MARIN, MONDAY, FATHERUS 2ND
The majority of the space in Spire was dedicated to places where students could safely fight each other. Deep under Spire were even more rooms, including the massive Stadium. All four years of students were required to attend the first assembly of the year, each taking a quarter of the real estate of the seating. Of course, as the classes got older, there were fewer students.
The Freshman class wore the colors of their teachers. Red, Blue, Light Green, and Brown. There was no sense of camaraderie between the four first-year groups. All the classes were mixed together in the stadium seats, resulting in a random array of colors.
Conversely, The Sophomore class separated themselves into four neat groups. They wore white robes trimmed with the colors of their teacher—also Red, Blue, Light Green, and Brown.
The Juniors wore white robes with no colors.
Marin glanced longingly toward the Senior class, all wearing gray robes. Even growing up on a farm on the other side of the continent, she knew how much work it took to be a sorcerer about to graduate from Spire. There were only fifteen. To her, those fifteen students could be considered bonafide master sorcerers.
Marin wore one of the student uniforms she’d found in her closet. It didn’t seem mandatory, but Marin loved the feel of these new robes and found their bright blue colors very appealing. She also loved how heavy and expensive the robes felt. Marin had always been conscious of her weight, and the thick cloth layer made her feel safer.
Marin could have chosen a Niall-blue tunic or even a vest. The fully stocked closet had many different blue options for her to wear. However, she loved how secure she felt in the classic sorcerer robe and cloak.
In the space between the four classes was a massive fighting arena. Eleven people stood there. They were the instructors of Spire, Niall standing among them. There were also sorcerers for the other five elements, but Marin didn’t know what the other four teachers would do. The final teacher was Dean Flamescale of Spire.
The Dean was a heroic figure. He was a paladin of Phoenix—the strongest paladin of the greatest god in the entire realm. Phoenix was the god of baking and the sun, and seeing Flamescale made Marin stroke the twine loaf of bread in reverence.
Dean Flamescale wore a simple white tank top and baggy pants. The black tattoo on his left arm– the famous tattoo of The Phoenix–gave away who he was. Under his skin, it glowed with the promise of the fire within him. The presence of this world-renowned hero was enough to stoke the fires of Marin’s faith and excite her for the year ahead.
When the Dean raised some magical device to his lips, Marin could hear him clearly, even at this distance. It surprised her. She expected a gruff, smokey voice, but it sounded like anyone's old dad.
“Attention, my name is Dean Flamescale. Freshman, this first day is about you. Here at Spire, knowing where you stand and where you are going is important. You will always be ranked. You will always know who you should strive to beat and who will look to defeat you.” With a point, the Dean set a banner on the wall on fire, revealing the rankings for all four classes on the wall behind it.
The Sophomore, Junior, and Senior classes had numbers on their lists, while the Freshman list had sixty-six unnumbered names. Realization dawned on Marin that Aellaria wasn’t lying. Everything about Spire was indeed a competition, and she knew nothing about magic.
“Since every other class knows where they stand, we will be working to find out where you belong. Those at the bottom will know how much further you have to go, and those at the top will feel the weight of that target on your back. To talk about the specifics of today, I give you Professor Niall.”
Professor Niall stepped forward and spoke into his own magical trinket. “Good morning, students! Today is one of my favorites. You will fight up to three times with different students in your class. Let's start with some structure.”
Niall spun in a circle, raising one finger. “One. Do not kill your fellow students. Anyone who knowingly enacts lethal force will be put up for review and very likely expelled. To help combat death, you all have your student ID pins on your robes. One of the enchantments in these pins will help protect you from sudden lethal magic. Such as two earth pillars squishing you like a pancake or wind blades slitting your throat.” With each gruesome depiction of death, Niall mimes them with his hands. “In some situations, the pin will not prevent these deaths, so just assume it doesn’t work and be relieved when it does, okay?”
Marin gulped. ‘Just be relieved you don't die?’ Marin looked to Aellaria and saw no fear in the taller woman’s blue eyes.
Niall then raised a second finger. “Two. You will be fighting up to three times today. If you need to go to the infirmary, you can, but you may miss your other fights. Also, losing a fight means you are out for the rest of the day.
“Three. No outside weapons, trinkets, or potions. These fights will be judging combat efficacy only. Two students will fight at a time until one of them can no longer continue. You can cast spells, use enchantments personally made, and any potions you brewed yourself. No weapons are allowed beyond arcane focuses and wands. Anyone breaking this rule will immediately lose any of their matches. Any questions?”
The Freshman class erupted in raised hands and outbursts from the louder students. Marin raised her own. She waited patiently until her teacher called on her.
“Sir, what if we don’t know how to do any magic?” she asked nervously. Giggles and snickers erupted from the students all around her.
“Oh no! The EAMP doesn’t even know how to use her talent. How embarrassing!” Flair said with a giggle. Bren laughed. With each laugh, her brown curls bobbed, and her emerald earrings swung. “Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud.”
Marin shrunk further in her seat and glanced at Aellaria. However, her roommate just sat there with no support to give.
“Ms. Marin, you will be less likely to win engagements without magic. I sincerely hope you are a fast learner in the coming weeks,” Niall responded with genuine compassion for the struggling lottery apprentice. “Let's get started, everyone. We have over fifty fights to get through by the end of the day.”
Finally, Dean Flamescale stepped forward one more time. “May you rise up like the phoenix from the ashes.”
Marin watched as the very first fights went by. The pattern was whoever had the most magical stamina won. The two fighters would throw magic at each other, then someone would get desperate, and then they would be defeated when they tried to close the gap. The only exception in these early fights was a large geomancer named Gaff.
Gaff started his fight with an Aquamancer named Kyrine by pulling up the stage’s tiles into natural armor, covering himself from head to toe. The Aquamancer slung water bullets at the armor, but it seemed Gaff couldn’t be moved.
After throwing two volleys of water bullets trying to destroy the armor, Kyrine smirked. “Are you standing there hoping I waste all of my mana?” She posed with crossed arms while watching the armor, then pushed her large glasses up the ridge of her nose with one finger.
As if in response, the suit of armor dragged one foot forward. The sound of stone against stone filled the arena. The loud grinding noise made Kyrine cringe.
“You are never going to catch me like that. You might as well give up before you give yourself heat stroke.” Kyrine laughed, taking half a step back. She leapt in surprise when she met resistance.
Gaff was standing right behind her. He had used the noise of the armor moving forward to burrow under her. Now, he quickly grabbed both of her forearms and held them to her sides, “You can give up now or go to the infirmary.”
“Yeah, I give up…” Kyrine said.
This drew the first reaction from Aellaria that Marin had seen all morning. Aellaria had actually chuckled.
AELLARIA
The next fight took Aellaria by surprise. She would be fighting Flair.
Flair was in front of her and cheerfully bound down the steps. Even Aellaria could tell she was excited to show off.
Aellaria stood up; there were five people she needed to confront on the death of her daughter. That she would fight Flair this early was a massive statistical improbability. It was possible, however.
“Hey, good luck, roomie!” Marin chirped.
“Thanks,” Aellaria said as she descended the stairs towards the stage. Her traditional pointed hat bobbed back and forth with each step. There was a shimmering barrier at the bottom of the stage that she saw clearer now that she was closer. The barrier must have been to spare the audience from any deadly projectiles.
Once the two women were on the fighting stage, they both took a fighting stance. Flair was the first to speak. “Don’t worry, since we are in the same class. I won’t burn you too bad.”
Aellaria studied the other woman. Flair seemed confident and came from an affluent family. This may be a brutal fight, but Aellaria knew she didn’t need to win. All she wanted was to coast under the radar. At most, she wanted one win.
“On second thought, your face could probably use a bit of inferno. It would actually solve two problems: your resting bitch face would melt off, and that fucking fashion tragedy of a hat would also be gone.”
Aellaria thought about what Flair must have said to Lilium. Was it banter like this? Did Lilium die in part due to the thousand cuts of this woman’s tongue? Aellaria decided then and there that she would do just a little bit better than coast by. She was going to crush Flair.
Niall smiled, “Now, a bit of trash talk! How fun. Just remember tomorrow you are both in my class. Fight!” Niall gestured with a downward motion to start the fight.
Flair immediately sidestepped and threw a bolt of fire at Aellaria.
Aellaria didn’t move, and it hit her in the abdomen, knocking her back. Her blue robes caught fire around her stomach, and she felt the fire already on her skin. A molten core at the spell's center clung to her skin and robes. Aellaria stared at Flair, then she reached down and, using one gloved hand, grabbed the solid components of Flair’s spell and tossed them to the ground. Aellaria gently patted the fire out, revealing burned skin beneath her burnt robe.
“You see, Flair. Fire always looks more powerful than it is. When you realize just how inefficient it is, you know it as the weakest of all elements.” Aellaria said.
“You fucking idiot. Fire is the bark and the bite! It is the envy of all sorcerers!” Flair shouts as she prepares two more casts of her fire bolt. She throws them both, but this time, Aellaria dodges between them.
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“No, and I will prove it to you… by beating you with just one cast...” Aellaria responded, continuously changing directions as Flair continued her onslaught of fire bolts. If she was going to defeat Flair with one cast, it wouldn’t be to prove a point. It would be because any effective spell Aellaria cast would be all she could do before she was completely spent.
Flair was more skilled than Aellaria had thought she would be. First, there was the molten rock component of the fire spell. It meant that she couldn’t just run straight at Flair. A direct hit from close range would stagger Aellaria, creating an opening for more spells. Secondly, there was the frequency of casts. Flair not only memorized the cantrip she used, but she had practiced it extensively. Finally, Flair had stamina. More mana than any eighteen-year-old sorcerer had any right having. Probably thanks to a private tutor who trained her to fight with her specialized magic.
Aellaria moved to dodge, but Flair had gotten used to Aellaria’s movements. Flair clipped Aellaria in the shoulder at an inopportune time, and Aellaria fell back. Flair pushed the advantage on the black-haired woman, but Aellaria rolled back onto her feet. Standing up, she realized the fire on her shoulder had also leapt to her hat. She put it out and removed the melting rock from her skin and clothes. Aellaria could smell the charred cloth now.
With the distance increased again, there was a calm until Flair started giggling. “See, homeschool girl… you are going to lose. You are just making it more painful. Oh! Maybe you like pain. Is that why you wear that joke on your head?”
“Do you want to know why they used to wear hats like these? The great sorcerers of old?”
“Because they were fucking dumb?” Flair responded.
“Some say it was to show where the sorcerers were on the battlefield. Sorcerers drive terror into the hearts of their enemies. Others say it was to allow more room to display ribbons and accolades. Do you want to know the truth?” Aellaria said, pacing around Flair like a tiger ready to strike.
“I already know the truth. The old wizards were drunk old men with no taste, oh! And they wore dumb hats because they are fucking dumb.” Flair said.
“No,” Aellaria said as she finally lunged; the speed with which Aellaria changed course made Flair’s brown eyes bloom in surprise.
Flair threw two bolts, but Aellaria kneeled and ducked under them. Aellaria began weaving her one spell. While the kneeling mage could tell Flair had been extensively practicing her magic, it was nothing compared to the alacrity of Aellaria’s casting. This one cantrip would take every bit of Aellaria’s mana to cast. Flair saw her moment and threw a final firebolt down at the kneeling Aellaria.
Aellaria channeled her gust cantrip, putting every ounce of mana into it. She released it, but not at Flair. Aellaria cast it under her knees, causing her to launch upwards and forward–flying over the fire bolt. Flair was out of options.
Flair started raising her arms to block, but Aellaria sprinted the last step and punched the Pyromancer hard in the face.
Comprehension slowly returned to Flair’s face, but she was already on the ground. Aellaria stopped above Flair, her cloak tattered, and her robes burned at the stomach. With the wide brim of her hat, Aellaria blocked out the room's light for Flair.
“I wear this hat because the only thing worse than being broken and humiliated is being broken and humiliated by a real bad motherfucker in a silly hat.” Aellaria snarled at the downed Flair, then raised a fist.
“I concede!” Flair shouted, raising her hands above her head.
Aellaria lowered her fist and calmly walked over to Niall, “I am going to rest in the infirmary for the day. I could continue another fight, but I don’t want to.”
Before she walked away, Aellaria read exasperation on Niall’s features.
MARIN
‘Aellaria was amazing,’ Marin thought…instead of using a wind blade cantrip, a gust to avoid Flair’s attacks, or even a gale to knock her down. Aellaria just punched Flair in the face. Marin knew there was probably more to it, but she was too far away to see any details or hear any talking.
After another hour of waiting, it was her turn. She was going to fight a mage wearing brown robes named Justice. He was in the Geomancer’s class. Marin thought that it could be that they were a Geomancer, too, like Gaff.
Marin thought about how she would fight someone like Gaff, bigger and stronger and with more experience. She believed that the only way she could win was by using her chaotic magic experience. If she let them land a hit on her like Aellaria let Flair, it could stir up strong enough emotions to leverage her chaotic magic.
As Marin saw her opponent, she felt an ounce of relief. The man standing opposite her was even shorter than she was. ‘I could totally close the gap and give him a good blast.’ Marin thought.
The Geomancy teacher, was the referee for this fight, and she watched the referee closely for his mark. He was massive, almost eight feet tall, and his skin appeared to be made of shale. On the front and back of his vest were embroidered letters with his heroic moniker, Granite Guardian.
She was going to annihilate the short man with the stubbly goatee. She didn’t need proper magic to be the best in the class. Marin was toughened by a decade of manual labor on the farm, and Justice looked like he was just out of puberty.
As the Professor’s large stone hand raised, she watched it with intensity. Here you go, Marin. This is your time to shine, she thought. The hand went down.
As the referee’s hand finished its arc, Marin felt something strange and went unconscious.
CALLO
Callo walked down the stairs to his fight. He was the last of Niall’s students to have active matches. He had won both of his previous duels pretty handily. However, he was also present for his opponent's fights and knew that the Aquamancer opposite him was very talented.
His opponent was a water mage named Samwen. Callo knew this should be an easy fight. Cryomancers were notoriously strong against Aquamancers. Samwen wore light green robes, indicating he was in Professor Aeren’s class. Samwen’s cheek was badly scarred, and the young man’s left eye had a milky-looking iris.
Callo had mastered one very simple Cryomantic spell. A heatless barrier, cold enough to freeze surface water on contact. Once the water froze, it was then his to command.
“Last fight, boys. I hope you’re ready; this one might decide the first position.” Professor Rietta said, the purple-robed mage refereeing this late into the day.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Callo said.
Samwen nodded, getting his hands ready to cast.
Callo sprinted forward as soon as the Electromancer gave the word, not wanting to give Samwen time to think. To his surprise, the mage in the light green robes also sprinted at him.
Callo summoned a barrier of cold around himself. It was hardly a physical barrier, but it would make someone think twice before touching it.
However, Samwen was one step ahead of him. Samwen punched toward Callo’s face, coating his hand in water. The water started to freeze, but it insulated Samwen’s hand from the cold. Instead of harming Samwen or giving himself more ammunition, a fist covered in ice was flying toward Callo’s face.
Callo could only do damage control. He cast a cantrip to make the accumulated ice explode outward. At the same time, Samwen’s fist made contact with Callo’s face, making Callo tumble backward.
“You’ve never fought an Aquamancer, aye?” Samwen asked. He had the touch of the north in his voice. Twin rivers of water began leaking from his hands, coiling around his body like serpents.
“No, but I’m sure I can figure it out,” Callo responded. Blood trickled down his nose, reminding him of the blows his father would land on him when they trained. “Aquamancers belong in the first aid tent.”
“Your shield is quite strong, and I bet it has served you well thus far, aye? ‘Owever, I think you may be arse backward if you think you ‘ave the upper ‘and ‘ere.” Samwen responded. Samwen calmly stepped forward, closing the gap again, gallons of water flowing around his body in two reflected rivers.
Callo ran forward. His barrier was deadly to the touch. It could freeze a finger in seconds, and if he could close this gap, he could shatter Samwen.
It did not go as planned. Samwen sent torrents of water his way, and the barrier he created of cold started turning into solid ice. Callo could feel the frozen water accumulating on the barrier's plane, but he couldn’t immediately think of something to do. All he knew was that the more ice Samwen gave him, the more ammunition he had to fight with.
Seconds later, every square inch of his spherical cold barrier had turned to ice. Usually, only the slightest amount of ice accumulated from water vapor in the air, but Samwen kept packing sheet upon sheet.
Callo’s barrier was invisible on its own, and he had control over the flow of heat inside and out. This was impossible now. The ice entombed Callo, a tomb that only got darker and colder. The ice mage was less affected by the frosty interior due to his natural comfort in the cold. Instead of being a shield, the ice barrier was thousands of swords that Callo did not know how to wield.
Callo needed to make a decision. He summoned all his strength and started to break his barrier. Every crack that formed sounded like a cracking whip made out of metal. TWUNG. Callo had never done this before, and every crack made his heart flutter with fear. TWUNG. TWANG.
Callo took a massive risk. It may have been dangerous if he struck Samwen hard enough, but it was the only route he saw to victory. The thick ice bubble exploded, shooting massive ice blades out from his central position. The countless shards shot in every direction and embedded themselves into the ceiling and arena tiling. The rest hit the barrier at the arena's edge, which kept the spectators safe.
Callo felt a welcome wave of warmth wash over him and then realized that shooting pain accompanied it. He looked around for Samwen. Only to realize Samwen was behind him. Callo saw Samwen had blades of swirling water, which had shredded through his calf muscles and tendons.
Samwen was unharmed, and Callo fell to the ground, unable to continue the fight.