by Jillian Keep
The pair-off began with one performing a dazzlingly elven display before conjuring forth fireworks-like explosions from their fingertips. It was small, but it looked intense with how concentrated he was.
The other countered with her telekinesis, throwing a blanket over his hand and dousing out his display with merely the power of her mind. It not only won applause but laughter, and the young elvish woman was taken away with a grin on her face to be haggled over by the academies.
Firia saw then, in the midst of watching the furor in the centerfield, a curious sight. A brown-haired man. A human. He was dressed well for not being an elf, and looked determined. Confident.
She tried to move towards the kindred spirit, but before she could get anywhere near him, he was ushered through onto the field and she was left standing behind the academy students, blocking off access during the competition.
Still, she was where she wanted to be, and with a prime view of the most intriguing fight of the day other than her own, as far as she was concerned.
The tall, brown-haired human strode up to his place, facing off against an elvish man at his side. He didn’t waste any time, and flipped his overcloak back before moving his fingers in a hypnotic gesture. As his competition began his own spell, she couldn’t help but notice the elf was having a hard time with his own chant.
Curiously, the crowd tittered here and there, watching the elf get tongue-tied and begin to sway.
It was confusing to her; she didn’t quite get what was happening, because you weren’t allowed to cast spells upon an opponent in the competition, so he surely wasn’t hexing the elf or else he’d be disqualified. She looked around and saw only some of the other competitors seemed to understand, but all of the students and professors in the stands were openly amused.
There was something going on that was clearly lost on the less educated.
Before she could decipher it, however, the elf fainted. Not a single spell cast as he hit the ground.
Applause broke out in the stands from some select few of the senior academy students and professors who could overcome their racial bias, while the unconscious elf was carried off, and the triumphant human brought to be negotiated over.
It was her chance then, and all the world was abuzz with what would happen. The whole trajectory of her life would be set then and there, and –
She watched as the elvish guards picked some others behind her, sending them on ahead of her.
He stole her thunder!
Damn it, she cursed, her blue eyes turning cold as her hand shot up in the air as if she were in class. “Hey!” Her shout could barely be heard over the din of the crowd, and she repeated it, louder.
How dare another human compete, just before her. Distracting them from her.
She didn’t know where the animosity came from, truly, but her frustration was making her skin buzz and he was the only target she could think of. She expected to be treated poorly by the elves, but for them to usher him along and ignore her?
It was an insult!
The head “usher” glowered at her. “Wait your turn,” he snarled, keeping her back as the contest resumed.
The other beside him turned her gaze upon Firia, “We’ve had one token-human for this year, and that may be enough if you don’t watch yourself.
It was my turn, she pouted, unable to hide her anger.
Her breath was quickened and she wanted nothing more than to show them all, to impress them with her demonstrations.
Yet she couldn’t even understand what the token human had done.
She was out of her league.
The competition went on, the ushers passing her up again and again. She wanted to lash out and say something, but the look on their faces said they’d relish the opportunity to retaliate and maybe cost her her chance entirely.
When Mae’lin came up by her he looked to her with some surprise. “Firia?” he said as they moved to take him and another, holding her back yet again. The elf looked surprised, “Why is she being held back?” he asked.
“Take your turn or shut up,” he retorted.
It was the only time since being passed up that she was able to feel anything other than hatred, and she stared at him intently. “You win this, alright?”
Mae’lin didn’t take the opportunity though, the tall, lanky elf hesitating and refusing the tug of the usher’s hand. “What’s going on here?” he asked stubbornly.
It got him exactly what she thought. “Fine then,” said the usher, and another elf was taken and the competition went on as before. “You two can wait,” he growled, pushing the confused-looking Mae’lin over towards her.
Firia sighed as she looked up at the elf, her arms crossed beneath her small bust. “Why’d you do that, huh? You know why they’re holding me back. They already have a human, they don’t need another.”
Mae’lin’s ovaline eyes looked truly baffled, then saddened. He didn’t have any words for her, but she could read the sadness in his gaze. Not for himself so much as her.
Still, the competition carried on.
Chapter 8
There were so many surprises that day for her, but by the time the pool of candidates was whittled down and evening was drawing near, she saw that the not only was the competition thinning, the viewers in the stands were too.
A sickening feeling began to sink in: she might not even get her chance to compete. She might be denied her shot at that one slim hope.
The thought of that was sickening to her. It made her stomach – already roiling from being empty – turn and sicken.
Mae’lin seemed to want to comfort her, but he didn’t know what to do or say that wouldn’t make matters worse. So he stood beside her, arms folded, anxiously hoping.
How was it possible she felt so alone, even in the bustling crowd? So hopeless, even on the cusp of her great chance?
She felt it then, the slight tickle of his presence within her. It was faint, like the brush of his warm hand against hers. Just a thin strand of comfort.
It managed to steel her resolve again, but she felt lost and frustrated. What was she supposed to do? If she drew any more attention to herself, they’d just throw her out. If she waited patiently – obediently – then they’ll never even look at her.
Either way, she wasn’t going to win any favour. She wasn’t going to succeed.
Her blue eyes narrowed as they scanned over the remaining crowd, over the “competition”. There had to be something she could do.
All she saw was the gloomy reminder of how few remained. Less than a dozen, herself and Mae’lin included. Though as she nearly lost hope, an odd motion caught her sight: someone returning to the stands to sit and view.
It had only been the opposite for hours: people leaving. So she looked and saw a most strange thing, an old, human wizard. He wore voluminous robes, fine and decked with symbols of accomplishment and power. He was no minor wizard, he was an elder sorcerer even by the standards of the elves, dressed as and seated where he was.
As he stroked his grey, trimmed beard, he looked out over the field, and she swore for a moment he locked eyes with her, even across the near-endless span of the fields.
The ushers held up their hands. “That shall be all the competition for this evening! Sorry, but the rest of you will have to return on the morrow.”
Tomorrow. Firia knew what that meant.
She was seething. There were so few of them left. It would barely take any time to see them through. She wasn’t even being afforded the dignity of losing to someone better.
She was just being passed over.
She felt terrible for Mae’lin, for the fact that he’d thrown away his chance just to try to help her. Yet she wasn’t selfless, and her blue eyes went back to the strange human in the stands.
It was a strange sensation. It was as if his steely eyes bore through her to her soul from across the field. The moment dragged on, and it felt as though tendrils probed her inner-being, prying and prodding.
The elf turned his gaze upon the wizened old human, a glare for him. Something went on between them, but she couldn’t be sure what. The elf didn’t broadcast his words back.
“If you don’t care to see what comes next, then perhaps I’ll take on a new apprentice myself,” retorted the human wizard, which stiffened the elf’s spine. Meanwhile she felt a faint buzz of excitement from that demon soul that inhabited her being. Excitement and something else.
Was he truly rooting for her that hard?
The elven wizard’s voice carried out then at last: “One more competition for the evening then. Those two,” he said, and she knew then she would be facing off against Mae’lin.
The two ushers didn’t give her time for much, as they grabbed the two of them and pushed them forward onto the field towards their respective spots.
“Goodluck,” she murmured to the only friendly face she’d seen all day, and hated that she’d been pitted against him. The man who had only tried to help her. The competitions were fierce and caring about others only got in the way.
At least, it did for her.
She’d spent so much time isolated and putting up walls between herself and others, but his tiny act of kindness had edged its way under her skin. She licked her lips thoughtfully and fluttered her eyes, concentrating.
There was no time for compassion.
Mae’lin acted first. The lanky elf, despite his concern, held nothing back.
With a flourish of his hands, he sent up a column of water from the basin, that formed a curtain of crystal liquid. He motioned his hands and the water formed the shape of fish, crabs, and even some serpentine, dragon-like creature. It was masterful, and more than she had expected from the low-rung elf.
She couldn’t be outdone though. With her own elegant display that was beautiful enough to counter any elf, she sent the flames from the brazier up, creating a dazzling display of her own.
It far exceeded anything she’d done in the past. The flames licking at the air, reaching so high that she wondered if the grand tent itself was in danger! But with the power of the augmentation crystal her father got her, she not only wielded the flames bigger and higher, she contorted them into fanciful shapes.
Great and mighty birds! Phoenixes that soared through the air. Hawks that dove to the crowds! She amazed even herself with what she could do with the help of her father’s crystal!
That amazement almost made her miss what was happening, however. She saw the glum look on Mae’lin’s face, and even as her heart skipped a beat she knew he felt sad about what he was doing.
He shaped the water into a semblance of a whale, and it chased after the source of her fire, to douse it out.
What could she do against that?!
The warm comfort of Varuj’s presence became a burning at her heart. She mistook it for pain at first, pain at her failure. But then he did something curiously strange: he whispered his counter to her.
She made a sweeping gesture with her hand and the flames formed into a great dragon that roared – literally roared! – its fury against the approaching whale. The two collided, and she watched, amazed, as her beast of pure flame contested with water and… and was winning!
It was startling to see, and the crowd around her was holding its breath! Though she was beyond noticing such things. She had a contest to win despite it all!
Steam formed between the two conjured giants. Dragon battling whale as flame licked at water, steam rose and each tangled and destroyed the other.
She willed her creation on, and as the struggle intensified – her thing of fire miraculously outdoing a creation of water! – she noticed the burning on her finger as the crystal ring glowed red-hot, nearly searing her flesh.
The pain made her want to cast it off, but she couldn’t! Not without forfeiting the competition and losing it all. So with a final bout of tenacity, she pushed herself into the spell again and watched as the dragon expanded and with its mighty jaws doused the last of the great water-whale into steamy oblivion.
Exultant victory should have taken over then, but the force of her spell couldn’t be stopped so easily. The dragon pushed on, and though the pain urged her to cast off the ring, she saw that its fiery jaws were swooping in on Mae’lin himself.
She had to do something! It was all playing out in a split second, but she reigned the thing in just in time to spare Mae’lin a horrible searing. Although he fell back into the grass, his clothes were smoking in three places from his close contact with the fire.
She was breathing hard, the lingering smoke of her dissipated dragon filling her lungs as she raced to the basin of water, dousing her finger. The scalding pain slowly dimmed, but it still felt raw and tender as she ran across to Mae’lin, trying to help him up.
For all intents and purposes, Mae’lin looked far better off than her. Only merely stunned by the intensity of her power. “Wow,” he mouthed to her, looking on her with great awe. “That was… that was amazing!” he said, and only then did Firia become aware of the applause that carried across the field to them, quite impressed by the late display of such power and technique.
“You were great,” she smiled to him, but there was a hesitation there. It wasn’t that she thought she was being a good winner.
She just knew she had an unfair advantage. Or, well… as fair of advantage as any other. She’d summoned the demon, after all. It was her cunning that she’d invited a powerful… ally… into her. It wasn’t as though she’d bargained with him for that win.
She’d earned it.
Mae’lin stood up with her help and, smiling, the pair faced the applauding crowd. She even noticed the old, human mage giving a dignified, but standing ovation.
The booming voice of the elven master carried out over the fields, however. “The human girl is disqualified for assaulting a fellow contestant,” came his stern words. “Gaul’di-mere Academy shall take on the other impressive young hopeful.”
It all came crashing down then.
She couldn’t even cry. She was too stunned to do anything but stare ahead, dejected and confused. Assaulting him?
She blinked and looked to Mae’lin, pain clear on her face. Pain for herself. She struggled to be happy for him, for his success, but there was no amount of goodness in her that could combat the fact that her dreams were snuffed out.
Just like that. In an instant.
The applause had ended, and in the silence of the hushed crowd, she could hear the familiar, masculine voice of Varuj in her mind, calling to her. “Plead,” he urged. “Tell them you’ve got more tricks and can compete again,” his words forceful, persuasive, holding all of their charm as he sought to comfort and assure her.
Her hand tightened around Mae’lin’s for a moment, as if in congratulations, before she stepped forward. “Let me compete again. Send me against another. I won’t even use fire!” Even the mention of the word made her finger sting from the searing of the ring. “Mae’lin is fine, right?” she asked as she turned to the lanky elf.
He was surprised, but immediately turned and shouted towards the stands, “I am! It wasn’t an assault at all! Just our competition getting out of hand.” His future was assured, it seemed, and he was more than willing to go to bat for her. “Give her another chance, she’s worth it for any academy!”
Time seemed to slow so much, and the elder human looked to the elven master. Words were exchanged, but not through the magical amplification, and she could not make them out.
They debated, paused, the elvish master and his entourage debating amongst themselves.
Mae’lin gripped her hand tightly, and she could feel his own hope for her through that tight hold.
At last, a decision had been reached and the loud voice boomed out t
o them. “Tomorrow morning, the young girl shall face off against a more worthy contestant.” Her heart skipped a beat with renewed hope.
He paused, and she swore she could see a smile upon his face. “Bright and early, someone who can handle her recklessness will give her the chance to prove herself… again.”
The human wizard spoke up again, his voice carrying over. “Who?”
The smug elven master delayed then said, “She will display her powers alongside a senior student.” Suddenly the chance seemed that much less hopeful.
“Tomorrow morning, then,” she said with every ounce of confidence she could muster and didn’t feel. She knew what teachers thought of troublemakers, and the only reason she got as far as she did was because she kept her head down and her eyes on her goals.
They would do everything they could to humiliate her.
But she would be prepared.
Chapter 9
Mae’lin had been ushered off to meet with the academy who had taken him in, and truly he deserved it; his display had been so very impressive. But then again, she deserved it too. She wouldn’t let herself think otherwise.
She had walked off after that. She needed food and rest for the coming trial. More than that, she needed an edge.
She had her ring to amplify her spells, but her repertoire was woefully low. There was little else she could do but manipulate heat and flame, and whatever senior academy student they put her against would be prepared for that.
That only left her with her familiar. The demon’s gift.
Would that be enough?
She was reminded of how at that moment of seeming defeat, the reassuring voice of Varuj had come to her salvation. His suggestion of a strategy she would never have thought of – for she had no idea she could’ve managed so impressive a feat, even with the power of the ring! – had saved her from failure then and there.
