Chapter 271: Cooler Heads
Cooler Heads
Pelday began as expected with training in the Circle of Fire. Moira quickly divided the four students into pairs. This time, Martel faced Harriet, with whom he already shared a contentious history stretching back before he became an acolyte. He had humiliated her at the solstice celebration in the home of Legate Fontaine, which she had clearly not forgotten. She seemed to relish any opportunity to return the favour. To Martel, it made no difference. He faced and fought each of the other three acolytes in the same manner, though he would admit that Harriet proved a better opponent than the other two.
They took position opposite each other across the room, keeping to one half that William and Edward could spar in the other. "Fight!" came the command from the teacher.
Both acolytes burst into action, flinging fire bolts at the other. Thanks to their rigorous training, the simple spell did not drain any spellpower anymore, allowing them to keep it up all day. In terms of magic, at least. The swift movements from constantly evading took its toll, leaving every student sweating despite the cold temperature of the room. Under these restrictions, using only basic styles, athleticism rather than spellwork provided the upper hand.
Because of that, even though Martel considered himself the better mage, he found himself hard pressed against Harriet. She seemed in good shape, and her short stature proved an elusive target for Martel's spells. In return, his frame measuring over six feet, required more work to keep safe. Martel gritted his teeth as another fire bolt smashed into his thigh, sending waves of pain through him.
"Enough!" Moira called out. "Short break before you switch partners."
Harriet approached Martel with a grin. "That's four for me, two for you." She stretched her neck. "You're still easily distracted, I see."
"Not by a troll."
He saw her face twist into a grimace. "What sort of barbaric word is that? Sounds Tyrian. You really are a savage."
"Enjoy it," Martel scoffed. "You only stand a chance in here because of all these restrictions. In a real fight, like during the solstice celebration, I would lay you down flat with ease."
She laughed in disbelief. "Easy to brag. How about you prove it?"
"When and where?"
"You know about the Chamber of Earth? On Peldays?"
Martel nodded. "See you there tonight."
"Alright, you better have caught your breath, because we go again," Moira told them all. "Harriet, Edward, you two switch."
***
Originally, Martel had intended to continue joining the sparring matches on Pelday evenings. Presumably, the more he trained, the better, given his future in the legions. But between his exhausting lessons and the occasional demands such as Julia taking him into the city for hours, it had become easy to skip the gatherings. He still had six bells of training every fiveday, between fire magic and combat lessons.
But tonight Martel had time and perhaps more importantly, motivation. He was not certain why he had reacted so strongly at first, allowing Harriet to goad him just because she did better in one lesson. Maybe because it felt like he had been forced to prove himself ever since he arrived at the Lyceum, too old and too Tyrian to be accepted by these people.
Now he would do more than prove himself. He would make it clear that he was the stronger wizard. If anyone doubted him or mocked him, Martel stood ready to correct such a mistake.
***
Fire acolytes rarely showed up in the Chamber of Earth on Peldays. Presumably, the others had the same reason as Martel; plenty of other classes provided them with the training needed.
Because of that, the other students noticed when no less than two in red robes appeared in the underground room. And everyone took note as they faced off, silently demonstrating their intention to duel. Quickly, everyone gathered around to watch, though most kept a respectful distance.
"Maximilian, give us the signal," Martel said while already preparing his spell. Five breaths. Six breaths. Seven breaths.
"I cannot wait to see this," the mageknight muttered.
Ten breaths. Across from Martel, Harriet changed her stance and stood ready. Eleven breaths.
"Fight!"
Twelve breaths. Harriet immediately launched one fire bolt after the other while moving around.
Thirteen breaths. Rather than mirror her like in class this morning, Martel ran straight forward. Fourteen breaths. He took a bolt straight to his stomach, grimacing in pain. Fifteen breaths. This close, he could not miss his opponent. He released the spell in his hand, pouring spellpower along with it. A chunk of ice flew forward and smashed against Harriet's jaw.
The magic summoned in her hands disappeared as she blinked and looked disoriented. A gust of wind blew her back, sending her to the ground.
Martel walked the final steps forward to stare down at her. "You fight like it's still the Circle of Fire. Too predictable. Even a savage knows what to do against you."
With a furious expression, she got back on her feet. Harriet stared at him with murder in her eyes.
He did not blink or move one inch backwards but simply returned her gaze. Finally, she stalked past him, pushing her shoulder against his arm as she walked by.
A heavy hand landed on Martel's other shoulder. "A fire acolyte using ice," Maximilian exclaimed. "Stars damn you, Nordmark, you are more surprising than a harlot in a monastery."
Martel inclined his head with half a smile, accepting the praise. Master Alastair was right; Harriet had expected any of his fire spells, and she would be accustomed to the pain and sensation of being struck by one. When it came to water, the opposite element, she had no resistance. Granted, Martel was unlikely to fight any fire-wielding mages in the Khivan army, but it felt good to have a completely different arrow in his quiver of spells.
His ambition for the night complete, Martel turned and left the Chamber of Earth. He did not imagine anyone else present wanted to spar with him anyway.
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