“Naru,” someone hissed.

Garth turned and looked back. And even as he started to turn, the crowd broke into another frenzy of betting. He made a subtle hand gesture to Hammen and then moved to face what was approaching. The cry of his new opponent’s name echoed behind him and he could hear the stampeding of the mob from the far ends of the Great Plaza, drawn by the prospect of seeing a champion fight.

He could feel the power of the man’s mana wash over him even before he was visible in the doorway. The fighter was a giant, standing nearly a fathom and a half in height, powerfully built, his shoulders so wide that it appeared as if he would have to turn sideways to get through the door. He emerged through the doorway dressed in nothing more than a loincloth, his satchel dangling from a gold-encrusted strap. Steam from the sweat of his morning exercise wafted up from his body as he strode barefoot into the Plaza.

His shaven bullet-shaped head turned slowly back and forth, surveying the mob, some of whom broke into an ovation for their favorite. Behind him came a score of Bolk fighters, who fanned out behind him. Naru walked up to Garth, moving with a cold, steady purposefulness as if Garth was nothing more than an insect who would have to be stamped on.

“Get out of here, One-eye.”

His voice was a low, rasping rumble that grated.

“This woman is owed a debt from an oquorak which one of your cowards skipped out on. Pay her and then we’ll leave.”

Naru looked over toward Norreen and snorted, his breath coming like a bellows.

His hand shot out like a falling tree, swinging to catch Garth with a crushing blow on his blind side, the fighter not even bothering to waste time conjuring a spell. And yet somehow Garth sensed it coming and ducked low. Even as he ducked he slashed out, his foot catching Naru in the groin.

The giant grunted like a bull, his eyes bulging out of his head so that he looked like a dying codfish. He went down on his knees.

Garth caught him again, kicking him under the chin, knocking Naru over backward. Blood and several teeth sprayed out as the giant toppled to the pavement and was still.

A hoarse gasp arose from the crowd, the few betting on Garth whooping with joy, for even though it had not been a fight of magics, Naru was now flat out on the pavement and the battle was an official win.

With an angry cry, one of the Brown fighters leaped forward, raising his hand at Garth.

A thundering howl seemed to emanate from the Brown’s hand, a loud shrieking roar that struck with such intensity that Garth staggered backward even as he raised a protective shield about himself. The sound was blocked within his circle of protection but behind him he could hear the screaming of the mob as the demon howl bowled them over. With a wave of his hand Garth extended the wall of protection to the crowd, many of whom were writhing in agony, blood pouring from ruptured eardrums, so shattering was the scream summoned from the demon realms.

Garth nodded his head and the Brown fighter started to wave his hands around in agony as his mana was drained away. The demon howl subsided, Brown still shaking his hand, which now started to glow as if on fire.

Another Brown fighter raised his hands, and then another and behind Garth the crowd started to scatter in every direction.

“To Gray!”

Garth spared a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that Hammen was shouting at the top of his lungs, hobbling back toward Kestha House, from which some fighters were already coming on the run, drawn at first by the excitement of the crowd and now by Hammen’s rally cry.

Garth clapped his hands together and then extended them, holding them aloft as if they were claws. Seconds later, even as skeletal forms started to appear around him, conjured by Brown, his own spell took form. Coils of light swirled around him and out of each coil a lumbering bear appeared, snuffling and snarling. Garth shouted a word of command and the four bears charged toward the line of Brown, pausing only briefly to bowl the skeletons over. Several of the Brown broke and ran while another diverted his spell, which he had been aiming toward Garth, and threw it toward a bear, which simply exploded and disappeared. Another bear died from a bolt of lightning from above but short seconds later two of the bears crossed the killing zone, both of them throwing themselves on the Brown fighter who had first attacked Garth and was still distracted by his burning hand.

The Brown fighters turned to help their comrade, throwing spells, but it was already too late as one bear grabbed the fighter by the legs, while the other closed his mouth over the man’s head and shoulders, drowning out his shrieks. The two pulled in opposite directions and then ran off with the still-twitching halves of the dead fighter, shaking their heads back and forth so that blood and entrails were scattered across the Plaza.

A wild frenzy now seized the Brown fighters, who all turned their attention back to Garth. His circle of protection was stunned by volley after volley of spells so that he was forced to stagger backward. He saw through the haze of explosions that Norreen, moving as if she was nothing but a blur, had thrown herself into the fray with sword drawn, leaping upon a Brown fighter and dispatching him with a quick slice to the throat. Brown staggered off, both hands clasped to his throat, while the arterial blood sprayed out from between his fingers. With a single fluid motion she was past her first victim, still running, closing in on the next one, stabbing low, catching him in the stomach so that he howled and fell backward. He fumbled to raise an artifact and again her blade slashed out, severing his hand, the glowing artifact tumbling to the pavement. And then the others finally caught her, a black cloud swirling around her. Her eyes went wide with terror and she recoiled backward, flaying with her sword to strike at the invisible terror that engulfed her.

Garth moved to black the spell against her but the volleys from a dozen fighters, some of whom were obviously fifth-rank or better, were too much. Finally he broke his own protection for an instant to strike the terror down that held her and she scrambled away on hands and knees. But the move cost him and he was hit by a terror spell in turn that, for an instant, nearly blinded him with a heart-tearing fear. The Brown fighters, sensing they had the advantage, started to move closer, eager for the kill, several of them conjuring demons to render Garth into pieces.

A flash of light snapped across the square. Seconds later, more were launched, followed an instant later by what looked like an icy storm that extinguished the power of the demons closing in on Garth.

Garth reestablished his own circle of protection, using a healing spell on himself to wash away the fear, and looked to his left. A swarm of Gray fighters were closing in, hands raised, engaging the Bolk fighters, who now turned to face the new assault. From out of the door of the Bolk House more fighters were emerging. Behind him he could hear the familiar high clarion trumpet calls of the Grand Master, his own fighters racing across the Plaza to break up the melee.

Blood started to spill as fighters traded attacks at close range, several of them falling, the victors administering deathblows and then cutting off satchels to claim their prizes, all rules of the fight now lost in the confusion. Garth closed his eyes and raised both hands upward, the spell momentarily draining the power from him.

He opened his eyes again and smiled when atop the Bolk House a giant spider, its bloated body at least four fathoms across, appeared. The spider looked down at the mad melee and saw its opportunity for a feast. Leaning over from the top of the building, its hairy forelegs touched down to the ground and, even as it crawled down the side of the building, it turned its head back and forth, spraying out acidic poison. Fighters, both Brown and Gray, caught unaware, writhed on the paving stones, shrieking in agony, especially when the poison struck their eyes. Garth looked around and saw Norreen, stilling moving backward from the melee. He raced over to her side.