The Exchange: Round One
                                                     A Doctor’s touch

How long had it been since they had all been assembled in the outer ring? Who knew, time seemed irrelevant in Death’s domain, in the city of Nothing, as he had called it as they travelled through the city to a new area.
All that was important now was the beginning of the event.
It had finally started and Rauris was already in a foul mood. A technological nightmare of a contraption was not what he was expecting. All the gears and metal intrigued him greatly; all the work and care that had gone into every aspect of this area had caught his interest almost instantly, more so than the assembled and steadily growing crowd of other beings. But the dark metal could only hold his attention for so long until he grew bored.
After a lengthy inspection of the area he had chosen a quiet spot away from anyone else and had gone into his meditative resting state again.
His quick glance among the crowd had already told him something he did not want to know.
There were children present. There were not only children but the frail and old, the sick and desperate, those of noble and foul intentions. There were indeed many mighty warriors amongst them and other creatures he had never encountered in Agera but he was not expecting such a variation of beings. Nor had Death mentioned this construct of metal and machines, this so-called labyrinth, as he had heard others call it.
Before events had gotten underway there was talk of some beast that had been let loose, but Rauris did not care, he sat in his spot, eyes closed and shut off to any who approached him during that time, if it could be called that.
It wasn’t until the announcement that he opened his eyes and stood up. An odd crackling sound echoed in the space and Death’s voice could be heard by all, even though he wasn’t present anywhere. The manner was different but this was hardly a new concept to the warlock.
After informing those gathered that there were only a limited number of doors, and many more teams than that number, was when pandemonium erupted.
Running, yelling, fighting and many other acts followed. People scrambled and screamed as they tore past each other, all heading towards one of the sixty-four doors.
Rauris watched all this with indifference. He didn’t run, he didn’t shout, he simply walked.
His long strides had him easily over taking those lagging behind and his size ensured nobody was going to get in his way.
With his helmet on his vision was restricted and all the commotion made it difficult to hear properly but the door he’d chosen was dead ahead. He felt a shudder and heard the sound of an impact to his right, followed by a muffled scream. Some stray magic appeared to have struck someone foolish enough to be near to him.
Reaching the door he allowed himself a small and smug smile which quickly vanished as a small human-looking being darted in front of him with a whoop of delight. A whoop that soon turned into a strangled yell as Rauris seized the collar of the person’s clothing and proceeded to fling them back with more force than necessary before entering the doorway. A heavy metal door immediately crashed down behind him, plunging the space into darkness.

In the darkness after the door slammed shut only one noise could be heard. It was a very quiet noise that Rauris managed to pick up. It was the sound of somebody else breathing.
A flash of light as another contraption started up, a flameless source of light, not dissimilar to the crystals the warlocks employed. With a whir the room became visible and a box that had a glass cover featuring Death’s toothy grin was present across from him.
“Ah Dr. Crane, Lord Rauris, glad to see you both made it through!” the familiar gruff voice called.
Looking to his right Rauris saw another man standing there, an identical door to his own behind this stranger who was also looking at him.
Like many he had seen gathered before, the man’s apparel was strange. Apart from this supposed doctor’s head his whole body was covered from head to toe. Dismissing the odd clothing Rauris noticed one thing in particular in the dim light. A small purple shaped item tied to a string worn around his neck. His already limited vision was too poor in the light of the room to make out any details.
“Welcome to the Labyrinth’s First Ring.” Death continued. Both men snapped their attention from each other back to the screen.
The noise of more machinery began and several conveyor belts around the room began moving, bringing containers of all shapes, sizes and materials in and around the room.
On the screen the toothy smile was replaced with the image of a small key and Death’s voice continued to explain.
“You see this key? Well in those boxes you’ll find a key just like this. And if you direct your attention to the opposite side of the room you’ll find two doors. I’m sure you’ll both figure the rest out.” The screen flickered once more to the inhuman smile before fading to black.

The two once again turned to look at each other. Before any words were spoken Booker Crane bowed down, his dirty blond fringe hanging in front of his face.
“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Rauris was it?” he said sophisticatedly. Placing a hand on his chest he continued, “You can call me Booker if you wish.”
Rauris grunted. “No need to call me Lord here, we are not in my world.”
He was still busy examining the other man. He was of fair height for a human and bore a black eye, indicating some form of combat at the very least.
Booker was having a harder time reading the warlock though, with the helmet on his face it meant that his expressions were obscured so he relied on his knowledge of body postures to give him some clues.
“You look like you came here for a fight but I have a more civil proposal.” Booker said as he moved towards the two doors. One was wreathed in fire while the other coated in ice.
The helmet turned in silence, following him as he made his way across the room to a contraption that connected the two portals. Numerous intricate gears branched from it before they split to each side. Underneath the helmet Rauris scowled, he was expecting a fight after all.
Rummaging in one of the numerous pockets Booker produced a set of lockpicks and began tinkering with the lock, inserting them gently into the keyhole of the device.  After a few moments a metallic clack could be heard and then the tinkle of pieces of metal falling onto the floor.
Grunting in frustration Booker stood back up.
The screen flickered back to life again and Death made several tsk noises and wagged a finger.
“No cheating Booker, everyone has to play fair now.”

Rauris had watched all this in silence. A doctor was not who he had had in mind for a fight.
This so called Booker was talking again, “…we better find these keys then if we want to continue.”
Rauris frowned before swinging his sword down off his shoulder.
Despite this other man’s size and friendliness he felt suspicious of this doctor.
There was a strange aura around him. And the smell of death.
Booker began searching through boxes but stopped when he felt something moving in the box he had picked up. It was a plain wooden cube but something inside moved.
“I think I’ve found something already!” He exclaimed, opening the box, only to find a little figure of a grinning Death with a bobble head. Rolling his eyes he flung the box and its contents to the side.
Gripping the sword in his right hand Rauris planted it into the ground with more than enough force that it wouldn’t be moved by anyone else in a hurry, not that he expected Booker to even attempt to use it. Booker himself looked back to see what the noise was about.
“Something the matter over there?” he asked, politely of course.
“Death only mentioned one key, Booker.” Rauris stated, matter-of-factly before flexing his hands in preparation for what was to come.
His opponent was unarmed; he would play by the same code.
Booker sighed; he was in the middle of reaching for another box when Rauris spoke.
“It would have been nice to talk first. Is there no other way we could settle this?”
“One key for one person, Death’s rules not mine.”
“Fine, if you’re going to play it that way,” Booker muttered as he pulled out his pistol from his hidden holster in a movement so quick that Rauris missed the draw.
Levelling it at Rauris he swiftly fired two shots across the room.
With no such things as guns in Agera, Rauris was taken completely by surprise, raising his arms to defend himself from the bullets as he heard the discharge but by the time he brought them up both bullets had already hit his chest piece, not penetrating through the forged metal but leaving two dents in the armour. The state of complete surprise caused his very small control over his power to completely disappear and several boxes on a nearby conveyor belt were thrown backwards and caused the machine itself to twist unnaturally with a shriek of metal.
“Great, a magic user.” He heard Booker murmur.
“What foul trickery is this?” Rauris growled, backpedalling to reach his sword, realising that if the small weapon had enough hidden power to leave indents in his armour then it had enough power to severely hurt him if it hit his flesh.
Grabbing the sword he heaved it out of the ground and spun it around in front of him, using it as a makeshift barrier between himself and the gun.
Booker moved back as he fired, aiming at the warlock’s unarmoured gloves and hitting his mark, the bullets piercing the tough leather easily, causing Rauris to spit out a curse as white hot pain erupted in his knuckles, shattering the bones below his index and middle fingers.
Still gripping the sword tightly he began moving forward quickly, muttering in an ancient language and conjuring a flame in his hand which he directed at Booker.
It was a very simple spell but his intention was to surprise his opponent as he closed the gap.
The ploy succeeded but too little avail as the human was much more agile and recovered from seeing more magic quicker than Rauris hoped.
Booker was shooting more shots now at a quicker rate, several of the bullets hitting the armour and creating sparks while a few hit their marks in the largely unarmoured areas of the warlock’s attire. The attacks were more effective now that Rauris was closing the gap as those bullets that did hit the leather patches on his calves and arms were fired at a close enough range to completely ignore the chainmail and pierce his flesh.
The intention to disable rather than kill was clear in where the shots were directed.
Getting frustrated at the ranged assault Rauris stopped next to a conveyor and began throwing all manner of the various boxes at Booker while he was busy loading a new clip.
A well aimed throw managed to knock Booker off-balance causing him to trip and loose the gun, which went skidding underneath one of the conveyor belts.
Undeterred the doctor reached a hand towards his shoulder but Rauris wasted no time in closing the distance.
Eyes widening at the burst of speed Booker quickly rolled sideways to avoid the overhead sweep from the huge weapon as the blade smashed into the ground where his body had just been.
Jumping to his feet he dodged to the side as the warlock lunged forward but was sent back by a fierce backhand, the metal cutting his cheek open, sending hot blood down the side of his face. Rauris grunted in pain, having used his injured hand to lash out at Booker.
“That weapon of yours is indeed interesting Booker, this armour was not made to withstand an attack of that form.” he said, uncharacteristically breaking the usual silence he maintained while fighting.
“Oh you’ll find I’m full of surprises…”
Looking up Rauris let out another grunt of annoyance, unable to find the doctor who had slipped out of his poor vision.
The dim electrical lights were in Booker’s favour, being accustomed to hiding his presence in all manners of environments. He could strike from any number of the shadows covering the area.
Listening for any sounds of movement was proving difficult with the background noise of the conveyor belts but instinct born from countless battles led Rauris to sweeping his sword low behind him. The attack missed but the sound of landing feet told him enough. Turning he lashed out again with the sword and heard a stifled cry of pain.
Booker held his arm tightly as blood poured down his canvas jacket, the appendage hanging limp.
Deftly dodging the next swing Booker kicked his heel, deploying the boot knife and lashed out at Rauris’s leather-covered shin, hitting his target but to little affect as the warlock returned the attack with his knee.
The blow winded the doctor and he retreated back once more.
The fight was not going well for him and, with a heavy sigh, he pulled off his brown leather gloves.
“I’m sure ya have as much right as I do to be here, maybe more, maybe less, but I can’t lose, not without givin’ it my all.” He said with both sincerity and resolve.
“Good,” Rauris said, almost smiling under his helmet, “I respect that Booker Crane.”
Booker feinted to the right and, when Rauris swung in that direction, twisted around and behind the warlock. The swing hit a conveyor belt, smashing the machine, destroying and sending several boxes flying. Various items scattered about from the opened boxes but the faintest glimmer of golden metal flew through the air before falling to the ground with a musical noise. Both men had seen the glint flying through the air and followed its course, making a note of the area it landed in.
It was a tricky gambit but once behind the armoured figure Booker reached up, just managing to reach the ridge of the armour at the back of Rauris’s neck and pulled with all his strength.
The added weight and force threw the warlock off balance and brought him down to the floor with a heavy clash of metal and causing him to lose a grip on his weapon. The impact dislodged his helmet, sending it clattering behind him revealing his face for the first time since entering Death’s domain and leaving his head exposed. With considerable effort he heaved himself back to his feet only to find Booker reaching for his face. As soon as the hand made contact with his skin warning bells screamed in his mind. The tingling he felt was not at all natural and he jerked back smacking the hand away.
Booker looked surprise, “There ain’t many with reflexes as good as that.”
Taking a step back the aged warrior looked at Booker in a new light.
“I knew I sensed Death’s shadow over you young Crane, but not to that extent. Even without knowing what form it takes or its power I can still feel that is a foul form of sorcery.”
“I didn’t ask for this curse ya know!” Booker shouted back in response, hearing the contempt and disgust in his opponent’s voice, before leaping into the attack again.
Knowing the partial extent of the danger he was now in, Rauris reached for his sword but halted as Booker reached him first, moving his hands so quick the warlock couldn’t follow, and jabbed his fingers in the exposed wound in his hand.
Eyes widening in surprise at the tactic and pain caused, Rauris kicked out at Booker, forcing him back again. Booker’s face was becoming a mixture of both intense regret, at having to hurt an innocent person to proceed, and a certain sense of desperation.
Not knowing how long the magic Booker possessed would take to affect him or the extent of its power left Rauris at a huge disadvantage. He could fight hand-to-hand but with one hand already damaged it was risky, he would most likely need both hands in the battles to come. Booker’s higher level of agility was another major problem to add onto this growing obstacle.
Any hole in my defence can be exploited by this quicker fighter; if I am to succeed I need to incapacitate him. Rauris thought, analysing his options.
Booker moved in again, dodging and ducking under the punches of his opponent. One second was all he needed, unless there was another way. But he could see no alternative to resolve this situation peacefully as the aged warrior had insisted on fighting from the very start.
Seeing an opening he gritted his teeth in grim determination. He was going to do this, for Miri, no matter the cost. Reaching out with his fatal touch Booker thought he had the warrior but the sudden gauntleted hand grabbing his wrist said otherwise. He was swung around in front of the warlock and the other hand grabbed him by the throat, lifting him from the ground by at least two feet.
Having switched Booker to his good hand Rauris looked deep into the other man’s eyes before sliding his gaze down to the purple object around his neck.
It was a simple pendant, made from cheap material, with a red heart on it.
“The one you came here for…did they give you that?” Rauris asked, his face set in stone.
“Yeah,” a struggling Booker said, grasping at the hand holding him.
“Booker Crane, tell me, who is this person you would risk your life so valiantly for?”
The doctor looked taken aback by the question. “My little sister, Miri…it was my fault, I killed her.” He said, pain and regret etched across his face.
Rauris looked down at the pendent again before saying, “I see. If that is the case then I-”
But he was unable to finish his sentence as chance chose that exact moment to once again unleash his unrestrained power explosively.

Rauris had let his grip slide as it happened. He had been forced backwards at the same time as the blast. Shaking his head he looked around before spotting Booker lying face down on the floor, faint traces of smoke trailing away from his body.
He didn’t know if the man was dead or just unconscious. What he had been about to say would be of no importance now regardless.
His unrestrained power seemed to occasionally make itself known at the worst possible times, and now it may have resulted in a fine warrior’s death, he mused. It wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened during a battle.
Later on he would consider if the blast had been caused by their respective powers, their respective curses, reacting to each other. Mixing different forms of magic was always a risky business.
Grunting he scanned the floor for his helmet, finding that it had rolled across the room. Cradling it under his arm he continued on to reclaim his fallen weapon, picking it up with his good hand and returning it to its proper place resting on his shoulder.
The key proved more difficult to find but the dims lights cast onto it reflected a golden shine out like a beacon, leading him to its resting place on the dusty floor.
The blacksmith in him began examining the detail on the key, turning it this way and that, and looking at the gear shaped end before lightly biting it and deducing the material.
With the helm placed back on his head he preceded towards the two doors, the hum of machinery having disappeared when the key was exposed, and the room was now silent except for each clunking footfall the warlock made.
Reaching the mechanism he inserted the key and turned, watching with interest as each gear in the line began an intricate pattern, each separate piece having its own part to play, turning and lifting the two heavy doors of ice and fire to allow passage through. Removing the key and placing it upon his belt he considered which path to take.
Do I proceed into the cold that reminds me of my birth land or the fires akin to the heat of battle?
Turning to the right door he calmly walked down the passage coated with ice, only once looking back at the figure that lay prone on the floor.
An odd sound reached him followed by a voice; it was the same sound that he heard when Death had begun talking to the masses before the race to the doors. This time it was quieter as there was only one person to hear it.
“Oh dear, that was rather tragic now wasn’t it?” the same gruff voice of Death echoed in the hall. Was that mock concern in his voice?
“Head on down the path and let’s see what happens next shall we?”