Free Triumph of the Darksword by Margaret Weis Page B

permitted by the Rules of War to surrender after a token resistance, opening the Corridors to the armies of Sharakan.
    Prince Garald put on a grand show for his people that day. The battle began with the stirring music of trumpet and drum, calling the people to war. Out they came, dressed in their best clothes, clutching wildly excited children by the hand. Surging into the streets, the citizens gathered around certain predesignated locations throughout the city where the War Masters and their catalysts, dressed in accoutrements of war—red robes for the magi and gray with red trim for the catalysts—stood waiting.
    The martial music ceased. Silence fell. The crowd held its breath. Then the call of a single trumpet, blown by a bugler standing beside Prince Garald upon the palace battlements, rang through the clear, crisp air (the
Sif-Hanar
outdid themselves that day). At this signal, Prince Garald raised his voice in a shout that was echoed by his War Masters around thecity, demanding in the name of the King of Sharakan that the
Thon-li
open the Corridors.
    One by one, Corridors opened, forming gaping voids in the center of the streets. Standing within them were the
Thon-li
, the Corridor Masters.
    “In the name of the King of Sharakan and his loyal subjects, we call upon you to grant us safe passage to the city-state of Merilon, that we may issue the Challenge to war,” cried Prince Garald to the
Thon-li
who faced him. The demand was repeated by all the War Masters throughout the city to all the
Thon-li
who faced them.
    “In the name of the Almin, who watches over the peace of this world, we refuse,” answered the
Thon-li
to the Prince in return. A high-ranking member of the catalysts and chosen especially for this important part, she threw herself into her role, glaring at Garald as fiercely as if he truly meant to take her post by storm.
    Though somewhat taken back by the catalyst’s vehement defiance, the Prince signaled for the trumpet to sound again. His War Masters came forward, their catalysts at their sides, and the “battle” began.
    The catalysts opened conduits to their wizards; the Life that they gathered into their bodies arcing into that of the magi with a blue light. Suffused with magic, the War Masters cast their spells. Balls of fire exploded in the skies. Cyclones appeared out of clear air, spinning in the palms of the warlocks who threatened to unleash their fury upon the
Thon-li.
Lightning crackled from fingertips, fiery hail sizzled on the street. The children shrieked in excitement, and one young War Master was so carried away by the spectacle that he accidentally caused a crack to open in the earth, frightening the populace as much or more than the
Thon-li.
    Fortunately, the Corridor Masters surrendered immediately at this show of power, even the fierce catalyst who continued to glower at Prince Garald with wounded dignity. Stepping out of her Corridor, she held her hands in front of her, wrists together. The other
Thon-li
followed her example. The War Masters bound the wrists of the catalysts loosely with silken cord. The trumpet rang out in victory and a great cheer went up from the populace.
    Then the
Thon-li
returned to their Corridors, the citizens returned to their homes, and the Prince and his forces set forth to issue the Challenge.
    What the people of Sharakan did not know was that their Prince wasn’t playing a grand game. Garald believed secretly—and he had not shared this with anyone, either his father or the Cardinal, although he was fairly certain Radisovik suspected—that Xavier would not be content with winning on the Gameboard if he won. He would certainly not be content if he lost. No matter what the outcome on the Field of Glory, Prince Garald believed that once again war—true war—had come to the world.
    His heart swelled with excitement. Dreams of deeds of bravery done on the field of battle, of the glories of victory won over an evil foe set his blood burning.