by Tom Howard
in Issue 79, August 2018
Gileus flexed the Glove of Incredible Strength on his left hand, appreciating its detailed scrollwork and flexibility. However, in the upcoming Wizard War competition, physical strength would mean little. As a magic item, it drew power from its wearer, and he’d need all his energy to defeat Medrick in the arena today.
Yesterday’s bout with Gorgania had been tough. Although his valet Sparks had patched him up so he looked as good as someone his age could, Gorgania had given Gileus some deep bruises. When she’d transformed into a serpent, he’d cast a freezing spell at a conjured mirror behind her. She never saw it coming. They’d be chipping her out of the ice for the rest of the tournament.
“Sparks!” Gileus shouted. “Pack this glove back in the chest. Medrick not going to allow me close enough to strangle him.”
A small man in ivory robes entered the room. “Yes, sir.” He carried a tea tray. It was early, but Sparks seemed to know when Gileus needed his herbal tea.
Gileus stood, his tall frame imposing even without his black robes and favorite beard.
Sparks put down the tray. He placed the glove in his robe pocket and poured the tea.
“Go ahead,” Gileus said. “Say it.”
Sparks looked up. “Say what, sir?”
“I’m an old fool for competing in the Wizard War at my age. I don’t have it in me anymore.”
Sparks passed him a cup of tea. “Nonsense, sir. Look at how many young and powerful wizards you’ve defeated so far this year, many of them previous winners.” He chuckled. “You surprised them, sir.”
Gileus sat. His right leg bothered him from arthritis that magic couldn’t relieve. He took a sip of tea. “This might be my last chance for the winner’s crown.”
Sparks placed a dish of sugar cookies on a nearby table. “You’ll win today, sir. You will be the Wizard War champion.”
“I shouldn’t have waited so long.” Gileus set his teacup on the table. “Maybe I hoped to leave some legacy behind.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Sparks removed Gileus’s pointed hat and brushed the lint off. “You have centuries left in you. We have prepared the best words and spells for today’s battle. Medrick will fly like chaff before your superior wind.”
Gileus smiled. “Please, let’s not talk about my superior wind before the competition.”
Sparks cleared his throat. “Sir, I know you don’t want to address the possibility, but you could—”
“No,” Gileus said. “If I can’t win without you, I’m not worthy of wearing the crown.”
“But, sir, I am part of you, a part you may need to defeat Medrick. It would be for the greater good.”
“I will consider it.” Gileus nibbled a cookie from the tea tray. Truth be told, he’d arrived at a similar conclusion during his morning bath. Reabsorbing Sparks might be the extra magic he needed to destroy the upstart Medrick, but Sparks was his friend.
Gileus had created Sparks when he was young. Many wizards produced magical creatures as entertainers or servants, using their own life force to create them and reabsorbed them later. Over the years, Gileus forgot his assistant and confidant was magical.
“How much time until the tournament?” Gileus asked.
“One hour.” Sparks didn’t look at a clock. “Do you wish to meditate or choose your wand?”
“I meditated in the bath this morning,” he said. “Put the glove away and bring me my most powerful wands.”
Sparks left the wizard’s quarters.
Although Gileus had half-heartedly competed in the Wizard War competition when younger, it surprised him how badly he needed to win now.
Whispers of his growing absent-mindedness and waning powers had spread thanks to his young competitor, Medrick. Gileus needed to remind people that he remained a magical force to be reckoned with. Winning the crown would prove his skills hadn’t diminished. His livelihood would be safe with Medrick defeated and the title in his hands.
He must win. No fading into the twilight of old age for him. Although it would pain him, if it came down to death or Sparks… He’d looked up the recombination words just in case.
The door opened and closed, but Sparks didn’t appear. A tall, dark-haired man entered the room.
“Medrick!” Gileus checked to ensure his lounging beard was in place. “What is the meaning of this?” His opponent didn’t even have enough respect to wear facial hair. His clean-shaven chin made him look like a lad.
Medrick smiled. “I’m giving you an opportunity to bow out gracefully, old man. We both know you’re no match for me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
The older wizard didn’t need to be a soothsayer to tell his adversary was lying. Medrick would relish grinding Gileus’s bones to ash in the arena while everyone watched.
Gileus forced a weak laugh. “You know how I’ve been able to beat everyone in this tournament, Medrick? Through decades of learning and practice. I’ve got spells your grandmother never heard of.”
Medrick’s appearance was no surprise. Wizard Wars had few rules and intimidation was common. The upstart wanted to scare him. “You are the one who should withdraw, Medrick the Mediocre.”
“We’ll see, Gileus the Formerly Great.” Medrick’s smile disappeared. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. You’re a washed up old alchemist. You’ve only gotten this far in the tournament by luck. You better hope you only end up crippled and not in the graveyard.”
Gileus grinned. “I hope your spells are more effective than your threats, little boy. Now leave before I turn you into the rodent you really are.”
Medrick rested his hand on his wand for a moment before turning and leaving.
Gileus sighed as the door closed. In the pit of his stomach, he felt Medrick might be right. Perhaps he was washed up.
“Wind,” Gileus said when Sparks returned with a black enamel case. “You mentioned wind. Have you heard something about Medrick’s plans for today?”
“No, sir,” Sparks said. “It would be unfitting for me to pass on something I heard in the servants’ quarters. However, Medrick does excel at zephyr incantations. Do you have counter-words prepared?”
Likely, Sparks had studied Medrick and knew exactly what spells he’d use in the bout. Sometimes Gileus suspected he’d given Sparks too much of his own intelligence when he’d made him. “Of course. I’ve several in mind.”
“And your plan of attack? Medrick will have studied you as well. He knows your fire spells are second to none. And the referees have reinforced the floors, so your stone-sculpting spells won’t be as effective.”
Gileus didn’t tell Sparks of Medrick’s visit. He had planned on using his fire and stone spells, but if Medrick expected them… “What do you suggest, Sparks?”
Sparks appeared to be thinking of possibilities, pretending he hadn’t guided their conversation to this point. “You’re a great wizard, Gileus, but I doubt if Medrick is expecting something as simple as a transformation spell. Especially if you employ the same misdirection technique you used on Gorgania, making your opponent look one way while you attack from another.”
The conjured mirror had originally been Spark’s idea. “I could transform his wand into a serpent. Or the stones beneath his feet into air.” Gileus smiled and waved his hands in preparation.
“Good ideas, sir,” Sparks said. “But the stones are spell-resistant, and his wand is surely protected, just as these are.” He held the case open. “However, there is something else of his you could turn into air.”
“A weapon?” Gileus asked. “No steel is allowed in the arena.”
“No, sir. You recall Medrick is from Goodhaven, sir.”
“Goodhaven? Aren’t those the people with strict morality rules? No littering, no divorce, no anything?”
“And absolutely no nudity.” Sparks smiled. “Even small children are never seen naked.”
It was genius. “So, if I remove his robes, he’ll be so busy being embarrassed that I can overpower him?”
“If you’re quick, sir. If not, I’ll be standing near the door. I’ll be the extra energy you need to defeat him. Say the words.”
Gileus could make himself a new assistant afterward, but the Sparks he’d known for so long would be gone.
“No fire, no stone.” Gileus rose and examined the case Sparks held open. “Transformation. Power.” His thin fingers danced over the array of wands cradled in their velvet indentations. “Ah, Valeria.” He picked up a dark blue wand intertwined with strips of silver. The lapis and metal felt alive in his hand. “This one will do nicely.”
He swished it through the air. It left a faint silver trail but drew little power from him.
“Excellent choice, sir.” Sparks closed the case. “If you’d like to visit the water closet, I think we have time before the challenge.”
“Oh, yes.” Gileus swished the wand about. “I’d totally forgotten. Should I change into a blue robe to match the wand?”
“No, sir. You look fine. I’ll meet you at the arena, sir. There are some last-minute matters I need to attend to.”
Gileus nodded. Sparks likely intended to say good-bye to his friends in the servants’ quarters. Some were magic constructs like Sparks, but most were regular folk. Sparks was right; Gileus needed to visit the water closet before he fought. He also needed to select a beard for battle.
The two wizards entered the arena from opposite doorways. Men and women in colorful robes filled the balconies lining the walls of the stone chamber. A podium on one side of the arena held a referee with his wand ready to petrify the contestants if something untoward occurred. Since death was not against the rules in the Wizard War competition, Gileus wondered exactly what would constitute “untoward.”
Encouraged by Spark’s plan of disrobing Medrick in public, Gileus strode confidently to the circle inscribed in the center of the room. Neither wizard had to remain within the circle during combat, but they must start there.
Medrick appeared with his head held high. His scarlet robes were of the highest quality, and his beard, made of dyed wool in blue and black, measured a foot longer than Gileus’s.
When the white-garbed referee signaled to begin, Gileus and Medrick stood with their wands ready. Gileus felt a breeze. Medrick was creating a storm to attack Gileus. Suppressing an urge to launch a fireball at the younger man and interrupt his spell, Gileus raised Valeria above his head.
“Aetheraltra!” he shouted.
The crowd twittered as Medrick’s robes vanished. He stood stark naked in the center of the arena. Even his beard had disappeared. Blushing and covering his groin with his hands, Medrick lost his concentration. The growing zephyr died.
Gileus was ready. He took advantage of his opponent’s embarrassment, shooting snow and ice spells at Medrick.
Covering himself with one hand and waving his green wand, Medrick fought back. He hurled a lightning bolt, and Gileus deflected it with a full body shield. The drain of magical energy made him stumble, but he straightened and fired a thick stream of water at Medrick.
The younger wizard, ignoring his lack of clothing, used both hands to conjure a swarm of bees and sent them at Gileus.
Re-directing the stream of water, Gileus fought off the bees but couldn’t launch his own attack while defending himself. Glad he’d chosen a transfiguration wand like Valeria, Gileus uttered a word to turn the angry bees into flowers. They drifted back and attached themselves to Medrick. Each of the flowers became a stinging jellyfish, and Medrick screamed as they touched his flesh.
Aware his energy was finite and fading, Gileus transformed the jellyfish into blood-sucking bats, hoping Medrick would weaken beneath a blanket of flapping wings.
Medrick, however, whipped the air into a frenzy, tossing bats, jellyfish, and the few remaining bees into a tornado. The spectators screamed and cast protection spells, but Gileus ignored them and levitated Medrick. He’d lift Medrick high above the floor and drop him.
Medrick had other plans. Wrapping himself in clouds and held in midair by the wind, he fired bolt after bolt of blinding lightning at Gileus.
Gileus waved his wand to direct them away from his body, aware each incantation further depleted his magic. He tossed fireballs at Medrick as his opponent’s lightning struck closer and closer. He reached deep to summon lightning of his own, and the stream of water spraying from Valeria’s tip exploded as his bolts intermingled with the water.
With a loud crack, water gushed into the chamber from overhead. Gileus fought to keep his head above the rising water. He lost his levitation hold on Medrick. He fell with a satisfying splash. With both competitors in danger of drowning, the referee called a temporary halt and drained the chamber.
“Master!” Sparks ran to help Gileus to his feet, a dry towel in his hands. On the other side of the room, Medrick’s team brought him a robe.
“I’m fine, Sparks.” Gileus used Valeria to evaporate the moisture from his robes.
“You can’t lie to me,” Sparks said. “You’re exhausted. You used too much power too quickly.” He removed Gileus’s peaked cap and rubbed the towel vigorously across Gileus’s scalp. “Say the words of reunification.”
“Not yet,” Gileus said. “And only if there’s no other way.”
Sparks frowned. “Medrick is also tired. He won’t expect a strong attack if you reabsorb me now. Thank you for everything, Master. It has been an honor.” With a final squeeze of Gileus’s shoulder, Sparks left the arena and stood at the door.
The wizards returned to the circle. Medrick bounced a ball of lightning off the wall at Gileus. He deflected it in time but lost his footing again and fell. Sparks was right, he was exhausted.
Gileus wiped the blood from his split lip, and Medrick laughed. Sparks stood in the doorway, looking worried. Could Gileus sacrifice his oldest, and only, friend for a crown and glory? To earn the respect of power-hungry wizards such as Medrick?
Gileus stood. He pointed one hand at Sparks and his wand toward Medrick. The crowd quieted in anticipation, expecting Gileus to say the words that would make Sparks vanish and allow the bout to continue.
Gileus hesitated. Whose greater good would be served by eliminating Sparks? Gileus stood up straight and uttered the words to unlock a spell he hoped never to use. “Fidelius!”
Instead of Sparks disappearing, Gileus’s wand produced a large white flag, and the crowd gasped. He may never wear the Wizard War crown, but he’d have a companion who knew how he liked his tea and made him think he was smarter than he was.
Gileus smiled at Medrick’s startled expression and ignored the chatter from the balcony as he limped to the door. Medrick couldn’t say he’d bested Gileus in magical battle. He’d only won by default.
Sparks waited for him at the doorway. “Maybe the cookies weren’t such a good idea. They may have slowed you down.”
“Yes, I’m sure that was it.” Gileus put his hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “Sparks, would you join me for a cup of tea?”
©August 2018 Tom Howard
Tom Howard is a fantasy and science fiction short story writer living in Little Rock, Arkansas. He thanks his family and friends for their inspiration and the Central Arkansas Speculative Fiction Writing Group for their perspiration. His work has previously appeared in S&SM.