His next opponent was a diminutive elf, nearly as short as Nebin. The elf wore a simple tunic the color of rose petals. Nebin pegged him as an apprentice who'd recently learned his first real spell, and gave a smug smile calculated to infuriate. Then the duel commenced.
Ready this time, Nebin whipped out his wand and fired off two blasts of rioting color before the elf could do more than blink.
When the color faded, the elf blinked a second time and said quietly, "I'm immune to that enchantment. Are you?"
The elf raised one hand as if cupping something and lobbed it underhand at the gnome. Halfway between the elf and Nebin, the unseen something ignited with a violet whumpf! A sphere of burning purple the size of his head slammed into Nebin. Pain flared through him, unexpected and unbearable. He was certain that his body would be gushing blood from a thousand wounds but for the cauterizing effect of the fiery sphere that was consuming his flesh. Nebin scrambled back, and the sphere fell and bounced away. Gasping for breath, Nebin saw that the elf held one hand forward, gently waving his fingertips. The gnome's breath came even quicker when he saw the sphere respond to the elf's gestures and roll back toward him.
At that moment, Nebin believed with all his might that anything, death included, would be better than being touched by that sphere again. He was so desperate to avoid it that the simplest solution, stepping out of the circle, never occurred to him. Instead, he began breathlessly reciting a long string of harsh syllables. The burning sphere rolled around the periphery of the circle toward him, and Nebin lurched frantically away, trying to stay ahead of it. Walking and casting spells simultaneously was difficult even for arch wizards, let alone someone who hovered just beyond death's grasp. The gnome moved and incanted, chanted and dodged, laboring through magical verses that were far too complex for such a competition. All the while, the sphere narrowed the gap. He could feel the heat groping toward him. Nebin, the sphere, and the elf all moved around the inside of the circle as if pantomiming the face of a sundial.
Nebin smiled as he gasped out the final syllables of his spell. The elf looked confused for a moment when nothing happened, then a shadow swept across his face. He looked up just in time to meet the talons of a stooping hawk with hell-bright eyes. As the hawk raked bloody tracks across the elf's face, its scream was matched by the elf's.
"Not my face!" he shrieked, throwing his hands across his eyes.
Nebin leaped into the air when he saw the flaming sphere dissipate. The hawk that he had summoned from an otherworldly place to do his bidding flapped, screeched, and tore at the elf's arms and head.
Nebin laughed, screaming, "Who's immune now, elf?"
The elf turned and ran, the hawk bedeviling him as he scurried across the floor of the coliseum. Nebin stepped into an impromptu jig but the burning pain in his side stopped him cold.
He called, "Healing!" and a priest moved forward, the sunburst of Pelor on his mantle.
He ran his hands over Nebin's sides. Where he touched, the blackened flesh turned supple and brown.
Then the priest gave Nebin a chiding look as he walked away, saying, "Be not too swift to call dark agents to your side, lest you become addicted to their hate. Seek instead for allies in the celestial sphere."
Nebin ducked his head guiltily. True, the hawk had the taint of the lower Planes on it, but his choices were limited. He did what he needed to win the match and refused to believe that was wrong. It was only a game, after all. But despite his rationalizations, Nebin also knew the priest's words were true. He promised himself he'd remember the warning.
He turned to the standings, which flashed on a large, blank wall in magical glyphs. In the Novice Competition, two rounds remained for those who advanced. Nebin knew that after that, there would be a few days before the finals. The novices competing for the Golden Wand had to wait for the intermediate and grandmaster competitions. But the boards revealed wonderful news: He was getting a bye into the last round! The gnome wondered what he had done that fate was so kind to him. He took the ten minutes at his disposal to wander the field, looking for Hennet. Had the sorcerer already lost? He couldn't find his friend, but did find Aganon, the spellcaster they'd met during the preliminaries.
Nebin called, "Aganon! How fares the day?"
Aganon looked up, saw the gnome, and bragged, "I am at the top of my magic. Stay, and learn a thing or two."
Aganon certainly is sure of himself. Sort of like me, realized the gnome.
Aganon faced off against a dwarf with snow-white braids in his beard and a short, stout staff inset with a crystal. The dwarf aimed a narrow fan of fire at Aganon, who ducked most of it, but not all. Nebin saw a Peloran cleric move closer, monitoring Aganon's fight, along with another match in the next ring where ice bolts were haphazardly flung. Aganon palmed a vial and gulped it down. Suddenly, he burst into frenzied motion, vibrating with quickness. He moved so fast that his movements blurred. The dwarf's eyes narrowed with understanding, and he fumbled for something at his belt. Aganon's form began running around the periphery of the ring, completing a circuit in less than a second. With each circuit, he tightened his course, coming ever closer to the worried dwarf.
The dwarf pulled out a scroll, reading aloud the inscribed runes. A yellow ray flashed away from one of the dwarf's gesturing hands, striking the blurred figure of Aganon. Aganon stumbled. He flailed, cried out, and ran straight into the dwarf. The force of the impact knocked the dwarf completely out of the ring onto his back. Aganon was down, too. Even sprawled out as he was, Nebin saw that Aganon remained completely inside the circle. He struggled back to his feet, gradually blurring back to normal speed.
Aganon turned his head toward Nebin and gave the gnome a secret wink, whispering, "All's fair in the duel, eh Nebin?"
"Foul!" cried the dwarf. "He pushed me out! Disqualify him. That wasn't magic."
Aganon looked indignant, saying, "My worthy competitor jokes! I fell, as all could see. It was his ray that caused me to stumble, and he knows it. Besides, I was moving under the influence of an enchantment of acceleration. If striking the dwarf forced him from the circle, it was because the force was magically multiplied."
The judge conferred with another, and after a few seconds, one called, "The bout goes to Aganon!"
The dwarf mage scowled, rattled off a few choice Dwarvish words, and stalked away. Aganon glanced at Nebin again, giving the gnome a satisfied smirk. Several people in the crowd gave a cheer, chanting, "Aganon! Aganon!"
Nebin didn't know how to react. He felt a little strange at witnessing the trick the man had played, if it was a trick. Maybe it was a reasonable, if sneaky, tactic? Before he could make any comment to Aganon, a duel official from across the field called Nebin's name. It was the last round of the day.
Aganon called to him as he moved off, "I will see you, Nebin!"
Feeling vaguely unsettled, the gnome nodded, moving toward his final round.
He thought his final opponent of the day might be a human woman, though her skin had a faint, reddish color. Not that he could see much of it; she was completely wrapped in a shawl of white. She held a slender staff inlaid with runes of glowing pearl. Magical rings clinked on her fingers, and at her belt were girt three wands. Nebin had a sinking sensation. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes.