Thraxas and the Ice Dragon

Chapter Twenty-Three

Heading back towards the arena, Makri is relaxed. I don't think she's given much thought to her next fight. It's quite a contrast to my own experience of the tournament. Then it was all I thought about for weeks. I'd practice during the day, and at night I'd go drinking with sword-fighting friends, swapping tales about fighters we'd seen, and lying about all the contests we'd won. It became my whole life. Makri does want to win, because she takes pride in her fighting technique, but she doesn't care about the competition. I find that annoying. She should respect it more.

Makri's next opponent is Gabril-ixx, from the far north. He won a tournament recently, so he must be skilful, and in good form. Big Bixo has him as slight favourite at four to six, while Makri is eleven to ten. I'd like to bet everything we have but, heeding Makri and Lisutaris's desire to be more cautious, I put 2,500 gurans on Makri to win. Makri has a lot more backers now. She's still not popular with the crowd, but serious gamblers don't care about that. They've seen what she can do.

Lisutaris meets us at the edge of the field. There's something strange about her manner.

"You look odd," I say.

"Thanks, Thraxas. That's always good to hear."

"Why are you holding your head like that?" Lisutaris has her chin pushed down, almost resting on her chest. "What's that you're wearing?"

"Nothing."

"Yes it is. I can see it sparkling."

"Oh this?" Lisutaris glances down at the heavy row of jewels currently dangling round her neck. It's a queenstone necklace, a very fine example.

"It's just a… little gift," she says, and blushes faintly. "From Kublinos."

"Did you agree to marry him?" asks Makri.

"Of course not! Why would you ask that?"

"Because he's just given you the most expensive necklace this side of the King's treasury?" I suggest.

"I had to accept it," says Lisutaris, huffily. "It would have been rude not to. That doesn't mean I'm about to get married. The subject was never discussed. Makri, are you ready to fight?"

"What are you going to say when he does ask?" says Makri.

"Could we not discuss it right this moment? Thraxas, listen carefully. I'm convinced Lasat is going to make a serious attempt to sabotage Makri in this fight. I can deal with him and Charius, but the rest of their guild is here too, so there might be spells flying in from all directions. I'll need your to help to deflect them."

"Me? How am I meant to do that?"

"You've had Sorcerous training, I believe?"

"I got thrown out of Sorcerer's College as an apprentice. I only ever knew a few minor spells."

"That's not true," says Lisutaris. "You used to know more than that, before you dedicated your life to drinking. You can help if you put your mind to it. I'll give you a spell for detecting incoming attacks."

"Thraxas is going to help you with your sorcery?" asks Makri.

"Yes."

"I'm doomed."

"She may be right," I say. "I really don't think I'm up to it."

"Fine," says Lisutaris. "If you'd like to see me humiliated, Turai disgraced, Makri defeated, and Lasat elected as War Leader, why don't you just go and drink beer instead?"

"All right I'll do it!" I glare at Makri. "Now I'm going to get killed from a heart attack spell, protecting your skinny hide."

"I'm sure no one will be firing heart attack spells," says Lisutaris, calmly. "More likely they'll simply be trying to jolt Makri, to make her lose her balance. Anyway, you have your spell-protection necklace."

I can't say I'm feeling happy about this development. A good spell-protection necklace does go a long way towards nullifying hostile sorcery, but it won't keep out everything. Thraxas of Turai fears no man in combat, but I'm not that keen on being used as target practice by the Samsarinan Sorcerers Guild. Lisutaris takes a scrap of parchment from her purse and speaks to it. A sentence appears, though not in any language I know.

"Read this," she says.

"I cant understand it."

"Just read it."

I do as instructed. Lisutaris then says the sentence out loud, and makes a peculiar motion with her hand in front of my eyes.

"Now you'll be able to detect, attract and repel incoming spells," she says.

"What do you mean attract? No one said anything about attract."

"It's part of the process," explains the Sorcerer, blithely. "Once you detect spells, they'll come towards you. You'll have plenty of time to deflect them. A good half-second or so."

"What if I don't?"

"You may suffer some minor damage. Are you ready Makri? It's time for you to put on your armour."

Makri goes off to change. I scan the dense crowd, looking for hostile Sorcerers. There seems to be a rainbow cloak everywhere I look. The Samsarinan Guild has turned up in force. I find myself touching my spell protection necklace again, and wondering what exactly Lisutaris means by minor damage. As I lead Makri out onto the field I catch a glimpse of Lasat Axe of Gold, right next to the tower occupied by the Tournament Sorcerer. No doubt they're plotting something together. This time, when the Marshal raises his flag, I sprint back to Lisutaris.

"Are you ready?' she asks.

"No."

The fight commences. Gabril-ixx adopts a cautious stance, well-protected by his shield. Too well protected perhaps, as he's slow to react to Makri's attack. She gets her sword underneath his defences, dealing him a blow on the leg which is only just short of being called a foul by the Marshal, for too much use of force. He stumbles slightly, by which time Makri is round to one side of him, with the blade of her sword at his neck, a stroke which in a real fight would take off his head. Makri wins, in one of the shortest fights so far. She comes off the field smiling.

"I didn't give these Sorcerers any time to start firing spells."

We congratulate Makri.

"Shall we pick up our winnings?" says Lisutaris.

We have to force our way through the crowd, many whom are pressing in to look at Makri. I can hear her name being mentioned all around, and the name of Elupus too, wondering what will happen if they're matched together. That's looking more and more likely. Makri is through to the last eight, and I don't see anyone else standing in her way. Apart from the Samsarinan Sorcerers, of course.

"Next time Makri steps onto the field they'll be at it from the start."

"Probably," agrees Lisutaris. "We'll have to make sure we're ready."

I shake my head in disgust. "It's a sorry state of affairs. The Samsarinan sword-fighting tournament was always known for its honesty. When I won, there was no magic involved. Just strong-hearted men battling it out. Lion-hearted might be a better description. A man had to be something special to win the tournament in those days."

"Like you?" says Makri.

"Exactly. We were proper warriors. Fighting all day and drinking all night. Of course, Samsarina had a proper King then. He wouldn't have allowed his Sorcerers to run out of control. Everything's gone downhill since then. There's no honour any more. Not like in my day."

"Weren't you absent without leave from the army?" asks Lisutaris.

"Yes. But honourably."

There's no sign of Big Bixo's previous good humour as I pick up our winnings. No sign of his business partner, either, though I have a strong feeling I'm not going to get out of Elath without encountering him again. Our 2,500 guran wager at 11-10 returned 5,250. Added to the 2,625 we held back, we now have 7,875 gurans.

"Splendid fight, Makri!"

It's General Hemistos. The General, a well-presented man on most occasions, is looking particularly smart. He's wearing his dress cloak and uniform, the sort of outfit he might wear on a formal parade.

"Thank you," says Makri.

"I have the sword I promised you."

Makri looks vague. The General reminds her that he promised to replace her sword with something better if she made it through the qualifying rounds. It's a good offer, I suppose. Makri's weapons and armour aren't the best.

"If you'd like to accompany me now, we can pick it up. There's a hostelry just past the armourers which serves a better class of food, if you'd like to try their fare?"

Makri looks momentarily confused. "I have to stay with Lisutaris. I'm her bodyguard."

"That's fine," says Lisutaris, immediately. "I'm quite safe for the evening. I have Thraxas to protect me."

Makri shoots an angry glance at Lisutaris.

"Pick up the sword," I say. "Lisutaris can cope without you for a while."

"Excellent," says the General, and sweeps her off.

"That'll take her mind off me and Kublinos for a while," says Lisutaris, as we walk on. It's a warm evening and the streets of Elath are noisier than ever. I feel a slight tingle as the spell Lisutaris taught me for repelling sorcerous attacks fades from my memory. She'll have to teach it to me again each time I use it. A person with as little magical skill as me can't hold a spell like that in their memory.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be so pleased to see Makri go off with the General," says Lisutaris.

I refuse to respond, feeling it beneath my dignity to react to Lisutaris's ridiculous insinuation that I'd be jealous of anyone making a play for Makri. The pointy-eared barbarian can go off with anyone she likes, I'm not complaining.

The quickest way to Arichdamis's house takes us through the narrow alley that separates the Jolly Bandit tavern from a blacksmith's forge. I'd like to call in at the Jolly Bandit but it's not the sort of place a woman of Lisutaris's status would want to be seen in. It might be the pang of remorse I feel on missing out on a refreshing beer that makes me careless. Or it might be because I'm not expecting anyone to be foolish enough to attack me while I'm with the Head of the Sorcerers Guild. Nevertheless, I"m taken by surprise when, a few yards along the alleyway, a small wooden door opens up and three men step out. Two of them have scarves hiding their features and the third is wearing a full-face helmet. They'll all carrying swords.

"Hand over your money," says the man in the helmet.

By now my own sword is in my hand but I'm not expecting to fight. The alleyway is just wide enough for three people, which gives me room to step a little to the side, allowing Lisutaris to blast them with a spell. I half turn my head. Lisutaris is standing there, though she doesn't seem to producing any sorcery.

"Would you - " I begin, but I don't get any further. The helmeted man lunges at me with his sword. I parry with the dagger in my left hand and thrust towards him but my strike is a little slow and he avoids it. Immediately the man on his left pushes forward with his blade and I have to deflect it and take a step back with my guard raised.

"Now would be a good time for a spell!" I yell, but nothing happens. Instead the third man attempts to outflank me and and there's a loud clang of metal as I block his blade. Not far away the blacksmith is working at his forge and the clash of our weapons mingles with the sounds from his anvil. The thug with the helmet is now pressing me hard, I step inside his strike and allow our bodies almost to touch, then thrust my dagger into his arm. He gasps in pain and I push his body against the assailant on my left. Simultaneously I raise my sword, blocking the attacker on my right. As his blade is diverted towards the ground I raise mine and plant it firmly through his shoulder. He cries out, and drops his sword. I have time to kick him firmly in the legs for good measure, and he falls to the ground. The attacker on my left, undaunted, mounts a furious attack. I black his blade easily enough and when he draws it back to strike again, he leaves himself wide open. I plant my blade in his chest and it slices easily thought his leather jerkin and into his heart. He falls down dead at my feet. I turn, with my sword and dagger at the ready, but by now the man with the helmet has fled, still clutching the wound in his arm. The other thug picks himself up and runs after him along the alleyway.

I turn angrily to Lisutaris. "What was that?" I demand.

"What do you mean?" says Lisutaris.

"Why didn't you help me?"

"I wanted to see how well you fought these days," says Lisutaris.

"What?"

"You're always going on about sword-fighting, and Makri's technique, and how good you were. I just wanted to see if you still had it."

"I could have been killed!"

"I'd have stepped in if you needed me."

I'm not finding this entirely satisfactory. "You can't just leave someone to fight three people because you're curious about their fighting technique! That's not what comrades do!"

"Are we comrades?" says Lisutaris.

"I thought we were."

"Really Thraxas, I think you're making too much of a fuss. Particularly as you did fight so well. I was impressed. Should we move on? Probably it wouldn't be good for my reputation to be discovered in this alleyway with a dead man at my feet."

I glare at her, exasperated. Before leaving I removed the assailant's scarf. It's no one I recognise, and there's nothing in his pockets to identify him. Even so, I'm fairly sure he was working for Big Bixo's business partner. That might even have been the man in the helmet, he looked of similar build. We hurry along, emerging from the alley into a broad thoroughfare that leads up to Arichdamis house. I'm still angry at Lisutaris for not helping me. This woman can bring down war dragons from the sky. She could have dealt with three armed thugs easily enough.

"Are you still in a bad mood?" asks Lisutaris, airily.

"Yes."

"I really don't see why. I was there if you needed me."

"What's the idea of saying you wanted to see what my sword-fighting technique was like? It makes it sound like I might have been lying about it."

"I wouldn't put it quite like that. Exaggerating, maybe. You are prone to that. Anyway, weren't you pleased to get some practice?"

"Practice? I had to kill a man!"

"Does that bother you?"

"No," I admit. "Not when he was trying to kill me."

We walk on in silence. We're almost at Arichdamis's house when Lisutaris next speaks. "I like the idea of being a comrade."

"What?"

"Comrade. We don't use that word in the Sorcerers Guild. I rather like it. All in the struggle together. Would Makri count as a comrade as well?'

"I suppose so."

"Good. I must tell her what splendid technique you displayed. Really, none of your attackers came close to harming you." Lisutaris reaches inside her magic purse and, to my surprise, brings out a large bottle of ale.

"Where did you get that?"

"I used a spell to whisk it out of the Jolly Bandit."

I open the bottle immediately and take a drink. "I'm still not pleased with you."

"You will be when you've finished it," says Lisutaris.