Silas could not even say that he understood the emotions Lennox was feeling. He had never even known his parents. He didn't know what it would have been like to lose them. Elder Chowksi was a reserved man, more like a preacher than an actual father figure. He was raised on the man's farm but he could swear, there were days on end when he wouldn't even catch a glimpse of him. No siblings, no friends. Silas never had anything to lose making him realize just how poor he actually was and he was not even talking about gold and silver. A deep, unexplainable restlessness stirred within his heart.
‘You must have loved your mother a lot.’ Silas murmured.
Lennox only hummed, avoiding Silas' gaze.
They walked ahead in silence when a faint hint of commotion could be heard round the corner. They had finally reached the Arena which to their satisfaction, was packed to the brim with people that came in all shapes, sizes and gender. There was a large circular opening in the middle, surrounded by glass. There was nothing but the vast expanse of sky above it.
The seating area cascaded like a waterfall, tumbling down from a height that rivaled a third story, sweeping all the way to the very edges of the fighting ring. There were hanging balconies, screened by glass from where the people cheered the fight. From the outside, nothing about the building's plain facade hinted at the grandeur within—a hidden marvel carved into stone and steel.
Lennox seized his hand, firm and unyielding, as they plunged into the sea of bodies. The closer they moved toward the raised palisade, the tighter the space became, until it felt like breathing itself took effort. Lennox’s grip grew stronger with each step, anchoring them both in the human tide.
Lennox said something to the man sitting above which Silas could hardly hear about the roar of the crowd. They shouted back and forth for a while and then Lennox finally emerged with a victorious smile holding a plaque in his hand. Silas smiled despite himself.
He and Lennox now both stood before the glass, watching the two mages go up against each other. They could see and hear everything that was going down inside the arena but none of the magic spilled into the surroundings. As it turned out the glass was enchanted. The crowd around them, however, more than made up for the lost effects. The Boos and Ohs that followed every strike made Silas feel like he was himself on the receiving end of a few.
People were hollering bets and coins were being passed around. There were no rules, no qualms. He was having the time of his life.
He turned to Lennox.
‘Who are we betting on?’
‘We are not. You are.’
‘Oh’ Silas said, surprised. ‘I don’t have any coins on me.’
‘Don’t worry. You won’t need to pay up.’
‘Okay..’ Silas said slowly. ‘Who am I betting on then?’
‘Me.’ Lennox quipped.
Silas blinked. He was not sure if he had heard it right.
‘You just said you didn’t have enough juice left to take us back. How are you going to fight against a Maze?’
Silas asked, turning to look at the Mages behind the glass, his perspective shifted now. Rather than thrill, the roaring inferno and the storms on the other side invoked terror.
‘You don’t need to worry about that. The Mage I have challenged has strength as its ability. A Xaldes level - not very high in the Dales to begin with. I could take him on, even in my state. Moreover, I read the information card before challenging him. He claims not to use spells either. Looks like the people of Dales had apparently learnt their lessons well. They do have some rules in place now.’
Silas nodded. Neither believing Lennox nor Dales.
The Wind Mage inside was battling fire by raising tornados of his own. But that fire was nothing like Lennox’s. Lennox was true and livid, like flowing lava but the other Mage seemed like a cheap imitation of a force so magnificent. The Wind mage knocked him off his feet and threw him against the glass panel, that despite the enchantment shuddered with impact. The fight was over.
He stood glued to the glass for a while. Some fights went on for mere seconds, while others lasted minutes. None stretched longer than it should to wear off the crowd. Then suddenly he heard the name Fuyan and Lennox started walking away from his side.
Of course, he would not use his own name.
Silas watched with bated breath as Lennox inched closer to the Glass Arena. His opponent had already entered, standing on the floor, waving at the audience who chanted his name. The man was built like a fort, his arms fleshed out like pillars and the girth of his thighs alone was more than Silas’s circumference. In an arm to arm combat, the man would hardly need spells.
Silas shot a quick prayer upwards for Lennox and the coins that he did not have.
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