I thanked the gods my constant pain casting had increased my tolerance to bodily abuse.
When they got close enough to pause, the three of us made up a triangle—an equal distance apart.
My gaze flicked to the limping mage first. His expression was fierce and despite his limp I knew he wasn’t out yet. The second man was still inscrutable and deadly. Now that we were on our last limbs of magic he had the best defense with his armor because it didn’t cost him anything to keep it.
I swallowed. If the armored mage had lasted this long despite his lack of agility then his magic had to be great, his stamina even greater.
My eyes flicked back and forth between the two, my fists ready to cast at the slightest attack. A movement caught my eye and my chin jerked, ever so slightly to catch the limping mage’s wink. He did it one more time, and then I casually returned my stare to the armored mage who was shifting from one foot to the next, no injury that I could see.
I prayed it wasn’t a trick. After all, it made sense. We could waste our magic battling each other, neither keeping enough to challenge the armored mage on our own. Or we could both take him on first, and then let the best mage win.
Please, please don’t let this be a trick.
Magic shot out of my palms at the same moment as the other. The armored mage threw up a sphere not a moment too soon—but cracks crept across, snaking trails of purple across his globe, and then the shield vanished and our castings sent him flying back against the sand.
The man struggled to rise, clunky mail making the stand difficult as twin bolts of ice shot at the two of us. One ball of fire from the black-haired mage deflected one as I sent up a gust of sand to overtake the second.
Back and forth our magic danced. After a couple quick bouts the armored mage dug his blade into his flesh. There was a ricocheting boom that echoed across the arena as the black-haired mage and I collapsed to the ground, spheres up just in time before a hot wall of fire cut across the gap.
I held back another cry as the bandage cut into my thigh, clinging to my casted shield with the last of my regular magic. The moment the wave passed my shield fell, and I pressed down on my wound, sending a set of three war hammers slamming against the armored mage’s chains. The black-haired mage set his magic with a mace, and two of our castings pounded into the armored mage’s flesh.
Chainmail might protect against sharp blades but it did not prevent a blunt but powerful force.
The armored man roared a surrender after his next pain casting barely charged—dying before it even reached the air. His magic had run out, and he wasn’t in a position to outmatch two of us still with magic.
I barely heard the announcer declare his loss. My eyes had flown to the black-haired man and his to me.
And then there were two.
This was it. I was so, so close. Every bit of me was crying out in pain as I pushed myself to stand; I could see he was struggling to do the same.
For a moment neither of us moved. He cocked his head, studying me as I studied him. The mage was definitely older—but not quite thirty if my assessment was correct. He was slimmer than most, and if he had survived this long he had to be my equal in agility and strength. He was down to pain casting just like me—and neither of us was faring well. His skin was clammy and red and he was shaking just to stand. I could see blood seeping through his bandages; blood was streaking down my leg.
That didn’t stop him from casting, and it didn’t stop me.
WHAM!
Our castings collided. His ice melded with my sand, and I snorted as the cluster dropped like a pile of crumbled debris between us. Clearly we had our favorite moves.
He scooted closer and I followed suit. This time neither of us chose a casting until we were barely fifteen feet apart. He knew his limits—well, so did I.
Another flare as this time I cast flying daggers and he arrows. Both of our castings fell as we threw up shields that crumbled the barest second after deflecting one another’s casting.
I couldn’t help but notice he had been digging a finger into his wound as I had pressed down on mine. Pain casting and we were already at our second limits. I bit down on my tongue as I added pressure but a wave of sickness roared up in its place. I bowled over and the other mage seemed to have a similar effect.
Our magic was gone.
I sucked in a deep breath and charged, every bit of me crying out as a fist feigned right and my leg swept at his feet. The man anticipated the move and caught my leg with both hands and pulled—causing me to stumble—before jerking back and throwing his weight forward so that I lost footing and fell to my back.