In the morning, Kamahl was up before dawn and out running in the mountain passes. When he returned, Balthor had food on the table waiting for him.

"Did you have a good run, me lad?"

"The mountain air does me good, old friend," said Kamahl as he sat down and cut into his hawk eggs and firecat steak. "My head is clear, and I'm ready for the next battle. Won't you join me?" Balthor shook his head and said, "No. Jeska and I already ate."

"Where is my sister?"

"She left right after breakfast," said Balthor.

"Wants to get a good seat for today's battles, eh?" asked the big barbarian as he wolfed down the rest of his eggs.

Balthor shook his head. "No. I don't think Jeska will come to any more of your battles."

"She doesn't want me to continue, does she?"

Balthor shook his head again.

"And you two fought about it, didn't you?"

"A wee bit, perhaps," said Balthor. "Look, Kamahl, she's worried about ye and about what happened yesterday. I mean, don't ye think ye took that last battle a bit far, boy?"

Kamahl put his fork down and stared into the hearth. "I was just trying to win the battle," he sighed, still staring into the fire. "You know, outwit my opponent like you always taught me. I never meant to pour so much mana into that last spell. Fiers! Is Joha going to be all right?"

"Yes, Kamahl," said Balthor coming over behind Kamahl and placing his hand on the big barbarian's shoulders. "He'll bear the marks of that battle until his dying day, but he will recover."

"I'm so sorry, Balthor. I'm so sorry."

"Look, son. You're the most powerful mage in the mountains," said Balthor as he turned Kamahl around and looked into his eyes. "Bah, probably the most powerful mage on the continent with that orb on your sword. There's no one in this here contest that can best ye as long as ye pace yourself. So reign in that power, and don't waste it on the lesser mages."

"All right," said Kamahl. "I'll stick to simple spells and the strength of my right arm. That's always been enough for me in the past. It shouldn't be any different now." Kamahl managed a weak smile and turned back to his plate.

"That's the spirit, me boy! We'll get through this together."

That day's battles went fine. Balthor was able to guide Kamahl through three challenges with ample time in between each for the large barbarian to cool down and maintain his control. After the Joha battle, all of the lesser mages had been dropped from the tournament.

Over the course of the next week, Balthor managed every aspect of the tournament. He set the time for every battle, prepped the barbarian on each opponent, and kept Kamahl focused and in control.

The only aspect of the tournament that was out of Balthor's control was the choice of opponent for each match. That was left to the Elite Eight, which meant it was up to Talon. Each day the battles got tougher as Talon sent better and better warriors in to test the champion. This fact was not lost on Kamahl.

"Damn that Talon!" yelled the barbarian at his mentor after the last match on the sixth day. "He is purposely wearing me down to give himself an advantage."

"Aye," sighed Balthor, staring into his still-full mug of ale. Balthor had not slept well the last two nights, and the strain of the battles was wearing on him almost as much as on his student. "Today ye faced your two hardest matches yet, but ye came through fine, boy. Nobody got hurt, and you're only three matches from the end."

"I could have handled one more challenge today," grumbled Kamahl, picking at the bread on his plate.

"Nah, ye couldn't. I could see the bloodlust rising in your eyes after ye defeated Tybiel," replied Balthor. "Ye never really liked him, did ye?"

"No. He should have died at that fiasco on the Kard border," said Kamahl. "Many good warriors paid the price for his decisions that day."

"See?" said Balthor. "Ye couldn't handle one more battle with that buffoon still on your mind. Ye need to stay focused to make it through these battles. And tomorrow will be your toughest challenge yet. Tomorrow ye'll face Talon."

"Only after he sends Thurmon and Brue to soften me up," spat Kamahl. "Fiers smite him! He's controlling this tournament like a Cabal pit master. Where's his honor?"

"Focus, lad," prodded Balthor. "Only three more battles stand between ye and your goal. Think about that and not about the rage ye be building up inside against a man who once was your best friend."

The battles against Thurmon and Brue were a challenge. The most recent additions to the Elite Eight, both had considerable power and could push Kamahl just enough to tire him before the final battle, but not so much that Balthor would postpone the final battle one more day to give his pupil more rest.

In the first battle, Thurmon began very cautiously, using his firepower only for defense and forcing the more powerful barbarian to expend a lot of energy wearing him down. Was this also part of Talon's plan, Kamahl wondered?

Thurmon started with a wall of protective flames around himself. Kamahl tossed several beams of fire and lightning at the wall, trying to pierce the flames and find the warrior hiding inside, but they impacted and dissipated harmlessly on the wall, releasing great jets of steam with each impact.

Kamahl prowled around the flame enclosure, testing it here and there with his spells, trying to find a weak point, but Thurmon had considerable power, and without the Mirari adding to his sword's power, Kamahl didn't think he could get through the wall.

Kamahl was worried about expending too much time and energy on this opponent when he knew he had two more battles yet to fight, but he saw no other way to win except to use the Mirari. Then Kamahl remembered the protective aura the orb had given him in his battle against Murk. He could use that to get inside the defensive ring and finish the battle. But he knew Thurmon must be listening to him move around the arena and would unleash some spell on him as soon as he walked through the barrier. Thurmon's power would get through Kamahl's Mirari-enhanced defenses where Murk's had failed.

What he needed was a diversion. Kamahl circled Thurmon's flame circle once more, sending a spell at the wall periodically while he looked for rocks. Taking an armload of fist-sized chunks of old walls and barriers back to the center of the arena, Kamahl began charging the rocks with mana and muttering spells under his breath.

The crowd was hushed, and Kamahl paid them no heed, concentrating on his task and sending the odd spell at the wall to keep Thurmon thinking that he was still trying to beat down the warrior's defenses. After charging each rock, Kamahl set it down in the dirt, fiddled with the placement for a moment, then moved a few feet and began again.

Finally, the barbarian had arranged eight mana-charged rocks in a pattern on one side of Thurmon's circle. He sent one last attack toward the wall and moved slowly and quietly away from the rocks. A moment later, the first rock grew red-hot and shot a beam of molten fire at Thurmon's defensive wall. Kamahl continued moving around the circle as another and another rock unleashed its energy in flames, lightning, and streams of lava at Thurmon's wall.

Once behind Thurmon, hoping he had the other mage's attention fully on the fireballs and lava storms hitting him from the front, Kamahl encased himself in the blue-white shield and rushed through the wall of fire. The crowd couldn't see what happened inside, but moments later the firewall dissipated, and Kamahl stood over an unconscious Thurmon. The large barbarian's brassy skin was burnt raw, and his hair smoked from running through the fierce flames, but he was victorious nonetheless.