The Magic, Warped

by Rick Field

  “Thank you, My Lord. Permit me to return the courtesy,” she answered easily, looking up from her report.

  He dipped his head in thanks. “Thank you, My Lady. However, I was referring not just to your graduation of your fifth year. I was also referring to the fact that you have once again achieved the first rank among our peers, even though you cannot be called 'Prime student' once again until seventh year.”

  She smiled faintly, a little self-conscious. “It was due to hard work, determination, and in no small part thanks to your continued help, My Lord,” she finally said. “I am pleased with the results, however.”

  “Nobody has worked harder than you, My Lady,” he told her.

  “May I ask whether you are pleased with your own results?” Liane finally asked, motioning to the report sheet in her friend's hand. “After all, it was I who so ungraciously strong-armed you into taking an additional class.”

  His face twitched once. “And I was ungracious to constantly remind you of that fact, My Lady,” Milor apologized, or as close to it as he ever did. “And I have to say that, yes; I am pleased with my results. It is of added benefit to have an additional understanding of magic.”

  “Thankfully, my suggestion has not caused you undue problems, My Lord,” she said, feeling relieved that her friend hadn't held her actions against her, but rather, saw them as an added benefit to him.

  Just as he was to answer, a voice interjected itself. “It seems that pure theory still carries more weight, My Lady.” Liane focused her attention on the newcomer. Florindra Earthcrafter was smiling widely. Ever since Liane had been taken to hospital halfway through the year, Florindra had not let up on reminding both Liane and everyone else who would listen.

  “If I may remind My Lady, it was I who finished at the top of our class,” Liane replied, feeling a bit testy. With her rudimentary control, she grabbed hold of her magic, which threatened to start overwhelming her.

  Florindra waved it off, shaking her long blonde hair over her other shoulder. Liane grit her teeth, trying to ignore her magic pushing and straining.

  “And yet you are still having trouble casting spells in class, My Lady,” Florindra said, her smile widening. “My offer still stands, My Lady. I would be more than happy to help you, should you only ask. After all, there is no shame in asking the number two of the class, and the number one magic user, for assistance.”

  Liane closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath in through her nose. “Please correct me if I am wrong, My Lady. I am taking that statement to mean that you think that the Prime Student of our year is having trouble casting magic.”

  Florindra shrugged. “I am not responsible for how you see my statements, My Lady. However, you are essentially correct. I cannot see how we could have a Prime Student who is having trouble casting spells. After all, it was not I who had to visit the hospital after suffering a spell backlash.”

  Liane's right hand balled into a fist, trying to reign in her raging magic. “My Lady, for the last five years, you have constantly insulted and belittled me. Please tell me, have I offended you somewhere in the past?”

  The blonde shook her head, making her blonde mane sway. “Not to my knowledge, My Lady. However, I do take exception to your excellent standing when you constantly fail to cast a spell on your first try during class,” she answered, staring straight into Liane's eyes.

  Liane's heart skipped a beat, and her magic cooled into a sensation of ice in her chest. “My Lady, I demand an apology,” she stated, her voice as cold as the magic in her chest.

  “I have no intention of apologizing for what is the truth, My Lady,” Florindra replied levelly, crossing her arms, as if daring Liane to do something.

  “I do not wish to cause you harm, My Lady. However, I will be forced to call you out for a duel. I demand my apology,” Liane said, equally crossing her arms. Surely the threat of a duel would force Florindra to apologize for her hateful and hurtful words.

  Florindra actually laughed. Out loud. “I have fought multiple duels, My Lady. I have always walked away the sole survivor. Your only duel was in our second year, and it was one where you were the clear loser. I do not feel that I should apologize, nor do I feel any pressure from your threat of a duel,” the blonde replied, still chuckling. “You are unworthy of the title you carried all year, and I refuse to apologize.”

  Consciously, rationally, Liane knew that she had placed herself in this position, and that she now had no choice but to call for a duel. Emotionally and subconsciously, however, her emotions and irrational side were howling for it, eager for it.

  Her left fist balled, and Liane's right hand shot out, intent on slapping her opponent in the face. Much to the surprise of Liane, and Florindra, and everybody else watching, a pure white glove was conjured in said right hand, slapping the arrogant blonde in the face.

  Florindra stared in surprise and shock at Liane, not believing that the brunette had actually gone through with it. Liane, meanwhile, stared at her right hand and the glove held in it. It was the first and so far only spell she had ever cast silently.

  Finally, she blinked, and looked at the startled blonde. Her anger was feeding into her magic, which fed back into her subconscious, only serving to drive her anger higher. Her upper lip curled, baring her teeth.

  “I wish to demand satisfaction. Please arrive at the main dueling chamber in one hour. Choose your second, and arrive on time or be forever known as a coward. I demand your blood or your surrender,” she growled. With no further words for Florindra, she turned to Milor. “My Lord, it would be my biggest honor should you accept my request to act as my second.”

  Milor bowed. “It would be my honor to act as your second, My Lady,” he said as he righted. “Please follow me, My Lady. We must prepare for your duel.”

  Her anger was still driving her, and Liane felt no nervousness as she and Milor started to walk away.

  Startling out of both the unexpected challenge and the silent conjuration, Florindra finally gave a verbal acceptance of the duel, even though it was unnecessary. “Please do not put on an embarrassing display as you did in your second year, My Lady. As my past duels can attest to, I do not act with charity!” she shouted after the departing pair.

  Liane did not answer, but the anger had started to leave, leaving only nervousness and utter terror in her heart. She had challenged Florindra, even though she did not want to, and was now facing the possibility of death. Again. Ancient night terrors she had hoped were behind her reared their ugly heads, and Liane was forced to take a steadying breath. Her magic was turning in on itself.

  *****

  It was an hour later that Liane and Milor walked up to the main dueling chamber. He was studiously ignoring her incessant humming of her favorite chant. He knew how it calmed her down.

  They entered the room to find Florindra in excellent sprits, bubbling with confidence and making small talk with her usual second.

  As the two combatants took their positions, the Lord Master between them, Liane fixed her hope on Florindra apologizing and avoiding the confrontation altogether.

  The Lord Master, as per usual, looked at both of them. “As Lord Headmaster of this Academy it is my duty to officiate this duel,” he spoke. “As is my duty, I must ask you one final time whether this can be resolved through peaceful means. My Lady Liane, the MagicWarper?”

  Liane swallowed. Her terror fueled her magic, and her magic flowed through her veins like ice. She licked her lips and gathered her courage, lifting her head. She would not look down or look weak.

  “For five years I have taken the verbal abuse of my opponent, My Lord,” she spoke, managing a clear voice. “I will only be satisfied with blood or apology,” she finished, drawing a breath and trying to calm her nerves once more. After her speech, she felt some of the humiliation and resentment flow to the surface of her mind, and her magic started to heat up.

  “My Lady Florindra Earthcrafter?” the Lord Master asked Liane's opponent.

  “I
will not apologize for words that were spoken in truth, My Lord,” Florindra replied coolly. “I will not concede.” The announcement slammed into Liane. She'd have to fight now. She'd have to fight the person who had been antagonizing her for years. The person responsible for continued verbal abuse. The person who refused to concede anything, who refused to stop mentioning the results of her handicap. Anger replaced fear, and her magic started to burn in her chest, the ice in her veins turning to fire.

  The Lord Master nodded. “Very well. As the challenged person, you are allowed to choose the method of combat, My Lady.”

  Florindra was silent for a few moments; and Liane could see her going through the various options that could be set against the duel. For a moment, she feared her opponent would limit it to a certain element, play for her weakness in magic. Shaking her head in the negative, Florindra looked at the Lord Headmaster. “I choose full combat, My Lord. Anything goes.”

  The Lord Master nodded. “On my mark, please begin, My Ladies.” He lifted one hand. Both combatants lifted their hands, and Liane activated her magic-sight.

  The arm came down. “Begin.”

  Florindra's first goal was to conjure a chain of fire that she employed like a whip. Knowing better than to try and outcast someone who could cast silently, Liane dodged first to one side, then rolled underneath the fire-whip as it soared through the air.

  Blinking at the unusual methods employed by Liane to avoid the spells, Florindra changed tactics, and built a ball of lightning. If the whip was not fast enough, she would use something that struck with high speed and even higher precision.

  As the spell formed, Liane incanted Milor's acceleration spell. The magic in her chest, growling and urging her on, seemed to explode as the spell took hold. At once, all the colors seemed to snap into focus, overloading her brain's ability to deal with them.

  As the spell changed her perception of time, her overloaded senses jumbled together in a process called synesthesia. She could taste sounds and see feelings. Everything jumbled together in her poor overloaded mind, her unstable magic the source of an unstable spell. After countless hours of practice, she was used to the process.

  She dodged the lightning ball and ignored it as it exploded against the wall behind her. It was moving in slow-motion to her, anyway. The voices of the onlookers were distorted and tasted like chocolate and strawberries as they reached her.

  That Mage moved like a Warlock!

  Ignoring the muttering, she incanted her own lighting-based spell. Her own voice tasted like sweet cream, and as lightning formed on her right fist, she charged Florindra, her body moving at the limits of its endurance under the influence of the acceleration spell. Her lighting-fist crashed into a hurriedly erected non-vocal barrier, the lightning energy dispersing across its surface, causing it to fail spectacularly.

  The backlash drew a scream from Florindra's throat, and cast her off her feet. Liane snapped the counter-spell, and at once, the synesthesia vanished, leaving her breathless and with a pounding headache. Towering over her falling opponent, Liane snapped a command.

  “Yield.”

  Florindra kicked Liane's feet from under her, causing her to fall, before throwing three fireballs at her. Rolling across the floor, Liane cursed to herself as she jumped to her feet, feeling her robes soaking in the heat of the near-misses. Her anger rose, her magic taking to the element of fire. As her magic clamored, her anger rose, feeding further into the magic, feeding back into her unstable emotions. Both lips peeled back as Liane jumped to her feet.

  “You really are foolish if you think a challenged person will yield,” Florindra snapped back, having gotten to her feet as well. Two more balls of fire and a strike of lightning raced towards Liane's position, causing her to fall to the ground and roll once more. She could not re-apply the acceleration spell without risking burnout in her brain, and so she needed something else.

  The magic raged in her chest, a roaring inferno of rampaging magic that bayed for the blood of its enemies. Liane's composure shattered completely, and she lifted her right hand in her opponent's direction, and barked a barely-articulated half-word of nonsense as she snapped her fingers. A bolt of lightning snapped from her fingers to Florindra, who dodged barely in time, a look of surprise on her face.

  As her anger deepened, her vision colored red. The red of blood. Her magic howled, and thanks to hours and hours of self-imposed magical control exercises, Liane knew perfectly what it wanted.

  It was showing her how she could do something. Again, she snapped her fingers and barked out the semi-articulate half-word of command, and a second flash of lighting dispersed against the ground. Her spells were stronger and faster now, but her anger was disrupting her targeting. Florindra danced away as Liane snapped three more lightning bolts.

  Florindra jumped, and snapped a silent air-crushing spell at Liane, whose right hand simply made a counter-clockwise rotation. She snarled as pain lashed through her chest like pleasure, her own magic doing what the Arbitrator of Elements had once named her.

  The air-crushing spell deviated and splashed harmlessly against the wall. Liane's left hand came up, and two fingers snapped a new spell. Florindra immediately stopped dodging as the spell hit, falling to her hands and knees as she coughed up the water that had suddenly been transmuted in her lungs.

  Liane smirked humorlessly. Never before had she been able to transmute anything so easily. Florindra coughed up another lung full of water, and gasped for breath. A new spell snapped into existence from Liane's right hand, transmuting the shoulder-joint of Florindra's right shoulder into sodium, the metal immediately doing what it did when coming into contact with the water content of the blood.

  It burst into flame, and the blonde second of the class screamed in pain with the recently regained breath, grabbing for a shoulder that was no longer there with her uninjured left hand. There was no blood, the burning sodium cauterized the wound.

  Strangely enough, it was easier to transmute bone into sodium, earth into metal, than it had been to transmute the air in Florindra's lungs into water.

  Liane's mind, burning with the raging fury of the fire-magic in her chest, ignored the cost of magic for the spells invoked; ignoring the fact that she was performing magic on a scale that was far above anything she usually would be capable of.

  As Florindra flailed about, the MagicWarper approached. “I will not ask again,” Liane muttered, more to herself than to the audience, and lifted her hand. Florindra's eyes went wide, and for a moment, the blonde pleaded for her life. The lightning strike to the forehead that followed burned out every neuron in the blonde's brain, and turned it into a molten mass.

  Releasing a breath, Liane tried to calm down. The red haze lifted slowly, and she started to come to her senses. Her magic felt... strange. Painful. She refused to grunt in pain when it tightened in her chest, feeling as if it were a muscle that had been overworked, painful, tender, and in no capacity to be used for days to come.

  Grunting lowly, she looked up in time for the Lord Master to proclaim her the winner. The audience was silent, staring at her. She looked at Milor, her second, who had walked up to her.

  “You, My Lady, are a very scary individual. Please remind me to never make you as angry as the Lady Florindra did,” he said, a slight look of fear present in his eyes and posture. He looked at Florindra's cooling body. “I would most likely die of heart-failure to see that look directed at me.”

  Liane looked at the body of her opponent, and, for the first time, realization came to her. By the gods – what have I done? Her stomach churned, and she turned away to vomit into the nearest corner. Aware of everyone turning away to give her the privacy that any duel winner was permitted under Decorum, Liane coughed, and wiped her mouth. She felt sick. What had her magic made her do?

  *****

  Liane woke up, frowning slightly against the irritating ray of sunlight that had disturbed her slumber. Her magic bubbled to the surface of her subconscious mind, and
suddenly the fatigue and irritation she had been feeling, vanished. A wide smile appeared on her face, before being checked by years of experience in Decorum.

  Her magic finally was back to where it should be. For close to two days after the duel she had been unable to perform any spells, her magic feeling like a single raw wound that had scabbed over.

  Those first forty-eight hours had been the worst of her life since coming to the Academy, placing her constantly on edge so she wouldn't give away her lack of any noticeable magic, her lack of abilities that could make everyone doubt her once again.

  After those first two days, her magic had become more responsive, building slowly and steadily for days that soon turned to weeks.

  Today marked the one-month anniversary of her second duel. A duel that had ended in the death of her opponent, even though she did not wish for it to end so. She had talked herself into a corner, leaving herself no other choice when Florindra had refused to back down. So, she had called the duel, hoping against hope that Florindra would still reconsider at the final urging of the Lord Master.

  She had not.

  So they had fought, and Liane had beaten her opponent solidly. She had offered leniency – and had her attempt thrown back in her face instead. She had found herself facing lethal power, and once more, her magic had taken steps to protect her.

  It had taken over her mind and her abilities, allowed her to do things she could not normally do. It had invigorated her, it had turned pain to pleasure, shielding her from the harmful effects of what she was doing, allowing her to draw enormous amounts of power from reserves she had not known she had possessed.

  And she had crushed her opponent with it.

  But not without a price to be paid. The power she had drawn had been too much, too fast, and it had injured her magic.

  Not to mention the nightmares. In fact, today was the first night she had slept uninterrupted through the night.