Free 144: Wrath by Dallas E. Caldwell

two men sat in tense deliberation. The first man, Morik, was a Peltin with a shiny bald head, bushy eyebrows, and a greasy beard. Along his back and under his arms were great yellow rings of perspiration, and his boots and gloves were soiled from the morning’s labor, or perhaps the previous day’s.
    In his hands, he held three small, oblong magestones. A stack of similar disks lay on the table in front of him with two more setting evenly out in front. The flat magestones were a shiny, hard slate no thicker than a copper silver coin. Tiny images danced on the faces of the cards Morik held in his hand. He furrowed his brow in deep thought, did a bit of rearranging, and smiled, showing off his four prized teeth.
    "This here’s end-game, Kiff," Morik said as he laid two of his disks on the table in front of him. His movement stirred the air and tainted it with his odor. Still the mass of people pressed in to see how the move would play out. One, a dark green piece, he put in front of the others creating a sort of wedge. He touched the three back-row disks with one hand and made a dragging motion to the dark green disk in front. A magical image of a terrible lizard with a fat body, long tail, and six serpentine heads sprang to life above the magestones.
    "Hydra’s defense. Yous knock it down, it comes back even gooder," the bearded man laughed.
    The crowd gave a collective "Ooh" of admiration for the strong play, and two of the Cairtols cheered.
    Kiff, the player across the table from Morik, reclined in his wooden chair, balanced precariously with two legs on the ground. On his right and left sides, two beautiful young ladies stood fawning over him, nearly spilling out of the tops of their form-fitted dresses. Both had blonde curls that played across their generous curves, and they had Kiff’s full attention.
    "Hey, Underpeltin," said Morik. "It’s your play."
    Kiff leaned forward and examined the table through dark Undlander goggles that he wore whenever he was on the surface. His body was covered in black leather armor that protected his skin from head to toe. He wore a sable mask and matching gloves, tall boots, and carried twin sickles on his back. The only part of him to see daylight was his hair, which was dyed a silvery blue. He was taller than most Undlanders and could have passed for an average Peltin man, or perhaps a slender, athletic one. On the back side of his left forearm was a strange metal bar, affixed beneath his armor, and his left hand was awkwardly stiff as it held onto his active magestones.
    "Alright, alright," he said. "No need to get all sweaty. Let’s see here."
    He drew two magestones from his stack to add to his hand. One was pure white and glowed in the dimly lit saloon. He paused and switched the magestones back and forth, his facial expressions hidden away, but his posture cocky.
    Finally it came. He laid down two magestones, the white one and another that was a dusky grey. He rubbed the grey one and placed the white one on top. The image of a dark warrior sprang to life above the stones. In its hands, it held a shimmering white blade.
    "Sword of the Nalunas," Kiff said, his voice unable to hide the smirk behind his mask. "In the right hands, cuts through barriers, magical defenses, and regeneration. Oh, and that includes your little re-growing-head trick."
    Kiff drew a line with his finger across the table from the warrior to the Hydra. The warrior sprang to life, charged the fell beast, ducked its biting heads, and stabbed directly at its chest. The arcane creature crumpled and winked out of existence.
    "And my tainted warrior is just the card for the job," Kiff said rocking back in his chair once again.
    The crowd cheered. Several patrons exchanged coins, glares, and grins.
    Morik stood in a fury, nearly upending the table.
    "Dammit, Kiff!" he yelled. "That’s an illegal card and yous know it!"
    He grabbed the white magestone and hurtled it at Kiff with deadly force. Kiff rolled backwards,