Chapter 441: The Shamans of Evenfall Part 2
“Do you think the enemy will not surprise us? Do you think they won’t use underhanded tactics?” Stryg asked the prone archmage shamans. “No matter how much we plan, we can never fully account for all of their tactics or attacks. We will be surprised, we will be caught out, and if this is your response to such an attack, then you are right, it won’t happen again, because you will be dead in the mud.”
Stryg glanced at the rest of the wide-eyed goblins staring up at him. “Any questions?”
The group of shamans and mageborns stayed quiet, unwilling to say a word, but the look in their eyes betrayed their thoughts. They disapproved of Stryg’s methods. Surprise attacks were dishonorable in a duel. Stryg knew that, but he was also aware that none of these shamans had partaken in a duel in years, perhaps decades. As for the mageborns who weren’t shamans, he doubted they were much better.
Stryg took a deep breath and faced the group with a stern gaze, “For too long the Sylvan tribes have only had to contend against nature and the beasts that dwell within it. I have been outside Vulture Woods, I have been to Dusk Valley, and the lands beyond. The people in those lands don’t care about rules, nor honor. Out there, all that matters is who lives and who doesn’t. I am here to try and make sure you stay on the living side.”
Lumi raised her eyebrow. “Are you trying to imply that our sacred traditions of duels have no place? That they are obsolete?”
Stryg knew she was trying to goad him, hoping he might attack her in return. Unlike the Vexia and Greznok, Stryg had an inkling Lumi wouldn’t be so easily surprised.
“Of course not,” Stryg smiled. “I would never so brazenly insult our people’s traditions. No, in fact, I believe our duels serve many important purposes. Like for instance, teaching lessons.”
“Do you wish to teach me a lesson, War Master?” Lumi batted her eyelashes. “If I recall correctly, it was you who called me ‘blind’ at the tribunal chamber.”
Stryg’s smile widened but his lilac eyes were cold, “A figure of speech. I’d never think myself wise enough to teach an Elect. No, I’ll leave that role to the Mother Moon.”
Lumi paled at the implication of his words. She closed her mouth and clenched her jaw in silent frustration.
Stryg turned to the group of goblins sitting on their meditation pillows and clapped his hands together, “I’m here to teach all of you what it is like to fight against actual battle mages, but I cannot do that without knowing where you all stand. So, ‘class,’ let us put the ancient practice of our people to good use. I challenge you all to a duel. Whoever wishes to go first, stand up and come forward.”
The class of goblins glanced at each other skeptically. One of them, an older woman, spoke up, “War Master, forgive the impertinence, but many of us saw you duel on the Midnight Mirror. The ones that didn’t have heard the stories of what happened that night. You killed Ulthar, son of the Stone Heart tribe, without spilling a drop of blood. How can we hope to defeat the Bloodless One if not even one of our greatest champions could?”
There it was again. Bloodless One. He wondered if he would ever get used to that name or any of the others the Sylvan seemed to be calling him.
Stryg shook his head, “This will not be a duel to the death, nor will it be one of martial prowess. This will be a duel of magic, nothing more.”
The class suddenly broke into whispers amongst each other, debating on the merits of the duel.
Stryg frowned. These were shamans indeed, people used to discussing their problems rather than facing them first.
“What chromatics are you?” one of them spoke up.
“How about you all stop cowering about and come find out,” Stryg answered.
Stolen novel; please report.
“You think us cowards?” a third shaman asked.
“I think you all have an overvalued estimation of yourselves and believe such duels are pointless. For too long shamans have been a ceremonial role, but the truth is the only mages that survived the fall of Lunis were the ones who marched with the army. They were not cowards who shied away from a battle, much less a duel.”
“That’s it!” The third shaman jumped to his feet and strode to face Stryg. “First you call us cowards, then you insinuate us all to be prideful idiots who would rather hide than support our people.”
“Your words, not mine,” Stryg said calmly.
“Heh,” the shaman shook his head. “I’ll show you what sort of goblins we are.”
Stryg took a simple fighting stance, his legs slightly parted and his arms raised halfway. “What is your name?”
“Rowal, son of Silver Leaf.”
He nodded in acknowledgment. “Stryg, son of Blood Fang.”
Lumi cleared her throat and raised her hands high, “As Shaman Elect, Eyes of the Watcher, I shall oversee this duel… You may begin when ready.”
“I’m ready,” Rowal said without hesitation.
Stryg unclasped the thin pale vines around his neck and threw Blossom off his shoulders. The white petal cloak hovered in the air for a moment before slowly floating to the ground in a small pile, reminiscent of a flower.
Stryg’s lips formed a thin line. He hadn’t intended for that to happen but the goblins stared at the cloak in reverence anyway. He didn’t want to contemplate what rumors had already been circulating about the cloak, nor the ones that this moment would undoubtedly spawn.
“I’m ready…” he muttered.
“You may begin,” Lumi announced.
Rowal immediately channeled orange mana into his arms and summoned forth a wall of flame encircling him. It seemed he was keen to not make the same mistake as the Vexia and Greznok; he wouldn’t be caught by a surprise attack.
However, Stryg made no move to attack. He stood still and watched as Rowal poured more and more mana into the wall of flame and began to revolve it around himself, until it formed a vortex of fire. The heat of the flames could be felt by all in the training hall. Several of the goblins standing too close hurriedly backed away.
Rowal yelled in strain and poured all his will and focus into the spell. As soon as he felt himself begin to lose control of the roaring flames he hurled the burning vortex at Stryg. He raised his arms as the flames crashed into him in a burst of heat. Stryg poured his own orange mana into the spell, forcefully overtaking the spell. The flames swirled around his blue arms. He pulled the flames back, like paddling water with an oar, swung it around him, and flung it right back.
Rowal froze up in shock. The flames exploded at his feet and sent him flying back. He slammed into the hard marble floor in a heap of bruised limbs and singed skin.
The class stared in mute shock.
“H-How did you do that!?” Lumi stammered in a mixture of irritation and admiration. “You seized his spell as your own! How is that even possible!?”
“I once fought against a True Blue,” Stryg replied. “She could manipulate the weaves of a spell and pull them apart, destroying the spell’s form entirely. After that, a very powerful Blue teacher of mine taught me how to strengthen my spell weaves and my control over them in order to avoid such an incident again.”
Stryg turned to Rowal who was clambering to his feet. “Spells are just weaves of ethereal energy we have materialized into the physical world. The moment you relinquish your will over your spell it becomes a simple mass of energy hurling through the air. It was easy for me to take control of it at that point. Of course, this would never have happened had you not poured so much mana into the spell that you lost control over it.”
Rowal clenched his teeth bitterly and bowed his head in shame. Vexia, Greznok, and Lumi shared a troubled glance with each other; it seemed none of them had known such a technique was even possible. The rest of the shamans broke out into excited conversations, imagining themselves repeating such a feat.
Stryg clicked his tongue in annoyance. He turned and addressed the whole class. “I thought this lesson was obvious, but clearly some of you need to hear it. Never overextend your magic. At best the weaves simply fall apart and the spell fizzles. At worst the weaves implode on themselves and blow up in your face. Also, trying to take control of an opponent’s spell while they are still in full control of their own magic will result in them just killing you. Understood? In other words, don’t be a complete moron,” he snapped.
The goblin mageborns couldn’t meet his stern gaze and looked away, embarrassed.
Stryg blinked. Oh my gods. I’m becoming Professor Rime…
That old drow professor had always seemed grumpy and carried himself with a no-nonsense attitude for magic. Stryg now wondered to himself how many young stupid mageborns had come through his classes, ignoring all the advice Rime had given out in his youth. Stryg suddenly regretted giving the old drow as much trouble as he had.
He sighed and gestured to the class, “Again.”