Taking a deep breath, he unleashed his spell. From his hands, silver light spilled and coalesced into a mighty wave, the rock below groaning beneath it as it tore through the moss and surged for her.
It was almost upon her when Alensia finished casting. The cavern lit up in an unworldly red and crimson lightning blasted from her hands once more before slamming into his attack with a deafening crash.
The two spells ground against one another in a titanic struggle, each trying to overpower the other, but it didn’t last long. With a mighty crack, the silver wave shattered and scarlet lightning blasted straight for him, too fast to dodge.
He braced himself for impact, summoning his magic in a silvery shield to counteract her own. All he could hope for was that it wouldn’t hurt as much as he feared.
It did. Even blunted by his defense, the force of her attack drove the breath from his lungs and sent him to his knees, the world vanishing in a sea of agony for what seemed an eternity although he suspected it was only a few seconds in truth.
Everything ached and blood trickled down his arm. How was this even possible? He’d spent ten years preparing, ten years, yet her spell had blasted him straight into the ground. Granted, he hadn’t unleashed everything, but still, how?
There must be a mistake he was making. He just had to find it. First though… He was no warrior, but a quick glance at his arm showed that it was only a small wound to his shoulder. It smoked but bled only a little. It wouldn’t affect him. Probably. Still, he couldn’t take too many more hits like that. Taking a long, hissing breath, he rose to his feet.
Alensia peered at him with knitted eyebrows. Rather than follow up with another spell, she said softly enough that nobody else could hear. “Are you alright, young lord? If you cannot continue...”
She was worried… for him? No, he was the one with the experience while she was the newcomer. He should be worried about her, not the other way around. He was not weak or helpless, a child to be protected and hidden behind his castle walls, not this time.
His resolve firmed. If he was going to be a mage, he could not afford to hold back, even if it meant harming his friend. He gathered his strength, every last drop. “Worry for yourself. I will be fine.”
Alensia pursed her lips but nodded reluctantly, her Spellstone a blazing red. “May the best spellcaster win,” she said, unleashing her spell.
The cavern filled with crimson light but this time he was better prepared. As he knew it was coming there was a chance he would be able to dodge her spell. The bolt of lightning was thin enough that even with how quickly it moved, a couple of feet might be enough for it to go past him completely. Still, one clean hit would mean instant defeat, possibly even death. He elected not to risk it, instead blocking her spell with his own.
This time, the two burst upon each other with a thunderous boom but neither could gain ground and both broke upon the other. They each followed with a second spell, then a third, but now that he was using his full strength, neither had enough power to overwhelm the other.
In the muggy atmosphere of the cave, sweat dripped down his forehead and he panted for breath, the casting of four Force Waves taking its toll. The good news was that he had managed to hold her off, but holding her off wasn’t the same thing as actually winning. Eventually, he would tire and, unlike his battle with the golems, the only way to win was knocking her unconscious.
He kept a wary eye out for any further casts - luckily, she had paused for the moment as well - and considered every scrap of knowledge he’d gleaned from her in their tutoring sessions to find a weakness.
Finally, he smirked. Stamina. She was older than him, well into her forties and she’d told him she was already tired. To gain the strength to match his, she must be gathering a lot of power, but she couldn’t continue at this pace for much longer before exhausting herself; once that happened, the battle was over.
Alternatively, her spell was much slower to cast than his own. If he managed to dodge even once, a Force Wave would end the fight on the spot. With how quick her spell moved though, the decision was an either-or: if he tried to dodge but failed, there was no way he would have enough time to block.
After careful thought, he decided to go for wearing her out. Victory by attrition. It had its dangers - if one spell got through unblocked, he was done for - but if he held her off long enough, victory was inevitable. It was a safer choice and besides, while spell-exhaustion wasn’t pleasant by any means, it was better than blasting her into unconsciousness.
Her eyes gleamed, signaling that the time for thought was over. The battle resumed with each firing two spells in succession, both bursting against the other’s casting without connecting with their targets.
Alensia wiped away some of the sweat pouring down her face. She was breathing heavily but didn’t seem ready to collapse just yet. He could wait though - he had spent ten years waiting for this day. He could wait a little longer for her stamina to drain.
One more pair of spells exploded against each other to no avail. They were in a stalemate, one which would only favor him as it continued.
Then through the dust, she chuckled mirthlessly. Like him, she was so covered in grime that her face was the color of mud, traced through with little rivulets of perspiration.
“Young lord… Rian, I know how much this means to you,” she took a deep breath, “so I want you to know that I’m sorry. I know all the years you spent fighting toward this day, how much you dream of becoming a mage… but I need to win if I’m going to care for my son. Regardless of your dreams… please forgive me, but I can’t afford to hold back!”
His heart threatened to stop. Hold back?
Alensia’s Spellstone burned like a small red sun in her hand before a bolt of pure crimson blasted straight for him.
Rian frantically cast another Force Wave, but this one held only briefly before shattering against her attack. He gathered what strength he could to block but her spell slammed into him.
It was as if one of the golems from the Second Trial had belted him in the gut. He staggered back from the hit, clutching his stomach as he tried desperately to right himself.
She was already starting to build up power once more, but he could scarcely comprehend what had happened. She was holding back the entire time? If her spells were this strong, there was no way he could hold on for much longer. Panic screamed in his mind. Could he even win?
Wait! If she had been using so much strength with her spells before, she must be hemorrhaging stamina to keep casting now. His plan was still good and he was strong enough to become a mage. He just had to hold out a little longer.
Another bolt blasted for him, the entire cavern lit up in red.
This was it, the final clash. Alensia was surely almost completely drained. If he held on just a little more, exhaustion would consume her.
Rian gathered as much strength as he could and unleashed his spell.
Once again, the crimson lightning ground through it before slamming into him and driving him to his knees.
He had to be close. Just a little more; he just had to keep going a little more and he would reach his dream.
She stepped forward, another spell hurtling from her.
He unleashed his countering cast almost on instinct, summoning further strength to blunt her spell. Just a bit more and he would become a mage, just a bit -
The world filled with black.
Interlude Two
A boy stood surrounded by a broken, burning castle. Ash covered him in a grey shroud, undisturbed save for the tears that poured down his face.
“Why…?” he whispered.
Before him in the darkness stood a girl, naught but a dozen summers in age, her face obscured with golden hair trailing down in a mane, gleaming and unmarred by the devastation.
“You are nothing,” she said.
“I-I did not mean to -”
“You achieved nothing.”
The boy reached forward. “It was not -”
> Through the shadows, her eyes blazed blue. “It’s your fault I’m dead!”
Chapter Fourteen
Rian slammed face-first into stone with a crunch. The darkness spun around him and he was bound and trapped in a thick layer of… blankets?
He didn’t have time to think before waves of pain pulsed over him. Every inch of his body was sore and aching, and his breath escaped him in a whimpering cry. Nausea followed, and for a time, it was all he could do to clutch his face as he braced himself against it.
When it finally subsided enough to hear himself think, he peered about into the gloom.
Where was he? The last thing he remembered was battling with Alensia in that cavern. Now… there was only the slightest moonlight for illumination so it was difficult to distinguish much. With the sun gone, the few shapes visible in the darkness loomed over him like statues in a mausoleum… or, the thought struck him with a chill, perhaps golems. Squinting, he thought he recognized the nightstand by his bed. The woolen blankets scratching against bruised skin further confirmed what he suspected: they had put him in the healing ward again.
Did this mean he’d lost? Worry squirmed through his gut and he tried to remember. No, he reminded himself. They’d been using very powerful and destructive magic, and he’d been hit several times. Even if he’d won, he’d have been badly hurt, and Alensia might be suffering as much as he.
Either way, he needed to find out what had happened. “Hello?” he called out into the gloom. “Is anyone out there?”
“Lord Miel?” came a thick, nasally voice. Quiet footsteps pattered against the floor. It was still too dark to see much save for a shape moving in the darkness but that voice was vaguely familiar.
“Mage...” he struggled to think, “Meralda, was it?”
“Yes, your lordship. Your remembrance honors me.” She let out a weak chuckle and sat down in a chair by the bed. The moonlight revealed a smile upon her face but it was thin and tight. “How do you feel?”
“Like someone dropped a boulder on me and sat on it.” He swallowed. “What… what happened? I was fighting against Alensia in the Third Trial, but I cannot recall what happened or who won. All I recall is a lot of red…” He remembered a feeling of desperation and the pit of his stomach churned. “I did win, correct?”
“You don’t remember?” Meralda frowned. “Perhaps… no, it might be best to discuss later, after you recover. You were quite badly injured.”
“Tell me, I must know.”
“You should focus on healing, not on what might have happened.”
Rian’s first instinct was to plead, but a mage would surely not be moved by childish cries, so he took a deep, calming breath and brought logic to bear. “Mage Meralda, I have spent years preparing for this day, studying, practicing, everything I could think of. Without knowing the outcome, it will be impossible for me to sleep. Whatever happened, it will be better to know it now than spend hours wondering.”
She eyed him doubtfully while he tried to present as earnest a face as possible.
Finally, she sighed. “Very well, get back into bed and I’ll tell you what happened.” Once he did so, she continued, “You fought,” she nibbled her lip, “bravely, very bravely, showing great strength of will but in the end, it was not enough. Alensia defeated you by knocking you unconscious.”
Her words… Rian understood the words she was saying, but they made no sense. “That cannot be -” he swayed, the darkness whirling about him. “That… that is not - no, you are lying. You have to be!”
“I’m sorry, your lordship, but it’s no lie,” Meralda said softly. “She defeated you fairly.”
“How!?” He was second in line to House Miel, had prepared for more than a decade and been tutored by countless magi, yet he’d lost to a commoner with a tenth of his experience! “We were supposed to go to classes together, go to Pelric’s, learn magic the likes of which… I was told I might pass even if I lost. Why did I...?” He fell to his knees, sobs wracking his body. “I tried so much… I worked so hard… This does not make sense!. Why?”
She patted him awkwardly, not meeting his eyes. “You need to rest. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She got to her feet but he grabbed her arm.
“No!” he shouted, “Mage Meralda, I spent so long working toward this. Defeat… it was always a possibility, but I need to know why.”
She pressed her lips together but nodded acquiescence. “Alright, but you have to stay calm.” she looked longingly toward the door once again but continued, “The magi are an elite order with great responsibility, one that only a rare few can join. What you were told about being able to pass even if defeated… that is meant for when we have two candidates who are truly excellent, such that even the defeated acquits themselves brilliantly. You were,” she bit her lip, “decent perhaps but no more.”
Her words were soft but they struck him with the fury of whips. He jerked back, only barely managing to keep a measure of control in his voice. “H-How so, Mage Meralda?”
“I observed your battle, along with several of my colleagues. Your strategy was flawed on several levels and from the beginning, it seemed like you had no plan beyond simply beating Alensia down through sheer brute force.”
“But that is not true. I was trying to win by attrition.”
The wind blew past the open window in a low whistle while Meralda peered at him with furrowed eyebrows, tapping her fingers together.
Finally, she shook her head. “I have seen a multitude of battles, some indeed won because one side was exhausted and unable to continue on, but there was no possibility of you defeating Alensia that way.”
“That makes no sense. With how much power her spell took, all I needed to do was hold her off until she exhausted herself.”
“What are you talking about?” Meralda asked, looking at him oddly. “Her spells took no more stamina than your own castings. Their strength was a matter of focus, not power.”
“Focus, not power…? How could that, unless -” Rian buried his head in his hands as the full measure of his mistake struck him. “She did not use more power, just focused what power she used into a tight beam, and since my spell was wider than hers it was a case of an open palm versus a closed fist. All else equal, her spell would have blown through mine every time…”
“Correct, when you are both using the same amount of power but one is overwhelming the other repeatedly,” she sighed, “well, there is only one way a battle of attrition could possibly end.”
Inevitable defeat, her words whispered in his mind. “If she had more power in each of her spells… well, I could have tried to dodge, I suppose, but I would have had to get rather lucky. That spell of hers was slow to cast, but fast once she let it go,” he said, working it out to himself. “Truly then, it was a mismatched fight from the beginning.”
“Actually… no, it wasn’t. Tell me, the other spell you cast at the beginning, what was its name?”
He blinked, thrown by the change of subject. “I call it ‘Arbol Arrow’, it creates a small orb that bursts into a mass of entangling vines. Why do you ask?”
She ignored his question. “Why did you stop using it after the initial attempt?”
“Because Alensia’s spell could just blast right through it,” Rian said, starting to get annoyed at all the questions. “You were watching, so surely you saw how it fared the one time I tried.”
“And yet, the spell was quick to cast, yes?”
“Correct, even faster than my Force Wave - ohh.” He closed his eyes at the realization. “If I had just kept casting Arbol Arrows, she could not have blocked them all. Eventually, she would have been tied up and helpless...”
“Perhaps,” she said. “She might still have gotten you with her spell before you took her out - you were right about her spell having a great deal more power than yours - or maybe she could have dodged long enough to come up with an alternative strategy. Still, those possibilities were slim. In all likelihood, you would have won.”
Meralda gave him a flat look. “You will rarely know all of your opponent’s capabilities going in. The magi lack armor and we are limited to only a few spells each, yet even in this generation of Sacreliths, we remain a potent force on any battlefield. We do so by mastering those spells and applying them carefully, evaluating the situation for when to use them and how.” She sighed, patting him on the shoulder. “And right now, you just aren’t ready.”
He bowed his head. She was right. He hadn’t fought with strategy, he could see that now. He had just hammered away with the same spell over and over again until he lost. The Second Trial he had panicked, yes, but when it looked impossible, he’d managed to succeed by utilizing a spell creatively.
This time he had been so sure he was the stronger spellcaster that he’d ignored strategy and tactics for brute force, a battle he’d lost before it began.
“Don’t worry though,” Meralda said with a comforting smile, “many fail on their first try - even making it to the Third Trial was an excellent performance. It’s very likely you will succeed when you take it again. Just wait for next time.”
Rian looked down, staring blankly at the covers before him until Meralda finally bid him goodnight and shuffled off into the darkness.
There wasn’t going to be a next time for him, at least not for a very long time. With an assassin after him, it would be quite a while before he could even leave Houndstooth, let alone take the trials again.
Exhaustion took the last bit of control from him. Hot tears trickled from his eyes, soon followed by anguished sobs. All the plans he’d made to himself were gone and his dream laid in broken shards around him.
The Mage Trials Page 19
