His draw of mana continued to strengthen and yet he could sense that his opponent’s was increasing as well. The fog started to disperse and Garth extended his hands outward and drew an image in the air. A second later there was a burst of light and a form coalesced, the mob roaring its approval at the appearance of a white knight mounted upon a rearing charger. The knight, swinging a mace, trampled down the corpses that started to close in again on Garth and then turned to charge the captain. The knight’s attack slowed and then came to a stop as if he were trapped in a dark web. The horse tried to rear up, neighing in pain, and then rolled over, crushing the knight beneath him. With his opponent diverted by the attack of the knight, Garth was freed to counter the plague rats which still pursued him, by unleashing a swarm of stinging hornets that harried and tormented the rats, stringing with such viciousness that the rats, one after another, curled up and died.
Another strike lashed over Garth and he felt his mana withering away, his power draining down. His opponent, Garth realized, held powers equal to that of a House Master, or even a Grand Master, and as the thought raced through him, he looked at his opponent and saw the man’s mocking gaze, as if his opponent were simply playing with him and held supreme confidence in the final outcome.
Garth waved his hands in a circle and managed to erect a circle of protection from his opponent’s onslaughts. Then he doubled the circle. Though he was doing no damage to his foe, at least his attacker was no longer damaging him. More undead appeared, but were repulsed by the screen. There was another strike toward his mana, but it was stopped as well. The captain now turned his attention toward the hornets, which were swarming toward him, and in an instant they fell to the ground, their power to fly drained away. Writhing about, they curled up and died.
For a moment there was no attack from either side. Garth spared a quick look around and saw that nearly all the other combats were finished. The attention of the mob was entirely focused on the death struggle in the middle of the arena. In the center of the circle a darkness appeared and started to drift toward Garth, a frozen shade of terror. He felt his outer circle of protection fall beneath the attack. Garth raised his hands and an instant later a stand of trees appeared to encircle him. He stepped out of the circle of protection and then moved like a shadow himself, drifting silently. The frozen shade floated past him, looking, probing. Garth extended the line of trees so that they filled his half of the circle. He felt his power growing and, with a snap of his arm, he pointed behind the frozen shade. One of the trees came to life and grabbed hold of the shade with branchy arms, tearing it apart.
The mob, unable to see what was happening, cheered with a wild frenzy so that the sound of the struggle was drowned out. Moving stealthily, Garth darted to the edge of the forest he had created. His opponent was moving to the edge of the woods, hands raised. Bolts of lightning came down out of the sky, blasting the forest with blow after blow. Garth motioned toward the captain and the tree-walker crashed out of the woods. Reaching down, it snatched at the captain, lifting him up into the air. A wild frenzy of cheers erupted as the fight again became visible. The captain, writhing in pain, pointed both hands at the tree-creature’s face; the creature staggered backward, fire burning its eyes. Howling with pain, the creature staggered around in a circle, the mob laughing at its antics.
Garth raised his hand and the creature disappeared, its torment ended. At the same instant he raced up to the captain, lashing out with his feet, kicking to break the man’s knee. The captain dodged the blow, tripping Garth to the ground. Laughing sardonically he lashed out in turn, kicking Garth’s side so that the sound of ribs cracking could be heard. Garth rolled away, raising his hands. Tiny forms appeared, looking almost comical, for they were nothing more than woodland fairies. They buzzed about on silver wings and then closed in. They lunged at the captain’s eyes, with tiny spears causing him to howl with pain and back away. Behind Garth the forest he had created was in flames, thick coils of dark smoke soaring into the heavens, the fire crackling and hissing.
Garth, gasping for breath and unable to take the time to heal himself, conjured yet again, sending a bear into the melee. The bear was blocked by Ironclaw Orcs, who hacked at it with heavy scimitars, the bear in turn ripping them apart. From overhead a rain of stones started to fall, smashing into what was left of the forest. Garth could feel his power draining away.
He erected yet another circle of protection to buy time in order to replace the mana his opponent had rendered useless.
The captain stood on the other side of the circle, streams of blood coursing down his face and arms from the attack of the fairies, who now lay scattered about. He wiped the blood from his eyes, his features contorted with rage. Garth reached outward, probing into the man’s thoughts in a bid to ascertain what he might attempt next. Garth smiled and, with a raised hand, sent another swarm of fairies in.
They were dead within seconds but again they had managed to stab his opponent, and the sight of the captain flailing at them sent the mob into hysterical laughter.
The captain turned his attention away from Garth for a second. His features contorted with anger as he hurled a curse back at the mob. Though his words could not be heard, his flash of temper set them to laughing even louder.
The captain turned back and angrily pointed at the ground. Dwarven warriors appeared. He moved his hand again, and yet again, summoning forth creature after creature so that dwarfs, orcs, goblins, skeletons, and even demonic creatures were arrayed. As he prepared his attack Garth in turn gathered his own mana in, building up his strength. He came back up to his feet and walked back to the middle of the circle. His act of defiance caused wild cheering to erupt as Garth stood alone, as if ready to battle the summoned creatures without benefit of magic other than the dagger he now flicked out.
The captain laughed with cold contempt, raised both hands heavenward, and then pointed them straight down. A fissure opened in the ground directly before him. An expectant hush fell over the arena.
A black cloud rushed upward, like steam hissing out from the gates of hell. The shadow swirled about, turning and coiling, and took form.
“A Lord of the Pit!”
Garth turned and looked over his shoulder at Hammen, who was stepping backward in fear.
“Pit Lord! Pit Lord!” The cry thundered from the mob, and those who had bet upon Garth groaned with despair even as they came to their feet to watch the finale of the show.
The demon loomed upward, great clawlike hands stretching out, black mouth gaping open, flame washing over its teeth, its fire red eyes glowing like hot coals in a furnace.
The captain lowered his hands, the demon looking back at him. The captain pointed at the dwarven warriors. The demon, laughing, turned and swept them up in his claws, devouring them as they screamed and yelled. The other creatures summoned by the captain, now realizing that they were called forth as a sacrificial offering to the dark power, tried to move away, but the captain pointed at them in turn, freezing them in place.
After finishing his repast the demon, with heavy, lumbering steps, advanced on Garth. His mighty clawed hands reached out. Garth, in turn, raised his hands and a river of ice seemed to pour from the heavens, striking the monster on the arms, the ice instantly turning to hot steam. The Lord of the Pit, roaring with pain, staggered back.
The captain next pointed at the berserkers and the creature devoured them in turn. His strength redoubled by the feast, the demon charged again, howling with mad fury. Garth waved his hands in reply and instantly he was encased in holy armor. The monster tried to sweep him up in his grasp but each time his hands touched the armor there was a flash of steam. For long minutes they struggled thus until the demon’s power slowly started to abate and the armor in turn became translucent and then disappeared. The mob was now at a fever pitch as the Lord turned away, its features contorted with rage, and started back toward the captain.