Jacob itched to move, to get up, to walk down into the undercroft. Anything but just sitting here doing nothing and being useless. But what would he say if he did run into Camilla down there? Hey, yeah, I was just walking down here. Are you alright?
Stupid. So stupid.
They'd all heard VP Leslie's amplified voice call out lethal force, had seen Ishaan's fork of lightning. So that was what lethal force had looked like? Christ, he'd have been fried to a crisp. Leave it to Camilla to block it effortlessly.
Had it spooked her? He wasn't sure. He thought something like that would spook anybody. It would have rattled him badly—hell, it had rattled him and he hadn't even been on the receiving end—and he'd seen more deadly action than most here. Still, he wanted to see how she was after the victory.
Camilla entered the stadium seating from the tunnel down by the bottom row. Her face was incredibly neutral, her gait casual, as if she'd just returned from the grocery store. She stopped and spoke to someone down near the front row.
Victor.
Jacob sat up in his seat but he couldn't hear what they were saying.
Camilla said something, then strolled up the stairs.
"Congrats!" Grace, Blake, and Jacob all chimed at the same time.
"That last ward was sick!" Blake said. "Can't believe you got it off in time."
"What's up with that Ishaan guy?" Grace said, folding her arms and scowling.
Camilla shrugged. "No idea."
Christ, she seemed so chill. As if punching her ticket to the quarter finals was nothing. As if a brush with lethal force was a walk in the park. She came over and sat down in the empty seat next to Jacob.
Jacob glanced over at her.
"You alright?" He said before he could stop himself.
She looked up at him. Something flashed in her dark eyes, then disappeared.
"Why wouldn't I be?" She asked.
Jacob cursed himself. "I don't know. Ishaan using lethal force shocked me." I was worried.
Camilla grunted and sat back in her chair. Jacob noticed her arm was hogging the entire shared arm rest between them and her knees were turned in towards him, her shoulder nearly brushing his.
"I wasn't expecting it," Camilla said, finally.
Jacob glanced over at her, but she was staring out at the arena, eyes half glazed over. Maybe it was because they'd spent so much time together now, maybe it was because he had gotten better at reading other people since coming to Tisdale, maybe it was her body language, but Jacob had the sudden, startling notion that she was not even close to alright.
He drummed his fingers on the other armrest and shifted where he sat. No, he was smoking crack, right? She was fine. I mean, it's Camilla, we're talking about. Right? Why couldn't he shake that notion?
Did he ask what was wrong? No, that would be assuming she wasn't alright. She wouldn't like that. Not one bit.
Jacob settled on: "That was a good win."
"Thanks," Camilla smiled.
Jacob relaxed a little. He wished he knew if he should say something more, but it seemed she'd relaxed a little too.
He turned his attention to the next match, where Xavier Hudson had lined up against Keenan Sharpe. After them it was Sophia's match, and then it was him vs Archie.
Jacob watched Xavier and Keenan trade blows—the winner of this match would face Camilla next weekend—but his mind was on his own impending match. He felt... Calm?
Not really. Not what he thought the true calm of a seasoned veteran must feel like, but calmer than before his previous fights. He'd gotten as far as the 11th seed was supposed to. Archie was the 6th seed and magical royalty. No one expected Jacob to win. There was no pressure. Nothing to lose.
Down in the arena, Keenan sent a rippling wave of clay at Xavier, who soared over it with an augmented leap, his hair billowing out behind him. Clearly he'd been working on his physical augmentation, or hiding it in previous matches.
Xavier landed close in to Keenan. Keenan punched a pillar of churned clay at his opponent. It struck Xavier a glancing blow, but Xavier weathered it, stumbled forward and grabbed Keenan around the waist. They fell to the ground and fought with augmented fists. Xavier got a hold of Keenan and hurled him out of bounds.
"Sharpe is out of bounds. Hudson wins!"
The crowd cheered.
Blake leaned across Jacob. "I think Ishaan was better than both of those guys."
Camilla folded her arms. "You're right. Tough draw for him."
"Means next week should be a cakewalk for you, though," Blake said.
Before Camilla could respond, a tournament aide appeared at the end of their aisle.
"Jacob Caibo?"
Jacob stood.
"Good luck," Camilla, Blake, and Grace all said in unison.
Jacob followed the aide down into the undercroft. This was it.
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Jacob sat with his head down, his hands clasped between his knees, going over everything. He'd gone over the Tisdale Tournament rulebook in detail last night to make sure the ace up his sleeve was legal, and while he hadn't seen anything expressly saying he could do it, he hadn't seen anything expressly forbidding it, either. He would only used it if he needed it, but his entire gameplan banked around having it in his back pocket.
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Jacob took a deep breath and squeezed his hands together. He distinctly remembered before his fight with Altman he'd wished he'd been fighting an enemy of his, that Altman had wronged him somehow, bullied him, so that he could feel justified in defeating him. But Archie was worse. Even though they'd agreed to be enemies until the fight was over, Jacob couldn't perform the mental gymnastics required to genuinely believe that. Archie was his friend, and try as he might, he couldn't dredge up any slight or wronging the boy had inflicted upon him.
Sure, he was a popular, outgoing rich kid—the perfect bully archetype—but if anything he'd welcomed Jacob to Tisdale and had helped him feel at home out of nothing more than the goodness of his heart. It was one thing to go all out against an enemy, another thing to go all out against someone you didn't know, yet another thing entirely to go all out against your friend.
Jacob knew the headspace it took to win. He had to be aggressive, almost vicious. Fervent in his desire to win. He knew Archie wouldn't be having trouble with this. He knew he shouldn't be. Anyone committed wouldn't.
What had Tanaka said when they'd trained together? Do you want to beat Vanderbilt, or do you want to be a nice person?
It didn't matter that Archie was his friend. Right now they were enemies. Right now Archie was in his way. It didn't matter what happened afterwards, if this broke their friendship. Jacob couldn't think about that, couldn't worry about that.
A knock at the door.
"Mr Caibo, it's time."
Jacob stood and followed the tournament aide out towards the arena. A Ranger would have to fight anyone, wouldn't they? Anyone and anything, no matter what it was, no matter the connection between them.
"From Vancouver, Canada, one of only two living white mages, it's Jacob Caibo!"
A grin broke out on Jacob's face, and he strode up into the arena. He waved to the crowd and took his place just within the boundary line.
"From Manhattan, New York, you know his name, it's Archibald Vanderbilt!"
Archie emerged from the shadow of the opposite tunnel and strode out into the arena. His face was set. He raised a hand to the crowd and bowed deeply.
They made eye contact, but neither nodded nor gave hint of recognition.
"Contestants, get ready!"
Jacob braced himself. He practically bubbled with excitement. This was it. He'd been waiting on this moment for weeks now.
"Start!"
Jacob cast perception and strength.
Archie cast perception and strength at the same time.
Even though Archie had never shown either spell thus far in the tournament, Jacob had suspected he could cast both. He wasted only a moment in recognition.
It didn't change his gameplan.
Instead of entering into a Mexican standoff like Camilla and Ishaan had, waiting for Archie to make a move or give something away, Jacob launched himself straight at the other boy, completely without abandon.
If Archie had been expecting this, he gave little indication. The big boy's eyes narrowed, and he cast. A wall of clay rose up between them, blocking Archie from sight. Jacob went wide around the side of the wall, ready for a forceward.
Suddenly Archie was right there in front of him, swooping in low. Jacob's eyes widened. He'd expected Archie to stay back and pound him with projectiles. Clearly, Archie had thought Jacob would expect this, and chose to surprise him head on.
Archie swung a right hook at Jacob's face before Jacob could fathom a spell. Jacob threw his arms up to block. The hit landed on his bad left forearm and sent him staggering back. Jacob hissed. His left forearm throbbed.
Jacob ground his teeth and forced all the magic he could muster into his perception and strength, amplifying himself as much as he could handle, holding back nothing. Archie wanted a straight up power fight? Good, his gameplan had been to throw everything he had right out the gate.
Archie lumbered in. Jacob's spells seemed a little stronger, but not enough to make much of a difference, especially considering Archie had about half a foot and at least fifty pounds on him.
Archie swung another punch but Jacob ducked left. The fist soared over his head, and he launched forward, heels gouging the clay, throwing both arms around Archie and tackling him back. They soared through the air and crashed into the Decomp clay wall Archie had raised. They ricocheted off and fell to the ground, hands grasping at each other's faces, uniforms, arms.
Jacob detached himself from the bigger boy and sprung to his feet, dodging a low swipe meant to topple him again. Archie rose and tried to tackle him, but Jacob danced to the side and threw his shoulder into the bigger boy, sending him sprawling back into the clay. He closed the distance instantly.
Archie rose again and swung a right hook. Jacob dodged back. Archie's momentum carried him forward and he swung with his left. Jacob deflected it and jabbed Archie in the side. Archie might have been magically as strong as him, and had the size advantage, but his movements were lumbering, a little off balance. Not getting the practice in with the augmentations in his previous fights was coming back to bite him.
Jacob dove in, hammering the bigger boy with blows. Archie weathered them on his big arms and broad shoulders. Just as Jacob thought he had him pinned, Production magic whickered, and a small forceward rifled out of Archie's chest. It caught Jacob square in the face.
He saw stars and went sprawling back onto the clay. He bounced immediately back to his feet, tensing, ready for the big boy's bombardment. But Archie had leapt back across the field, resetting the fight.
Jacob's perception-enhanced brain ran away from him. What was Archie's strategy here? Surprise Jacob with a fistfight, wear him down, force him to use more of his smaller magic store, then retreat to your projectile advantage after reducing his options? Probably. But it played right into Jacob's strategy. That was, if he could pull it off. But did Archie have an ace up his sleeve? He had to.
Decomposition flared out from Archie. A lot of it in a colour Jacob only vaguely recognized, building up in a big spell.
Instead of launching himself forward, Jacob launched a small forceward. A small sense of satisfaction that he'd gotten it right on the first try flickered through him.
Archie cast a defensive ward. Jacob's forceward broke upon its surface, but the cast had interrupted Archie's bigger spell.
Fuck it. Jacob cast another forceward, this one as big as he could envision, so much so it leeched a noticeable chunk of his magic store. He launched it forward, a cone the size of the dome of a mosque. The backlash made him stumble.
Archie's eyes widened. He reinforced his ward but Jacob's forceward shattered through, knocking him back to the ground. Jacob sent another one after this, feeling his reserves run low. This time Archie cast a powerful ward to block. The two wards shattered against each other, the concussive blast staggering Archie. He raised his hand in front of his eyes to block the storm of glittering shards that cascaded over him.
Jacob closed the distance between them. Archie recovered and the big spell began building in him again. Jacob threw forward two smaller forcewards as he ran, but Archie dodged these and kept his handle on his spell.
Jacob prepped himself for a big wall or wave to emanate out from the other boy.
At the last second, Archie threw a forceward at Jacob, Jacob ducked it.
Then Archie cast his spell.
Nothing happened.
Jacob's first reaction was that Archie had flubbed it, and he kept moving forward. His second reaction was that the spell had worked; it had let off that little sensation of a successful cast. His third reaction was noticing the slight change of colour in the ground around Archie's feet, which had shot out from the boy in a circle.
The same Decomp spell began building in Archie again.
Jacob stepped down.
And his foot slipped into the clay as if it were brown sauce, all the way up past his knee. His other foot splashed in right after, spraying liquid clay up his uniform. He fell forward, remembering where he had seen that colour of Decomp before. Sheriff Hueller had used the same spell against the Reaper to entrap its legs before Jimmy dealt the finishing blow.
Jacob tried to catch himself. If his face and arms fell in, he was dead to rights. At the same time, his legs had got their footing at the bottom of the brown slop. It wasn't like Archie had changed the entire arena into liquid, just the top foot or two.
Jacob crouched to jump up, still falling forward.
Archie released the second spell. The liquid clay solidified in a wave rippling out from him. It solidified around Jacob's legs, locking him in like a concrete infill around a shaft of rebar. Luckily, his arms swung free.
He braced himself against the ground and pushed with every ounce of augmented strength he had left. It wasn't enough. His legs and feet didn't have any room to flex.
He looked up at Archie across the arena from the sunken perspective of a small child. A sheen of sweat glistened on Archie's face. To have changed so much ground in so little time, twice, would have taken a lot of his magical reserves.
Archie began to cast a forceward. Jacob ground his teeth. He could block this one, and maybe a few others, but Archie had him like a sitting duck, and eventually he'd run out of magic before the other boy.
He had no choice.
Jacob took a deep, preparatory breath, and cast the ace up his sleeve.