Rane kept his back straight and put slightly more weight on his left foot. It was the only position that didn’t hurt. He glanced around the mages sitting in the arena from its centre. Seoltrin’s magic and plentiful salve had helped hide his external injuries from the crowd, but Danrith had beaten him half to death and he was only now starting to recover. It’d be a few days before he could fight again. He glanced at the huge cog around him and winced softly. Not because of the pain, but because he remembered the reason he wasn’t fighting today, despite being in the arena. Talah was going to embarrass herself and then surrender. She had to make sure she was too shunned to work for anyone other than Atinas from then on. Those were the archmage’s orders. Rane was angry, not because she betrayed him, but because it didn’t bother him as much as it should. It was unexpected, sure, but he wasn’t surprised by it.
“Talah Hariel,” Veradin called out, pulling him from that depressing string of thoughts.
She stepped onto the ring opposite to him and he averted his gaze. After this match, he’d never see her again, Atinas had promised him that. He just wanted to get this over with quickly. There was no pride or glory to this victory. Nothing to be gained. The first beat signalled the start of the round and Rane placed a hand on the hilt of his sword out of instinct. There was no need for it.
Talah threw her staff on the ground. “I surrender!” she screamed, louder than Rane expected. Even without his magic, he could tell there was resentment in it. The confused mumbling from the spectating mages began, just as Rane walked out of the ring and up the stairs leading to the infirmary. He didn’t look at her once.
“Talah Hariel has lost this round,” Veradin said tentatively. “Would any mage be interested in mentoring her?”
Inside the arena’s halls, Rane slowed to a stop to listen. There was only silence until Veradin announced the next contestants. His apprentice was going to fight one of Miria’s students. He decided not to linger any more, instead climbing up to the uppermost levels of the arena. It had become a habit of his to stay close to the constructs that had been stationed around the rooms, just in case. If Caelus had any nasty surprises prepared, Tal’Ren would be the first to know. Close to the training area, stationed at the very top of the giant structure that hosted the Flames, the winds blew violently, hissing against the metal.
“You hide your injuries well.” Atinas was waiting for him near the entrance. “Are you feeling as well as you look?”
“Not even close.” Rane chuckled and leaned against the wall with a huff. “Seoltrin said I was lucky there was no permanent damage and that I have an unnatural tolerance for pain, but that I should take the time to rest and recover.” He stole a glance at the archmage’s half-hidden face. “Since you arranged for the entire training area to be empty, we’re not doing that, are we?”
“I have decided I’m gonna take you up on that bet,” Atinas said. “Give me a victory, and I will do everything in my power to find your family. Are you willing to go through with it still?”
“Of course,” Rane smiled. His mind had wandered to his family, and especially his mother, ever since yesterday. He’d really hoped the archmage would accept. “You won’t regret choosing me, I promise. I’ll make sure to win.”
“You’re taking this too lightly,” Atinas said sternly. “Without my aid, you’ll be hard pressed to even make her sweat.”
Rane wiped the smile from his face. “Will you please help me then?” He didn’t dare take it for granted just because he was the archmage’s apprentice.
“Your victory would reflect positively on me as well, so I shall entertain your efforts.” Atinas raised his hand and his long sleeve fell back, revealing two of the man’s skeletal, white fingers. “For you to have a chance, I believe there are two conditions that have to be met. Firstly, while the amount of nora in your soul is impressive for an apprentice, it is not nearly enough to face her. During these three days and until the final match, I will seek to remedy that personally.”
Rane felt a shiver as he was reminded of the way most of this nora was gained. Torture, constant and unimaginable. “I understand.” Rane gave his new mentor a sideway glance. There were few methods he could think of that could noticeably increase his nora in just three days, and none of them were pleasant.
“Secondly, your options in battle are too limited. From how I understand it, you can use fire, ice, and have a solid grasp of Myljaberg’s Lanar swordsmanship. These skills may have gotten you this far, but in doing so you’ve revealed too much. It makes you predictable. You even failed the test of mind. That is simply unacceptable for a finalist in the Flames.”
“I get it.” Rane lowered his head and frowned. He’d never been criticised so harshly before. It probably came with being the apprentice of one of the most powerful men in Silyra. “Are you going to teach me a new spell?”
“Not me,” Atinas replied. “You’re going to be taught by an expert. That’s why we’re waiting here.”
Rane raised an eyebrow. “Is he attending the event?”
“Can’t be its arbiter otherwise.” Veradin’s voice caught Rane by surprise. It sounded less imposing up close. He turned to find the man walking up to them.
“We finally meet properly.” The archmage extended a hand. “I’m Veradin Elne.”
“R-Rane.” Gripping the man’s palm felt like touching burnwood fresh out of the fire, searing hot and firm. “You’re the one that’s going to teach me?”
“That’s right.” Veradin gave him a vibrant smile, and Rane glimpsed another facet of the archmages. One that Atinas lacked. They weren’t just soldiers and scholars, but also icons. The man’s presence made him feel safe and excited at the same time.
Veradin himself noticed the change. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing wrong!” Rane replied. “I’m just wondering why you’d help me when I’m facing off against your apprentice.”
“With no disrespect to Mord or the other contestants of this year, she needs a greater challenge. Perhaps by teaching you, I can give her that. To be honest, you’ve piqued my interest. Atinas has told me a lot about you, and praised both your outstanding character and your skills in combat. He rarely gives such high praise. To anyone.” Veradin paused for a moment, voice turning solemn. “Which is why before we begin, there’s something I’d like to discuss.”
“What is it?” Rane asked.
“Why did you lie?” Veradin looked at him straight in the eyes and Rane felt a pressure in his chest. “You told Atinas that you met Caelus six days ago, and that he was under the effects of an Oath of silence. You also said the one who presumably forced him to swear that Oath was Leylin. Before you answer, think about the status of the person you’re implicating with that story.”
“It’s not a story,” Rane said confidently. “And I didn’t lie. Caelus himself said that he and Leylin had sworn an Oath of secrecy. I saw the black magic course through his lips with my own eyes.”
“That is impossible,” Veradin insisted. “Because I killed Leylin myself months ago.”
“What?” Rane’s eyes widened. He clenched his fists and stopped his hands from trembling. Linde had told him that Leylin came looking, but he never imagined conflict of this scale. Maybe if it was Veradin… Rane stole another glance at the man’s radiant, powerful eyes. Instinctively, he knew Veradin had the capacity to kill that monster. Rane desperately wanted to believe it, but he knew what he saw. “The Oath was restraining him still.”
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“He is not lying,” Atinas stepped forward. “The old man peered into his mind and shared it all with me. I only didn’t tell you because I know you don’t approve of the method.”
“I’ve known you a long time, Atinas.” Veradin turned to the hooded archmage and stared him down.
Rane felt a crushing pressure on his chest, making it hard to breathe. Leylin’s nora, no matter how potent, couldn’t compare to this. It felt like he’d been dragged to the depths of the ocean, where the water pressed down from every direction. His knees buckled and he fell, grasping his throat.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Light born of Veradin’s magic clung to his skin and static sparked from his clothes.
Atinas didn’t move from his spot. “Mistrust is warranted due to my past, but do you really think me stupid enough to tell a lie so easily verifiable? If you still have doubts, consult Tal’Ren yourself. Ask him what he saw.”
“Then how?” Veradin suppressed his nora once more and Rane managed a breath. “Either there was a third party involved in the ritual to ensure Caelus’ silence even after Leylin’s death, or…”
“Or he’s still alive.” Rane was the first to share the unfortunate realisation as he stood. “It wouldn’t surprise me. He heals from injuries that would be fatal to anyone else in the blink of an eye.”
“You can’t heal from death.” Veradin placed a knuckle to his lips. He pondered for a few moments, then smiled. “I’ll think on it! For now, let’s get back to training you.”
Rane did a double take. The man’s attitude changed as if nothing had happened. “Shouldn’t we try to figure it out?”
“Hah!” Veradin gave him a hearty slap on the back. “You’re making it too big a deal. I already killed him once. If he’s alive somehow, I’ll just have to do it again. What I was worried about most was your character and how trustworthy you are. Leylin came looking for you after all. For all I know, you could be one of his men.”
“Never,” Rane hissed out the word. “I’d rather die than fight for him. Atinas can attest to that.”
“Don’t make any promises.” Veradin poked his forehead and Rane instinctively closed his eyes. He traced the scar of his unknown Oath with a finger. “An Oath you can’t recall is a dangerous thing. Not just for you, but those around you as well. As long as you’re not willingly against Silyra however, I’m willing to help you.”
“Thank you,” Rane said softly. “I appreciate it.”
“Speaking of which, we should begin. My time today is limited.” Veradin patted Rane on the shoulder and entered the training area first.
“What are you going to teach me?” Rane followed after him into the open space. He remembered seeing this part of the building from outside, covering the very top of the arena with a high vaulted dome. The floor was scarred with ashes and repaired many times over in a patchwork of stone.
“What I know best.” Veradin took off the archmage cloak that he wore for the event and set it aside. The smooth, white fabric underneath stuck close to his skin, outlining his thin but toned figure. It was similar to the one Rane wore as a contestant, though with some gold tinting the hems and neck. “The fundamental lightning spell.”
Rane felt shivers running down his back. It was the same spell Veradin’s apprentice had used against Mord, turning the fight in an instant. Could he really be taught to use magic like that?
“Have you ever practised it before?”
“No.” Rane replied, scratching his head. It was embarrassing to admit that in front of two archmages. “I only know how to create fire and ice.”
“Oh, that’s good!” Veradin nodded with a smile. “Most people are taught wrong and struggle to change their understanding afterwards.” He held out his palm, webbed with crackling light. “There are five spells every apprentice can learn. Each one requires a different skill to be effective. For example, the flames you create consume a lot of nora. It’s a spell that tests your soul’s ability to recall that nora inside it, after it’s been expended. On the other hand, ice requires a lot of spacial control. Wind requires a solid grasp of concentration and a fair degree of control. Just like the sphere of fire you created in your fight with Danrith, for wind to be effective you have to compress the air itself.”
Rane nodded. These were concepts known to him so far. “What about earth and lightning?”
“Did something feel off when Danrith warped the ground around you?” Veradin asked.
“Well…” Rane thought back to that moment. He did feel something weird, but ignored it in the adrenaline and chaos of combat. “It felt like a wave washed over me,” he settled. “Then slammed into the ground. Does that make sense?”
Veradin looked at Atinas with a half smile. “It does. Solid matter is hard to manipulate. The earth shaping spell measures the sheer force of nora a mage can release at once. Anyone can use those four spells with enough practice.” He waved his hand and the crackling spell fizzled out. “Lightning is different. It requires innate talent and an intuitive understanding of the natural world. That is also why Atinas chose this spell. It’s the only one you might be able to use two days from now.”
“I understand.” Rane took a deep breath and tried to fight off the anxious pressure mounting in his chest. He’d managed to make ice within two days before, when his life was threatened. Though even then the spell was neither complete nor usable in battle. “What do I have to do?”
“For now, listen,” Veradin said. His hand reached into the back of his belt and brought a metal sphere forward. “We call this a source. It’s what your nora will manipulate to create lightning. With enough practice, any metal close to you can act as a source, so you won’t have to carry these things around.”
Veradin tossed it over and Rane caught it, surprised by its weight. He palmed it and twisted it around in his hand. It seemed ordinary on all accounts.
“Now, all that’s left is the pivot. You can think of it as the end point to where your attack will travel.” Veradin gave him a smile. “After all, nobody can control lightning itself. We can only guide it.”
“Okay.” Rane nodded. “Can anything be my pivot?”
“No,” Veradin replied. “It will have to be metal as well. Most of the time you can use something behind your opponent, so that the trajectory from source to pivot passes through them. That’s the most likely path the lightning will follow. You could always look for a gap in your opponent’s focus and try to use their weapon as a pivot, though that requires more control. But enough talking for now. Let me give you a demonstration.” Veradin went down to one knee and touched the floor with his palm. “Ever wondered why silver runs through every building in this city?” His eyes shone brighter as white nora left his body. The stone cracked open and the nora formed a spiral over the exposed metal underneath. “You have to envelop your source. Press the nora as tight to its surface as you can.” Veradin made the mist move slow, letting Rane observe every part of the process. The concentric rings grew smaller, then merged. Thin lines of light escaped from the centre, arcing over the nora and towards the metal. “Now, you have to do the same process in reverse for your pivot.” He pointed to the ceiling, where nora gathered at a single point. This time, the rings expanded outward from it, made visible by the white mist clinging to the metal. “With enough force and elegance…”
Light flashed upwards with a deafening rumble that reverberated through the space. Rane gripped the sphere a little harder as the radiance faded. The outline of the lightning’s path painted his eyelids when he blinked. If he could muster a fraction of that power, he’d finally sleep easy. He concentrated on the sphere and pressed his nora against its surface. Thanks to Loric’s training, the concentric rings weren’t hard to form. After a couple of tries, Rane saw a few sparks fly. He looked up wide-eyed and Veradin gave him an approving nod. This far, it had proven easy.
“Don’t lose focus. Maintain the pressure on your source and complete the next part of the spell.”
Rane turned his attention to the pivot and pressed his nora against the metal. Immediately, he was met with a problem. The moment he tried to focus on moving his magic the way Veradin had, he lost control of the nora covering the sphere in his hand. He tried it a few more times, but it seemed impossible. It was like trying to look left and right at the same time. “How can I focus on both shapes at once?”
“That’s where the talent comes in,” Veradin replied with a slight frown. “If you don’t manage it on your first try, it means you’ll need to practice until one of the two steps becomes effortless. Just like you focused on your ice shields while creating fire.”
“I see,” Rane said, a bit despondent. “I’ll keep practising then.”
“No,” Atinas drew closer. “Not now.” He turned to Veradin and bowed softly, letting his hood droop. “Thank you, First. I’ll take it from here.”
“It was a pleasure.” Veradin bowed a little as well, before turning to Rane. “If you face any other problems in your training, you can always reach out to me.” With that, he left.
Rane eyed Atinas suspiciously. “What’s the new plan then?”
“There is no plan,” Atinas replied, showing the white of his sharp teeth. A snarl Rane had come to recognise as a smile. “If elegance and technique cannot aid you, we’ll use sheer force.”