered.

My beautiful Sucking Void descended on me like a suit of armor made of dark starlight, and I reveled in the feel of it tightening around me. Let’s see your sneaky summons stick me now, pretty boy.

“Ohhh, now that’s something, all right,” the announcer said, sounding impressed. “This card’s incredible, ladies and gentlemen – they don’t call them Epics for nothing! It’s a hard hitter for the duelist who likes to get in and get the job done fast. Basil can’t touch him for three rounds. Is this nobody going to beat our sixth seed out of nowhere?”

Basil grimaced at me, seeming at a loss for how to respond now that I couldn’t be harmed. I laughed at the joy of it all and went for him again. His eyes darted to one side, he growled, and as he backpedaled he threw a card into the path of my Hammer’s swing. Like before, it deflected the blow and demolished the card.

“Ooh, another useful spell bites the dust! He could have had his Assassin take the hit, but he’s playing the long game, friends. Let’s hope there will be a long game – if the Lord of Lice over here keeps hammering him, this match is over!”

I’m going to find that man’s house and rub my ass all over his bedsheets. Then we’ll see who’s Lord of Lice. I’d never heard of match announcers being quite so biased, but what did I know? One way or the other, the crowd was eating it up. I actually heard a few cheers for me on that last hit. Some folks love to see a surprise, and that’s what I aimed to be. Maybe I can actually win this!

Basil had scarpered once again as I glanced into the crowd, and he had a determined look on his face. Another Order left his hand to circle his head, but it didn’t look as if he had any fewer cards in his hand. He continued to top up from his Mind Home, and I felt a moment’s unease. How many cards does he have? I’ve only got a minute to finish this before my spell runs out. Less, now.

He partially drained his two Order sources, focusing them, and a card in his right hand coalesced into an ornate helmet that he swiftly clapped onto his head.

Shit. I’d gotten stuck watching him put the thing on and missed what the card had said when it flashed by during the summoning. Something about destroying it? Too late now. I could see his pale eyes glaring through the eyeslit. He might be a slip of a thing, but I’d gotten good ol’ Basil the Tender Noble riled at last.

“Well,” mused the announcer, “it may not be the most impressive card in the deck, but a good cheap Relic is better than losing cards hand over fist. It’ll buy our boy some time, and that’s exactly what he needs. The Assassin stays stealthed and in reserve, since he can’t do any damage.”

I pulled another Nether from the aether into my left hand and tossed the one I was already holding aloft. My first source had finally come back to ready, which meant I could devote two sources to pump Nether’s anger into myself and power up my swings. The heat of my source ran through me, and I found myself grunting in animal rage as I pounced again. This hit was going to hurt him.

Basil lowered his head into the strike, and the helmet sounded like a gong, shattering with such force and brightness that I was thrown backward. The crowd stamped and hollered. They loved it. Regaining my balance, I looked to see how many shredded cards were fluttering down from Basil’s Mind Home. My Hammer and its Overkill ability had to have passed some damage through to him.

Nothing. Not a single scrap of card floated around him.

“Looks like somebody doesn’t know his basic cards very well!” the announcer chortled. “Must be hard when you can’t read. Those single-use Helms might not look like much, but they can take as big a wallop as a fellow cares to give.”

Nether still pumping in my veins, I bellowed in frustration. I’d never hit anyone so hard before, and that damned stupid Relic just soaked it up. Even as I raged, though, a small, wiser part of me thought, I could really use one of those.

Basil threw another Order source overhead, and with the faintest smile, all four of his sources went focused. An oversized bird of prey as tall as my shoulder flapped into being and took to the air. This time I made sure to take a good look at the card as it shimmered in and out of being.

“Oh, he’s brought out the Condor. It’s not the usual inclusion for an Order/Air deck, but Master Basil has always marched to his own drummer, and it’s served him well so far. This might not be the ideal matchup for the Condor, but I don’t see any new cards appearing in young Hull’s hands, friends. I think he’s run through his paltry little deck.”

My mind raced. I can’t last much longer. How many cards does he have left? The asshole jabbering at us had said something in the beginning about a card aura. Flexing my fists, I focused in on Basil and tried to see it. I squinted and thought I could see a faint silver nimbus around him. At first I thought I was imagining it, but as I strained my eyes even further, the glow coalesced into a field of cards encircling his torso just a hair’s breadth above his fine clothes. I could only see the backs, and they spun too fast to get a solid count, but his Mind Home was absolutely thick with cards still to be drawn. Ten of them, at least.

My heart lurched. Basil was massing his forces and I only had one round left until my Sucking Void expired, leaving me exposed. Twenty seconds, tops. I’d just given him my hardest blow and had nothing to show for it. The Nether petered out of my veins, and ice replaced it.

I’m in deep shit.