Mages of Buldoun (Aether’s Revival Book 5)
Mages of Buldoun: Chapter 22

“Gregory Pettit of Aether’s Guard, user of foresight magic. How will that fare against Stallo Gympian, of Boar House, wielder of physical enhancement? Come out now, fighters.”

Gregory gave his wives a smile as he started toward the small flight of stairs and door that led directly into the arena.

“Do the empire proud,” Hayworth said, patting Gregory’s shoulder as he went past.

Nick spat at Gregory’s boot, just hitting the side of it. “Maybe there’ll be an accident for you, Pettit.”

Egil shifted and Jason coughed. “We aren’t hurting him, Armsmaster.”

Gregory shook his head. “Try not to lose when it’s your turn,” he said simply as he went past them.

Egil grunted as he motioned to the practice weapons on the wall beside him. “Pick your weapon.”

Gregory took the naginata. Against a skilled physical enhancement magi, he knew he’d need to be at his best. When he did, Egil stepped away from the stairs. Gregory bowed formally to him, holding the naginata in the crook of his elbow.

A flicker of a smile came and went on Egil’s lined face. “Fight well. Glory for the empire.”

“For the empire,” Gregory repeated.

Breathing slowly, he climbed the short flight of stairs. The door shut behind him when he stepped onto the sand of the arena. Across the way from him, another person was leaving through a similar door.

Half a foot shorter than Gregory, the man was twice as broad. A maul was balanced on his shoulder as he waved to the crowd. He wore a large smile on his face, showing off the prominent lower tusks the mage had from his heritage.

Gregory waved briefly to the crowd as he crossed to where the announcer stood. Beside him stood two people in striped shirts— Gregory recalled something about duels being overseen by a referee in his reading on Buldoun. One of those two people was Sergeant Willof from the academy. The other was a woman wearing a patch over one eye, the deep scar above and below it attesting to her having lost it.

The announcer lowered the disk as they approached. “I’m only giving you this speech today, not the rest of the time. Got it?” Getting nods, he continued. “Try not to deliberately kill each other. Anything short of a fatal wound will be taken care of by the healing enchantments. They require your body to supply the energy, though, so I’d recommend a good meal after the fight. We have two moderators, one from each country. When I call, bow to your opponent, then wait for my instruction to start. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Stallo grunted.

“Understood, sir,” Gregory said. “Good fight to you.”

Stallo’s eyebrow went up, and he snorted again. “Easy fight. I’ll try not to break too much.”

Willof kept his face blank, but he’d heard of what Gregory could do— he had a better idea than the young mage did of what was about to happen.

Raising the disk to his lips, the announcer began backing away. “We christen this tournament with the winners of their respective tournaments. Gentlemen, bow to your opponent.”

Stallo bowed as people from Buldoun did, and Gregory as the empire would. Both referees backed away, watching the two men with keen eyes. When they came out of the bow, Gregory shifted into a defensive stance and triggered foresight. The first few seconds of the fight came to him, and he was impressed.

“Fight!” the announcer shouted.

Stallo went from twenty feet to three feet away. He had his maul swinging in a second, his whole body covered in blue flames, but Gregory wasn’t there. He’d seen the attack, and was already shifting to the right. Stallo pivoted with him, his downward strike becoming horizontal.

Gregory knew better than to block any of Stallo’s attacks. With Stallo using a maul, it would be nearly impossible to slide an attack away, either. That left Gregory with just dodging, which he did.

The crowd was cheering loudly, as it looked like Stallo was going to crush Gregory at any second. The empire contingent in the crowd was quiet as they watched Gregory dodge, weave, and leap away from the part-boar eurtik.

Nick was laughing as he watched from the waiting area. “Get him, pig! Get him!”

“Just one hit…” Jason muttered.

Parks watched the fight— it would tax him a great deal, but he thought he could get a wall up behind Gregory, giving him nowhere to go. Egil moved enough to watch the others gathered at the bars, just in case someone got upset with what was being said.

Yukiko and Jenn stayed quiet, but their anger at Nick was slowly climbing. Yukiko wouldn’t dishonor the clan by attacking him, but her gaze went to Rafiq calmly writing in his book.

Rafiq would glance at the fight, then jot another note, but he did let his eyes shift to the others in the room before making more notes. He caught her gaze, and his snout dipped a fraction as he went back to writing.

Gregory knew that Stallo was not a mere apprentice— he gave off more aether pressure than even his wives could generate. He had to risk his practice weapon twice, but he did it as obliquely as he could to tip the maul’s trajectory and help him keep dodging.

Stallo suddenly came to a dead stop, breathing easily. “Nimble, but you don’t attack.”

Gregory stopped nearly thirty feet away, breathing slowly. “I can’t match you in strength. Your skill with your weapon would be praised by my weapons instructor.”

“The empire doesn’t teach their magi weapons as they should.”

“My instructor is an armsmaster,” Gregory said as he pushed his foresight a few more seconds into the future.

“Hmm… I accept the compliment. Concede, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

“I cannot. My clan needs the honor of me winning.”

“Then I will try to end it quickly.”

Gregory adjusted his hands on the naginata. “I will not be moved.”

Stallo blazed with aether again. “Fine. You had your chance.”

Stallo rushed forward as fast as he could, diverting the majority of his aether for speed. He hadn’t been as strong as he could be, but the magi was slippery. Dropping the enhanced protection he had up, as Gregory couldn’t even hope to attack with the speed he had, Stallo was a blue, flaming blur to the crowd.

When he came to a stop, a sharp pain radiated from his gut. Coughing blood, Stallo looked down to see Gregory crouched under the sweep of his maul. The naginata was punched clean through his stomach and out his back, just to the side of his spine. Dropping the maul, Stallo grasped at the naginata.

Gregory lunged forward, letting go of the weapon as he caught the heavily muscled mage. With a grunt, he guided the man down to the sand gently.

“Move!” the one-eyed woman snapped at Gregory.

Gregory did as she demanded. With a jerk, she yanked the wooden weapon from Stallo’s body, dropping it on the ground. She went to her knee beside the grimacing man, checking his wound. After a second, she exhaled in relief.

“Will he be okay?” Gregory asked.

The woman looked up at him, then nodded once. “Yes. He’s already healing. Gather your weapon and step back.”

Gregory did as he was bade, replaceing himself beside Willof. “Sergeant, it’s good to see you,” he whispered.

“Thank you. Just wait. I doubt the announcer thought this would end so fast. If Sasha says he’ll be fine, he should be.”

“Sasha?” Gregory whispered.

“We were introduced last night,” Willof said. “She’s a twenty-year veteran of a prominent mercenary company in Buldoun.”

Gregory nodded as the announcer walked toward the middle of the arena, speaking into the disk, “What a surprising showing. Pettit wins by using Gympian’s own aggression against him. Was it luck, or was it really foresight? You’ll have to decide on your own. We will have a small break as Gympian heals enough to walk off the field.”

Stallo watched Gregory with a hint of respect. “Good fight.”

Gregory bowed to the downed man. “You are formidable. I think that was my only chance to beat you.”

Stallo wheezed as the magic healed him— it hurt almost as much as the weapon had. “Maybe… Should’ve kept my skin hardened.”

“The naginata might have shattered then,” Gregory admitted. He knew it would have— he’d seen that possible future, then watched it vanish when Stallo committed to his plan.

“See you in the group matches.”

“Yes. Good fight.”

“Go ahead,” the announcer said with the disk lowered. “Once he’s good, we’ll be calling for the next fighter.”

Gregory bowed his head, then turned to walk back to the waiting area. He could see the relief on his wives’ faces, the hatred from the Eternal Flame, and the smiles from Swift Wind.