The two combatants didn't spring into action immediately, preferring to size their opposition up first.
Though the toxin had long since been flushed out of his system, the two large lacerations from the Saxunt Lizards claws were still on Morne's body, albeit scabbed over.
They still sent a twinge of pain up his arm and into his lungs whenever he flexed his arm or breathed, respectively. If the toxin hadn't stopped him from bleeding, the depth of the cuts could've meant death by blood loss.
He suspected the antidote the old man had given him had a similar function, as it had taken over an hour last night for blood to finally start flowing from them, and even then, it was only enough to cover the injuries in a thin layer of scabs.
His opponent, on the other hand, seemed to be in perfect condition.
The scrawny man, whose name was Welen, was dressed in the same middle-class clothes Morne had on, and had the gray eyes with square pupils and brown hair of an Ondethalian.
Though he was scrawny, the muscles in his thin limbs pulsed with power, and as he started to walk forward, every step brought with it a *thump* heavier than what should come from someone of his size.
Morne saw no bulges under the man's clothes or anything around his ankles, so he doubted there were weights wrapped around the man to produce such an effect.
This man, despite his size, might have been heavier than Bobby the Butcher, who himself towered over Morne.
This, combined with the way the man seemed to slink forward as if he was lighter than a feather when he clearly wasn't, instantly put Morne on edge.
Whoever this was, he was dangerous.
"You've come far," the man said, his voice deeper than Morne expected it to be. "But unluckily for you, these Knife-Tongues put you up against me. They may not care about your heresy, necromancer, but I shall bring your head back to Azath's church after I win my freedom."
Morne remained silent as he strode forward to meet this Welen. As he did so, his thoughts were partly focused on what Inprek had said at the start of this round.
"Mage versus Mage, Power versus Necromancy!"
In the same way that had alerted Welen to Morne's "heresy," it also tipped Morne off as to what to expect from this foe.
As Morne had read in the Coltha's book before, there were six Schools of magic.
One School was Illusion, which manipulated light and perception. Next was Necromancy, which was what Morne had.
Then there was Elemental, which manipulated and later conjured the elements; Control, which included telekinesis and mind magic, and was what was used to make slave marks; Universal, which manipulated space and time; and finally Power, which focused on strengthening the body of oneself and others in various ways.
The Universal and Necromancy Schools were both considered rare, but the other four were relatively common.
Out of these four, it was Power that Morne focused on.
It explained why Welen seemed so heavy and yet could move so lithely. The Power School also included things like shapeshifting or body modification. Such Spells shouldn't be of the temporary kind until Practitioner, much less permanent, and Morne doubted this Welen had made it to that rank yet.
Morne was willing to bet that Welen was an Apprentice like him, which meant that if this was a Spell, it was the continuous type, meaning it required a constant upkeep of Chimh to keep going.
He likely cast the Spell before entering to psyche Morne out. Of course, Morne was wary, but he had just fought against a giant lizard that nearly tore him to shreds before he managed to turn the fight around.
There was also the time Welen saved by casting it before the heat of battle arrived, but unless he hadn't assigned an incantation to this Spell, that "saved time" wasn't worth the Chimh invested.
The only thing this farce was accomplishing was wasting Chimh.
Morne suspected that this Spell Welen was using was Apprentice Grade, as a Novice Spell had no business producing these results. But so long as Welen kept the Spell up, Morne wouldn't have to worry about any other Spells.
According to the book, only Arch-Mages could cast multiple Spells at a time, and even then, they could only do so with a Spell or Spells that had reached the Emelna stage of mastery.
One's Chimh Well couldn't handle such a task until the Ocean depth, the corresponding depth for Arch-Mage, and the same applied to one's Tower and the Mountain Chain Height.
Welen could always cut the Spell off whenever he wanted, but if he did that, if he knew any other Spells in the first place, there'd be a fraction of a second between ending that Spell and starting the next where he would be vulnerable. And Morne would be sure to capitalize on such an opening.
Possibly the most important thing Morne remembered about the Power School was that it was almost entirely a close-range School, at least in the early ranks.
While Morne could test his physique against Welen's magically-enhanced form – and he did have an advantage, as he had a mace and buckler while Welen was entirely unarmed – why would he do that?
This was a battle to the death. Morne had no obligation to play into this man's hands. He had no desire to fight with "honor" or "chivalry," he cared only for living to see his goals completed.
And if Welen intended to stand between him and those goals, willingly or not, he'd be cut down.
Morne stopped in his tracks halfway between the arena's center and the door he came out from. Welen's eyes flashed as he realized what was about to happen and he paused his stride, bending his knees slightly and narrowing his eyes.
Morne fished three small, sharpened bones out of his pocket and held them up in his hand. "Bite the bullet, bite the bullet."
The first bone flew out of his hand to the satisfying feeling of Bone Bullet advancing to Eme, soaring toward Welen only to be outpaced by the second Morne launched, which streaked forward with a speed reaching seventy miles an hour.