Magic the Gathering - Odyssey Cycle 1 - Odyssey, książki, po angielsku, m
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The detonation rocked Kamahl back. The light
was bright enough that he could see through his
eyelids as the edge of the energy brushed him. The
crowd was stunned into silence. The magic ignited the
spore cloud and the explosion sped back to the mole,
devouring it as the molds detonated in sympathy with
Kamahl's attack. The dementia caster rolled on the
ground, unable to stand. She had been flung back
several yards, and the sand stripped most of her
clothes off as well as much of her skin. Her teeth bared
and bloody, she stood, gathering herself to summon
more monstrosities.
Vance Moore
CHAPTER 1
The sun lay sullen to the west. Hovering on the
horizon, its rays cast the hills in shadows. The pits lay
ahead. Finally he was drawing near after months of
travel. Kamahl looked at the heart of the games and
saw only a gaping hole of darkness. The twilight
prevented him from seeing the city that lay in the
hollow. Even as he watched, torches were lit, the dull
red light illuminating the site of Kamahl's future
triumphs. From mountain obscurity he traveled
toward his destiny.
Cabal City was the largest in the continent's
interior, but only a few signs of its size were visible
from Kamahl's vantage point. He could see just the
roofs of a few buildings and the residential quarters'
laundry hanging in the still air. The city was held in a
huge rocky crater, its sides uneven but highest on the
western outskirts. The glow of torches and the
streetlights near the great dome of the arena began to
color the walls of the buildings as Kamahl moved
closer. The flare of both ordinary fire and magic lit the
streets, but the dark shadow cast by the crater walls
shrouded most of the city in darkness.
The barbarian started down the shallow incline
at a slow run. He breathed easily, even with the armor
in his pack and the great sword strapped to his back.
Skin the color of brass showed no flush of exertion. His
smooth beardless features were calm. No sweat
dampened his inky hair, and his violet eyes were clear.
Living in the mountains had given him good night
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Odyssey
vision, and he looked through the increasingly dim
light to the town's gate. The road began to rise, and he
breathed harder as he neared the city limits. The
crater walls were notched, and the entrance reminded
the barbarian of a pass through mountains, though far
smaller in scale than the peaks of his childhood home.
Drovers hurried a string of camels into the city, their
whips snapping as they moved the animals through
the high gate. Merchants from across the continent
come to satisfy the tourney crowds, the warrior
thought.
Kamahl breathed deeply, the prospect of the
games exciting his blood more than the run. Years
mastering the fighting arts lay behind him, and now
he rushed to show his skills before the wider world.
Veteran of many a duel in his home mountains, he
wanted more than the championship of an alpine
valley. The best fighters on the continent converged on
this tourney, and he belonged here.
His stride lengthened as he left the hills, his
boots pounding into the road's surface. The guards
waved the merchants through, uttering only a few
threats to increase the bribes offered. They turned
their attention on the jogging figure. His light
throwing axes softly rubbed against Kamahl's wallet.
He had run for days approaching the contest and lost
what little fat he might have had. The strict regime of
exercise had refined him down to his essence. He
pulled up to the gate without any sign of exertion
except his deep breaths.
"Another jack," muttered a guard as he took a
firmer hold of his halberd and moved out from the
gate, Kamahl frowned, for the soldier used the term
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