Samuel adopted the standard stance, raising the sword between himself and Sivarn. The blade was at a slight angle, as Tobi had taught him, and his feet were spread a shoulder-length apart. He kept his weight spread evenly, leaning slightly on the balls of his feet. Crouching slightly, he knew he had good potential momentum in any direction, and waited, sure that Sivarn would make the first move. He was not disappointed.

Without speaking a single word, Sivarn lifted his arm and fired two bolts of fire directly at Samuel. The younger mage let his mana block them, not lifting a finger or twitching in the slightest. Sivarn’s eyebrows rose in begrudging acknowledgment, and his grin widened. Then he clapped his hands together, and energy coursed over his hands, turning into raw dripping fire. The flames flared into life all along his now clenched fists but caused no visible damage.

Samuel took a half step back as Sivarn charged, swinging his fist in a wide blow that would have clearly knocked him out in one. He rose his left hand to conjure an invisible barrier to stop the second strike, then jabbed out with the point of his blade. The attack was cramped, however, and nowhere near fast enough to catch his opponent. Undeterred, he continued his rush forward.

Sivarn, in a show of speed that belied his massive frame, jumped and ducked rapidly, dodging the crystal blade with only minimal speed, leaving no openings for Samuel to take advantage of. Once the momentum of the barrage was over, he swatted the blade away with the back of his left hand and rammed his right fist into Samuel’s stomach. Samuel skidded back several inches with the force of the blow, his vision going slightly dark from the loss of breath, and was forced to push Sivarn back with a massive gust of wind.

Samuel retched, his lungs desperately heaving in fresh air to replace what had been forced out. His head was spinning, and he knew that if his body hadn’t been reinforced, that would have easily been a finishing blow. There was clearly no hope in a head-on contest of strength, he decided. Lifting his free hand again, he sent several arcs of electricity in a wide cone at Sivarn, who had charged in again. The man jumped to the side with incredible speed and came in for Samuel’s flank.

“Brukil!” Samuel uttered the ancient word, and the air thickened between them. “Itulak!”

Sivarn collided with the much stronger illusionary barrier, and the second word shoved him back several feet, knocking him flat on his back. Breathing heavily, Samuel turned and fired off more bolts, desperate to keep him out of melee range. Sivarn rolled to avoid the mana, and the attack created three fist-sized craters in the packed dirt. Then Sivarn was up again. Instead of charging, he clapped his hands again, and the fire on his hands was changed to stone, which formed in mid-air to encase his arms completely.

With a shout of rage, Sivarn slammed his fists into the ground, creating a shockwave that blasted Samuel back. Thankfully he caught himself with a gust of wind, and hovered, a few inches off the ground, as Sivarn ran at him. With his improved mobility in the air, Samuel dodged his wild punch with ease, tumbling freely over him and striking at his exposed back. Stone formed just in time there, too, and reflected his blade.

“Umapaw!” Samuel shouted, directing his will at the lake. A massive stream of water flew into the air, and he directed it at Sivarn. The torrent, many hundreds of gallons, slammed him down, denting the ground a little further. Then came the biggest surprise of the fight.

“Lumago!” Sivarn’s voice was barely audible over the sound of crashing water. “Makulong!”

A nearby tree’s branches thickened and moved, whipping towards Samuel. His naturally curious mind, stuck for a moment trying to decipher what words Sivarn had used, was too slow to react, and he felt rough bark close around his wrists and ankles, pulling him to the earth. He hit the ground, hard, and felt the crystal blade jolted out of his grip. He covered his hands in fire immediately, burning the wood away from his arms.

Too late to react, Samuel saw Sivarn coming to his feet, and the bigger man put his hands together once more. Instead of clapping, he left about three inches of air between his outstretched fingers, and Samuel saw a bead of light begin to grow there. Instinctively knowing that it would be powerful, he lurched upright and threw both hands out.

“Sabog!” Sivarn shouted.

“Laban!” Samuel cried.

A massive explosion of light filled the space, causing the onlookers to turn away with cries of shock, shielding their eyes. When the light faded, Samuel had freed himself completely, and saw Sivarn, knocked back a couple dozen yards, laying against the trunk of a tree, apparently still. The force with which he’d been blasted back by Samuel’s counter had smashed his body through two trees.

The residents of the colony stared blankly at their senseless leader, then gave Samuel awe-struck looks, clearly impressed. Judging by their reactions, Samuel was sure they’d never seen their leader countered so easily. His own spell had been reflected back, with even more power, and sent him flying. But he wasn’t finished, and got to his feet at once, spitting blood onto the ground.

Water coursed from the river to surround his body from head to toe, and he seemed to be refreshed a little. Confused, Samuel tried to use his counter again to stop this, but it had no effect. That was strange, he thought, picking his sword up once more and rushing over to where Sivarn stood. Now that he was closer, he could clearly see that Sivarn was heavily injured, but the water seemed to be mending his injuries.

Samuel emitted a stream of fire from his palm as he flew in, coating Sivarn’s form completely, and the water evaporated. Angry, Sivarn swung a blow at him, but he changed direction at the last second and sent out another blast of air to knock him back. The water moved towards him again, coating his body once more.

Samuel landed before his opponent with a massive downward strike, which Sivarn was forced to stop with more conjured stone on his crossed forearms. But there was much more force in this strike, and the stone shattered, leaving Samuel clear to strike with a lightning-fast kick with his right leg. It staggered Sivarn, but not much else. At least the water had stopped now.

“Itulak!” Sivarn’s voice said loudly. But Samuel had seen his lips move, and was ready for that.

“Laban!” Once again, the spell was countered, and instead of Samuel being shoved back, Sivarn was once again sent flying ten or fifteen feet, even further from the water’s edge.

“How are you doing that?” Sivarn asked angrily. “Laban dissipates, it doesn’t reflect!”

Samuel was in his face in a moment, filled with the fierce exultation of being so close to victory. He struck out with his left palm, and again, a blast of air knocked him back. But Samuel had aimed downward, and Sivarn was slammed into the dirt hard enough to create a small hole in the softer earth. Before he could even react, let alone recover or counterattack, the tip of the crystal blade was held to his throat.

“Just a gift of mine,” Samuel said, holding his position, making sure that Sivarn couldn’t escape either way. “You could say it’s another of The Mind’s Gifts.”

Sivarn started to rise angrily, realized the blade was in his way and froze. For just a moment, his rage-filled demeanor slipped, and Samuel saw a brief flicker of misgiving, even possibly fear. It was clear to both of them, as well as their spectators, that Samuel had him pinned in place, inches from the kill. As Samuel recognized the slump of defeat in Sivarn’s shoulders, he nodded silently and withdrew the weapon.

After sheathing his blade and dismissing it, he held out a hand to help Sivarn to his feet. Sivarn accepted gratefully, and he hauled the massive man to his feet. They stood there, face-to-face for several long seconds, staring into each other’s eyes, violet into black, passing along a silent message of acknowledgment. Then they separated and returned to the center of the tents.

As they approached, the colony members retreated hastily, staring in awe at the two figures. Only Tobi and Sivarn’s wife approached, with wet towels to clean off the dirt and tend to the wounds sustained in their fight. Sivarn’s right shoulder sat at an odd angle, and his wife gripped the joint firmly, forcing it back into place. Sivarn gritted his teeth but did not exclaim in pain.

Samuel took the wet rag Tobi offered him but waved off the quiet offer to tend to his bruised ribs and stomach. Time would heal those fine, and he felt a begrudging obligation to honor the wounds. Sivarn, too, refused the offer to create a splint for his shoulder, claiming he preferred free movement. They both put their robes back on with grimaces of pain and discomfort, then faced each other once more.

“Well, Samuel Bragg,” Sivarn said loudly, making sure his subjects could hear. “Your fangs are quite sharp. I acknowledge your strength, and welcome you to my colony.”