A loud gasp emerged from the crowd, as the sorcerer sprinted towards the ice from the Perennial Glacier. Princess Na'arvi was becoming light headed from worry. At this stage in the contest, she did not have a favorite, but she did know whom she least desired. She would be darned if she were to wed a corrupted sorcerer.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes sifting through the crowding, seeking her folks. Her mother, the Queen, was wailing and her ladies in waiting were consoling her, while her father sat restless on his seat in the pavilion, repeatedly hitting his fists on the arms of the seat. She turned back and shut her eyes tight, her courage slipping, as she silently called out to her Gods. Only a few seconds passed before she heard yet another collective gasp and could not help but open her eyes. It seemed that the two warriors had now joined hands to battle the sorcerer. The spectators did not find this dishonorable as they considered Tantra to be a vile trade.

--------------------------------------

Surya saw the sorcerer racing towards the ice, evading all the arrows leaving Prince Indra's bow, and knew that Indra would never reach the glass dome in time. And so, he closed his brilliant black eyes and retreated to the deepest recesses of his mind. Suddenly, a shrill long cry blasted into the sorcerer's ears and he stumbled. The split second hitch was enough for Prince Indra to bristle the ground ahead with arrows. However, the sorcerer only took a second to recover and Prince Surya knew sorcerers could not be easily out-maneuvered.

Not a second passed before a Tantric air blast shot out from the sorcerer's hands, growing into a whirlwind. It rapidly swirled its way to the center of the arena, throwing the glass dome with the ice high into the auburn clouds. The two princes exchanged an instinctive look, a common plan forming in their minds.

Prince Indra quickly took out the rare Garudastra, the Eagle arrow, and shot it from his bow to chase the glass dome that was sent hurtling through the clouds. Surya sped towards the sorcerer waiting on the other side of the arena, at last confronting his nemesis. The sorcerer stood back, studying his face for a moment.

"Regards my Prince Suryadev." The black-clad sorcerer's stern look clashed with his warm voice. "A contest between us never lasted this long. You seem to be lagging today. I have waited for two whole years to meet you again in a combat. Do not disappoint me."

Prince Suryadev measured the taunt. The sorcerer's smirking face was framed by curly black hair that had grown longer since he last saw him. His malicious words were in a sharp contrast to his youthful and innocent features.

However, the prince was no stranger to his taunts and haughty demeanor, and calmly replied, "My regards to you as well, Tantric Vidyut. I see you have improved your skills of sorcery, and mischief. But if you want a fair maiden's hand today, you have to look somewhere else."

The sorcerer gave a hearty laugh before sneering, "There would be no contest, if all I wanted was a maiden's hand."

There was no reason for them to keep exchanging words when they could exchange blows. The contest of Swayamvar was not bound by rules. Instead, it was just as how the Gods settled their disputes. Unlike in the past, the rendezvous today allowed the two rivals to unleash their full strength and wit. Not waiting any longer, Surya charged at Vidyut, seizing his longsword with both hands, ready to strike.

However, his sword was suddenly gripped by what appeared to be an invisible star mace flail. The sorcerer was wielding the flail with inhuman strength, pulling it with a force that almost yanked the sword off the prince's grip. The prince spun in the air to disentangle his weapon and the Tantric spun with him too, to stop the disentanglement. He knew the contest would end the moment he lets the Prince touch his skin with the longsword. Both were thrown to the ground.

The two rivals jumped to their feet at once. The fight was evenly balanced for next several minutes, each anticipating the other's movement, their weapons still entwined. Suddenly, the black-clad sorcerer heard the screeching noise in his ears again. One quick glance at the prince told him that he was using the force of Mantra to create the illusion. The sorcerer immediately let go of his air weapon and within seconds, air particles around his hands congealed to form two more mace flails. Only, it was too late. The shiny tip of a longsword was already scratching at his neck with the golden prince at the other end of the sword.

At the same time, a thunderous roar erupted from the crowd. Prince Surya and Tantric Vidyut turned their heads to the audience wondering if that meant the end of the contest and if they would see a sea of gold. However, they bore the same puzzled look when they saw rows after rows of blue banners and flags waving.

Then, realization set in. As they looked up, they found Prince Indra flying into the arena, hanging from the Garudastra with one hand and holding up the glass dome with the ice in the other hand.

------------------XXX-----------------XXX------------------