“The next portion of your Trial is the Trial by Combat,” the Archdruid said calmly. The crowd of Druids cleared from the stone, leaving only Jeb and a man who seemed to be about Jeb’s age.
“Begin,” the Archdruid said, and the man rushed towards him.
Jeb froze for the briefest of seconds. Thankfully, the two were far enough from each other that his momentary hesitation did not immediately spell his doom. When the fighter threw what was clearly meant to be a gently probing punch, Jeb tried to block it.
He heard his forearm crunch beneath the Druids iron-like hands. Eyes welling with tears from the sudden sharp pain, Jeb still managed to duck out of the way of the next punch. Before he could even think about mounting a reply, the Archdruid called the fight to a halt.
“You do not fight like a Republic Mage,” his opponent said as a healer rushed onto the platform.
“Thank you?” Jeb replied, somehow feeling that the comment was meant to be taken as a compliment.
The healer waved his hands, and the pain in Jeb’s arm faded away as though it had never been. Standing, he gave Jeb an appraising look.
“From the way that your first bout went, would I be correct in assuming that you do not have much by way of combat experience?”
“Not as such, no,” Jeb admitted sheepishly.
The healer cocked his head. “You seem ashamed by this admission,” he commented.
Jeb grimaced. “I don’t like doing badly on tests,” he explained.
The healer nodded. “I understand. However, there is no shame in avoiding combat. For one as young as yourself, I would truthfully be more concerned if you were adept in the arts of dueling.” With that, he helped Jeb to stand.
Jeb saw that another person had entered the combat zone. Something about them seemed strange, and it took Jeb a moment to realize that they must have been under Eighth Tier. The world around them was not in any way bound to their actions. With a start, Jeb realized that this was the first person he had seen since coming to the Enclave who was of a lower Tier than him.
She wasn’t far below Eighth Tier. Jeb had the vague feeling that the Druid in front of him was somewhere in the middle of her Seventh Class. She gave Jeb a polite nod before settling into a stance much like the Druid before had taken. When the Archdruid gave the signal, she approached him far more cautiously than the last Druid.
It made some amount of sense to Jeb. After all, he was more than a full Tier more powerful than her. Even if he was not well-versed in combat, brute force could easily overpower a more skilled opponent. Clearing his head of the thoughts, he watched as a fist flew towards him.
Having learned his lesson from the last Druid, Jeb dodged out of the fist’s path. When he sent his own fist forwards in reply, she moved just enough so that his fist swung a hairsbreadth in front of her. Disoriented by his fist’s lack of contact, Jeb stumbled into the next fist she threw towards him. Unlike the last Druid, her blow did not immediately shatter bone.
That was not to say that it didn’t hurt. Jeb was certain that his shoulder would be a bright bruise the next day if the healer did not tend to him. Gritting his teeth once again, Jeb lowered his shoulder and charged. He clipped the Druid, and just for a moment managed to get his hands wrapped around her.
All of a sudden, vines sprouted from the ground and tore his arms away. More vines snaked out towards him and pinned him to the ground. Jeb gave a token effort to struggle against his bonds, but knew they were far too strong for him to break by muscle alone.
Just as he had the idea to use his own Magic to burn the roots away, the Archdruid called an end to the fight. The vines fell away from him, withering into dust in mere moments. Jeb watched them fade in wonder.
His combat partner reached down to give Jeb a hand up. He took it gratefully, thankful that she had reached for the shoulder that she hadn’t punched. After a quick bout of healing, he was again standing in the circle.
No one faced him.
Jeb waited for a minute, tensed for a sneak attack. When the assembled Druids started to murmur their own confusion at the delay, though, he relaxed. The Archdruid walked up to Jeb’s side.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” he said, tapping Jeb with his staff. Each touch was as gentle as a blown kiss, but Jeb still felt the impact thrum through his entire being.
“Wizard is among the least Physically oriented Classes that I have ever seen,” he said after tapping across Jeb’s entire body.
“Is it?” Jeb asked.
“If we discount Presence and Vitality, absolutely. Your Mental Statistics are admirably even, and each of them is almost the same as your entire Physical Load. If Vitality or Presence were in line with the rest of your Physical Statistics, each Mental Statistic would be far larger than their sum.”
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Seeing Jeb’s curious look, the Archdruid continued, “it is not uncommon to have a Statistic or two that are far higher than the rest. My own Willpower far exceeds the rest of my Statistics combined. However, the remainder of the Statistics I have gained have been relatively evenly distributed among the other nine.”
He stroked his beard, clearly lost in thought. After a few moments of muttering, he finally called out what Jeb took to be a name. Given that someone ran onto the stone, Jeb had to assume that the boy in front of him was Glen.
“I had not realized how much Vitality and Presence were distorting your Physical Statistics,” the Archdruid said, returning to the crowd. “This should be a much fairer fight.”
“My name is Glen, and I am a Fourth Tier Druid in the Circle of Iron,” the boy said, squaring in an approximation of the stance that the other two Druids had adopted.
“Hi,” Jeb replied. “My name is Jeb, and I am, um, not a Druid, nor am I in a Circle.”
“Enough chatting,” the Archdruid called. “Begin!”
Unlike the other two Druids, Glen did not immediately rush towards Jeb. Instead, he held his hands out in front of him. Jeb felt a pulse as though a large magnet had existed, just for a moment. As sweat beaded on the young Druid’s head, Jeb quickly realized that it was him creating the effect.
Unsure exactly what the boy was planning, Jeb stood, undecided as to what he should do. The pulsing grew more regular, and Jeb saw small strands of iron begin to creep into the arena. Jeb quickly called his Magic and started to draw a Glyph in the air in front of him.
Glowing lines arced as he sketched a Move Glyph. Forgetting the exact arrangement of nodes which symbolized Iron, Jeb was grateful for his Doctoral Thesis. He did remember a Runic combination for Iron, and quickly added that as the Elemental Attunement for the Glyph. Striking the Glyph with the heel of his hand, Jeb sent his will into the working.
As Jeb tried to move the Iron back out of the arena, he was unsurprised to feel resistance to his efforts. After all, even simple beer resisted his efforts to change it. What did surprise him, however, was how quickly the Druid in front of him adapted.
As Jeb struggled to wrest control over the Iron in the space, the Druid began another working. Glen’s nose and eyes began to bleed. Each droplet of blood, rather than falling to the ground, instead moved as though pulled into the Druid’s left hand. With each added drop, a shape began to form.
Just as Jeb gained enough control of the iron to push it aside, Glen tossed a knife in his direction. The blade sliced cleanly through Jeb’s tricep, and he lost his concentration, distracted by the sudden pain. Jeb put his hand up to the wound to see how bad the cut was. To his surprise, his hand came back completely bloodless.
When he saw the Druid gripping two blades, however, Jeb realized what had happened. As he watched, the blood which left his body was turned almost instantly into a mist which flew over to the Druid. Jeb had read enough Restricted Alchemy to know how to destroy blood, and tore the very Essence from the daggers in Glen’s hands.
Suddenly holding a ball of Blood Essence, Jeb found himself again at a loss for action. He had disarmed his opponent, yes, but only in the most basic of senses. Glen, clearly used to combat, had already started bringing more iron into the space. The authors of the Alchemical Guide had any number of suggestions for what Jeb could do with a ball of Blood Essence and a foe. However, since Jeb had no desire to curse Glen's family for three generations in either direction, the advice was generally lacking.
Jeb started humming, trying to think of what to do next. As the music poured out of him, Jeb found that he was better able to control the Glyph. Carrying multiple threads of Magic was, after all, a skill he had been forced to master in his Bardic studies.
Jeb knew that he should move onto the offensive. Even if just for a moment, he had stymied all of Glen’s Magics. Now was the time to strike.
Glen clearly felt the same way, because he threw a small metal ball at Jeb. Moving more on instinct than any formal plan, Jeb leapt to the side, tossing the Blood Essence in front of him. Stepping carefully, he held the Blood in place around him as a shield.
When Jeb felt another stabbing pain, this time in his calf, he realized that Glen had not truly intended to hit him with the ball. It had been meant as bait, and had served that purpose incredibly well. Jeb’s momentary distraction had been just long enough for Glen to take a small amount of the iron around them and thrust it into Jeb’s leg.
From there, it seemed like a foregone conclusion that Jeb would lose. He held on for as long as he could, draining his Mana far lower than it had gone since his first years in the Academy. As it bottomed out, however, all of Jeb’s effects suddenly ended. The iron quickly formed a cage around him, and the Archdruid called the match to an end.
“Thank you for the lesson,” Glen said solemnly, bowing at Jeb before walking out of the space. Once back in the grass, he immediately collapsed, drawing an irritated sigh from the healer.
“Whoever taught him to work with Blood Iron should have known better,” he muttered, repairing the wounds in Jeb’s flesh.
“Will he be okay?” Jeb asked.
The healer rolled his eyes. “Yes, he will suffer no ill effects. Reckless as it was for him to use Blood Iron, he did still keep the blood loss to a reasonable level. He’ll be a little bit tired for the next few days as his body recovers.”
Giving Jeb an appraising look, the healer rummaged through his bag and pulled out a small waterskin.
“Drink this,” he demanded. “Unlike him, you do not have the time to wait for your blood to recover naturally.”
On that ominous note, Jeb took the skin and raised it to his lips. As the first drops touched his tongue, he nearly gagged. The flavor was not bad, but it was cloyingly sweet. The fact that the liquid inside was thick enough that it only slowly oozed out of the skin did nothing to make it any more palatable.
Jeb took two deep swallows before setting it down, gasping at the sudden fire that had spread through his veins.
“Now now,” the healer said, raising the skin again, “you need to drink the entire skin to be in proper condition for your next fight.”
Choking the liquid back, Jeb reflected on the fact that the healer was doing little more than speeding up the rate that he could be injured. Still, it wasn’t the healer’s fault that Jeb kept losing the fights, and Jeb knew better than to question a medic of any sort. When the skin was empty, the healer produced a small needle and quickly sewed Jeb’s clothing back together. Nodding once, he retreated back into the throng of Druids.
The Archdruid came back out, gave Jeb a thorough look from head to toes, and then called another name. Another young Druid stepped into the space, and Jeb readied his Magic. The Archdruid looked at the Magic gathering around Jeb and spoke a single syllable.
All at once, Jeb once again felt the paths his Magic wanted to take barred from him. It would not form to the shape of a Glyph or Rune, and he could not feel any Essences around him. Nodding, the Archdruid stepped out of the arena and signaled the two fighters to begin.