Hanuman is amazingly fun to write. Just in case there was any doubt.

Enjoy!

Hanuman looked up as the door opened to the private chambers that had been given to him by Mujaji and into which none would venture but the four he permitted to see his true face.

"Finished your wanderings in disguise? Isn't it hateful in this heat?" Hanuman called.

"It does not trouble me as it does you, so I would not describe it as 'hateful.' It is, however, an excellent way to watch The Dawning up close rather than from Mujaji's balcony."

"And how'd it go?" Hanuman asked without lifting himself from his graceless slump across a soft settee.

"Surprising," came the answer.

Hanuman raised an eye-ridge; "brow" did not quite describe the arch of his forehead anymore. "How so?"

"Several challengers survived to tomorrow's event, but one in particular interests me. He bears a sword of my own homeland, though I would be surprised if he knew its true origin. And...he has an unexpected advantage."

That was intriguing enough, along with the slight hesitation in one Hanuman knew from decades did not often find anything at all to be surprising, to make monkey-king sit up fully. "And what's that?"

Five colored stones were set onto the table before Hanuman.

"One is ruined and two are at least partially cracked," Hanuman observed. "I assume these stones were spelled?"

"Obviously."

"And this happened while that particular challenger was in combat with the Conqueror?"

"Yes, of course."

"Hmm." Hanuman turned over the pair of cracked stones in his furred fingers. "He's much more powerful than we suspected. And a sword of Lemuria is in play? That cannot be coincidence."

"I think not." After a moment, "I did warn the boy that his challenger might be in danger."

"Did you really?" Hanuman was rather surprised. "That was quite bold of you, old friend."

"If that challenger is to survive both The Dawning and the dangers already present, he will need all the help he can get. I believe he little knows himself what entering The Dawning will mean."

The monkey-king frowned at his friend. "What aren't you telling me?"

There came a sigh. "The challenger is beholden to Skullmaster."

Hanuman was on his feet before he realized he'd moved. "You cannot be serious!"

"I am entirely serious, Hanuman. It does explain a few things, however."

Hanuman began to pace, his mind whirling at speeds horses and lightning bolts could never hope to reach. "Skullmaster's no fool. He may not see all the truth at once, but he will certainly discover one of his own house has entered The Dawning all too soon. He may even suspect the reason behind it. The challenger is obviously powerful, but he isn't ready. We're not ready. We could stand to lose everything we have worked for in the last ten years!"

"Possibly. But we mustn't discount him. He has shown resilience so far. He may have more power than even we can speculate. I would not test him fully against Skullmaster, but that does not mean all is hopeless."

Hanuman snarled. "That Skullmaster! Someday I'm going to tell Beowulf that that bone-faced demon said something nasty about his mother or somesuch and I'll tell Mujaji that he taunted her for being a girl and maybe the two of them will finally unleash their full wrath against him and we'd be rid of the monster!"

"You know as well as I, old friend, that even the full armies of four of the Seven Lands cannot eradicate Skullmaster's evil alone. Though I agree it might make us all feel better to try."

Hanuman absently kicked at a cushion that had fallen from the settee when he had flopped upon it originally, sending it spinning across the floor. "Of course he would be tied in with Skullmaster. The Powers forbid that that which is already impossible be made any easier!"

"What is it exactly they say about sarcasm and wit?"

"That it's the best sort of wit and I don't care what you think?" Hanuman shot back.

That garnered a chuckle. "This is what I have missed all these years. Your excellent repartee."

Hanuman laughed in spite of himself. "I'm glad someone thinks so. Most of my people have taken to pretending they can't hear me when I get upset."

"That must make it quite difficult to run your kingdom, then."

"No, it's easy," Hanuman shrugged. "Anything that causes me to shout invective at my retainers is immediately abolished or reversed. They don't have to listen to what I say to know my feelings on the matter."

"Truly, you are a wonder sometimes."

"Either that or a madman," Hanuman agreed. "But then, you never sought me out because I was particularly conventional."

"No, and it is for that reason I shall rely upon you once more."

Hanuman sighed. "What do you need?"

"We must test him. My projections show an almost unavoidable disaster before us, and we must know if he can endure it. But I do not know how to do it without revealing all. Particularly with Skullmaster so close to him."

"I understand, old friend. If you can put your faith in Jonayayin as well as myself, I think the old wolf will have some ideas. He's almost as clever as me, you know."

"Of course I know that. That's why I bespoke him first."

"Oh, you did, did you?" Hanuman glared. "And what did he say?"

"That you would not voluntarily work with him unless it was your idea. Which I already knew, of course. Nor would he agree to work with you had I not let him suggest it first."

"You are devious, underhanded, and entirely too confident, old friend. Now that you've told me how you baited me, I could simply refuse and leave your hook dangling empty." Hanuman tipped back onto the settee, scattering a few more cushions and stretching out lazily.

"I calculated the possibility. But the truth is that you will not refuse, not now that you know what I know. If not out of a sense of duty to the Seven Lands, you will do it for the sake of your own curiosity."

Hanuman closed his eyes. "Why should I be curious?"

"Don't you want to know if you can beat him?"

The monkey-king groaned. "No. No I don't. I don't care."

"Yes you do. I know you do."

"All right! Fine! Tomorrow it is! And you owe me at least seven games of chess for this, you superior little meddler."

"Very well."

-==OOO==-

When Norman returned to the estate at nightfall, he was prevented from making his nightly report to Skullmaster by Warmonger accosting him in the hallway. That in itself was unusual enough for Norman to take notice.

"The master wants me to see what you have learned," Warmonger rasped in his shallow voice.

Norman's suspicions grew, but he simply nodded and followed the lieutenant out into the yard.

For the better part of three hours, Norman and Warmonger battled as if to the death. The blood-skinned demon was vicious in his attacks, more than once flaying Norman's skin open in narrow, sharp cuts. Norman fought as well as he could, but the weapon he had been given for their contest was a short, rather ill-balanced backsword that Norman suspected had been found on the estate somewhere - maybe holding up a table or wedging open a door, from the look of it.

That did not, of course, prevent Norman from bashing Warmonger across the teeth with it when the opportunity presented itself.

At last Warmonger called a halt to the battle, and only when it was apparent his own energy was flagging far more than Norman's.

"Skullmaster wants to see you after you clean and repair my armor," he said with a sneer.

And so Norman spent another hour correcting all the dents he had just put in Warmonger's chest plate and the single shoulder-guard he favored. By the time Norman had finished his task, it was well into night. But a candle burned in the room Skullmaster had taken for himself, his door open just enough for Norman to nudge it open and wait. Skullmaster ignored him for almost another hour before he finally deigned to raise his eyes to his slave.

"I order you tell me the truth," Skullmaster said, his voice low and dangerous. "Did you touch anything of mine in this room today?"

"No," Norman responded. Max opened the chest. I only touched him and the sword and neither of them could ever belong to you.

Skullmaster peered at him. "You are not clever enough to trick me, boy. But if this is the game you wish to play, I will oblige you. Come here."

Norman could not help but obey.

Skullmaster produced a heavy metal cuff the dark color of dried blood. "Hold out your left hand."

Norman did not so much as blink when the cuff settled around his wrist and locked itself. An instant later, the hinge and the latch vanished and the cuff became a solid metal band as though it had been forged around Norman's arm. Then Skullmaster passed Norman a heavy, sharp saber.

"I have cursed this manacle to be bound to the estate. You will find it impossible to leave this place while wearing it until midday tomorrow. If you have not entered The Dawning without my permission, you will simply wait for it to fall from your wrist and begin your day as usual when it does.

"But," and he pushed into Norman's face with eyes that glowed wickedly, "if you have been so foolish as to enter The Dawning, you will have to choose your own fate. You may fail to appear at the tournament grounds on time, and the Conqueror's wrath will kill you. Or you may cut off your hand before dawn and continue to participate."

Skullmaster laughed with sinister pleasure.

"I will be very interested in your state tomorrow if you still live. Even you, I believe, will not survive the Conqueror with your lifeblood flowing from the stump of your arm. Or perhaps I am wrong," and the sly smile had made lesser men and demons cower before him. "Tomorrow at sunset, we shall learn which of us is the more clever. Now go."

Norman turned and strode from the room, climbing to the attic without thought. Only when he was seated on the edge of the pallet that was his rough bed did he fully register what had just happened.

He looked dully down at his hand, his heart thundering in his chest.

Norman did not particularly fear losing his hand. Of course, he obviously did not want to cut off his own limb. But an injury of that sort was rather common among the Norn warriors of his childhood, and they had lived well enough and continued to battle even if not quite so sound in body after an accident.

However, Norman guessed that Skullmaster was not only testing him - rather than asking him straight out if he had entered The Dawning, which Norman knew was the demon's way of toying with him as he had done since the beginning - but rather, Skullmaster was preparing for every contingency. Skullmaster could order Norman not to attend The Dawning in the morning, but that would result in his death if he had presented himself as a challenger. If death were what he wished, he could just as easily kill Norman at any time. But Skullmaster did not necessarily want to lose his favorite human bodyguard and slave.

If Norman had not entered The Dawning, there would be nothing to punish, and therefore no harm would come to him this time. If Norman had, Skullmaster was providing him with the ultimate choice - suffer the punishment for his insolence or die.

Norman supposed he should feel honored that Skullmaster had enough faith in his abilities that he assumed Norman could survive a second encounter with the Conqueror after a sleepless night as well as the loss of a hand. Except he would never feel honored by anything Skullmaster did or thought ever, no matter what. And, of course, it was less that Skullmaster was impressed by Norman and more that he had little invested in the outcome. If Norman died either in The Dawning or by refusing to attend, Skullmaster would be out a bound slave, which might bother him as much as a fly in his wine goblet; obviously, he would rather it not be so, but if it happened, Skullmaster would barely recall it later.

But still. To cut off his own hand, to voluntarily go through the pain of it, and the risk not just of death by blood-loss but infection, and to then be so weakened against the Conqueror…

And then there was Max.

Norman closed his eyes. How was he to explain to the boy that his well-meaning hope for Norman had resulted in Skullmaster's twisted punishment? Max's heart would break if he were responsible for Norman's death, or for his own choice to remove his hand. How could Norman put such a burden on his shoulders? It wasn't his fault - it was only Skullmaster's fault - but Norman knew the boy well enough now to be certain he wouldn't see it that way.

Max had already promised to meet Norman in the hour before dawn outside the bakery so he could be sure to bring his friend a breakfast fit for a challenger, he'd said, before they returned to the estate after everyone else had left to retrieve the sword again. Norman knew that when he was late, the boy would come seeking him - and Skullmaster and his demons might yet be present.

Something about that gave Norman a vicious, dark chill. He did not want Max anywhere near Skullmaster. Not ever.

The sword.

Norman remembered suddenly that when he had found Max that morning, the boy had opened the chest. A chest cursed with Skullmaster's best enchantments to prevent precisely what Max had done seemingly innocently.

How did he do that?

Norman couldn't answer the question, but it did inspire a plan.

Norman slept as much as he could, timing his waking to the hour before dawn with the skill and practice of a lifetime acting as slave and soldier. Around him, the house was stirring - Lavalord and Warmonger's ear-bending tones could be heard upraised in an argument of some sort about the breakfast of the day. Norman made his way silently down the attic stairs and ducked immediately into the first room to hand - the one Lavalord was using. From there, it was less effort than breathing for Norman to simply climb out the window and let himself down the side of the house to the grounds.

There were a few demons ostensibly on watch around the edges of the estate, but Norman knew most of them had either spent the night reveling after watching The Dawning or else had been kept awake by those who had done so and would now be half-asleep on duty. He had no trouble reaching the front gate without being seen.

Just to be sure, Norman attempted to put his hand through the gate and out into the street. The instant the metal cuff left the boundary, it froze as though it had encountered a wall. Push or pull as he might, Norman could not budge it the length of a fingertip from the exact line of the estate's border.

No matter. Norman had other ways of handling uncomfortable situations, carefully honed after a lifetime of having to obey orders and not ever wanting to do so completely.

He made his way along the wall of the estate in the direction from which Max would shortly arrive when he came looking for his tardy friend. Then, where the wall was partly concealed by overgrown bushes, Norman simply utilized his superior strength to wrestle several bricks from the wall. Once he had the start of an opening, it was easy to build it large enough for him to crawl through. Norman kept his left hand where it hung trapped by Skullmaster's curse, but the rest of him was soon outside the wall where he could flag Max down out of sight of Skullmaster's minions.

Less than half an hour from when he should have met Max, Norman's friend appeared - running up the lane at full-speed in his page clothing. He spotted Norman at once.

"Normie! What're you doing here, big guy? And where's your stuff?" he raced to Norman's side.

"I am sorry, Little One. I was...prevented." Norman pointed over his shoulder at his arm through the wall.

Max looked at it, at the strange way Norman's arm hung suspended. "You can't take it off? And it won't let you leave?"

"Skullmaster wants to punish me if I am the one who entered The Dawning. If I'm not, it doesn't matter if I'm stuck here. But if I am…" he trailed off.

"We gotta do something!" Max exclaimed, eyes wide in the false-dawn's growing light. "And fast!"

"I know," Norman said. "But wait. They'll leave soon." He didn't want to have to make his terrible decision with any of Skullmaster's retainers around.

"We're cutting it really, really close here, buddy," Max said, nervous.

Norman led Max back through the wall and they both looked out through the hole at the road. In only a few minutes, Skullmaster led the long crowd of demons and half-demons into the street to take their places in the reviewing stands. Even so, Norman waited until one-hundred heartbeats after the last had vanished down the lane before he would be moved.

"Okay," Norman turned to Max. "There are three options, and like it or not, we've got to figure them out right now."

Max's face was getting paler as dawn crept closer. "Lay them on me."

"One, I stay here and die at sunrise when I break the contract of The Dawning."

"Definitely not," Max almost growled.

"Two, I cut my hand off and go to The Dawning like Skullmaster wants me to."

Max blanched and his whole body flinched. "Normie? Big guy? I'm really, really hoping option three is better, because I don't think option two is going to work for me."

"Or three." Norman peered into Max's eyes. "You do whatever you did to open Skullmaster's trunk and get me out of this thing."

Max gulped. "What if I can't?"

"Then we go with option two."

Max actually stepped backwards, half-tripping in the bush. "You'll...you would…" He swallowed a dry cough. "It's my fault. I got you into this."

"No, Little One," Norman caught up with him and held him by the shoulders so Max was forced to look into his face. "Whatever happens, it is my choice, or Skullmaster's evil. I am grateful for your friendship and nothing less than that. What you have given me in the days I have known you is more than I ever thought to have in my life again. If I die today, here or at The Dawning, I die with that in my heart."

Max's breath was coming too fast, but Norman's words seemed to calm him. However, regret hung in his voice when he said, "I don't know how I opened the trunk. I don't know if I can do it again."

"I choose to believe in you, my friend. Now try."

Max nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. But his body grew still and his breathing slowed as he brought himself under control. When he looked up again, he did not flinch from Norman's gaze.

"Here goes," he whispered.

Max shifted and Norman released his grip, holding his left arm out before the boy. Max closed his small fingers on the metal cuff and let out a breath that was half a prayer.

For a moment, nothing happened.

And then the metal cuff simply popped open, its hinges and latch reappearing as if they had never been gone, its size not so precisely the circumference of Norman's wrist. It fell to the ground and landed amidst the branches.

Max stared at it for a moment before he looked at Norman with face alight. "I did it!" Then, "How'd I do it?"

"I don't know, but I knew you could," Norman told him, his face gladdening in a broad grin. It had been a gamble for sure, but Norman had trusted in the strange young friend he had made. "Now, we've got to hurry!"

They flew to the house, Max rushing straight to Skullmaster's chamber to retrieve Norman's sword while Norman went to don his armor.

Once outside the estate, Max ran beside Norman for a few paces before he panted, "Just go ahead of me, big guy. I can't...run as fast...as you. I'll slow you down."

Norman looked at the boy who was maintaining an impressive pace given that his legs were less than half as long as Norman's own. He shook his head and smiled, though it couldn't be seen through the helmet.

"We do this together."

And Norman caught up Max and perched him on his back before he surged ahead at his best sprinting pace towards the grounds of the tournament. They reached it just before the first rays of true dawn.

Norman set Max down near one of the reviewing stands and felt a jolt of tension go through his stomach, as though he were being pulled from within. He looked to the boy.

"Go get 'im, big guy!" Max grinned, his face alight. "I'll be right here."

Norman nodded and let his feet carry him into the circle denoted by the white line that signified the magical pact between the Conqueror and the challengers. He noted he was the last to arrive, and there were no more than fifteen of them in total assembled for the second day of battle. When the dawn arrived in full, there was a feeling of pressure in the air before the Conqueror appeared. Unlike the previous day, when he had carried a weighty mace, today he bore a slim staff of gold.

"Challengers!" he roared. "Today will mean your defeats! Who dares begin against me?"

One of the fifteen stepped forward, his head up proudly. "I will!"

The challenger closed with the Conqueror and attacked with his longsword. But after only a few blows, the Conqueror shoved one end of the staff into the challenger's middle.

And unleashed a torrent of flame.

The cries of surprise from the crowd were easily overwhelmed by the scream of pain from the challenger as flames licked across his body. He dropped to his knees, longsword forgotten, and wrapped his arms around himself. The Conqueror raised the staff and twirled it, showing that flames curled from either end.

"This challenger is defeated! Who dares approach next?"

There was a long pause as a few of the challengers moved the fallen warrior to the circle's edge where healers were already gathered, waiting. Then, the woman with the cap of Jonayayin's people stepped forward. She did not speak, but she brandished her own blades.

Max found himself with fists clenched tightly as he witnessed her battle. He knew that each warrior had to endure two hours against the Conqueror, but the day's first challenger hadn't lasted two minutes.

"Good morning."

Max jumped and turned to see Teacher beside him. "Yeah, hi," he said absently, looking back to the ring.

"The Conqueror becomes increasingly dangerous with each day of The Dawning," Teacher said. "I should imagine no more than one or two challengers will remain to stand against him tomorrow."

Max swallowed. "What's it for? How many people are going to die for whatever this competition is all about? I know why Norman's invested in it, and he doesn't care about the Lady-Queen's prize, but why are the rest of them doing this?"

Teacher sighed. "For some, it is merely a test of strength, a means to prove oneself against an impossible foe. Unfortunately, those are the ones who most often do not have the fortitude to endure. As for the rest, there are some who would risk anything for the correct reward."

"For Lady-Queen Mujaji's whatever-it-is? It's not even the kingdom! I heard nobody knows for sure what she's offering, just that it must be big." Max looked down at the diminutive figure and wished he could see through the shadows of the hood to Teacher's face.

"It is necessary that very few know the true purpose of The Dawning," Teacher replied, voice solemn. "It would be dangerous otherwise."

"You're telling me that's not dangerous?!" Max gestured to where the woman had just barely evaded flames and was rolling away to try to get out of the Conqueror's range.

"If it eases your mind, young one, there have been only three deaths of all the challengers thus far, and those three chose to fight beyond injuries that would have been survivable had they been willing to accept defeat. The Lady-Queen Mujaji has done all within her power to preserve the lives of those who battle."

Suddenly there was a cry from the crowd. Max turned back in time to see the woman in the ring lose the second of her bladed weapons. She recoiled with empty hands from the Conqueror.

"Do you dare face me weaponless, or do you admit defeat?" the Conqueror asked.

The woman was looking around.

Max leaned to Teacher. "I thought being disarmed was an automatic loss."

"Only in the first round. For today and tomorrow, a loss of weapons provides a choice."

On the grounds, the woman turned and ran from the Conqueror for the edge of the circle. Max spotted another woman emerging from the crowd with a sword in her hands. Max felt an odd humming in the air as the pair approached the white line. When the challenger reached it and put her hand out, clearly expecting the sword to be handed to her, Max somehow knew what was about to happen.

The woman with the sword thrust it, pommel first, towards the white line. But it bounced in midair as if she had tried to hand it through a solid wall. The challenger across the line froze, face pale but resigned.

"She cannot pass a weapon into the ring," Teacher explained. "The magic of the contract between challengers and Conqueror forbids it."

The woman turned back to the Conqueror and dropped her head. "I admit defeat."

"Smart," Max commented. "Better to lose face that way than at the end of that flaming staff."

"I entirely agree," Teacher said.

The next challenger to step up endured a full hour of combat, but ultimately was undone by the flames as the first had been and was carried, screaming, from the circle.

The fourth challenger was Norman.

Max watched, silent and tense, while the minutes ticked by. Norman had observed the first three challengers closely and was using his agility to keep his distance from the Conqueror rather than closing with him. He passed more than a third of his two-hour limit well out of range of the Conqueror and far enough from him that he was always able to dodge an incoming blast of fire before it could touch him.

The Conqueror's frustration grew with every missed attempt.

"You have angered me, challenger. And that rage only makes me stronger!"

The next blast was pure inferno, but Norman evaded it nonetheless.

One section of the reviewing stands might not have been so lucky, but the magic of the circle deflected it upwards so the only casualties were the pennants flying above in the morning light. The fire rather frightened the spectators, however, and many made hasty departures afterwards.

At the first hour-mark, Norman managed his first hit on the Conqueror, a ringing blow with his blade that knocked the monstrous being back a few steps while the fire in his staff faltered. But Norman did not press his advantage and instead backed off once more.

"You cannot turn your back on destiny!" shouted the Conqueror.

"I can try!" Norman replied.

"It's really quite clever," Teacher said after remaining silent for the entire hour of Norman's challenge. "He shows incredible patience. Most warriors would not be able to wait so long without striking back."

"Even though that's clearly a recipe for roasted challenger?" Max asked.

"Even though," Teacher nodded. "Your Norman displays wisdom beyond his years."

Max shrugged but smiled. "He's the best."

"It's possible you are correct."

With less than half an hour to go before the end of Norman's time, the Conqueror seemed to lose his own patience. Rather than attempt to get close enough to Norman, he planted himself in a fixed spot and attempted to drive Norman towards himself using the fire from his staff. Norman ducked and wove, even deflecting the flame with the flat of his sword at times.

"He has recognized it now," Teacher said.

"Recognized what?" Max asked.

"The Conqueror's weakness. He must have one; all opponents do. Norman has realized that the Conqueror cannot see clearly through the flames. Watch."

Max did. And an instant later, he knew what Norman was going to do as well.

Norman was charging laterally while the Conqueror blasted fire in a broad swath. But when the flames flared between his eyes and Norman's position, Norman adjusted his angle of attack. Deflecting the worst of the fire with the flat of his sword, he dashed towards the Conqueror at full speed. The Conqueror was still moving the staff, having lost Norman behind the wall of fire, and suddenly Norman was clear of the flames and within range.

Norman raised his sword and struck a vicious blow, cutting the fire staff in half.

"All right Normie! Way to go!" Max cheered.

The Conqueror shouted, incoherent with fury, and struck out with the now smoking but flame-less halves of his weapon, but he could not defeat Norman in the time that remained. When the two hours ended, the Conqueror turned his back to Norman.

"Return at dawn tomorrow for your third battle, challenger," he said as the staff of flame repaired itself for the next challenger. "You will not survive the final test."

"We'll see," Norman told him with a smirk.

Heedless of the cheering that followed him, Norman left the circle and moved to Max.

Max's face was bright and alight with a grin that could put the sun to shame. "Wow! That was amazing, Normie! You really showed him!"

Norman wanted to raise the shield on his helmet to smile at his boy, but he recalled how precarious his position remained with Skullmaster and opted to let it lie. But he clasped a hand over Max's shoulder.

"Come on," he said. "I'm starving. I could eat the Conqueror for breakfast."

Max laughed. "I bet!"

As they strode through the crowd and the fifth challenger stepped up for their turn, Norman caught the shiver that ran through Max when the challenger in the ring was burned and cried out. While true that Norman was rather hungry after his morning, far more prominent in his mind was his desire to get Max clear of the ring. The boy did not need to see anyone else fall to the Conqueror's vile flames.