His hand shot out like a falling tree, swinging to catch Garth with a crushing blow on his blind side, the fighter not even bothering to waste time conjuring a spell. And yet somehow Garth sensed it coming and ducked low. Even as he ducked he slashed out, his foot catching Naru in the groin. The giant grunted like a bull, his eyes bulging out of his head so that he looked like a dying codfish. He went down on his knees. Garth caught him again, kicking him under the chin, knocking Naru over backward.
Blood and several teeth sprayed out as the giant toppled to the pavement and was still. A hoarse gasp arose from the crowd, the few betting on Garth whooping with joy, for even though it had not been a fight of magics, Naru was now flat out on the pavement and the battle was an official win. The sound was blocked within his circle of protection but behind him he could hear the screaming of the mob as the demon howl bowled them over.
With a wave of his hand Garth extended the wall of protection to the crowd, many of whom were writhing in agony, blood pouring from ruptured eardrums, so shattering was the scream summoned from the demon realms. Garth nodded his head and the Brown fighter started to wave his hands around in agony as his mana was drained away.
The demon howl subsided, Brown still shaking his hand, which now started to glow as if on fire. Another Brown fighter raised his hands, and then another and behind Garth the crowd started to scatter in every direction.
Garth clapped his hands together and then extended them, holding them aloft as if they were claws. Seconds later, even as skeletal forms started to appear around him, conjured by Brown, his own spell took form. Coils of light swirled around him and out of each coil a lumbering bear appeared, snuffling and snarling. Garth shouted a word of command and the four bears charged toward the line of Brown, pausing only briefly to bowl the skeletons over.
Several of the Brown broke and ran while another diverted his spell, which he had been aiming toward Garth, and threw it toward a bear, which simply exploded and disappeared. Another bear died from a bolt of lightning from above but short seconds later two of the bears crossed the killing zone, both of them throwing themselves on the Brown fighter who had first attacked Garth and was still distracted by his burning hand.
The two pulled in opposite directions and then ran off with the still-twitching halves of the dead fighter, shaking their heads back and forth so that blood and entrails were scattered across the Plaza. A wild frenzy now seized the Brown fighters, who all turned their attention back to Garth. His circle of protection was stunned by volley after volley of spells so that he was forced to stagger backward. He saw through the haze of explosions that Norreen, moving as if she was nothing but a blur, had thrown herself into the fray with sword drawn, leaping upon a Brown fighter and dispatching him with a quick slice to the throat.
Brown staggered off, both hands clasped to his throat, while the arterial blood sprayed out from between his fingers. With a single fluid motion she was past her first victim, still running, closing in on the next one, stabbing low, catching him in the stomach so that he howled and fell backward.
He fumbled to raise an artifact and again her blade slashed out, severing his hand, the glowing artifact tumbling to the pavement. And then the others finally caught her, a black cloud swirling around her. Her eyes went wide with terror and she recoiled backward, flaying with her sword to strike at the invisible terror that engulfed her.
Garth moved to black the spell against her but the volleys from a dozen fighters, some of whom were obviously fifth-rank or better, were too much. Finally he broke his own protection for an instant to strike the terror down that held her and she scrambled away on hands and knees. But the move cost him and he was hit by a terror spell in turn that, for an instant, nearly blinded him with a heart-tearing fear.
The Brown fighters, sensing they had the advantage, started to move closer, eager for the kill, several of them conjuring demons to render Garth into pieces. A flash of light snapped across the square. Seconds later, more were launched, followed an instant later by what looked like an icy storm that extinguished the power of the demons closing in on Garth.
Garth reestablished his own circle of protection, using a healing spell on himself to wash away the fear, and looked to his left. A swarm of Gray fighters were closing in, hands raised, engaging the Bolk fighters, who now turned to face the new assault. From out of the door of the Bolk House more fighters were emerging. Behind him he could hear the familiar high clarion trumpet calls of the Grand Master, his own fighters racing across the Plaza to break up the melee.
Blood started to spill as fighters traded attacks at close range, several of them falling, the victors administering deathblows and then cutting off satchels to claim their prizes, all rules of the fight now lost in the confusion.
Garth closed his eyes and raised both hands upward, the spell momentarily draining the power from him. He opened his eyes again and smiled when atop the Bolk House a giant spider, its bloated body at least four fathoms across, appeared. Leaning over from the top of the building, its hairy forelegs touched down to the ground and, even as it crawled down the side of the building, it turned its head back and forth, spraying out acidic poison.
Fighters, both Brown and Gray, caught unaware, writhed on the paving stones, shrieking in agony, especially when the poison struck their eyes. Garth looked around and saw Norreen, stilling moving backward from the melee. He raced over to her side. He reached under her shoulder to pull her up. Garth snapped his fingers and a cloud of green smoke concealed them. He started to run and she struggled to keep up as they joined the edge of the mob, which was now running in every direction, shrieking in terror as dozens of uncontrolled spells swept across the square, the brawl now completely out of control, with fighters simply conjuring and tossing out their denizens to strike at whatever was nearest.
Undead moved with shambling steps, several of them holding shrieking citizens of the town aloft in their gray-green hands as trophies. The usual skeletons walked with clattering motions, looking for human flesh to sink their white bony fingers into.
Off to one side the two bears were finished with their repast and started to run across the square, looking for another meal. Garth waved his hand, causing them to fall in by his side. Cursing and shoving, fighters belonging to the Grand Master hit the edge of the fight, some of them turning to take care of the various creatures pursuing the fleeing crowd.
One of the fighters turned toward Garth and he released the bears and continued on. Seconds later he heard the shrieks of the fighter who had tried to stop him. The Great Plaza was a sea of confusion as thousands tried to flee while thousands more pushed eagerly forward to watch the fun. Garth spared a quick look inside at the amulets. The first line of warriors spread out and started to lob shots at the spider, which merely seemed to enrage the creature even more, so that it turned and started to charge toward them, tossing the Gray fighter aside.
The warriors of the Grand Master who had fired hurriedly placed the front of their weapons on the ground, hooking their feet into the stirrup of the crossbow while they struggled with both hands to cock their weapons. The rest of the phalanx now fired as well, and yet the spider still staggered forward. The reloading crossbow men, to a man, abandoned their efforts and, turning, fled.
The spider slashed out with its clawed forelegs, knocking men down, crushing them underfoot, and continued to spread its poison, which bubbled and hissed as it struck pavement, metal, leather, and flesh. Several horsemen came galloping through the crowd, knocking fleeting citizens and crossbow men aside. Directly behind them was a wagon, the driver lashing the team. The driver pulled in hard on his reins, causing the wagon to skid around to a stop. On the back of the wagon a heavy ballista was mounted, manned by a dwarf firing crew, the weapon already cocked.
The head gunner peered down the length of the shaft, shouting at his two assistants to wedge the elevation up higher. The spider, seeing the wagon, started toward it. The team of horses shrieked with fright, the driver standing up and hauling in on the reins, struggling to keep the horses from bolting. The ballista seemed almost to leap into the air as the gunner pulled the lanyard, the heavy bolt shrieking as it rocketed across the Plaza and slammed into the spider.
The stricken beast reared up, a loud cry of pain echoing from it, greenish blood pouring out of its wound as it tumbled over, its legs twitching spasmodically.
The cocooned warrior who had been strapped to its back twisted and writhed beside his captor, looking like a great maggot. He darted into the swirling mob, still holding Norreen up. She struggled to free herself and he finally let go. Behind them the crowd roared as an explosion rocked the Great Plaza, followed by the crystalline tinkling of glass shattering from dozens of buildings. She slapped his hand away, the coins spilling to the pavement.
With a loud cry of dismay Hammen scurried about, picking them up, pulling out his dagger and screaming when an urchin snapped one of the rolling coins up and disappeared into the crowd that was swirling about them. People will remember the whole thing started with a Benalish Hero. Hammen scurried to keep up with Garth, ducking low when another explosion erupted, sending debris soaring a hundred or more feet up into the air.
The Plaza echoed with explosions and the sharp call of trumpets. Behind them came a dozen more fighters, the strength of their mana evident so that they appeared to glow, spreading spells of protection over themselves and the warriors. In the middle of the column rode the Grand Master. His face was a mask of fury and for a moment he turned his attention toward Garth, who froze in his steps. Hammen watched him, sensed that somehow Garth, for an instant, did not really appear to be present, as if he had gone shadowy and opaque, like a drawing on smoked glass.
The Grand Master stared straight at him for several seconds. Another explosion rocked the far end of the Plaza and the Grand Master stirred, as if awakening from a dream. He turned away, shaking his head as if confused, and rode on toward the widening brawl. Garth was present once more, still walking purposefully. The front of the House was packed with scores of fighters, who were watching the confusion at the other end of the plaza and roaring with appreciative delight.
Garth moved straight toward them and for a moment they barely noticed that he had crossed the line of paving stones and was now on the semicircle of purple that arced out around their House. Might get hurt. Even as he turned and started to extend his hands a young Purple fighter, his tunic blackened and singed, came racing up to the crowd.
He slowed and, turning, looked at Garth. The Purple fighters looked first at the messenger and then back at Garth, several of them slowly breaking into grins of delight. Jimak slowly looked Garth up and down as if examining some minor work of art that he might consider buying if the price was right. I should send you back to Tulan for punishment for breaking the peace of Festival.
Besides, I am not fully initiated into Gray yet so technically I am free to leave when I please. Beyond that you can profit as well, so this could be to our mutual benefit. Tulan shifted uneasily. Zarel smiled inwardly. Tulan was a coward who could always be intimidated. She looked up at him with a cool disdain, leaning heavily on her staff for support.
Her face was always disturbing to Zarel, for it was the face of death, the face of a fighter who had extended her life through the use of spells to the very edge, until flesh and bone were held together by the slenderest of threads. Her skin was yellowed, like old rotting parchment, and hung from her skull in loose, wrinkled folds as if it were about to peel away in corruption. There was always a faint smell to her, the smell of moldering graves, decay, and darkness. As for the four of you, no one knows of your parts.
Oquorak, at least, keeps them entertained until the Festival, but if it gets out of hand, next thing you know fighters are using magic spells on the street and things get ugly.
The Benalish woman has disappeared and so has your One-eye. Anyone leaving your Houses will be arrested, their spells stripped from them, and barred from Festival. Zarel looked back and forth at the two, sputtering, unable to speak for a moment, the two moving closer to each other as if all past hatreds were now forgotten.
Now get out! The two walked out of the room together though as soon as they had cleared the doorway, they fell back into bitter recriminations against each other. Zarel watched them go, his face purple with anger. Storming over to his desk, he picked up a small bell and rang it.
Seconds later a diminutive hunched-over form appeared in the still-open doorway. You know that as quickly as we find one they go and make another. All we know about One-eye is that he arrived in the city two nights ago, fought an Orange and killed him, disappeared with a pickpocket, and then appeared at the door of the House of Kestha the following morning.
One of the heads of the brotherhoods that control the vice and crime in the city. Zarel cursed softly, annoyed at what was an infringement upon his rights, even if it was by a lowly scum out to make a few coppers. Mastering the fights was the sole prerogative of the Grand Master. Even in the old days of Kuthuman and before him the role of the fight master was an honored position.
And now pickpockets were presuming to the right. Start with this pickpocket. Send some warriors and fighters to track down his lair. He must have accomplices. Use the usual methods. Close and bolt the door on the way out. Zarel sat in silence for a moment, looking down at his beefy hands, which were folded over his more than ample waist.
Again this morning there was the sensing. It had hit him with a terrible urgency when he had first laid eyes upon the one-eye. Now this morning it had come again, when he had first ridden out into the Plaza to put down the fighting. There was a sensing that something terrible was lurking, and for a moment he thought he had found it. And then the sensing had drifted away. On the eve of Festival far too much was going wrong.
The tension had been building for years, he thought. Under Kuthuman, especially in the final years of his quest to pierce the veil between worlds, all had lived in fear of him and his power. After he had become a Walker all still feared him, even more so. And yet he was present but for one day of the year. The old balance of power, between the fighting Houses and the Grand Master, had been a finely tuned one.
The Grand Master was not as powerful as the combined might of the Houses, but the Houses, by the very nature of their competitiveness, would never unite against him.
In turn he had to keep a semblance of order in the lands so that the mana would grow, and to prevent chaos. Now it was shifting. The Houses were becoming increasingly competitive with each other and against the Grand Master there was increasing defiance. Zarel sensed that by the very nature of the system he had created, the increasing bloodiness of the Festival to satiate the mob and generate even more betting had helped to create this. Yet the increasing number of death fights in the arena served as well to keep the power of the Houses down since each year they lost more and yet more fighters in the fights, thereby sapping their strength.
And there was the other dark dream as well. That ever so slowly he could hoard his own mana and in the process one day do as Kuthuman had done and become a Walker in his own right. That was the dark secret, for he knew with a grim certainty that if Kuthuman ever truly understood that part of the plan, he would kill him out of hand and replace him with a new Grand Master.
It was a numbing game of plans within plans, the striking of a balance, the keeping of the House Masters off guard, the gathering of the mana tribute for the Grand Master, and, above all else, survival.
Somehow he could sense that this One-eye had become a wild card in the deck of the game. It would have to be addressed. Though he dreaded the thought of it, Zarel now realized that Kuthuman would have to be summoned and told, if only as precaution, and with the hope that he might even know the answer.
Sighing, he finally stood up and walked across the room, stopping before what looked like nothing more than a paneled wall. He raised his hand and the wall slipped back, revealing a small room within.
The hidden door closed behind Zarel and he lowered his head, his hand slipping into his satchel, clutching the bundles of mana of all the colors of the rainbow. Shafts of light began to swirl around him, coiling and twisting, rising up in a cone around him.
He waited long minutes in silence, his eyes closed against the brilliance of the unearthly light that bathed him. Finally he sensed the presence coming, as if it were an avalanche racing down the side of a mountain. I have better things to attend to other than your grovelings. This had better not be frivolous. Zarel, in a hurried tone, told him of Garth One-eye and the fighting that seemed to follow in his wake.
The Walker was silent except for the crackling of energy which reverberated like a bell through the room so that Zarel wanted to cover his eyes but dared not. I know not what, but it is there. If that is so, he has powers. I thought long on this and then the connection came. It came to someone else from long ago who had mastery of such a spell and you know of whom I speak. I have no time for this.
I have other concerns beyond your miserable plane. I will be back for Festival and I expect this to be resolved. But the presence was already gone and Zarel sensed that somehow there was a great urgency to his departure, as if a struggle was taking place even as they spoke and that the Walker could not spare a second longer for what to him was a trivial concern. Exhausted, Zarel sat down in the middle of the circle and opened his eyes, the only light in the room coming from the gold circle which circumscribed him.
He had known but brief glimpses into the realms of his lord and master, the Walker, and knew it was, as were all places, a domain of wars and struggle against others of the highest powers. The glimpses were chilling in their terror and yet seductive in their power, for a fighter could, if he survived long enough, become, one day, a Walker. He could become capable of leaping beyond the myriad planes of existence. In such realms he could gather in mana undreamed of, the foundation of the power of all spells and artifacts.
In such realms he could, in fact, become immortal and exist for countless aeons until he was at last cast down by another Walker who finally managed to steal his mana. There was only so much mana in the realm of planes, even though they were rumored to be uncountable.
Therefore, a Walker did not care too much for emerging rivals. Zarel sighed. It was the dream of immortality that was all so seductive.
As a wielder of magics he had the ability to extend his own life span significantly, to a millennium or more. But each extension came with a price, and one did slowly age. Until finally the power to extend was nothing more than the insane act of senile old fools who were good for nothing more than sitting in dark shadows and drifting in a world of impotent dreams.
His most implacable foe, Kirlen of Brown, was already becoming such a person, terrified of death and equally terrified of the final lingering. He knew her dream was to destroy him, to become a Grand Master and thus gather enough power to try for immortality.
The mere thought of her and her constant plotting aroused a desire yet again to find a means somehow to quietly kill her. What might she do with this One-eye and what was his plan in all of this? For it was obvious that he must have a plan. The One-eye was alive and had to be found. It was evident that his game was indeed dangerous to the existing order of things.
And if the existing order of things was disturbed, then the Walker would be disturbed. If the Walker was sufficiently disturbed, a new Grand Master could always be found and Zarel realized with a cold certainty that he had to find One-eye before Kirlen got to him first. The House Master looked up, his waspish angular face chiseled by the glare of a single lamp that flickered on the table behind which he sat. Jimak looked up at him and smiled, his bloodless lips pulling back so that his face looked like a skull.
The gesture seemed friendly and yet, as Garth approached, he could sense a barrier go up, Jimak leaning forward slightly as if to fling his body over his possessions in order to shield them from the lascivious looks of others. Garth scanned them, pausing for a moment on the artifacts, and then he shrugged his shoulders as if he was looking at nothing more than pathetic trinkets that a beggar was trying to sell in exchange for a few coppers.
Garth lifted the black patch that covered his eye and, seized with a perverted curiosity, Jimak held the lamp up to look closely, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
Messy, very messy. Who needs them when one has this? For five years I have awaked at dawn, the empty socket filled with agony. Leonovit and I fought. He had taken my sister against her will. When I started to best him several of his groveling fighters jumped me from behind. I was taken to the Grand Master and charged with breaking the peace and as punishment my eye was taken, my satchel stripped, and I was driven out. I know you like these things.
I can earn you more in the arena, I can earn you more in commissions once Festival is done. And I can bring damage to a rival House. He is a pig, a man without breeding, disgusting.
Jimak stared at it for a moment and then eagerly tore the pouch open. He drew out a single ruby and held it near the lamplight, studying it intently. Consider it an offering of respect, a payment to the pension fund for aging fighters who refuse to get themselves killed and out of the way. I should add I do have more, but they are hidden away in a place I alone know. If things work out well, they can be added to the fund in due time. You can be initiated on the morning of Festival.
Garth nodded and Jimak, smiling, returned to his examination of the gem. Garth waited for a moment but Jimak said nothing more. Bowing low, Garth withdrew from the room, closing the door behind him.
The last sight of the House Master was of him still bent over the lamp, studying the ruby as if it were a book of arcane knowledge containing spells yet unheard of. Garth turned and saw Hammen lingering in the shadows, motioning for him to come over.
Hammen pulled Garth into the alcove where he had been waiting. Back to my home. Also, I had this sudden feeling that something terrible had happened. Hammen looked away for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching, and then he looked back up, his rheumy eyes clouded with tears. I should have known better. Somehow I sensed something was wrong when I hit the alley. It was too quiet, as if even the rats had gone into hiding. The door was ajar and I went in. My other brothers gone. Those they left behind were tortured and their heads cut off and.
Hammen nodded. I darted to the back of our shack, going down our sewer hole. I tried to lose them in the sewers. I finally had to come back here, coming out where I knew there was an entry into this House. They were closing in. Hammen looked up at Garth, the tears streaking down his filthy cheeks, tracing twin lines of white.
I tried to forget and they went to the land of the dead, where I thought they all would stay. Something is pushing him and he is acting. I expected that, but not that he would reach toward you. Tulan spit out the half-chewed hunk of boiled squid that he had been working on and picked up a goblet of wine.
Brown claims they killed him and several of my people saw him explode in a cloud of green smoke. Tulan tossed down the wine and slammed the goblet on the table, the fine crystalline stem shattering.
If he is alive, then I think that until we find a body, we must assume that One-eye is alive. Tulan tossed the broken goblet to the floor, cursing as he sucked on a cut to his grease-coated finger. You gave him shelter, removed from him the onus of being a hanin, and this is how he pays you back.
Bring him in alive and stripped of his powers and the price is doubled. He wore your colors and then shucked them off for another. Would you let it be said that one of your fighters could walk away thus without consequences? I expect to collect it. The question is, as long as I bring him in, will any questions be asked about my methods? But again there was that sense, the street far too quiet. And he knew. He wanted simply to try and run on past what had once been his hiding place, hoping that they would not recognize him and thus let him pass.
But that was madness. They knew. They had seen him once, and they knew. He reached the door and quickly opened it as Garth had ordered. Cursing, he stepped in, darting to one side as he did so.
The blow barely missed him, the club brushing within inches of his face. Screaming, Hammen dived backward, ducking under the table. As he rolled under the table he bounced up against something cold and stiff.
It was his old friend Nahatkim; he could tell by the missing legs. His hand fumbled over the place where a head should have been, sticking in the congealed slime of blood. At least he had the advantage in the total darkness. The hand jerked back, a loud howling filling the room.
Hammen scurried out from under the table, moving toward the sewer bolt-hole in the back of the room. The demons take Garth, he thought. He reached the hole and dived into it headfirst. Through a haze of pain and nausea he felt hands grabbing him from behind, pulling him out, while the man who had been waiting in the sewer laughed cruelly, striking him in the face yet again for the fun of it.
Pulled out of the hole, he was thrown down on the floor and a light was struck, a lamp flaring up. His vision blurred, Hammen looked up at two leering faces. Though they were dressed in filth-stained leather, he knew these were not two simple thieves. One of them leaned down and held a bleeding hand before him and then struck him again across the face. Through eyes that were starting to swell shut Hammen saw three more men come into the room, all of them obviously magic-wielding fighters, all three of them dressed in the multihued tunics of the Grand Master.
The three moved across the room, looking around disdainfully, one of them covering his nose with a scented handkerchief. Find out exactly where One-eye is. Then he heard the high, keening scream and felt the heat. There were more screams and the heat started to build, followed an instant later by a cool blast of air. Hammen looked around the room, which was blurred and hazy, and it took him a moment to realize that he was in fact wrapped in a circle of protection while the rest of the room blazed with a white-hot intensity.
His five tormentors rolled back and forth, shrieking, trying to beat out the flames that engulfed them. Though the shield protected him from the heat, the scent of burning flesh still wafted through and he suppressed a gag. The five started to become still, curling up into tight, charred balls so that they looked like blackened dolls. The fire winked out as if the room had been washed with a blast of rain.
Through the smoke he saw Garth emerge, a cold look of fury still in his eye. He felt for a moment as if he were floating. He closed his eyes and then reopened them. His vision was again clear. I think we better get moving. Hammen stepped over a charred corpse and went up to the fireplace.
Reaching up inside, he pushed a brick aside, pulled out a heavy bag, and tucked it into his tunic. He started back across the room and then paused.
He pulled the bag out again, opened it, fished out four gold coins, and quickly tossed them on the four corpses of his friends. Hammen followed him, pausing for a moment to spit on one of the corpses of fighters and then went down the bolt-hole, Garth following. Choking from the fumes, Garth followed Hammen through the stygian darkness, cursing as the sewage washed up over the top of his boots and poured down inside to squish between his toes.
Garth pulled his dagger out of its sheath and held it aloft. An instant later it started to glow softly. He looked around and a chill washed over him. The sewer walls were dripping with slime. They passed a narrow side channel and the sound of rats echoed from it as they scurried away from the light.
Hammen moved with a swift ease, turning one way and then the other, and Garth stumbled to keep up. And all the time the chill cut deeper into him. The walls seemed to crowd inward like nightmare memories in a dream from which he could not awaken.
Hammen turned and looked back. Surprised, Garth looked at him closely, struggling to control the shaking that racked his body. And as he looked at him there was somehow a sensing. The nightmare drew in closer, as if now to consume his very soul. Garth sagged against the sewer wall, the dagger lighting his way waning to a mere flicker. I want to go back! Garth stiffened, a gasp escaping him, and he doubled over for a moment as if he was about to vomit. He finally looked back up, his features drawn as if he were emerging from a fevered dream.
Hammen turned up into a narrow pipe that was so small Garth had to bend over and crawl on hands and knees. His breath was labored, coming in short, grunting bursts, the sweat beading down his face even though the sewer was chilled and damp like a tomb. Hammen finally stopped and pointed up. Garth came up beside him, looked up, and saw the grating overhead.
He stood up and slowly pushed the grating aside and peered out. He pulled himself out and then, leaning over, reached down and hoisted Hammen up out of the darkness. He stopped at a small fountain and pulled off his boots, rinsing them out and then putting them back on, splashing water on his tunic and trousers to wipe off the filth. Hammen watched him and said nothing.
Jimak peered out through the small hatch set in the middle of the heavily bolted doorway into the House of Ingkara. The Master of Ingkara could not conceal his surprise that the Grand Master himself was outside the door.
He had ignored the midnight summons to the palace but the fact that the Grand Master would then lower himself to come to the House of Ingkara in the hour before first bell was simply astonishing. I lose face standing out here like this and I intend to regain it one way or the other. Now open up. Jimak hesitated for a moment and then stepped back, nodding to two of his fighters to remove the heavy beam that blocked the door. The Grand Master slipped through and the door slammed shut behind him.
Jimak motioned for the Grand Master to follow him down the corridor and into his office, closing the door behind them. We are a balance to each other. I rule this city and this land but my power is balanced not only by the princes of neighboring realms but also by the four Houses of magic fighters.
No one of us is truly over the others. I am stronger than any two of you put together and you, if united, are stronger than I. We all know the game and we all play it.
You are divided by your mutual rivalries and I insure that those rivalries continue. It is thus because the Eternal created it thus when the world was young and the power of the mana was fresh. But we must live here for our entire lives and the Walker comes but once a year to Festival. The same rules apply to this game as the ones in the physical game, with players using their deck to battle others.
Magic: The Gathering Arena allows for both Draft play and playing. Unlock powerful decks, earn rewards by playing, and jump into action for players of all skill levels. Well, you just have landed in the right place. In terms of game file size, you will need at least 10 GB of free disk space available.
Queue into casual matches to sharpen your skills at your own pace. Skip to main content. Locator Card Database Accounts. Play Free. Learn More View the Cards. What's New in Game Play four major set releases throughout the year. And join special limited-time events every month.
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