Authors: S. G. Rogers
Secrets of Yden (31 page)
"Because we have attracted the wrong kind of attention. We should leave now."
Jon glanced up to see a pack of enormous, fanged cats cresting the far end of the arena where the wall had crumbled. The creatures were completely hairless except for the beard-like tufts under their chins, and Jon guessed one of their enormous paws would span a hubcap.
And their claws would probably rip the tire to shreds.
"Holy moley, those cats are big! How did they know we were here?"
"The bearded hodyny can smell small amounts of blood from many, many leagues away, as can most of the predators on Pytch. If the hodyny picked up the scent, flying reptiles known as the rantynith will arrive momentarily."
Jon gulped. "Anything else?"
"Yes. The gneeth will stampede. In their case, however, we'll at least have warning. The creatures are so large, the vibrations of their approach will shake the ground underneath our feet."
The cats floored it in their direction.
"See you at the tree house," Jon squeaked.
"Indeed you will."
Although Jon and Dorsit returned to Dragon Isle safely, Jon was shaken. One little cut had brought those creatures running, and there was no telling what other parade of Pytch carnivores had been hearing the same dinner bell.
"How on Yden can I fight a bloodless duel?" Jon asked, freaked.
"It's virtually impossible," Dorsit acknowledged. "You can perhaps begin to see the problem."
Now he tells me.
If things weren't bad enough, messages had begun to appear in Quixoran's Wiznet mailbox from wizards wanting to attend the duel. Nedd of the Bee Clan dropped in to let Quixoran know wagers were being taken as to the outcome.
"It's a Mortal Challenge, not a sporting event!" Jon protested. "How did people find out about it anyway?"
"There are some very angry former Executive Council wizards who would dearly love to see a certain young Dragon Clan wizard put in his place," Nedd replied. "They're doing everything in their power to make the match as public as possible, doubtless hoping for your defeat."
"That stinks!" Jon exploded.
"Don't misunderstand," Nedd hastened to add. "You have many supporters as well, including some prominent non-wizards. Governors Gnoam and Ignato will attend the duel to cheer you on."
"You made a bit of a splash with your escape from the Executive Council, Jon," Dorsit said. "Everyone wants to see if you can hold your own against Homa."
"The odds are ten-to-one against you, young wizard, but I put a bet down in your favor," Nedd said. "If you win, I'll make a tidy sum of gold."
If I win?
Not an overwhelming vote of confidence. Jon exchanged a glance with Quixoran; there might have been a slight shadow of compassion in his eyes â or there might not have been. Ever since Jon had accepted the duel, he hadn't received much in the way of comfort from anyone. Charles had told him, "Man up, Jon. When you put yourself out there as a warrior, you've got to expect to be treated as one."
Nevertheless it was a little unnerving and he'd had more than a couple of moments of self-doubt. Most of his previous battles had been fought from necessity. This time he'd volunteered, so he didn't waste too much energy looking for sympathy.
Fred and Casey were planning to watch, and all the Dragon Clan apprentices were going. Jon's mother said she couldn't bear to watch the match in person, so she would wait with Sela on Dragon Isle for his return. Lady Marla had recruited a great many freshwater and sea nymphs to act as arena security; their electric triton spears would dissuade a lot of meat-eaters from getting frisky.
This whole Mortal Challenge thing is turning into a real circus. I just hope I'm more the ringleader than the clown.
****
The morning of the duel came far too quickly. Since daybreak Jon had lain awake in his hammock, thinking about the upcoming match and listening to the sounds of his friends' breathing. He'd brought Fred and Casey to Yden the day before, and they were sacked out in a couple of extra hammocks strung up for the occasion. Quixoran had eased up on his training the previous evening, and Jon had played nighttime Dragon Egg in the garden. The recreation was something he badly needed, and it made him realize just how hard he'd been driven since he agreed to duel Homa.
Quixoran, Dorsit, and my dad are scared for me, plain and simple.
They'd over-compensated for it by practically beating the fairy floss out of him. Jon thought back to the first time he'd ever used magic as a weapon. He'd thrown a fireball at Warlord Mandral, and hadn't even been aware he'd done so until the fiery missive was whizzing at Mandral's head.
I reacted from wizard's instinct.
Since then he'd added knowledge and skill to that instinct, working harder than the usual apprentice, in order to survive.
On the plus side, Jon was young, strong, and maybe a little unconventional. Homa was old, but he wasn't frail by any means, and Jon had seen for himself the Shark Clan wizard was extraordinarily talented. Homa had a proven record of winning championships, a lifetime of experience, and the good judgment not to take Quixoran on directly.
Instead he chose me.
Homa would like nothing better than to humiliate the Dragon Clan. As Jon lay in his hammock, staring at the ceiling, it finally dawned on him this confrontation had been Homa's goal all along. He'd probably even sent his nephew Bailey to the Tri-County Museum exhibit to provoke an incident.
Like Dad said, I've been played â brilliantly â and I may be about to hand Homa the triumph of his life.
With Jon's defeat under his belt, Homa would probably be considered the dominant wizard on Yden. The proverb "old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill" had
never applied more aptly than now.
Jon spent the next few minutes throwing up in the bathroom. When he'd finished splashing water on his face, Jon noticed Max leaning against the doorjamb. "Don't you ever get tired of watching me puke?" Jon muttered.
Max chuckled. "We've got an hour before anyone else is up. Let's go for a walk."
They grabbed their shoes and headed for the beach. The tide was turning when Jon and Max reached the sand, so they sat down and watched the waves coming in.
"You know why Homa picked you, don't you?" Max asked.
"Because I'm stupid?"
"He can sense your power, Jon. We all can. It's not just your wizardry, either. You're a leader. You take risks. You've got honor and integrity. Homa can't stand it. This is his last, best chance to take you down, and the Dragon Clan along with you. Don't let him win." Max was deadly serious as he spoke.
"Why are you saying this stuff?"
"I love Yden," he replied. "After my apprenticeship is over, I'm going to make a life here. I want to have a wife and a family someday. Everything you represent makes Yden a better place. That's what you're fighting for today, Jon. Homa's only fighting for himself."
Stunned at Max's candor, Jon was struck speechless.
Maybe I don't necessarily agree with all the nice things he just said, but he's right about my fighting for a better way of life on Yden.
Waves stretched wet fingers across the beach as Solegra rose higher, and the two wizards headed back through the garden. As Jon approached the spot where he'd first met Max almost a year ago, he paused.
"Max⦠thanks. What you said means a lot."
"Don't mention it," he replied. "But if you tell anyone, I'll deny it."
Jon shook his head and laughed. "You're so predictable."
****
When Jon arrived at the arena, a sizable crowd had already assembled to watch the Mortal Challenge. Flanked by Quixoran and Dr. Hansen, Jon materialized on the playing field to scattered applause. Thousands of people were there â upwards of five thousand, Jon guessed â with more people arriving every second.
"I had no idea so many wizards were still left on Yden," Jon said.
"They're not all from Yden. Look closer."
The first row of seats was about twenty feet above the field, so Jon had to tilt his head back to scan the crowd. His eyebrows rose at the number of jeans, T-shirts and even baseball caps being worn by people with clan rings.
"People transported all the way from Earth?"
"Wizards and their families. I guess the news of the challenge went viral."
"There may be more non-wizards in attendance than wizards," Quixoran said. "Homa constructed a transporter platform outside the arena, just for this event, and made address tokens available to any non-wizards who wished to attend the match."
"Is that a good idea?" Jon asked, aghast. "Aren't non-wizards too vulnerable here?"
"It would not have been my choice, had I been consulted," Quixoran replied. "I've sent several wizards with baskets of bloodwart to crush the roots at considerable distances from the arena."
"What does that do?"
"The crushed root of the bloodwart mimics the smell of blood," Jon's father said. "The aroma will lure predators away from the arena, hopefully achieving a temporary measure of safety."
"Max and Ian promised to stick with Fred and Casey today," Jon said. "They'll transport them to safety if anything hungry gets into the arena."
"Just remember, the rules of the Mortal Challenge require you and Homa to surrender your transporter cuffs for the duration of the duel," Quixoran replied. "That means you'll be vulnerable as well."
"Let's just hope it doesn't become an issue," Jon said.
President Szul, Nedd, and Ure of the Dolphin Clan arrived just then, joining Governor Gnoam and Governor Ignato in a roped-off section. Several of the President's Elite Guardsmen were in the seats surrounding the dignitaries. In another section of the arena, all the deposed Executive Council wizards were sitting together, looking extremely disgruntled. Jon supposed they'd been obliged to use the transporter platform. The thought of the wizards traveling like everyone else was oddly satisfying.
They'd better get used to it.
Jon did a double take when he spotted a grizzled, older action movie hero in the stands. The man noticed Jon's stare and lifted his cowboy hat in a traditional Texan greeting. The suns glinted off his clan ring.
"Wow. Wheel Merritt is a wizard?" Jon exclaimed.
"I always suspected he was," his father said. "He's a very talented martial artist."
"I sure hope Melinda and Melora get to meet him. They're from Texas, too."
At the top of the arena, dozens of water nymphs were on patrol. More than a few wizards were stationed there as well, maintaining a vigil against the many predators of Pytch. A sudden sting from Ophelia alerted Jon to Homa's arrival. A roar of approval went up from some of Homa's supporters, but when Jon snuck a peek at Wheel, he was pleased to see him thumbing Homa down. Fred's loud "Boo!" came from the opposite side of the stadium. Jon's father walked over to confer with Homa, who'd brought Treefoul of the Fox Clan with him. Seeing Treefoul's face again just about made Jon's day â not.
If Treefoul and Homa are buddies, certain things are starting to make sense.
Kira transported to Jon's side. "How are you doing?"
"Little nervous."
"I want you to take something into battle."
Jon melted inside at the thought of Kira giving him a token of her love, just like the championships of old. Instead of a scarf or pin, however, she pushed a sheath into his hands â a stiletto. "Strap this onto your belt."
"Huh? I thought you were giving me something of yours, you know, for luck."
"It
is
mine and you make your own luck," she replied. "Good hunting." Kira gave him a long, lingering kiss on the lips before transporting into the stands.
As Jon strapped the weapon onto his belt, Quixoran chuckled. "Kira Szul is quite a girl."
"She's sometimes not all that romantic, but she's the most amazing girl, er,
woman
I've ever met."
"Exactly what I thought about your grandmother, Elina," Quixoran replied.
Jon's stomach tightened as his father approached. "It's time. Good luck, son. You've worked hard to prepare for this challenge. Whatever happens, I want you to know I have faith in you."
Jon swallowed hard. "Thanks, Dad."
His father transported off the field as Quixoran escorted Jon to the center of the stadium, where Homa was waiting.
"Dragon Wizard," Homa said to Jon with a smirk.
Although he nodded in response, Jon kept his mouth shut, in part because he had nothing to say to Homa, and partly because he didn't want his breakfast to make a repeat appearance. The Shark Clan had worn a resplendent suit over which hung a conspicuous, crimson, floor-length cape. The image of Davy's superhero costume flashed into Jon's mind, and he couldn't suppress a chuckle. Homa's eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw tightened.
"Wizards, I must ask you surrender your transporter cuffs," Quixoran said.
Jon handed his cuff to his grandfather and Homa gave his to Treefoul. Despite Jon's resolve to ignore the Fox Clan wizard, Jon could see Treefoul's malevolent expression out of the corner of his eye.
He looks like he's already savoring my painful, prolonged death.
At Quixoran's direction, Jon extended his hand to Homa for a handshake. The two wizards clasped each other's wrists, Yden-style. "The duel will last until one or the other side yields," Quixoran said.
"Or until he dies," added Homa under his breath.
"You first," Jon muttered as heat shot to the ends of his fingertips. Homa gasped in pain and snatched his arm back.
Turning on his heel, Jon strode to his designated starting point. As he faced his opponent the crowd went nuts â but Jon's focus was on Homa. The slight nausea he'd had since before dawn suddenly changed into a feeling of excited anticipation. "Okay, Ophelia, let's do this thing," he whispered. "Failure is not an option."