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Richard schooled his emotions, setting aside his dismay. Jagang would not miss this game. Sooner or later he would show up.
When the emperor’s team strode onto the opposite end of the field the crowd erupted in a thunderous roar. These men were the best the Order had to offer. They were heroes to countless thousands of spectators. These were the men who could vanquish all who came before them, the players who crushed all opposition, the champions who were most deserving of victory. Many regarded the team as a tangible representation of their own power and virility.
As Richard and his men waited outside the torches, the other team, looking not merely determined but dangerous, stalked around the perimeter of the field, acknowledging the roar of the crowd with nothing more than bloodthirsty looks. The crowd loved such a visage of hate and menace, of things to come.
When the emperor’s team finished circling the field and finally gathered toward the other side of the field to wait for the challengers, the archers and other dedicated guards parted. Commander Karg waved Richard and his team through the gap in the line. As Richard passed, the commander whispered a warning to Richard that he had better win.
Richard stepped out onto the field. His concern for his plan was eased when the resounding cheers for his team were nearly as deafening as they had been for the emperor’s team. In the many games they had played since coming to the Imperial Order’s encampment, Richard’s team had won every game, and in so doing the respect of many. It didn’t hurt that Richard was well known for having killed an opposing point man. Probably even more than that, though, was the sight of the team covered with frightening designs in red paint. It was theater that fit the games. Richard was counting on that support.
He was also troubled when he finally got a good look at all of his opponents. They were some of the biggest men Richard had ever seen. They reminded him of Egan and Ulic, the personal guards to the Lord Rahl. It occurred to Richard that he could use Egan and Ulic right about then.
Leaving his men gathered at the end of the field, Richard crossed the empty ground alone to the referee at center field with the fistful of straws. The point man for the emperor’s team waiting beside the referee looked to be nearly a foot taller than Richard. His neck started at his ears and just kept getting wider until it met shoulders half again as wide as Richard’s.
A neat row of red, swollen marks running diagonally up along the side of his face recorded where the links of the chain had caught him. As Richard waited, the towering point man, glaring at Richard the entire time, drew a straw first.
When Richard drew, he came up with a shorter straw. The onlookers roared their approval that the emperor’s team would have the first chance to score. The man shot Richard a smirk before taking the broc and heading to his side of the field.
As Richard returned to his players waiting at their end of the field, his gaze swept over the endless masses of men, fists raised in wild emotion, all wanting the blood of either one side or the other. Men with arrows at the ready watched Richard’s solitary walk back to his team. He could feel the fevered emotions of hundreds of thousands of men all pressing in, trying to see what would happen—men who had gotten where they were by trampling over endless corpses of innocent men, women, and children who had only wanted to live their own lives, to better themselves and their families.
Richard felt caught up in a world gone mad.
His gaze passed over the empty space where the emperor was supposed to be. Where Kahlan was supposed to be. Without Kahlan, even a Kahlan who didn’t know him, the world was a cold and empty place.
Right then, Richard felt very small and alone.
In a numb haze, he took his place in the line with his men. When the horn blew and the enemy, bunched together in a tight formation, started coming, being down in the bowl of the Ja’La field was like standing in a valley, watching an avalanche descending on him. Right then, in that moment of desolation, Richard didn’t know what he would do.
The collision was brutal. Gritting his teeth with the effort, he tried to turn the men protecting their point man, but they plowed right through Richard and his team.
With little ceremony their point man reached the scoring zone and threw the broc. Defenders painted with red symbols leaped to try to deflect the throw, but the attackers rolled over them. The broc landed solidly in the net, scoring the first point.
The crowd erupted with a deafening roar of approval.
Richard had just learned something. The emperor’s team appeared to rely on their superior size and weight to grind their way through their opponents’ defense. They had no real need for finesse. He gave his men a stealthy hand signal as the other team formed up for their second charge.
When they came, all of Richard’s team hooked across the blocking line, using low tackles to take the legs out from under the big men in the center. It wasn’t elegant, but it served the purpose of opening a hole. Before the hole could close, Richard was through. The point man didn’t deviate course, confident in his size to smash Richard out of his way.
Richard pivoted, abruptly cutting across the front of the man, sweeping a leg at his ankles. As the man stumbled to maintain his balance, Richard snatched the broc out from his arms when they loosened in a natural reaction to falling face-first.
Richard dodged and darted his way through a loose line of men. As yet more men converged on him, he tossed the broc to Johnrock, already positioned behind the line of men. To the wild cheers of his supporters, Johnrock briefly held up the broc for all to see as he ran from a clutch of pursuers. Johnrock, enjoying the moment, turned backward as he ran so he could laugh at the men chasing him, then threw the broc over their heads to Richard.
Men dove in from every direction as Richard caught the broc. He twisted away from one man, dodged another, and pushed himself away from a third, reversing direction wildly in an effort to keep from the clutches of the big men. Despite his own players tackling men, or blocking them out of Richard’s way, the opponents closed in all around. As Richard tried to miss one man, another seized him around his shoulders and, as if he were a small child, tossed him to the ground. Richard knew that he wasn’t going to be able to keep the broc from these men, and he didn’t want them all piling on top of him and breaking his bones, so as soon as he hit the ground he heaved the broc. Bruce was running in the right place at the right time. He caught the broc but was then tackled.
The horn blew, ending the time of play for the emperor’s team. They had scored a point, and Richard was fortunate to have kept them from getting two.
As he trotted to his side of the field, he reprimanded himself for letting his feelings get the better of him. He wasn’t paying enough attention. His mind wasn’t in what he was doing. He was going to get himself killed.
He couldn’t do anything to help Kahlan unless he shaped up.
His men were panting, most resting by leaning over with their hands on their knees. They looked despondent.
“All right,” Richard said as he reached them, “we’ve let them have their moment of glory. Now let’s take them down.”
That brought grins all around. All the men brightened at his words.
As Richard caught the broc when the referee tossed it his way, he glanced around at his men. “Let’s show them who they’re dealing with. Play one-three then reverse it.” He quickly showed them one finger, then three, in case they couldn’t hear him over all the noise. “Go.”
As one the men broke into a dead run, immediately clustering into a knot of men around Richard. No blockers went out front, no wing men went to the sides. Instead, all the men compacted together into as tight of a formation as they could and still be able to run at full speed.
The other team looked pleased by the tactic. It was their kind of play—brute force. With their supporters cheering them on they ran headlong at the cluster of Richard’s team.
All of Richard’s men watched Jagang’s team, waiting until they reached the prescribed square. Moments from impact,
as the defenders reached that spot, Richard’s entire team suddenly broke in every direction at once.
It was such a startling move that the other players faltered, turning one way, then the other, unsure what to do as the men they were about to clobber were unexpectedly bolting every which way. Each of Richard’s men ran in a crazy zigzag course that appeared to have no rhyme or reason. The men on Jagang’s team didn’t know who to grab, who to chase, or where they were going. In an instant, the massive, focused charge had scattered like so many fireflies.
The crowd roared with delighted laughter.
Richard ran a wild course the same as the other men, except he was the one with the broc. By the time that fact sank in for the other team, Richard was already around most of them and deep into enemy territory. As two of the blockers went after him he ran for his life.
When he reached the scoring zone he heaved the broc. As soon as it left his fingers he was hit from behind, but it was too late to stop the throw. The broc sailed into the goal. Richard hit the ground with a man atop him. It was fortunate that the man had been running at full speed because his momentum tumbled him over Richard’s back.
Richard scrambled to his feet and trotted back toward his side of the field to the wild cheers of the crowd. The score was tied, but he wasn’t interested in a tie. He needed to press the advantage. The play he had devised wasn’t finished, yet. He needed to complete it.
His men, all smiles, gathered as quickly as possible. Richard didn’t need to give them a signal; he had already given them the whole play the first time. When the referee tossed him the broc they all immediately broke into a run.
Again, they formed into a tight formation as they charged across the field. This time, though, Jagang’s team, as they raced to meet them, scattered at the last minute, ready this time to intercept all the men as they tried to take off in every direction. The crowd cheered and screamed their approval.
Rather than break apart, though, Richard’s team remained tightly packed together as they charged right up the middle of the field. The few dispersed players left within range to intercept them were mowed down by the full weight of the team. The minor defense of first two, followed by a third defender, didn’t slow Richard’s men at all. The other team, suddenly realizing what was happening, took up the pursuit. They were too late. Richard steered his men to the right goal.
As he reached the scoring zone and his men fell back into a protective shield, Richard threw the broc. He watched it in the torchlight as it arced through the night air and then went in. The crowd erupted in cheering. The horn blew, signaling the end of the play.
