Balthor looked up at the crowd and called out, "Kamahl will take one more challenge today. Let's not make a mockery out of this tournament by having another mismatch. Who here feels worthy of facing the greatest Pardic warrior of all time?"

Kamahl saw Talon nod to someone off to his right, and Joha, a devout follower of Fiers and the spiritual leader of the Elite Eight, dropped off the wall and strode over to take his place opposite Kamahl.

"Face me, Kamahl, and may the strength of Fiers flow through us both."

As Balthor left the arena again, Kamahl focused on his new opponent. Joha was taller than Murk and almost as broad as Kamahl. He strode across the arena with the confidence gained from many successful battles. In his right hand he carried a lead-tipped staff made of ironwood. His short, tightly curled hair shone with sweat in the light of sun, which was now close to its zenith.

Joha twirled his staff in front of him and sidestepped around the arena as Kamahl prowled around opposite him, his sword held low in front of him. Neither warrior spoke as both concentrated on the movements of the other, waiting for the twitch that would indicate an imminent attack.

Kamahl had never fought Joha, but he had seen some of his early battles when the spiritual warrior had first challenged the Elite Eight. Like Murk, Joha liked to stay at range and pummel his opponents with fire and lightning. Unlike Murk, Joha had considerable power, a decent intellect, and little speed. As they prowled around each other, Kamahl tried to imperceptibly narrow the circle of their prowling and guide Joha toward one of the few remaining walls in the course.

But Joha must have deduced his strategy, for just as Kamahl rushed the slower warrior in an attempt to trap him against the wall, Joha sprinted in the opposite direction and let loose with a blast of fire from the end of his staff toward the very wall Kamahl was rushing toward. Unable to halt his momentum, the large barbarian slammed into the suddenly molten wall, burning the flesh on his palms, chest, and legs when he hit.

Rebounding to the side, Kamahl spun himself around and around, letting the revolving movement of his body carry him behind the wall as another blast impacted on the ground where he had stood. Cheers erupted from the crowd.

Unable to see his opponent now, Kamahl summoned a fire-cat and sent it out to the left of the wall. When the cat rounded the corner, Kamahl rolled to his right and scanned the arena for Joha. As he had hoped, the mage's attention had flashed to the firecat long enough for Kamahl to clear the barrier and lock onto him. But Joha was quicker than Kamahl had thought, and the large barbarian had to dive back behind the wall to avoid a third ball of fire.

Another cheer erupted from the crowd, but Kamahl ignored it. He sent a mental command to the firecat, which had bounded off to the corner of the arena, then he readied one spell that would turn the tide and mentally prepared another that would put Joha on the defensive.

As the firecat loped around the arena, Kamahl slammed his sword into the stone wall, sending a cascading wave of lightning across its surface. A moment later the wall exploded into shards of stone that rocketed toward Joha. Spreading out as it flew, the wall of shards was easily thirty feet across when it reached Joha. The mage threw his hands up in front of his face, interposing his staff between himself and the shards.

Most of the rocks passed by the magically shielded mage, although his legs and arms were bleeding in several places after the blast passed by. But then the firecat lunged at Joha, slamming into his side and landing on top of the warrior, who toppled to the ground. The jaws of the beast snapped at Joha's neck as he struggled to free himself from the mass of flesh and fire that lay on top of him.

As the mage worked to get his staff up in front of him, Kamahl unleashed the second spell he had been preparing. Raising his hands over his head, one hand on the blade of his sword and the other on the hilt, Kamahl looked to the sky, then dropped both hands down to his waist.

Hundreds of black, steaming chunks of coal sprang from the Mirari in an arc over the arena, spreading out in a circular pattern before falling back to the ground above Joha and the fire-cat. As the heated chunks of coal fell, they burst into flame, sending a firestorm down upon the trapped mage.

Everything the fiery rain touched bubbled from the intense heat and burst into flame, including Joha, the firecat, and the very ground around the downed mage. Joha and the firecat screamed while the area around the two trapped beasts became a mire of boiling mud.

Even if Joha could focus through the pain long enough to stand, he couldn't move until the ground cooled. And that was exactly what Kamahl had wanted.

He walked over to the edge of the bubbling mud, pointed his sword at the burned and mauled mage, and said, "Now I finish it, Joha."

Before Kamahl could unleash his final blast, a bolt of lightning flashed in front of his eyes, blinding him for a moment.

"That was a warning, Kamahl," called Talon. "This battle is over. Joha yields the field to your prowess."

By the time Talon finished speaking, Balthor was at the side of his pupil, leading him toward the gate. As he left, Kamahl looked back to see mages cooling the boiling mud with ice spells and hauling the unconscious Joha, his face, arms, and legs covered in welts and charred black flesh, out the other end of the arena.

"What have 1 done, Balthor?" asked the weary warrior. "What have 1 done?"

CHAPTER 9

"Is he asleep?" asked Jeska when Balthor came back to the table.

"Aye," replied the dwarf, taking his seat and drawing a large gulp of ale from his mug. "He's tossing and turning and moaning like he's fighting demons in his nightmares, but he's sound asleep. I doubt he'll wake until morning. He had quite a day." "What about Joha's day?" asked Jeska. "He won't be stirring in the morning, I bet you. He won't be stirring for a week or more."

"I know, girl!" hissed Balthor under his breath. "Don't you think I know that? What Kamahl did today was nearly unforgivable. Barbarians love chaos and all that, but there is a code to the challenge, and your brother stepped over the line today."

Jeska leaned in closer to Balthor and kept her voice low. "So, you'll call off this foolish tournament, then? Call it off before Kamahl kills somebody?"

"Why should I do a daft thing like that, girl?" asked Balthor, letting his voice rise to the point where Jeska had to shush him. "Sure, he lost control today, but he just needs to pace himself and reign in his power a bit. We can jus-•"

"Do you really think he can do that, old man?" interrupted Jeska. "He's changed, Balthor. Sure, my brother can be rash, but not like this. That orb has changed him, and not for the better. I say again, call off the tournament before someone gets killed."

"No," said Balthor, who held his finger up in front of Jeska's face as she started to interrupt again. "And I'll not hear another word about it. I will manage the battles and make sure Kamahl rests between each challenge, just like ye said. With a little coaching he'll calm down and win this tournament without losing control."

Jeska glared at Balthor for a full minute before pushing her chair back from the table, slowly rising, and walking toward her room.

As she got to the door, she turned and said simply, "This discussion is not over, old man," and shut the door behind her.

"It never is, lassy. It never is."